dreamer is so unsettling for someone with my kind of talent.”
“What is the reason?”
“Dream energy comes from the deepest end of the spectrum,” she said. “It is not meant to combine with the currents from the waking end. When I touched you, I was awake.”
“And sensing my dream energy. I can see how that would set up some serious resonance issues.”
“My talent allows me to handle the experience but, like I said, I find it very disturbing.”
His curiosity was piqued now. “What about when you’re asleep?”
“Oh, that’s just impossible,” she said.
“Hold on, don’t tell me you don’t sleep at all. Everyone sleeps.”
“Of course, I sleep. Alone.”
It took him a beat to understand the implications. When he did, he went cold.
“Always?” he asked.
“Always. I can’t sleep in the same room with someone who is dreaming, let alone in the same bed. I hate hotels because the beds are always soaked in other people’s dream energy. The only way I can sleep in a bed that isn’t my own is by wrapping myself in a silk sleeping sack. For some reason silk acts as a barrier of sorts.”
“Not to get too personal here, but doesn’t that make for a few complications in your private life?”
“I don’t have any problems getting a date, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, not exactly.”
“You’d be amazed by the number of men who think I’m the perfect woman. I’m always gone by morning.”
“Huh.”
“But it turns out that while men may not always be anxious to commit, they get offended when they realize that I’m not about to commit, either. I’ve never understood it, but they seem to take it personally.”
“No kidding,” he said. He wondered why he was getting irritated all over again.
“My mother tells me it has something to do with their rejection issues. But from my family’s point of view, the real downside is knowing that I’ll probably never marry. Joneses always marry. If I don’t marry, I know I’ll let down the family. If I do marry, I’ll make myself and my husband, poor man, utterly miserable.”
“Separate bedrooms?” he offered and then wondered why he was trying to find a solution in the first place. It was her problem, not his. He had enough problems of his own.
“Even if I found someone who would go along with that arrangement—and, believe me, men who think they’d be okay with it aren’t as common as one would expect—it wouldn’t work. After a while, I’d get resentful. Even though the situation would be my fault, I’d start blaming my husband.”
“Why the hell is that?”
“Some part of me would conclude that if he was really the right man for me, I’d be able to sleep with him.” She paused. “I’m getting mad right now just thinking about it.”
“Sounds like you’ve tested your theory.”
“Once, shortly after college, I experimented with a Marriage of Convenience. Lasted about five minutes. He got mad when he realized I wasn’t going to change. Took the separate bedrooms as proof that I was having an affair. I got angry because he didn’t trust me. That’s when I realized I was starting to resent him because I couldn’t sleep with him. Things went downhill from there.”
“Complicated.”
“Tell me about it. My family is still embarrassed whenever the subject comes up. The Joneses don’t do MCs.” She frowned. “And just how did we get off on the subject of my private life? Tell me more about the maze.”
He forced himself to focus. It proved surprisingly difficult. For some idiotic reason he wanted to argue about her sleep issues.
“Initially the mirror maze appeared to be just another weird alien ruin,” he said. “But there is some kind of energy emanating from the mirrors and bouncing back and forth off the various surfaces.”
“Like sunlight on a real mirror?”
“Yes, except that the energy in that quartz comes from the paranormal spectrum. It’s not visually blinding the way sun on a
“What is the reason?”
“Dream energy comes from the deepest end of the spectrum,” she said. “It is not meant to combine with the currents from the waking end. When I touched you, I was awake.”
“And sensing my dream energy. I can see how that would set up some serious resonance issues.”
“My talent allows me to handle the experience but, like I said, I find it very disturbing.”
His curiosity was piqued now. “What about when you’re asleep?”
“Oh, that’s just impossible,” she said.
“Hold on, don’t tell me you don’t sleep at all. Everyone sleeps.”
“Of course, I sleep. Alone.”
It took him a beat to understand the implications. When he did, he went cold.
“Always?” he asked.
“Always. I can’t sleep in the same room with someone who is dreaming, let alone in the same bed. I hate hotels because the beds are always soaked in other people’s dream energy. The only way I can sleep in a bed that isn’t my own is by wrapping myself in a silk sleeping sack. For some reason silk acts as a barrier of sorts.”
“Not to get too personal here, but doesn’t that make for a few complications in your private life?”
“I don’t have any problems getting a date, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, not exactly.”
“You’d be amazed by the number of men who think I’m the perfect woman. I’m always gone by morning.”
“Huh.”
“But it turns out that while men may not always be anxious to commit, they get offended when they realize that I’m not about to commit, either. I’ve never understood it, but they seem to take it personally.”
“No kidding,” he said. He wondered why he was getting irritated all over again.
“My mother tells me it has something to do with their rejection issues. But from my family’s point of view, the real downside is knowing that I’ll probably never marry. Joneses always marry. If I don’t marry, I know I’ll let down the family. If I do marry, I’ll make myself and my husband, poor man, utterly miserable.”
“Separate bedrooms?” he offered and then wondered why he was trying to find a solution in the first place. It was her problem, not his. He had enough problems of his own.
“Even if I found someone who would go along with that arrangement—and, believe me, men who think they’d be okay with it aren’t as common as one would expect—it wouldn’t work. After a while, I’d get resentful. Even though the situation would be my fault, I’d start blaming my husband.”
“Why the hell is that?”
“Some part of me would conclude that if he was really the right man for me, I’d be able to sleep with him.” She paused. “I’m getting mad right now just thinking about it.”
“Sounds like you’ve tested your theory.”
“Once, shortly after college, I experimented with a Marriage of Convenience. Lasted about five minutes. He got mad when he realized I wasn’t going to change. Took the separate bedrooms as proof that I was having an affair. I got angry because he didn’t trust me. That’s when I realized I was starting to resent him because I couldn’t sleep with him. Things went downhill from there.”
“Complicated.”
“Tell me about it. My family is still embarrassed whenever the subject comes up. The Joneses don’t do MCs.” She frowned. “And just how did we get off on the subject of my private life? Tell me more about the maze.”
He forced himself to focus. It proved surprisingly difficult. For some idiotic reason he wanted to argue about her sleep issues.
“Initially the mirror maze appeared to be just another weird alien ruin,” he said. “But there is some kind of energy emanating from the mirrors and bouncing back and forth off the various surfaces.”
“Like sunlight on a real mirror?”
“Yes, except that the energy in that quartz comes from the paranormal spectrum. It’s not visually blinding the way sun on a
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