Chapter Eight
Joe
This time I was standing at the foot of her bed while she typed furiously on her laptop. She hadn’t noticed me yet, at least she wasn’t crying, that was something. I remembered how frustrating the last dream had been- fuzzy and distorted. I hadn’t been able to talk to her or comfort her and then it had ended as it always did, blackness and nothing. I remembered each dream the moment I stepped into another. That beautiful face I was slowly becoming enamoured with no explanation as to why, just that I was. Looking down at my body I was happy to find the murky, coloured swirls of my last dream had been replaced with almost solid looking limbs. The typing stopped and it drew my eyes back to her. Her fingers resting on the keyboard and she chewed her bottom lip as she read over whatever it was she had typed. The action drew my attention to her mouth, her lips were not full and pouty but beautifully shaped and well proportioned. The hint of teeth grazing her lip sent a wave of desire through me, I suddenly found myself wanting to kiss her. As if hearing my thought, she uttered a shaky sigh and moaned,
“Oh Joe.” My name on her lips was heaven.
“I’m here bella.” I replied softly but she didn’t react. I realised she couldn’t see me again, that was disappointing. She continued to type enthusiastically, completely engrossed in her writing. As much as I wanted to talk to her, to make her see me, there was something quite comforting about watching her work. I could study her animated expressions, the tiny crease between her eyebrows as she concentrated, the way she chewed her bottom lip and then blew out a frustrated breath that made her lips vibrate. This last action made me chuckle, I found her so endearing and totally enchanting. I grew more and more fascinated with her by the minute. I was able to sit on the end of her bed and observe her, she remained totally unaware of my presence. The way the shadows played across her cheeks as she worked, the lamplight highlighting the right side of her face, accentuating her features, was utterly mesmerising. I began to realise that I remained in this dream longer than the previous ones, they had lasted only minutes. I wasn’t complaining, I hoped it lasted as long as possible, I had no desire to leave. It seemed like hours until she finally stopped. The relentless tap tapping of her fingers on the keyboard had lulled me to sleep. The sudden absence of that rhythmic sound rang out like an alarm clock, I jerked my head up and I blinked. I was still on the end of her bed but stretched out with my feet up instead of being seated. I must have fallen so deeply asleep that I’d fallen out of the dream and now was back in it again? It was odd how I had continued it seemingly from the point I had left off.
Naomi had packed away her laptop and a large pile of notes on her bedside table and was now snuggling down beneath her bed sheets. She still hadn’t noticed me, I accepted the fact it wasn’t going to be an interactive experience this time, if it meant being able to stay with her for longer, I didn’t mind. I hoped the fact that she was drifting off to sleep didn’t foretell my imminent departure however. I rose off the bed fully expecting the usual blackness that accompanied my exit but it never came. After a few more minutes of waiting I found myself at a loss over what to do with myself. I was used to it ending so this was entirely new.
Looking at her peacefully sleeping, I decided on trying to discover any possible clues to her identity. Other than her first name, I knew nothing. There wasn’t much to go on here in her room and I felt uncomfortable going through her things but then again, this wasn’t real and these experiences intrigued me. I wanted to know more. I needed to understand why I kept seeing this woman. A quick look around wouldn’t do any harm. I scanned her bedroom but nothing immediately popped out at me, it was a simple room with a double bed, wooden floors, a rug, a built-in cupboard and set of drawers and then a bedside table with a lamp on it. There was a painting on the wall, it was a print of Monet’s Lily pond. OK, so chances are she likes Monet? I thought.
My gaze fell back on the bedside table and the pile of notes on the top. It was an A4 notepad, I wondered if I’d be able to pick them up? In the previous dream I’d been unable to physically connect with anything but it wouldn’t hurt to try, I seemed substantially more solid this time.
Pleased to find that I could touch things, I picked up the pad of notes and began flicking through. It appeared to be notes about Italy and Florence, my home town. Intrigued, I read more. She wrote about my book bar ‘The Magnificent Medici’, how did she know about that? That nagging feeling that I knew this woman returned. I looked again at the familiar lines of her chin, her cheeks and the line of her brow, it was so puzzling to know that you knew someone but couldn’t remember why. I turned the page and saw my name, written all over the paper in varying sizes, horizontally, vertically, diagonally…what made me stop and catch my breath was that I recognised the handwriting, it was mine.
I dropped the pad and took a step back, a memory niggled in the back of my mind of this woman asleep on her couch and the television playing to itself as she slept. I had no time to dwell on it as the sudden knock on the bedroom door made me turn so quickly I knocked the bedside lamp and it fell to the wooden floor with a crash.
“Naomi?” A worried female voice shouted through the door.
“Porco dio!” The curse left my lips and even before the door handle turned and the woman on the bed stirred and began to wake, I felt the return of the black void.