Falling Awake

move. He had no doubt been the class clown back in elementary school. But he was in love with a woman named Susan. Isabel knew that the only thing stopping him from asking his girlfriend to marry him was his recurring dream.
    She motioned toward the corner of her desk. “You can set the printouts there.”
    “You sure? What about those old dream logs?”
    “Just put the printouts on top of them, please.”
    “Okay.” Ken cautiously set the stack down. He took a step back, eyeing the unstable-looking result with a dubious expression. “What the hell happened in here, anyway? Place looks likea cyclone hit it. Your office is always a little chaotic but this clutter is a lot worse than usual.”
    “The new Dr. Belvedere ordered all of his father’s papers cleared out of the executive office this morning when he took charge. The janitors were told to take everything to the trash bin out back. I barely managed to catch them in time to rescue this stuff. Five minutes later and I would have had to dig it all out of the garbage.”
    Ken grimaced and looked at Sphinx. “So, you not only wind up saving the old man’s cat from the pound, you also salvaged thirty or forty years’ worth of Belvedere’s crazy private research. You’re too soft-hearted, Isabel.”
    Sphinx flattened his ears. Isabel stiffened and pushed her new, black-framed glasses up on her nose. In addition to spending a fortune on hairstylists in the past few months, she had also invested heavily in expensive, fashionable optical wear in an attempt to find a look .
    The exotic, elegantly sculpted frames had been designed in Italy. The salesperson in the optical shop had assured her that they made a statement and brought out the green-gold color of her eyes but she had serious doubts. She had a nasty feeling that another trip to the optician’s shop was on the horizon.
    That was what came of finally obtaining a professional-level position with an excellent salary and benefits, she thought. The exhilaration of having a stable income at last had enabled her to splurge on a variety of long-delayed indulgences. Her formercareer as an operator on the Psychic Dreamer Hotline had not stretched to high-end salons and Italian spectacles.
    The new clothes and fashion accessories were the least of her major purchases in the past year. The really big investment had been the furniture, all of which had come from Europe and all of which was currently still in the original packing crates and sitting in a rented storage locker because she had not yet found the Dream House.
    She frowned at Ken. “Just because no one would publish Dr. B.’s research does not mean that his theories were crazy. Oh, I know what the staff said about him behind his back but you and the others should keep in mind that Dr. B. was your employer and he paid all of us very generous salaries.”
    Ken winced. “You’re right. I suppose it would be more polite to call his theories ‘out of the mainstream.’ Anyhow, like I was saying, in my dream I’m in my car, heading toward the intersection. I can see another car, a red one, entering the intersection from the street on the left. I know that if I don’t stop, I’m going to smash right into the other vehicle. I can see people inside the other car. A woman and a kid. I want to yell at them to stop but I can’t—”
    “But you know they can’t hear you and you can’t get your foot off the accelerator and there will be a terrible disaster if you don’t find a way to stop the car,” Isabel concluded, opening a drawer to remove her new designer shoulder bag. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, Ken. You know what’s going on as well as I do.”

    Ken exhaled heavily and seemed to slump in on himself. The happy-go-lucky facade disintegrated. He rubbed his face in a weary gesture.
    “The heart thing?” he said.
    “Yes.” She straightened and met his eyes. Her own heart sank when she saw the veiled fear that lurked in his gaze. “The heart thing.”
    “Yeah, sure.” He tried for a wry smile. “I knew that. Hey, I’m an expert on sleep, right? Dr. Kenneth Payne, neuropsychologist and fellow here at the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research. I know an anxiety dream when I see one.”
    She walked toward him and came to a halt a step away. “I can only give you the same advice today that I gave you the first time you and I talked about the car dreams. Make the appointment with the doctor, Ken.”
    “I know, I