mingling with the early morning work bound crowds, his eyes flicking past them un-seeingly. The torment and longing in his brain grew maddeningly greater.
Joe Nicolbee had no conscious realization of time passing. But it was dark when his footsteps finally took him wearily up the walk of his little cottage hours later. The turmoil in his soul was now a feverish yearning and incessant throbbing that wouldn't let him rest. His body was dead from fatigue, but in his brain there still blazed the picture of his dream world, the memory of Naya.
Agnes wasn't at home, and Joe moved wearily through the living room, climbing the stairs to his bedroom like a man in a trance. He didn't bother even to remove his shoes or clothing as he threw himself on his bed. It seemed to him as if his mind would never cease its torment, never cease its whirling, never let him sleep, never let him—
The keen tingling intoxication of the fo rest air was again in Joe Nicol bee's nostrils. And this time his entrance into the glorious world of dreams was somehow very different from any he had ever experienced before. It seemed to Joe Nicolbee, as he stood there in the gorgeously colored forest once again, that he had awakened from another and evil dream to find himself here.
Joe blinked his eyes, gazing about in mingled excitement and expectation.
It occurred to him that this was also the first time in all his dreams that he had ever been twice to the same dream world. His pulses hammered feverishly. He hadn't lost Naya. He hadn't lost this beautiful world.
Naya, suddenly, was before him, smiling.
"Joe Nicolbee," she said, "you have returned. I knew you would."
"I thought I had lost you, forever," Joe said huskily.
Naya shook her head.
"You are just beginning to find me. You are just beginning to enjoy this world." She took him by the hand and they walked beneath the tall archway of trees.
"You have had trouble," Naya said after a moment's silence. "But do not let bad dreams disturb you."
"Bad dreams?" Joe Nicolbee gasped, recalling the thought that had occurred to him but a moment ago. "But this is a dream."
Naya nodded as solemnly as a little child.
"Yes," she said. "This is a dream. But you will learn more."
Joe Nicolbee walked on in silence, the closeness of Naya as beautiful, as splendid, as symphonic music to his soul. They came to a clearing, and far in the distance mountains were visible, shrouded faintly in soft, fleecy clouds.
Naya pointed upward to the mountains. Joe saw through the white cotton mists that the towers of a magnificent castle were visible.
"That is ours," Naya said. "It has been waiting for us."
Joe Nicolbee held her hand a little more firmly. Tears were in his eyes.
Agnes was standing over him again when Joe woke up. It had been her persistent pulling at his ear that jarred him back into his world of obnoxious reality. He still remembered entering the magnificent castle with Naya, of strolling through the richly adorned halls and past the towering marble staircases, of placing his arm around her slim waist—
"Where have you been all day?" his wife's sharply voiced query cut knifelike through the glorious haze that still webbed Joe's brain.
"You weren't at work," she went on accusingly. "You were out all day. I was nearly crazy."
Joe noticed by her breath that she had staved off the madness she spoke of by a few drinks.
"You'll be lucky to get your job back at the store," she shrilled angrily. "And it's all because of those crazy dreams. Dreams, dreams, dreams! I think you're losing your mind."
Joe resisted an impulse to hurl something into her over painted face. He picked up the water glass on the night table, gulped a drink. He cleared his throat, fighting back the rage and frustration he felt. He spoke evenly, grimly.
"I wish you'd get the hell out of this room," he told her.
Agnes stepped back, slightly aghast. This was the first time Joe had ever shown temper. Maybe he knew what she'd been up to.
Joe Nicolbee had no conscious realization of time passing. But it was dark when his footsteps finally took him wearily up the walk of his little cottage hours later. The turmoil in his soul was now a feverish yearning and incessant throbbing that wouldn't let him rest. His body was dead from fatigue, but in his brain there still blazed the picture of his dream world, the memory of Naya.
Agnes wasn't at home, and Joe moved wearily through the living room, climbing the stairs to his bedroom like a man in a trance. He didn't bother even to remove his shoes or clothing as he threw himself on his bed. It seemed to him as if his mind would never cease its torment, never cease its whirling, never let him sleep, never let him—
The keen tingling intoxication of the fo rest air was again in Joe Nicol bee's nostrils. And this time his entrance into the glorious world of dreams was somehow very different from any he had ever experienced before. It seemed to Joe Nicolbee, as he stood there in the gorgeously colored forest once again, that he had awakened from another and evil dream to find himself here.
Joe blinked his eyes, gazing about in mingled excitement and expectation.
It occurred to him that this was also the first time in all his dreams that he had ever been twice to the same dream world. His pulses hammered feverishly. He hadn't lost Naya. He hadn't lost this beautiful world.
Naya, suddenly, was before him, smiling.
"Joe Nicolbee," she said, "you have returned. I knew you would."
"I thought I had lost you, forever," Joe said huskily.
Naya shook her head.
"You are just beginning to find me. You are just beginning to enjoy this world." She took him by the hand and they walked beneath the tall archway of trees.
"You have had trouble," Naya said after a moment's silence. "But do not let bad dreams disturb you."
"Bad dreams?" Joe Nicolbee gasped, recalling the thought that had occurred to him but a moment ago. "But this is a dream."
Naya nodded as solemnly as a little child.
"Yes," she said. "This is a dream. But you will learn more."
Joe Nicolbee walked on in silence, the closeness of Naya as beautiful, as splendid, as symphonic music to his soul. They came to a clearing, and far in the distance mountains were visible, shrouded faintly in soft, fleecy clouds.
Naya pointed upward to the mountains. Joe saw through the white cotton mists that the towers of a magnificent castle were visible.
"That is ours," Naya said. "It has been waiting for us."
Joe Nicolbee held her hand a little more firmly. Tears were in his eyes.
Agnes was standing over him again when Joe woke up. It had been her persistent pulling at his ear that jarred him back into his world of obnoxious reality. He still remembered entering the magnificent castle with Naya, of strolling through the richly adorned halls and past the towering marble staircases, of placing his arm around her slim waist—
"Where have you been all day?" his wife's sharply voiced query cut knifelike through the glorious haze that still webbed Joe's brain.
"You weren't at work," she went on accusingly. "You were out all day. I was nearly crazy."
Joe noticed by her breath that she had staved off the madness she spoke of by a few drinks.
"You'll be lucky to get your job back at the store," she shrilled angrily. "And it's all because of those crazy dreams. Dreams, dreams, dreams! I think you're losing your mind."
Joe resisted an impulse to hurl something into her over painted face. He picked up the water glass on the night table, gulped a drink. He cleared his throat, fighting back the rage and frustration he felt. He spoke evenly, grimly.
"I wish you'd get the hell out of this room," he told her.
Agnes stepped back, slightly aghast. This was the first time Joe had ever shown temper. Maybe he knew what she'd been up to.
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