A World That Is Not Mine

I.

"I don't understand what you want me to do..." Stevie told the voice. "I wanna see more than just your eyes. Maybe I can help you."

The voice chuckled and the eyes brightened. "You can't help me---all you can do is help yourself. I'm here to guide you."

"I don't understand what for. I've not been in any trouble. What do I need guidance on?" becoming frustrated from his words.

He had said that many times to her---more than enough and enough for her to become irritated.

"Your son..."

She paused and thought about it. "The loss?" she rose a brow.

The eyes blinked---as if it were a nod.

All she could ever hear was the male's voice and the striking blue-gray eyes. They were eyes she had seen since she was a teenager. She had never seen the full face, those eyes had never come into contact with her outside of the dreamland.

"The only important thing to me was my son. He didn't deserve to die all those years ago. I want him back and I miss him every day of my life. I don't know what it is, I am supposed to do."

"Do what you do best... write about it. Write your feelings and chronicle this and look back---later. It's been too many years, Stevie."

She nodded roughly.

"Steph?"

She could feel her husband shaking her body so she looked around---recalling the voice easily. "When do I get to see him?" she asked quickly before she had to go.

"Go," the blue eyes agreed for her to leave the dream realm. He didn't want her to know anything yet---not of her son at least.

Stevie opened her eyes---just to be staring up at her spouse. "What's up?" she asked.

"Honey, are you alright? You were fidgeting and tense again."

She nodded gently as she placed a hand to her head, her mind still taking in the words that were given to her prior to waking up

"Headache?" he asked her.

She nodded again.

"Do you want some aspirin?" he began getting out from under the covers.

"No, no," she put her hand over his to keep him from getting up.

He looked back at her---creasing a brow almost.

"I'll get them, I'm gonna write for a little bit. Go back to sleep---it's cold and I want you to be comfortable," she assured.

They lived in Aspen, Colorado and it was winter time. She knew her husband was prone to getting colds easily and she didn't want to bother him. She would be more upset if he got sick because, she knew it would be her fault.

"What are you gonna write about?" he asked.

He had become a little upset---that's all she ever seemed to want to do, given that she was a credible author. Even when their son died, she had been nonstop. As if she was crazy---he had seen her as a huge mess, through their marriage where she would drive herself nuts---trying to write and figure things out. To this day, it was still beyond him---what she was trying to figure out.

"Stuff," she answered brusquely.

"Dreams?" he asked.

She stayed quiet.