Before I Wake by Kathryn Smith Page A

a little too familiar. “Sexual things?”
    He looked offended. “No. Jesus, Doc.”
    I shrugged, trying to hide that I was both relieved and bitter. He had gotten off easier than I had in my dream. “I need specifics.”
    “He became aggressive—pushing, trying to get me to fight him. Last night he tried to stab me, but I woke up.”
    It made me think of the “stabbing” the man in my dreams had given me. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
    His frown deepened as he tried to conjure a mental picture. The fingers of his right hand touched the top of my left, stroking softly.
    It gave me goose bumps. I don’t think Noah even noticed. “He had weird eyes. I didn’t recognize him.”
    Weird eyes. Okay, that might mean anything. It didn’t necessarily mean pale blue with spidery rims. “Dreams of a stranger often can mean fear of the unknown. As for the aggression…Do you feel pressure from some aspect of your life?”
    He shook his head. “I have a show coming up in a few days, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

    I thought about it. The upcoming pressure of a show could certainly manifest in Noah’s dreams, but it hardly seemed a likely catalyst for dream-violence of this caliber.
    “Doc.” Noah was pale as he regarded me across the table. “I tried changing the dream, and he took it away. It wasn’t my dream anymore. It was his.”
    The words—and the look on Noah’s face—sent a shiver down my spine. Noah had been lucid in his dream—lucid and powerless. He must have been terrified. Dreamkin will shift a dream, but they won’t take it away. They weren’t allowed.
    The thought that one had done this to Noah made me angry. Very angry.
    “You said the man spoke to you.” The therapist side of me was rapidly losing out to the Nightmare side. “What did he say?”
    “He said he was coming, and neither me nor the nightmare would be able to stop him.” His lips twitched, as though he tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “That’s weird, right?”
    Were it possible for a person’s blood to turn to ice, I’d be able to sink the Titanic at that moment. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
    “Yeah,” I agreed hoarsely. “Weird. Any idea what he means?”
    Noah shook his head, but when he looked at me, there was a strange glimmer in his dark eyes. “Not a clue. I thought you might be able to decipher it.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “Because you know more about dreams than anyone I know.”
    Yep, I suppose I did. More than he could ever imagine. I smiled at the compliment regardless, then slipped into therapist mode.
    “How did this dream make you feel?”
    He stared at me for a second, like he knew I was thinking more than I was saying. “Powerless.” He said it so softly that I barely heard.
    “Did that frighten you?”
    His jaw tightened, the muscle there ticking. How did guys do that? “Yes.”
    He didn’t like admitting to being frightened—who did? But it gave me something to think about. “Being made a victim is unpleasant for anyone.” I watched his reaction; a subtle darkening of his eyes. “Perhaps you are afraid that you will be made a victim—or you have been in the past.”
    I’ve never seen Noah angry before, but I was willing to bet it looked a little something like he did now—only much worse. His nostrils flared with a sharp breath, his gaze brightened, and his cheeks flushed. “Maybe.”
    He wasn’t going to give me any more, damn it. “Noah”—I tried to keep my voice gentle—“do you really believe something in your dreams was physically trying to harm you?”
    He leaned closer, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut across his biceps and shoulders. A couple of inches on my part and we’d kiss.
    “Do you believe it’s possible?”
    I held his gaze and said the one thing I swore I wouldn’t. “Yes.”
    Noah went very still, regarding me with something that looked like a mixture of relief and disbelief. “You do.”
    I was saved from answering by