He glanced to the clock again. 2:36 AM. Maybe he should pop a couple of the Quaaludes Kevin had given him. But as much as he craved sleep, a small part of him feared slumber, for recently, during the few hours his body did shut down, horrible dreams haunted him, dreams in which a red-haired woman stalked him from the shadows.
All his life, he had enjoyed vibrant, joyful, colorful dreams that stayed with him long after he awoke. But nowadays, he awoke from catnaps shaking, covered in sweat, infused with a deep sense of fear. For all the meditation, journaling and therapy, he could remember only portions of the dream; a violent, angry woman dressed in bright red with a name that sounded noble, like Veronica, Vivica…something with a “V.” His brain allowed previews of the picture, but never the entire film.
Ever since the accident, his relationship with Jake had deteriorated, his sleep patterns had been destroyed and the only steady commitment he could fulfill was the volunteer position at the animal shelter. It was as if his whole world had been overturned like a giant Etch-A-Sketch. But through it all, good ol’ what’s-her-name in the red dress had seared a place for herself in his nighttime jaunts. And he knew that in his dreams, she was killing people.
Dane knew he should tell Jake that these vivid dreams had started again, but he didn’t want to concern him. Admit it, he said to himself, you don’t want Jake to think you’ve totally lost it. You’re afraid he’ll think less of you.
But there was also another reason he couldn’t tell Jake about the dreams. He harbored a feeling that was impossible to describe, an inner sense that through the dreams, he was fighting some kind of battle…a battle that was his and his alone. It’s personal.
Angakok was eerily different and while reading, I couldn't help but hum the tune from that Denzil Washington movie " Fallen"......Time is on my side.......
(Reviewed by Heidi)
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