The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time Read Online Free

the stove. “They plan to get her out of bed and walking tomorrow.”
    “Wow. That soon?”
    “Yeah. She’ll probably be discharged within a week.”
    “I’m amazed,” Jenn replied, “but I suppose she always was a trooper. How about you? Are you holding up okay?”
    “Of course,” I said, offering no more information than that, because I could just picture Jenn pacing around her kitchen, wondering if I was falling apart yet.
    “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be staying?” she asked. “I mean, how long will it be before Gram is able to manage on her own?”
    “I don’t know yet,” I said. “It’ll be a few weeks at least. Maybe a month. The nurse told me she won’t be able to climb stairs easily, so I’ll probably set up a bed for her on the ground floor until she’s more mobile.”
    Jenn paused. “I’m glad you’re there to take care of her. You know how much we all love her.”
    “Of course I do.” We were both quiet for a moment. I reached for the box of tea bags in the cupboard and opened it.
    Somewhat cautiously, Jenn asked, “So you don’t mind…you know…being back there?”
    I froze with the tea bag dangling from the string, drew in a deep breath, and finally dropped it into the mug.
    “It’s actually nice being here,” I assured her. “I think enough time has passed.”
    It was partly a lie, of course. Jenn didn’t say anything right away and I suspected she didn’t believe me, which only made sense. She knew me too well.
    But still… Did no one have any confidence in me?
    Aside from the lucid dreaming thing this morning, hadn’t I proved I’d grown stronger over the past year? I’d made a lot of changes in my life—for the better. I’d left my sleazy job at the bar, had gone back to school and graduated at the top of my class. I hadn’t dated any alcoholic losers or married men in over a year. Now I was here, back in Portland, taking care of Gram. I thought I deserved a pat on the back.
    With that still on my mind, I probably shouldn’t have steered the conversation in the direction I did. “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Sure,” my sister replied.
    “Have you ever had a lucid dream?”
    She took a moment to think about it. “I’m not sure. What is it…like when you’re half-awake or something?”
    “You’re not exactly awake ,” I explained, “but you’re sort of conscious. It’s when you’re dreaming, but you’re aware that you’re dreaming and you can control what happens.”
    “In what way?”
    “I don’t know. You could leap off a mountain and go flying if you wanted to, or travel anywhere, go through walls.”
    Jenn’s voice became animated. “I think I have had a few of those, but they never last very long. As soon as I realize I’m dreaming, I wake up. Why? Did you have one?”
    “Yeah,” I replied. “This morning. I think it must have been the jet lag or something, because it felt unbelievably real. I just wish I could have kept it going longer.”
    “What did you dream about?” she asked.
    Because Jenn often criticized me for clinging to the past, I decided to steer around the important part of the question. “I dreamed that Grampy was still alive and Gram was cooking breakfast for me, just like old times. I was young again.”
    “How old?”
    “I don’t know… In my teens.”
    Sixteen to be exact.
    Jenn fell silent again. “Did you dream about anything else?”
    I probably should have told her the truth because obviously she suspected it, but I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture that ended with: ‘I don’t know why you keep torturing yourself, Sylvie. You shouldn’t even go there. Just let it go.’
    “No, that was all,” I replied.
    We chatted about a few other things and she told me about a cute little outfit she’d just purchased for her baby. Then I promised I’d call the next day, and we hung up.
    Right away, I sat down to read more about “How to Master Your Dreams,” because something very powerful was