decided not to set the alarm for the morning, switched off the light and went straight to sleep.
Chapter Five
It was odd when I woke to the smell of bacon. At first I thought I was imagining it, but as the sleepy, jet-lag-induced fog in my brain cleared, I realized it was definitely bacon in the air.
My eyes opened to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Still groggy with sleep, I squinted at the blinding light and shaded my eyes. What time was it?
I glanced at the yellow numbers on the digital clock. It was almost 9:30 and I was at my grandmother’s house… But who the heck was cooking bacon in her kitchen?
Sitting up in bed with a whoosh of nervous butterflies—because I had been under the impression I was staying alone in the house—I tossed the covers aside and tiptoed out to the hall to peer over the railing. I couldn’t see past the bottom of the staircase, nor could I hear any sounds coming from the kitchen, so I decided, rather uncertainly and perhaps unwisely, to go downstairs and investigate.
* * *
“Gram?”
At least it was my grandmother who was standing in front of the stove instead of some random intruder with bad intentions, but the butterflies of panic in my tummy flew into a frenzy nevertheless. “What the heck are you doing here? What about your hip?”
I rushed forward, thinking she’d need help to reach a chair, but even that made no sense. She’d just had surgery. Yesterday .
She turned to face me and I was bowled over by how terrific she looked—at least a full decade younger. Her hair was thicker, longer and colored brown, and she was wearing eye makeup.
“What do you mean?” she asked with a bewildered frown, holding up a spatula. “What’s wrong with my hip?”
I stared at her for a moment, openmouthed, and was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Whirling around, I found myself gaping up at my tall grandfather with his warm and caring eyes behind large, Coke-bottle glasses.
Without a second’s rational thought, I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.
In that blissful moment—as I reveled in the soothing sensation of his hand rubbing up and down my back while he laughed—I realized I was dreaming. It was one of those rare and extraordinary experiences that occur just before you wake, when you are consciously aware that you’re asleep and dreaming. The dream feels impossibly real and you feel in control of what will happen next.
Please, don’t let it end yet. Don’t wake up… Just a few more minutes…
I backed up a step and regarded my grandfather with a powerful wave of love in my heart. “Hi, Grampy.”
“Morning kiddo,” he said jubilantly. “Are you hungry?”
I turned to face Gram again. She was holding out a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. The smell of the hot breakfast flooded my senses and caused me to salivate, and the joy I felt in the presence of my grandparents made me laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Gram asked.
“Nothing, I’m just happy,” I replied, taking the plate from her and sitting down at the table.
The next thing I knew, the dream spirited me, in a flash, to the lake with my summer friends. I sprinted to the end of the dock and leapt in like a cannonball.
Kersplash! The cool water engulfed me, flowed thunderously into my ears as I sank to the sandy bottom. I pushed off with the ball of my foot and paddled against the resistance of the depths, following the bubbles upward toward the bright, wavy surface and sunlight above.
When at last I broke through and gulped in a breath of fresh air, Ethan was there in front of me, treading water and smiling.
So handsome…so real…
Shock quivered through me and I nearly went under again—for he was my one and only true love. I hadn’t seen him since my youth, but this morning, in this vibrant, extraordinary dream, it was summertime in Portland, Maine. The year was 1998 and I was sixteen years old.
I swam to Ethan eagerly and
Chapter Five
It was odd when I woke to the smell of bacon. At first I thought I was imagining it, but as the sleepy, jet-lag-induced fog in my brain cleared, I realized it was definitely bacon in the air.
My eyes opened to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Still groggy with sleep, I squinted at the blinding light and shaded my eyes. What time was it?
I glanced at the yellow numbers on the digital clock. It was almost 9:30 and I was at my grandmother’s house… But who the heck was cooking bacon in her kitchen?
Sitting up in bed with a whoosh of nervous butterflies—because I had been under the impression I was staying alone in the house—I tossed the covers aside and tiptoed out to the hall to peer over the railing. I couldn’t see past the bottom of the staircase, nor could I hear any sounds coming from the kitchen, so I decided, rather uncertainly and perhaps unwisely, to go downstairs and investigate.
* * *
“Gram?”
At least it was my grandmother who was standing in front of the stove instead of some random intruder with bad intentions, but the butterflies of panic in my tummy flew into a frenzy nevertheless. “What the heck are you doing here? What about your hip?”
I rushed forward, thinking she’d need help to reach a chair, but even that made no sense. She’d just had surgery. Yesterday .
She turned to face me and I was bowled over by how terrific she looked—at least a full decade younger. Her hair was thicker, longer and colored brown, and she was wearing eye makeup.
“What do you mean?” she asked with a bewildered frown, holding up a spatula. “What’s wrong with my hip?”
I stared at her for a moment, openmouthed, and was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Whirling around, I found myself gaping up at my tall grandfather with his warm and caring eyes behind large, Coke-bottle glasses.
Without a second’s rational thought, I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.
In that blissful moment—as I reveled in the soothing sensation of his hand rubbing up and down my back while he laughed—I realized I was dreaming. It was one of those rare and extraordinary experiences that occur just before you wake, when you are consciously aware that you’re asleep and dreaming. The dream feels impossibly real and you feel in control of what will happen next.
Please, don’t let it end yet. Don’t wake up… Just a few more minutes…
I backed up a step and regarded my grandfather with a powerful wave of love in my heart. “Hi, Grampy.”
“Morning kiddo,” he said jubilantly. “Are you hungry?”
I turned to face Gram again. She was holding out a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. The smell of the hot breakfast flooded my senses and caused me to salivate, and the joy I felt in the presence of my grandparents made me laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Gram asked.
“Nothing, I’m just happy,” I replied, taking the plate from her and sitting down at the table.
The next thing I knew, the dream spirited me, in a flash, to the lake with my summer friends. I sprinted to the end of the dock and leapt in like a cannonball.
Kersplash! The cool water engulfed me, flowed thunderously into my ears as I sank to the sandy bottom. I pushed off with the ball of my foot and paddled against the resistance of the depths, following the bubbles upward toward the bright, wavy surface and sunlight above.
When at last I broke through and gulped in a breath of fresh air, Ethan was there in front of me, treading water and smiling.
So handsome…so real…
Shock quivered through me and I nearly went under again—for he was my one and only true love. I hadn’t seen him since my youth, but this morning, in this vibrant, extraordinary dream, it was summertime in Portland, Maine. The year was 1998 and I was sixteen years old.
I swam to Ethan eagerly and
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