To Dream And Know (standard:Psychological fiction, 525 words)
Author: Vincent Collevera	Added: May 09 2007	Views/Reads: 3360/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Who is John Creiger? If only he knew! But is the source of his ailment biological, psychological, or the result of outside interference?

To Dream and Know 

It was cold that morning.  The window had been left open last night.  He
sat on the edge of the bed and looked around at his unfamiliar 
surroundings.  He felt no apprehension, so he knew he must not be in 
any kind of danger.  There was a woman sleeping in the bed.  He knew 
that he loved this woman with her long dark hair and green eyes and 
athletic body.  He knew the color of her eyes that he'd never seen.  He 
knew her love of the outdoors.  He knew how she liked her coffee in the 
morning and that she preferred a waffle over eggs.  What he did not 
know was her name or why he knew these things.  He knew he was married 
to someone by the gold band on his finger.  He could not see her hand 
to tell if he was married to her. There were things all around the room 
that should have reminded him.  There were intimate little things that 
should have caught his attention and clued him in on where he was and 
why he didn't know.  He felt that he often had this problem.  He felt 
that his dilemma was nothing new.  That did nothing to make him feel 
better about his situation. He got up and pulled on a pair of pajama 
pants that he assumed were his.  He walked out the bedroom door, down 
the hall and into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.  He knew his way 
around.  If he didn't think about it his feet would lead him in the 
right direction.  He made his coffee.  The brew was about half done 
when he heard her footsteps coming down the hall on the hardwood floor. 
“Good morning John.” She said as she walked past him to the 
refrigerator to pour her usual morning glass of milk.  She pulled down 
a glass, filled it, returned the dairy to the cooler and turned to him 
expectantly.  “Good morning, John.” He felt he should respond in kind.  
“Good morning, dear.” She frowned.  She shook her head.  Her eyes began 
to water.  "I thought we had made progress yesterday.  You were so 
lucid and so knowing; you remembered my name every time I asked, you 
remembered the fucking cat's name, John!” He winced as she cursed at 
him and looked down at the floor in shame. “I'm sorry.  I can't,...  I 
can't remember.  I'm so sorry.” He turned his back to her and stared at 
the coffee maker. “No, John.  It's not your fault.  I'm sorry I yelled 
at you; this is just so damned frustrating!” She ran her hands up his 
back and over his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to kiss the side of his 
neck. In a flash of heat that had every hair on his body standing on 
end and bumps forming down his back, arms and legs; he remembered.  It 
all came rushing back in a torrent too fast and hard to control or 
comprehend. “John!” He heard from a distance as his world went dark and 
he toppled sideways to the floor. 

--To Be Continued


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