Falling Awake

there is something different about him tonight,however. It bothers her that she cannot immediately comprehend what it is.
    Then it comes to her. She does not know what he will be wearing this evening.
    This is not how it is supposed to be.
    On every other night she has always known how he will be dressed. These are her own private, erotic Level Five fantasies. She controls every aspect of them.
    In the past she has always taken great care to set the stage before slipping into one of these extreme dreams. She has always taken the time to dress the man of her dreams in some glamorous, romantic style: a highwayman’s dashing cloak and mask, perhaps, or early-nineteenth-century breeches, jacket, polished boots and an intricately tied cravat. When she was in the mood for an after-the-ball scenario, she usually opted for a formal tuxedo, pleated white shirt and bow tie.
    But she cannot remember what she specified for this evening. She cannot even recall making the decision to have him come to her tonight.
    A strange panic ruffles her nerves.
    Dream Man walks toward her through the shadows. Her pulse beats more quickly. He has not yet touched her but already she can feel the heavy pull of desire deep in her body.
    Alarm bells sound. She knows that she should pay attention to the warning. The fact that she does not know how her midnight lover will be dressed tonight is important.
    The alarm bells are louder now, more insistent.
    Dream Man comes closer. There is a strange inevitability about this whole thing that is really starting to worry her. Maybe she should end the performance now. She tries to rise from the sofa but she cannot move.
    He is approaching swiftly. One more stride will bring him into the pale pool of light that spills across the sofa.
    At last she catches a glimpse of his face and sees how he is dressed. Shock reverberates through her. Now she knows for certain that she is not in control of this dream . . .
    She surfed into full wakefulness on the crest of an adrenaline wave.
    She sat straight up in bed, trembling. Perspiration dampened her cotton nightgown. She was breathing much too quickly and she was intensely aware of her own pulse.
    Sphinx loomed over her, his broad head silhouetted against the pale glow of the night-light in the hall. She could see the glitter of his eyes.
    “I’m okay.” She realized he was somewhat agitated and raised her hand to stroke him reassuringly.
    The phone beside the bed rang, jarring her. She recognized the sound as the alarm bell she had heard in the dream. Swallowing hard, she reached past Sphinx to grab the receiver. Without her glasses, she was forced to squint a little to read the large, glowing green numbers on the face of the clock. Twelve thirty-seven.
    Her first worried thought was that the voice on the other endof the line would likely be Leila’s reporting an emergency in the family.
    “Hello?” She realized that she sounded hoarse and anxious.
    “Isabel?” Her name came out slurred. Ishabel.
    Definitely not Leila. The voice was familiar but she was still disoriented from the unplanned dream. She could hear very loud rock music in the background.
    “It’s me, Gavin Hardy. Your old buddy from IT at the Belvedere Center.” Gavin raised his voice to be heard above the music. “You haven’t forgotten me already, have you?”
    “I don’t understand.” She pulled her disordered senses together with an effort and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What on earth are you calling about at this hour of the night? Where are you?”
    “Right here in Roxanna Beach,” Gavin said. “I’m sitting in a bar across the street from the motel where I’m staying.”
    “Have you been drinking?”
    “Had a few beers. I needed to do something to kill the time while I waited for you to answer your damn phone. Where’ve you been all evening?”
    “I went out to dinner and turned off my phone.”
    “So that was it. Tried to call you every fifteen minutes from about seven o’clock on until ten or so. I started to wonder if maybe I had the wrong number. Finally gave up and came over here to get something to eat before trying again. Man, am I glad to hear your voice.”

    “Are you all right?”
    “I’m swell now that I’ve finally got ahold of you.”
    “You’re not driving, are you?”
    He snorted. “That’s the Isabel we all knew back at the center. Just can’t help worrying about folks and handing out the good advice, can you? Relax, like I