Chapter Twenty-Six:

"Look at those azaleas, Wade." I said. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? The pinks are the clear and clean."

On Elise's assertion that exercise and fresh air cure all ills, I pressure Wade to spend an afternoon with me at the Harvard Arboretum. Wade isn't much of a nature lover. Even a well-manicured path through a formally sculpted garden has little appeal for him.

"Oh." He said. "That reminds me. I picked up a few new shirts at Brooks Brothers yesterday. I thought my wardrobe needed a little more rounding out in the nouveaux classics department. I got one in a sort of dusty rose, which I think works wonderfully with my complexion."

"Good." I said.

And there he was. John, camera in hand, tripod on a strap over his shoulder, striding closer to a bank of white azaleas. I watched, heart racing, as he squatted then stretched out on his stomach to get the shots he wanted.

"So." Wade said. "I'm thinking of starting these special vitamins for people doing the low-carb thing. They're over-the-counter so I don't have to bother seeing my doctor first, which is great because I swear it takes a month to get in unless you have an emergency."

"Mmm." I said.

Maybe, I thought, John won't see us. Maybe Wade won't see John and I can pretend not to see him, either. Maybe I thought, I can ignore him, cut him dead and explain later. Explain what, Brianne?

John got to his feet and strode off, his back to us. I felt weak with relief. He hadn't seen us, I was sure of it. I didn't think he was that good of an actor; I didn't think he could fake anything at all.

"I think I'm allergic to these lilacs." Wade said. He wrinkled his nose as if their smell was truly foul.

"They do have a strong fragrance." I replied.

"Brianne, are we done here? I thought we could stop by that fabulous new furniture store over on Washington before we meet Rob and his date for dinner."

"Okay." I said.

"I saw a gorgeous occasional table in the window and I thought it might go perfectly in the hall to the second bedroom. Ugh, we're not having lilacs at the wedding, are we?"

I never made it to dinner that night. As soon as we left the furniture store I knew something was wrong. Wade accompanied me back to my apartment, where I immediately got into bed. He went off to meet his brother. I'd heard enough about migraine symptoms to know the headache was no ordinary tension headache. I wanted to fall asleep but the pain just wouldn't let me go. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to die. And all I could do was lie on my bed and wait it out. Lesson learned: Knowing the pain will eventually go away is no consolation to the sufferer.

"So, is the migraine totally gone?" Elise asked. We were having dinner at Cobra, yet another new hot spot she'd forced me to try.

"Yes, finally. It lingered for two days. I don't think I've ever felt so sick."

"Poor you. And not even able to take medication."

I sighed. "Frankly, even if I was allowed to take something I wasn't well enough to crawl into the bathroom to get it."

"You should have called me sooner. I know there's a phone right by your bed. I would have come by."

"I know. I should have. If there's a next time—"

"Don't think about a next time. Brianne, my dear, you really need to learn how to think positively. Sometimes you're downright lugubrious."

"Then, you're not going to want to hear what I've been working up the nerve to tell you."

"Brianne, I am your friend. I daresay I'm your dearest friend. If you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"

"Do you ever have recurring dreams?"

"Besides the ones I have about Chris and me being torn apart by three-headed Godzilla-like monsters? No."

"Oh well, lately I've been having recurring dreams. Not the same exact dreams every night, but they all share similar themes. It's kind of upsetting me."

"It shouldn't." Elise said. "If the constant themes are love and peace and sex with a gorgeous man. But I'm guessing they're not."

"No, nothing like that I'm afraid."

"Go ahead, tell me about them. I'm not a shrink so I probably can't help you interpret, but I can listen like one."

"That's awfully generous of you." I said sincerely. "Most people are bored to tears listening to someone else's dreams."

"I'm in a generous mood. I just got a big job and I'm feeling expansive in every way. Plus, I owe you for all the hours you've listened to me go on about my extramarital affair and its extraordinary outcome."

"You don't owe me anything. And congratulations on the job." I took a breath. "Okay, here's one. I pick up a piece of paper. I know that it's a printed list of some sort. But I can't see any of the words. I try really hard to read it, but everything is a blur, nothing is in focus, not even the edges of the paper. At first I'm frustrated, and then I start to panic. I think, 'I'm going blind!' but nobody notices that I can't see or that I'm panicking. And I don't want them to notice that I can't see or that I'm panicking. I don't want anyone to see that anything is wrong with me or that I need help."

"Huh. Then what happens?"

"Nothing. I mean, I wake up or the dream just ends."

"Okay. Is there more?"

"Yes, but this one is horrible, truly disgusting. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes. I think. No, go ahead I'm brave."

"Well, in some dreams my mouth is stuffed with a gritty, viscous substance. I don't know what it is or where it comes from. It's not like when you've got a cold—"

"Oh, ick." Elise grimaced. "Honey, that really is disgusting!"

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"No, go on. Really. I'm fine. I think you should talk about these dreams. Even if they are disturbing. Especially if they are disturbing. I just won't order anything gooey tonight."

Friends. Really, where are we without them?

"Okay. If you're sure. Anyway, this stuff prevents me from being able to talk. I have to scoot away from whomever I'm with, find some private place, and pull the stuff out of my mouth. It comes out in clumps or sometimes it pulls out like taffy. It always seems endless. I try to find a mirror so I can make sure I get it all out. I don't want anyone to know this happens to me. It's so embarrassing and that's it."

"That's enough." Elise said finally. "What a nightmare! Poor Brianne. You must wake up in the morning completely exhausted."

"I wake up completely grateful that it was all just a dream."

"But still. Maybe you should see a therapist about these dreams. They don't seem very healthy."

"Dreams can't hurt you."

Elise leaned forward across the table. "Brianne. The dreams might be an expression of hurt you already feel. Like the dream where you can't read what's written on the piece of paper. I think it's about your trying to communicate. I think it's about your trying to be part of the world. I think it's about your trying to see what everyone else is seeing."

Did that make sense? "Maybe." I said. "And sometimes I dream about having no voice. Sometimes I'm furious with someone for being cruel to me and the more I try to scream at this person the less noise comes from my throat until all that's left of my voice is a scratch."

"That sounds like a classic frustration dreams. You're trying and trying to do something but nothing is happening. Your efforts are in vain."

"My efforts are in vain." I repeated the words. "Anyway, sometimes I need to defend myself against a false accusation, and my voice is just gone. And sometimes I need to call out for help; sometimes someone is trying rape me or stab me. And every time I try to shout, I can't. Nothing comes out of my mouth but pitiful, strangled gasps."

"No wonder you've got dark circles under your eyes."

"I do?"

"You mean you haven't noticed? Boy, you are in need of a peaceful night's sleep."

"I know. So what do you think?"

"I think that your dream self is essentially blind and dumb."

"At least I can hear." I joked lamely.

"What good is the ability to take in information if you can't actually put it to use? What good is hearing the question if you can't give an answer?

"Do you want to hear about another dream? It's not grotesque."

"Sure. I've got no place else to be."

"I dream of being alone." And then I considered. "No, it's more like I'm unseen or forgotten. I dream that love has passed me by and I just don't understand how it happened. It's like maybe I fell asleep and missed something. Do you understand?"

"Not really. Give me something specific."

"Okay. Well, in one of these dreams I'm at a beautiful tropical resort, and suddenly my dream self remembers that I was at the resort years before with someone. I vaguely recall that the person was someone important, a lover. I remember there was a violent hurricane blowing in. But I can't remember anything more, and it troubles me. Why can't I remember my lover's name or his face? Why can't I remember what happened to him? Why can't I understand how I would up all alone? And then, suddenly, I remember that I'm engaged and that I haven't been left behind after all. I realize that I haven't missed my last chance and that I won't grow old alone."

"That sounds happy."

"But it isn't happy. In the dream I don't feel happy; I don't even feel relieved. And then I wake up, and my waking mind says, 'Brianne, you have Wade, you're not alone.' And still I feel no comfort or joy in knowing that. I still feel utterly alone."

I watched Elise absorb what I'd told her. "Brianne, dreams are significant. They might be random in one sense but in another sense they're meaningful. Have you really thought about what these dreams are expressing? In terms of the choices you've made. You know, like getting married."

Like getting married to Wade. Suddenly, the conversation had gotten too close for comfort. "Not really. Not much. I'm not sure dreams are all that important."

"If you believed that you wouldn't have told me all about them."

"Maybe."

"Don't jump down my throat when I say this. But maybe the dreams are a product of pregnancy hormones."

"No." I said. "I've been having these dreams for quite some time now. It's just that they've intensified lately." Since Wade and I got engaged, I added silently. Since I learned about you and Chris. Since I can't help but compare John to Wade and find my fiancé lacking. Since everything has gotten so complicated.

"That doesn't reassure me at all." Elise said gloomily.

It didn't reassure me, either.

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