Ruined Nights - Parts 1-2

28 years is a long time to be away from reality. That’s how long I was out, they told me—that’s how long my coma lasted. I remember waking up lying in a hospital bed, the bright white lights blinding me, my eyes throbbing painfully from lack of use. It felt so surreal, the whole ordeal did. It took me a while to orientate myself—to figure out whether or not I was still dreaming.

The first sounds I remember hearing that day was a woman’s cry to the doctors telling me that I had woken up. The next few minutes were a complete blur. After being jostled and hugged more times than I can recall, a stir of voices and movement all around me, I finally starting to come into consciousness.

I looked around slowly, my eyes still a bit painful, and saw a handful of people standing in the room. Some I saw were doctors and nurses, others were ones I knew or could at least vaguely recall…the rest were a group whom I had no recollection of.

“Where am I?” I asked groggily, still rather disoriented.

“At the St. Marcus Hospital,” a nurse replied, and then smiled at me.

“Why am I in a hospital? What happened to me?” Questions began to run rapidly through my mind as I struggled to jar my memory.

“It was a skydiving accident, Midnight,” a short woman with bronze skin and black hair in a ponytail kneeling next to me said, her voice soft and sweet.

“Skydiving at midnight?” I asked even more confused.

“No, no…Midnight—that’s your name,” the woman replied. She took my hand in hers. “Don’t you even remember your name?”

“No,” I answered honestly. My name…Midnight? What sort of a name was that? I looked across the room to my mirror reflection to get a better sense of myself. There I was, lying there in not much more than a hospital nightgown. My dark, reddish skin covered my scrawny form, and as I squinted a bit, I noticed that my face seemed to resemble the face of the lady holding my hand.

Swallowing hard, I asked my next question with bated breath. I turned to the woman and asked, “And who are you?”

I’d give anything to take that question back now. Or at the very least, I’d give anything to forget the look of despair in her face when she realized that the part of me that knew her was now gone.

“I’m your sister,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes, “Rainwater.”

I didn’t quite know what to say. I had just been awake for not even five minutes, and I’d already made someone cry. I wanted to ask something more important, but all that slipped out of my muzzle was, “Who named us?”

Rainwater gave a gentle laugh at this and replied, “Our parents were Native Americans.”

“Oh,” I responded. “Were they really?”

“Yes,” my sister answered again.

I paused again before asking my next question. “A skydiving accident?”

A tall, lank aging doctor stepped forward to answer this time. “You’re lucky to have survived it. Apparently, your parachute never opened.”

“I skydive?” I didn’t really have any recollection of ever having skydived before.

“You loved it,” a man wearing a white suit standing in the back near the open doorway replied. I recognized this guy, though he seemed to have aged a good deal since I last saw him. He was my best friend, from what I could remember.

“William?” I asked of him, and he nodded. Rainwater glared at him a bit enviously.

“You said that it freed you, that you could truly fly that way,” he went on, smiling weakly at me.

“How long was I out?” I asked finally. “What day is it?” Some people in the room exchanged nervous glances before an answer was given.

“You went into your coma on May 3rd, 2003,” the old doctor told me a bit heavily. “It is now June 24th, 2031.”

I blinked, stunned. “2031?” I repeated. My mind quickly did the math. “I’ve been out for nearly three decades?” That was harsh. That was becoming harder and harder to take in as I realized more and more how much my world was likely to have changed, how everything I thought I might have known would have simply disappeared. I looked to the window, which had the curtains still drawn around them. I started to get up to go look out the window, moving slowly, when I was stopped.

“Take it slow!” the doctor ordered. I glanced at him half-heartedly, then slowly swung my legs out off the bed and set my feet on the floor, sitting upright facing the window. Taking the tubes out of my nose and monitoring patches off my body, I tried to stand. I wobbled for a moment, then fell backwards onto the bed again.

It was then that I broke, burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t even remember how to walk. My world was gone. Why hadn’t I just died in that accident? What good was I now? I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, and heard the doctor speak again.

“It’s going to be a long process getting back on your feet, so to speak,” he told me softly. “You’re very fortunate that you don’t have to learn to talk again. Most coma victims do.”

I looked up at him through misty eyes, and all I could manage to say was, “Why? Why me?” He frowned a bit, dipping his head down and closing his eyes, obviously unable to answer.

“Sometimes, there are no answers,” I heard William say from behind me. “Some things just happen, and we can never know the reason why. There may not even BE a reason why.”

“Oh, you can say that easily!” I told him. “You didn’t just wake up to find that you had been asleep for 28 years!”

“No, but I had to see my best friend miss out on so many great adventures in life,” he responded, a bit coldly. “I’ve had the time to ask ‘why’ as well, you know.”

Again, I didn’t know what to say. I was upset, and I couldn’t think straight. In retrospect, I figured that I shouldn’t have gotten angry at him like that.

“I think,” started the doctor again, addressing everyone standing in the room, “that this man needs some personal time to recover.” Everyone took their cue and left, except for the doctor and his upbeat nurse.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” William said to me on his way out, and was the last one to leave, leaving me alone with the doctor and nurse.

“So what’s the game plan?” I said a bit dryly to the tall doctor, who got to work promptly checking my vitals. He went into an overview of learning to walk again, taking it slow, checking other body controls, taking it slow, staying in the hospital for some time longer, and, oh yeah—taking it slow. So I somewhat reluctantly allowed the staff to take their sweet time in helping me recover. I was actually rather torn the whole time—I wanted to see how much the world had really changed, but at the same time, I was afraid of what all would be missing and of how much had really changed, and my hospital bedroom served as a rather safe haven to prolong the inevitable. It’s a scary thought, realizing that you don’t know how different the world you’re soon to step out into might be. You think you have a grasp on things in life, and you suddenly wake up one day only to have reality flipped upside-down. In the end, I could only work slowly, as the doctors were instructing me, and simply hope to soon see at least some remnants of my world.



The process of “getting back on my feet” was indeed long and tedious. Countless hours were spent relearning how to walk properly. The only thing that made the whole ordeal endurable was the fact that I got visitors daily. Usually it was only my sister or William, who would help fill me in on the history of the world’s affairs since I went under. However, once in a blue moon, I’d get the occasional odd friend or relative. Some of them I remembered. The others…well…let me just say that on those days, I felt as if I had taken a few steps back again.

I remember one specific day, close to the end of my rehab, when William came in that ended up changing my life again. He walked in, donning his white suit again, his bouncy walk rather jovial as usual (as far as I remember it), though he seemed sensitive at the same time, a warm smile on his face. He looked at me somewhat oddly before speaking to me.

“I have a special visitor here today, my friend,” he said to me somewhat heavily. “She hadn’t mustered up the courage to come talk to you until just now. She’s waiting right outside.”

“Who is she?” I asked, sitting up in my bed.

“Well…does the name Sylvia Shadows ring any bells?”

After thinking long and hard, I had to reply honestly, “No, sorry. Perhaps if I could see her, I might remember. Who was she?” I heard some soft sobbing from right outside the room, and before William could answer, I saw a petite black and white figure run into the room, rushing right at me, and hugging me tightly, sobbing onto my shoulder. As awkward as it felt to have a complete stranger show so much affection towards me, I found her hug oddly warming for me, and wrapped an arm around her, caressing her gently.

“Sylvia was your girlfriend, Midnight,” Williams told me over the gentle sobs. “You two had broken up not a week before the accident. She’s been worried about you ever since, but didn’t have the heart to come see you until now.”

I looked down in wonder at the small mound of dark skin and zebra-striped fabric still clutching my body. “Forgive me,” I said to her, doing my best to console her. “I wish I could remember you—some part of you. You, er, seem like a very nice lady.” It seemed to have worked, as she pulled back a little and looked at me with full, beautiful (yet still teary) eyes.

My god, she was gorgeous! I wish there were better words to aptly describe her beauty. There was a strange but comforting aura about her—perhaps given off by the bottomless wells of her blue eyes—that gave me a warmth and a comfort that no one else I knew had ever given me. At the same time, though, she seemed all too distant, beyond a vague memory, as if her very soul was shrouded in a thick mist on some distant, unmapped island. During all the time I knew her, she was always this way: ever present, but always so distant. Nevertheless, there were hints about her that held a history—a lifetime of pleasures that begged my remembrance, for which I struggled and racked my brain.

“I’m surprised I wouldn’t remember someone so beautiful,” I said softly, more to myself. She smiled when she heard it though, her face lifting up a bit into a soft smile. “Forgive me, Sylvia,” I said again, “but what made you so nervous to see me?”

“It’s just,” she started in a soft and near-heavenly voice. “I wanted to see you—I swear that I did! I still love you. I always have loved you. I just didn’t know how you’d react. I’m so sorry for leaving you!” She hugged me tightly again, kissing and nuzzling my neck, and I couldn’t help but hug back, her warm body a welcome change from the cold hospital rooms I was accustomed to now.

She pulled back once again, holding my face in her hands, and regarded my eyes for a moment before advancing on me again—this time kissing me full on. I was shocked at first, but closed my eyes a split second after and simply allowed myself to melt into her deep kiss. It was unlike anything I had a recollection for: warm and tingly, oddly comforting, and certainly invigorating! When she pulled away again, we both looked back at William, who was still standing near the doorway.

He had a peculiar, anxious look about him. “Anything wrong?” I heard myself ask him.

“Oh, no!” he replied merrily, his face brightening up a bit. “Just glad I can see you two together again is all.” He rubbed his hands a bit, almost nervously. “And you know,” he continued, “since you’re almost finished with rehab, I think we ought to go out and celebrate once you are good to go. Just the three of us, like the good old days.”

“The three of us?” I repeated. “No girlfriend for you, Will?”

He laughed nervously. “I see you don’t remember everything about me…” he started.

“What am I missing?” I asked, looking curiously from Sylvia to William.

“I’m gay,” he answered frankly.

“Oh. Well…boyfriend, then?” So what if he’s gay? A friend is a friend, especially one who sticks around after 28 years of the Sandman.

“Nope,” he answered, looking down at the floor, an odd twist in his smile.

“Well, maybe I ought to help find one for you,” I said, winking at him with a smile.

He smiled back and said simply, “You just worry about getting out of this place, and then we’ll see about all that later on. I’ve survived for some years now—I think I can survive for longer.”

Sylvia looked at me, kissing me again lightly, and then said with a slight frown, “I have to be going.” She planted her soft lips on mine once more, kissing me passionately. With a final hug she got up and started to leave.

“We both need to go, actually,” William added. Waving with a gentle smile on his face, he led Sylvia out of the door, who looked back to blow me a kiss just before she disappeared from view.



That first day leaving the hospital was quite an experience for me! I remember the anticipation of looking upon the outside world for the first time. William and Sylvia had come to pick me up, and as I signed all the necessary paperwork, I took that first nervous step outside. My legs almost felt like faltering, but I resisted and followed through as I stepped through the sliding doors to behold the new world.

“Wow,” I said as I looked around at the tall skyscrapers surrounding the hospital at a fair distance. I turned back to Sylvia and William and said with a bright smile, “I expected things to look a lot different, but the world looks the same as I left it!”

“Well, the surface barely changed, really,” William informed me. I carefully placed a foot onto the pavement sidewalk in front of me, taking my time to make sure it was all real. Once I was satisfied, I bounded off, running a ways on the sidewalk before pausing to let my two guides catch up.

“What,” panted William as he ran up, “was that all about?”

“I’m sorry,” I exclaimed giddily. “It’s just…wow…you know? This!” I cried out, thrusting my arms wide open and looking ahead, as if to embrace the wonderful world before me. I felt a single tear fall carefully down my face. “You have no idea,” I said, turning back to them. “No idea what it’s been like in there,” I nodded to the hospital. “It’s been a real prison,” I said, my face drooping just a bit.

Sylvia looked concernedly at me, walking up to me. She was shorter than I had noticed in the hospital room, only coming halfway up my chest. Hugging me gently but meaningfully, she looked up at me and said, “I know we don’t know what it was like, honey. But we’re here for you all the same.”

“I know,” I beamed down at her, hugging back and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “And thanks,” I added. “It’s been a nightmare, and I don’t think I would have pulled through without your support.”

“Well,” William interrupted, “shall we be going?” I nodded and followed him as he led the way around the corner of the beige and lifeless building, leading us to a parking lot.

“The cars are certainly different then how I remember them,” I noted. We hopped into a small red convertible, the top down for the nice, breezy day, with William at the wheel. I frowned a bit as I got into the back seat with Sylvia. “I just realized that I’ll have to learn how to drive again.”

“That can be easily arranged,” Sylvia said, caressing my arm.

“And what about a job?” I asked. “What did I do before…?”

“Not a heck of a lot, my friend!” William guffawed, and pulled slowly out of the parking space. Once we exited the parking lot (I noticed the gate system was still the same as ever), we were off in a flurry as tall buildings whipped past me, my eyes struggling to keep up. Downtown turned into the highway, the highway turned into a country road, and I couldn’t help but cry out and laugh with excitement. I pointed my face straight into the air and simply laughed as I felt the sun’s warming rays beam down on me. The air whipped around my body in jubilation, and I felt like a kid again. I felt free, totally and utterly without restraint, and I eagerly took in the world’s sights, sounds, and smells during the long drive.

We were deeper into the country, the rolling hills blanketed with trees, and I was about to ask where we were headed when we turned a long corner, and my unasked questioned appeared to be answered. In the near distance, upon a high cliff overlooking the sea, the road wound up to greet an ostentatious mansion. It was entirely white, and looked to be like one of those old Southern plantation homes, the porch and second- and third-story balconies on the front side supported by huge white columns.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sylvia started with a mock Southern Belle accent that made me smile even further. “We decided to retire to my villa until this evening’s festivities.”

“It’s a wonderful villa,” I replied, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

“I’m glad you like it, because it’s going to be your home as well for a while—as long as you’d like, in fact,” she said warmly in her regular voice.

“Really?” I asked, a bit confused. “Why’s that?”

The small woman frowned a bit and said quite honestly, “Your home had to be sold at auction. We tried to save it—we really did. They got us in the end with some legal mumbo-jumbo about how you hadn’t been there for years.”

“So I’m homeless now?” I asked nervously, feeling my stomach flip.

“No!” she answered concernedly. “Not as long as you’ve got friends like me or William willing to take you in. I would never dream of seeing you homeless!”

That comforted me some, and I kissed her lightly just as we pulled up into the rounded driveway in front of the villa. I got out and looked up at the grandiose mansion, noting the fine curves and décor of its outer faces, and couldn’t help but smile. This looked like the start of a good life, I thought to myself as Sylvia unlocked the front door and invited me in.



“This is a good cognac,” I remarked somewhat wetly as I reclined in the deep plush leather chair, one arm resting nonchalantly on the huge arm. The drawing room was massive, to say the least, fitting in nicely with the rest of the villa. I couldn’t help but compare the sheer size of the house with the comparatively miniscule hospital room I had been taken prisoner in for so long.

“You remember your liquor, it seems,” replied William, who was busy pouring himself a third glass of the same. His lightly sloshed steps seemed a bit erratic as he made his way back to his seat on the couch next to Sylvia, who was still holding her first glass, only barely touched. She was still smiling at me.

“I don’t know why,” I said to William rather solemnly, my eyes, however, fixed on Sylvia. I took another sip and looked desolately into my glass, continuing to say, “I wish I did.”

“Well, I certainly hope you don’t plan to spend your time here so glum,” Sylvia said, lightening the room a bit with her voice.

“I don’t remember you,” I said to her, feeling so damn guilty. “I don’t even…know you.” The last words struggled to make it out of my mouth, and Sylvia could only respond by coming to sit on my lap, fitting easily with me into the huge chair.

“Then get to know me,” she said earnestly, smiling some as she beheld my eyes. “Over dinner, perhaps?” she added, glancing at her watch and getting up again.

“Good idea,” William said cheerfully, standing up quickly. I smiled wryly, though sincerely, and got up as well, working for a second to gain my balance. After a quick change of clothes (though William still in his white suit), we were back in the convertible, its smooth sheen reflecting the night as if the darkness were a familiar other world.

I always felt more at home, more at peace, during the nighttime. I don’t know why—it always just felt more natural and safe. Perhaps it’s because of how we used to go out all the time, or so I’ve been told. In any case, the night air smelled wonderful, tingling marvelously on my tongue. It tasted like nostalgic summers of a lost childhood, where all one might have to worry about is how many fireflies could be caught that evening. A night on the town seemed to hold much magic, and tonight was no different.

We parked ourselves a ways down the street from the fine downtown restaurant, since William never trusted the valet parking. Strolling casually towards the restaurant, we passed a dark building emanating a deep purple flashing light from within its tinted windows, and a loud noise that sounded like radio static fading in and out, but with no distinct signal coming through.

“What is that place?” I asked, having to raise my voice to a near-shout over the static sound.

“It’s a rave—a dance club,” Sylvia hollered back.

“Where’s the music?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“We’re shouting over it now!” she replied.

“This static noise is music?!” I asked incredulously, my voice slowly returning to normal as we passed far enough out of the sound’s radius.

“It’s the latest thing,” William said, grinning.

“You don’t say,” I scoffed, and the three of us made our way up to the restaurant’s entrance, where the doorman—a small young lad in a dapper suit—nodded and smiled as he let us in. The fading static-music quickly was replaced by the soft ballad being played by the live big band in the restaurant. “They have a dance floor,” I remarked, somewhat in question.

“Yeah,” Sylvia smirked, “but you were never much of a dancer. We could try again tonight, if you want.” She winked at me, grinning widely, and I was left only to smile back as we were led to a small table in a room adjacent to the room with the dance floor. A small aquarium built into the wall next to our table had some tropical fish swimming happily about.

“Those look expensive,” Sylvia said as we sat, nodding towards the fish in the aquarium. “They appear to be of the rather rare sort.”

“That’s how they were designed,” William replied casually, opening his menu to the wine list.

“Designed?” Sylvia and I asked in unison.

“Watch carefully,” William said, and we all stared at the aquarium instead of our menus for the first couple minutes, the big band in the next room heard to be playing a bright tune. After a moment, I had to do a double take, because it looked as if one of the fish…well, it’s somewhat strange to try to describe. It looked like it flashed and fizzled in a way, as if it were a bad television signal getting static, the “picture” of the fish flickering in and out for a couple seconds before it returned to normal and continued swimming about.

“It’s a television?” I asked, confused.

“Not quite,” William answered. “The aquarium and water inside are all quite real, but these ‘expensive’ fish are nothing more than a new type of ‘living art,’ if you can call it that.” William snorted at the fish and took a sip from his glass of water the waiter had just placed in front of him.

“Holograms, then?” Sylvia suggested.

“Not exactly,” William said again. “More like a computer program—a crude form of AI that allows for some interaction.”

“Interaction?” I repeated. “How? You mean we could touch them?”

“Well, as much as I think the restaurant would frown on you fetching your hand into the aquarium, yes, you could touch them. They’d feel as real as any natural fish. I personally think the concept is far too underdeveloped.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I feel I can speak frankly on this, being an artist myself. They call this ‘art,’ but it’s really nothing more than a way for the restaurant to save a few grand by not getting real versions of these tropical fish. Plus, the technology behind it still has many bugs to it. You saw how that fish flickered. It really shouldn’t do that.”

“I think it’s remarkable,” Sylvia said gleefully.

“You would think that,” William jested.

We returned to our menus, reading quietly for a few minutes until the waiter came back and took our orders. While waiting for our food to arrive, I took up Sylvia’s offer of getting to know her again by asking some simple questions. She turned out to be Sylvia Fawn Shadows, who enjoyed (among other things) good literature and independent films.

“What do you do?” I asked her.

“Less than you, which is saying something,” she answered.

“Why is that?”

“I inherited my millions from my father, who was a big captain of the oil industry before the big decline in the world’s market. When he passed away, his company passed to the stockholders, and I got the estate.”

“You must feel really lucky.”

“Lucky?!” she spat incredulously, laughing rather darkly at the idea. “I hated my father and everything he stood for. He was obsessed with making money, and little more ever entered his mind. It drove my mother to an early grave, and left me to accept the only life I ever knew: a life lived in vast riches, where I didn’t have to worry about working or education. I’d change that, if I had the opportunity.”

“I don’t understand,” I began. “If you have all this free time and money, why not just get an education or a job? You could go to any university you wanted!”

“It’s not as simple as that,” she said dejectedly. “My father knew how much I loathed his money-worship. In his final will—written when his years of business-related stress was finally taking its toll on his brain—he fixed it to where I would lose all my inheritance, including having to pay back anything I had spent previously, if I attempted to find work or attend a college. I accept the life I live in now out of necessity, and only you and William here have really made it worth living at all.” She attempted to smile at me, which I returned, though not really knowing how I should feel. “You’ve given me happiness, Midnight—a concept my father never understood.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” William interjected. “Everyone understands happiness, on one level or another.”

“I don’t think happiness was ever in his nature,” Sylvia said quickly.

“Well, I disagree. I happen to believe that happiness is nature. After all, that is the point, isn’t it?” William replied. “Making yourself happy, I mean. Personal desire.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sylvia replied.

“Well, think about it,” he started. “Everything we do, every choice we make…isn’t it all based on our one single instinct—to make ourselves happy?” Sylvia and I simply shrugged, so he continued. “Think about it. Why do you live where you live? Why do you watch the films you watch, or read the books you read? Why did you order what you ordered from the menu for your dinner tonight?” He cocked a crooked grin, and left us dangling for a moment.

“Because we’re hungry?” I offered, leaving William to turn his wry smile into a slightly annoyed frown. “Because it’s what we want,” I said more plainly.

“Precisely!” the man in the white suit exclaimed, his smile returning. “It’s what you want, and, quite naturally, you want what will make you happy! I mean, think about it: Who ever chooses something that they believe would specifically make them unhappy?”

“What about going out of your way?” I argued. “You know, doing something that makes you uncomfortable for the benefit of someone else? Say…a friend?”

“Then you’re simply sacrificing one happiness for a different happiness you hold in higher regard. If you go out of your way to make friends happy, then it’s because you find happiness in making your friends happy.”

“You make it sound almost selfish,” I said in slight disbelief.

“Maybe that’s because it sort of is selfish,” he answered. “But such is our nature as the sentient beings of this world. We can’t deny natural instinct—not something so basic as this. Might as well go along with it, right?”

“But there are rules, right?” I said. “Unwritten codes of conduct on how to go about it? I mean, you wouldn’t go killing someone just because it made you happy, would you?”

“That’s where it becomes a matter of perception,” William answered. “Some people would believe that the negative consequences for murder would be outweighed by the happiness that the murder would bring them.”

“So what’s your point?” I asked, having become intrigued.

“My point is…the food’s here, and I’m starving, so it would make me very happy if I could just eat for the time being.” He winked at me and began to chow down as soon as the plate was set in front of him. Sylvia and I followed, eating in relative silence, admiring the swinging music coming from the big band close by.

“You know,” I began after a while. “You never have filled me in on what exactly I did for a living.”

“Oh, that,” William said casually, looking up from his near-empty plate. After taking a sip from his glass, he continued. “You were an artist.”

“Really? Like you?”

“Not quite, my friend. I’m a sculptor, primarily, whereas you worked as a freelance animator.”

“Was I any good?”

“You did moderately well, worked on a couple of independent animated films and web comics.”

I closed my eyes tightly, concentrating hard, trying to bring up any sort of memory of what I used to do. “I think…” I began, but never finished. Next thing I knew, I was in the sky over some open fields, falling fast towards the earth as it zoomed dozens of feet closer by the second. I was panicking, looking every which way, scrambling to make the parachute on my back open. The impact was coming…oh, god, why wouldn’t this damn thing open?! I was going to die, I knew it…I heard a distant screaming… Everything was a blur of blue and green, and then it all went black.

When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurred by tears welling up in my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. My side hurt, and I noticed that I was laying on the floor, crouched into a fetal position.

“Oh, my god! Are you alright?” Sylvia’s voice rang clearly as I was helped back to my feet. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I tried to catch my balance and figure out what had just happened. Looking around, I saw that everyone in the room was staring at me, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

“Come on,” William said urgently as he threw an arm around my shoulder. “I think we’d better leave.” After paying quickly for the meal, William hurried me out, and we made our way back to the car.

“What happened in there?” Sylvia asked concernedly, clutching me tightly to comfort me.

“I’m not sure exactly,” I said, still disheveled from the whole ordeal, trying to recall the images that had just flashed before my eyes moments ago. “I think I remembered the few seconds before the accident.” Sylvia and William paused and regarded me carefully, shocked expressions exchanging between them.

“Are you certain?” William asked. I paused a moment to think.

“It felt so real,” was all I could say.

“We’d better get you home,” William said, and started moving again. That night was long restless for me, as I would later recall.