his smile. Perhaps another time. One when she was not required to say, “I’ve had another dream.”
• • •
Jacob Rawlings paced the foyer on the other side of the fountain. As he talked into his cell phone, a growing number of very young children gathered near him with their mothers. Many of the women gave Jacob lingering glances. Elena could well understand why.
Three years earlier, Jacob had been tapped to host a three-part series on childhood development for the Discovery Channel.There had been a good many chuckles over the news when it first broke, as Jacob had never married. But the program had been a surprise hit, drawing the highest numbers of any cable-network fact-based program for the entire year. Elena had watched an episode once, and despite her resentment over his scathing review of her book, she had been forced to admit the man had a magnetic quality.
A recent analysis of successful movie stars had resulted in a remarkable discovery. The study had concluded that an actor’s talent and general attractiveness were only part of the equation. Of great importance was what the scientists termed as physical equilibrium . By this they meant the actor possessed almost ideal proportions. They had compared a number of stars to a computer image of perfect form—stance, balance, shape of head and shoulders, and so forth. Both the male and female viewers tended to be drawn toward the person who represented the ideal physical form, rating them higher than those typically considered more attractive.
As Elena watched him pace the foyer’s inlaid marble floor, she decided that Jacob Rawlings possessed both looks and balance. Not to mention intelligence. She found herself enjoying the sight. He was, she decided, almost too good a package. She had recently seen his photograph somewhere, a lovely blond model with a vacant gaze on his arm. The model had been signed as the new face for Lancôme cosmetics. Elena had decided the two probably deserved each other.
Jacob paced and continued a conversation so grimly intense he remained blind to the attention being cast his way. Elena leaned back in her seat, wearied by the day and the night before. Against her will, she found herself being drawn back into the dream’s vivid images.
The dream had carried with it a sense of jarring disconnect. As though reality was undergoing a seismic shift, one only shecould see. The world tilted on its axis, and only she had a compass and could detect the coming tumult.
The feelings of anxiety and pending disaster had been far stronger than the images themselves. If anything, the view had been almost benign, especially compared to the bank’s interior. Elena had left an office where she had formerly held a job. She joined a line, which quickly grew along the street. They did not march in step. They shuffled.
As the dream continued, the line of people became a flood. They filled the street from one side to the other. They grew increasingly packed together. And still more came, piling in from all the doorways and offices and side streets.
The crowd became so dense she could not draw a decent breath. She struggled, yet at the same time remained vaguely docile. She knew it was vital that she not lose her place in line. If she made a scene, she would be sent to the back. And that would be terrible. Why, she wasn’t sure. But she knew she had to behave if she wanted to remain where she was.
With each step the crowd’s forward progress moved more slowly. The people turned a final corner. Elena felt a growing sense of desperation, as though she caught the smell of something on the unseen wind, and knew she was nearly there. Finally she was able to see what awaited her down that street.
Ahead of her was a single narrow door. Everyone wanted to enter. Everyone tried desperately to hide their frantic impatience. They shuffled forward, and the closer they came the greater her anxiety grew. Just as her tension rose to a fever
• • •
Jacob Rawlings paced the foyer on the other side of the fountain. As he talked into his cell phone, a growing number of very young children gathered near him with their mothers. Many of the women gave Jacob lingering glances. Elena could well understand why.
Three years earlier, Jacob had been tapped to host a three-part series on childhood development for the Discovery Channel.There had been a good many chuckles over the news when it first broke, as Jacob had never married. But the program had been a surprise hit, drawing the highest numbers of any cable-network fact-based program for the entire year. Elena had watched an episode once, and despite her resentment over his scathing review of her book, she had been forced to admit the man had a magnetic quality.
A recent analysis of successful movie stars had resulted in a remarkable discovery. The study had concluded that an actor’s talent and general attractiveness were only part of the equation. Of great importance was what the scientists termed as physical equilibrium . By this they meant the actor possessed almost ideal proportions. They had compared a number of stars to a computer image of perfect form—stance, balance, shape of head and shoulders, and so forth. Both the male and female viewers tended to be drawn toward the person who represented the ideal physical form, rating them higher than those typically considered more attractive.
As Elena watched him pace the foyer’s inlaid marble floor, she decided that Jacob Rawlings possessed both looks and balance. Not to mention intelligence. She found herself enjoying the sight. He was, she decided, almost too good a package. She had recently seen his photograph somewhere, a lovely blond model with a vacant gaze on his arm. The model had been signed as the new face for Lancôme cosmetics. Elena had decided the two probably deserved each other.
Jacob paced and continued a conversation so grimly intense he remained blind to the attention being cast his way. Elena leaned back in her seat, wearied by the day and the night before. Against her will, she found herself being drawn back into the dream’s vivid images.
The dream had carried with it a sense of jarring disconnect. As though reality was undergoing a seismic shift, one only shecould see. The world tilted on its axis, and only she had a compass and could detect the coming tumult.
The feelings of anxiety and pending disaster had been far stronger than the images themselves. If anything, the view had been almost benign, especially compared to the bank’s interior. Elena had left an office where she had formerly held a job. She joined a line, which quickly grew along the street. They did not march in step. They shuffled.
As the dream continued, the line of people became a flood. They filled the street from one side to the other. They grew increasingly packed together. And still more came, piling in from all the doorways and offices and side streets.
The crowd became so dense she could not draw a decent breath. She struggled, yet at the same time remained vaguely docile. She knew it was vital that she not lose her place in line. If she made a scene, she would be sent to the back. And that would be terrible. Why, she wasn’t sure. But she knew she had to behave if she wanted to remain where she was.
With each step the crowd’s forward progress moved more slowly. The people turned a final corner. Elena felt a growing sense of desperation, as though she caught the smell of something on the unseen wind, and knew she was nearly there. Finally she was able to see what awaited her down that street.
Ahead of her was a single narrow door. Everyone wanted to enter. Everyone tried desperately to hide their frantic impatience. They shuffled forward, and the closer they came the greater her anxiety grew. Just as her tension rose to a fever
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