The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time Read Free Page B

physiotherapy appointments. I won’t mind the physio. It’ll just take the place of my Zumba class. But I think he’s just trying to intimidate me. You know, he suggested I not have the surgery, just because I’m eighty-six.”
    “I didn’t realize you had a choice,” I replied.
    “I didn’t! Unless I was willing to spend the rest of my days sitting in a wheelchair in a nursing home. I told him that wasn’t happening.”
    I chuckled again. “Good for you, Gram. Any woman of eighty-six who’s capable of cleaning her own gutters deserves to be treated with a little respect.”
    “Damn straight!”
    I laughed and kissed her hand.
    “How’s Gordon?” she asked. “Did you feed him?”
    “I did, and he’s just fine, but missing you. He’ll be glad when you can come home.”
    “So will I. You know, they say they’ll be getting me out of bed and walking in a day or two.”
    “They don’t waste any time, do they?”
    “They certainly don’t. But I suppose, at my age, every minute counts.”
    Gram closed her eyes and lay back down on the pillow. I sat quietly for a moment, not wanting to tire her out.
    “It was so good of you to come, Sylvie,” she said after a short rest. “So very generous. I hope it will be better for you this time.”
    Something shivered in all my nerve endings. “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, you know,” she replied with a note of compassion. “It’s never easy for you to come here. Memories can sometimes be… a burden .”
    I thought about that as I recalled my dream and how disheartened I’d felt when it began to fade and Ethan was gone. I had been carrying that so-called burden for many years.
    While Gram closed her eyes again and rested, I wondered if I wasn’t as “over this” as I’d thought I was, because all I wanted to do now was go home, fall asleep and return to the dream and the happiness I’d felt there.
    Was that even possible? I had seen a documentary once about lucid dreaming, where the subject was consciously aware he was asleep and could control what happened in his dream world.
    That must have been the kind of dream I’d had that morning, because it felt so real, yet I’d understood that it wasn’t. I worried, however, that if I could control what happened in my dreams, I might want to go to sleep and remain in that state forever.

Chapter Seven

    That night, I returned to Gram’s house and was greeted by Gordon who purred and rubbed up against my legs at the door. First I picked him up, snuggled with him, and fed him. Then I couldn’t help myself. I opened my laptop at the kitchen table and googled “Lucid Dreams.”
    What I found surprised me. There were dozens of websites devoted to the “science” of lucid dreaming. It was described as a state of REM where the dreamer is consciously aware that he or she is dreaming and can control what occurs. Some sites provided in-depth, step-by-step instructions on how to master your dreams and achieve an exhilarating feeling of freedom and empowerment—for there are no boundaries in dreams, no social or physical restrictions to impede any experience.
    As I recalled the thrill I’d felt that morning after dreaming I’d returned to my youth and spent time with my grandparents and Ethan, I grew more curious about learning how to control these vivid hallucinations during sleep.
    I spent more than an hour researching the subject online and eventually stumbled upon another phenomenon called astral projection , which was described as an actual out-of-body experience where the soul could leave the physical body and travel to other spiritual realms.
    Feeling a bit creeped out, I decided to take a break, so I rose from my chair to make a cup of herbal tea.
    I was just setting the kettle on the stove when my cell phone vibrated. I picked it up off the counter and discovered it was my sister, Jenn.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, it’s me. How’s Gram doing?” she asked.
    “Better today,” I replied as I turned the knob on