my face, or neck, or on my shirt. There’s no sign of any stains on you. I simply don’t believe it, hon!”
“I—I know—what—I—saw,” she sobbed. Could she be losing her mind? She tugged on the handkerchief Jon had given her. She felt devastated. Blood! She had seen blood gushing from every opening in his head. It had covered his face and neck. His shirt had been soaked with it. After talking with the doctor, she turned to confront the gory scene and Jon had been sitting up, holding his head. The blood had vanished.
Crossing the room, Jon breathed deeply and crouched next to her. “I’ll admit this much,” he began, “that’s the first time I’ve ever had the dream during the daytime. And, for what it’s worth, this is the worst I can ever recall my head hurting. But I just can’t believe this stuff about blood.”
“It was there,” she timidly insisted. Standing, she left Jon, hunched next to the empty chair, which bobbed gently back and forth. “It was there! I saw it! You were unconscious, how would you know?”
“I don’t see any signs of blood anywhere. Do you?” He stood, recrossing the room to be closer to her. The sick feeling was passing, but his head continued to throb.
“Do you want anything before the ambulance gets here?” she asked. “Some aspirin might—”
“Ambulance? What ambulance?”
“I called Doctor Dayton and when I told him how you were bleeding, he wanted to get you to the hospital immediately.”
Jon moaned. “Oh, for chrissakes! Do you realize how foolish we’re going to look? Now I wish to hell I hadn’t let you talk me into going to see any doctors in the first place. None of this would be happening now. I’m not going back to the hospital.”
Trina put her hands firmly on her husband’s shoulders, anger sparking in her eyes. “Now, listen to me, Jon Ward! I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of your dream, nightmare, hallucination, whatever you want to call it. I want you to be healthy and normal. Not—”
“Normal?” Jon broke in. “You mean to tell me you think I’m abnormal or something?”
“You know what I mean. There must be something wrong someplace.”
He shook his head for a second, felt dizzy from the sudden motion. Cradling his head in both hands for a moment to allow the pain to subside, he said softly, “All right, darling. You’re probably right. I’ll go.” He didn’t want to argue. That wasn’t his nature. His recalcitrance Gsually acted as an asset but now the dream seemed ready to drive a wedge between Trina and himself. He knew that neither of them wanted that. Aside from the nightmare, his health was good—even robust. Get rid of his nightmare phantasms, then everything would be perfect. He gently rubbed his right temple.
“Your head’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“More than ever.”
“We’re doing the right thing.”
“I know,” he agreed.
The doorbell rang.
Opening the front entrance, Trina admitted two white uniformed men who jockeyed a stretcher into the living room. The taller of the two stopped short when he saw Jon standing next to the couch.
“Where’s the patient?” he asked.
“My husband is the patient,” she said, motioning toward Jon.
“What’s the problem?”
“The crisis is past,” Jon said. “But we decided I should go to the hospital anyway.”
“We were told there was a man bleeding to death in this apartment. You playing a game or something?” the attendant gruffly asked, eyeing the couple.
“There must be some mistake about that,” Trina said quickly before Jon could answer. “My husband passed out just as I got home and his head is hurting him terribly.”
“What about the blood?” the man persisted.
“Well,” Jon said, taking Trina’s cue, “there isn’t any I can see.”
The spokesman for the ambulance team glanced cautiously at his partner before redirecting his attention to Jon. “Do you think you can walk to the
“I—I know—what—I—saw,” she sobbed. Could she be losing her mind? She tugged on the handkerchief Jon had given her. She felt devastated. Blood! She had seen blood gushing from every opening in his head. It had covered his face and neck. His shirt had been soaked with it. After talking with the doctor, she turned to confront the gory scene and Jon had been sitting up, holding his head. The blood had vanished.
Crossing the room, Jon breathed deeply and crouched next to her. “I’ll admit this much,” he began, “that’s the first time I’ve ever had the dream during the daytime. And, for what it’s worth, this is the worst I can ever recall my head hurting. But I just can’t believe this stuff about blood.”
“It was there,” she timidly insisted. Standing, she left Jon, hunched next to the empty chair, which bobbed gently back and forth. “It was there! I saw it! You were unconscious, how would you know?”
“I don’t see any signs of blood anywhere. Do you?” He stood, recrossing the room to be closer to her. The sick feeling was passing, but his head continued to throb.
“Do you want anything before the ambulance gets here?” she asked. “Some aspirin might—”
“Ambulance? What ambulance?”
“I called Doctor Dayton and when I told him how you were bleeding, he wanted to get you to the hospital immediately.”
Jon moaned. “Oh, for chrissakes! Do you realize how foolish we’re going to look? Now I wish to hell I hadn’t let you talk me into going to see any doctors in the first place. None of this would be happening now. I’m not going back to the hospital.”
Trina put her hands firmly on her husband’s shoulders, anger sparking in her eyes. “Now, listen to me, Jon Ward! I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of your dream, nightmare, hallucination, whatever you want to call it. I want you to be healthy and normal. Not—”
“Normal?” Jon broke in. “You mean to tell me you think I’m abnormal or something?”
“You know what I mean. There must be something wrong someplace.”
He shook his head for a second, felt dizzy from the sudden motion. Cradling his head in both hands for a moment to allow the pain to subside, he said softly, “All right, darling. You’re probably right. I’ll go.” He didn’t want to argue. That wasn’t his nature. His recalcitrance Gsually acted as an asset but now the dream seemed ready to drive a wedge between Trina and himself. He knew that neither of them wanted that. Aside from the nightmare, his health was good—even robust. Get rid of his nightmare phantasms, then everything would be perfect. He gently rubbed his right temple.
“Your head’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“More than ever.”
“We’re doing the right thing.”
“I know,” he agreed.
The doorbell rang.
Opening the front entrance, Trina admitted two white uniformed men who jockeyed a stretcher into the living room. The taller of the two stopped short when he saw Jon standing next to the couch.
“Where’s the patient?” he asked.
“My husband is the patient,” she said, motioning toward Jon.
“What’s the problem?”
“The crisis is past,” Jon said. “But we decided I should go to the hospital anyway.”
“We were told there was a man bleeding to death in this apartment. You playing a game or something?” the attendant gruffly asked, eyeing the couple.
“There must be some mistake about that,” Trina said quickly before Jon could answer. “My husband passed out just as I got home and his head is hurting him terribly.”
“What about the blood?” the man persisted.
“Well,” Jon said, taking Trina’s cue, “there isn’t any I can see.”
The spokesman for the ambulance team glanced cautiously at his partner before redirecting his attention to Jon. “Do you think you can walk to the
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