LACKING FRAGMENTS: A Novel (Completed)

An Uncanny Dream III

I woke up in the middle of the dream, with my wife, Annalise, gentle pressing her palm on my right temple's skin. One hand like a nurse to her sick patient. As response, I rose my torso; I rose my head a little bit. I looked around the living room in a manner of sheepish. I searched for someone, a person. Her. But all I found were the switched off TV, its remote so near to it, and the other appliances placed on their assigned places.

     I didn't find any sign of her.

     "Aya..."

     "Aya? No, honey. It's me, Anna..." said Annalise. "I decided to wake you up, hoping you wouldn't mind. I just don't think you should be sleeping here. You alright?"

     "I'm... fine," I replied, half-meaning it. I settled myself down. "Just watching TV, is all... and... yeah, that's all."

     "You fell asleep."

     "That too, I surely did."

     "I turned it off, don't worry about it," she responded, referring to TV. My wife took a step back, just one, and looked at me like how a concerned parent looks at her ill-prone child. Curious with care; speculative for the meantime. "You sure you're fine?" she asked. "What happened to you? You have a face as if you recently had a terrible nightmare."

     "Nightmare? I don't know, maybe," I said. "I don't really... remember..."

     "You look like you did," she insisted, a blunt tone of press. "Give a second and feel yourself. Look at you, you sweat like a fountain."

     By then I checked both my temples, from right to left— I stroke with my bare hands, wet palms; that indeed I found she was right. Lashing a lot of sweat; even the cushions and the sofa itself got tainted wet. In reality, never in my whole life did I run a marathon of 6 up to 10 miles long— I knew I'm not a runner nor used to be a sporty guy in my early adulthood way back then, and yet considering the released portion of body sweat, in a way it clearly looked I did run a marathon. From my hair, my temples, to my shirt— all over the place were covered with my sudor. But how, how did I turn so watery amidst a dream?

     "The towel is upstairs. I'll help you cleanse those if you follow me. Let's go now, honey."

     I agreed. I also thanked her in advance.

     "Come," she suggested, "let's leave here."

     For a minute or two Annalise had been standing ahead of me, a few inches maybe, whilst I had remained sitting on the sweaty sofa. From somewhere uncanny, I kept shifting my wakened sense returning into this reality, that I forgot her suggestion in stepping upstairs immediately. "How was the assignment?" I asked instead.

     "Good thing you asked. I'm convinced Kiki got your genes. Like you, she fell asleep an hour ago, right after she's done with her part. I just finished her Math requirement a few minutes ago. I guess it took me longer to finish the assignment than I expected. Then I went down here after I found you weren't in our bed," she admitted. "Kiki's assignment. I didn't know it has designing process. I thought it was only solving math problems, stuff like that. So... well... you know I'm kind of fastidious when it comes to design."

     "You are," I added, "you're so artsy, and of course maarte."

     She laughed. "I know, right?" Of course, my wife knew whenever I'm just kidding or telling the truth. Especially, when both. It was given she wouldn't feel easily offended whenever I'm around. Since, before we became boyfriend and girlfriend, we joked around for a quite some time when we hung out during weekends. "Come now, honey. Let's go now. Why did you even try taking a nap here in the first place? Let's get to our bed and sleep there..."