Her gaze slid over him, taking in every inch of his features. “I…I don’t understand.”
“Ye will.”
Suspicion clouded her expression. “And…who are you?”
“Name’s Connor.” He watched her closely to see if his name sparked any memories. It did not seem to.
“Connor,” she repeated, testing the sound of it on her tongue. “I’m Emma.”
“I know who ye are.” He just stared at the hand she’d extended until she dropped it back to her side.
“Something tells me I don’t want to know how you know that.” Rubbing her temples, she squeezed her eyes shut again. “However, maybe you can tell me how I get back to my side of things?” She gestured at her body in the bed.
“I canna help ye there. Sorry.”
She tilted a look at him, then slowly nodded. “Ahhh. Of course you can’t. Because everybody knows you never really solve problems in dreams.”
This revelation seemed to both relieve and excite her. She paced around the small room. The dream explanation was all too common among these mortals, who rarely accepted their fate when the time came. Sometimes, it took weeks. Denial was powerful. Connor folded his arms.
“I mean…” she continued, “in dreams, you just go round and round until you finally figure it out by some kind of…magical realization what the whole point is of seeing yourself lying in that bed looking like…that. I mean, maybe I’ve been working too hard lately or…it’s like that awful one where I’ve overslept for a college exam and I’ve actually forgotten to go to class for the whole semester? Or…or maybe it was thatLaw of Attractionpodcast I listened to that messed my sleep up for months last year coming back to bite me again, considering”—she waved a finger at him—“you. Here. Looking…like that. Hot, actually.” She blushed a little. “See? That’s something I would never say in real life. Alas, you’re not real. In dreams nothing gets resolved and then you wake up. Voilà!”
Amused, or oddly flattered, he narrowed a look at her.
“Yes. So, I’m going to wake up now. Goodbye, cute Scottish dream guy.Connor.Nothing personal.” She bowed slightly at the waist to him before she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to wake up. She spent a good thirty seconds at it.
But when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed.
“Wake up, Emma,” she told herself, slapping her cheek. Then again, harder. “Wake up.” Out of one eye, she peeked to see Connor still staring, his jaw cocked.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just more like a nightmare.”
“You dinna recall the accident?” Connor reminded. “Wi’ your automobile?”
Emma frowned at him. “That was part of this dream. I think.”
“I’m sorry t’ say ’tis no dream, Emma.”
“Okay, just stop it now. I’m just gonna—” She paced around from the foot of the bed, climbing down atop herself to align herself precisely with her body. “It’s probably just logistical.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she winced with the effort to make something happen, but of course, nothing did. Nothing at all. The monitors attached to her body kept right on beeping, albeit at a more erratic pace. But not a finger or an eyelash moved.
He folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. “Go on, then.”
She lifted her head, scanning her still comatose body. “When I want something, I…I make it happen.”
Absently, he glanced at his wrist again. The dial read -5 percent.Och. This is going in the wrong direction.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “Am I keeping you from something important?”
“Matter of fact,” he mumbled but didn’t finish the thought aloud.
She sent him an offended look just as the nurse whose name tag readKatrinaspun through the room, checking the IV and beeping machines beside her body.
“There you go,” Katrina soothed. “That’ll make you more comfortable now.”
“No! I’m not comfortable at all!” Emma practically shouted, sitting up. “I’m right here! I just need to wake up. Can you help me? I’m dreaming. I can’t seem to…” Waving her hand at the nurse, it passed right through the other woman without notice. Emma shook her hand. “Oh. This is bad.” Sitting up, she scooted off the edge of the bed. “Very bad.”
“They canna see us. Either of us,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay, just for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. I’m not dreaming and I’m in this…this in-between but you’re…not. So, what areyou? Some kind of”—she swallowed thickly—“ghost?”
