A Purple Winter

Prologue-2

I’m dreaming?

Lost in my own imagination?

Or am I deep in the rooms of my subconscious mind?

There’s a door ahead of me.

Have to see what’s on the other side. Someone is waiting for me behind that door. I can feel it.

Funny, the moment I thought of doing it, I was already at the door. It’s only in my mind. I have to remember that none of this is real. All a figment of my wild imagination. I was never any good with reality. Ironic how my name is O’Reilly.

Oh, really?

I wish Nick would elbow me or something. What if he hasn’t come to bed yet? What if he’s having one of his sleepless nights? My husband—Nicolai Lund, the incurable insomniac. If he doesn’t come to bed soon, I’m going to be trapped in this lucid dream for hours.

Derek.

Someone said my name.

I had too many whiskey sours tonight with all that salty cheese. I’m probably lying in bed, on my back, mumbling.

Derek. Come in. Come here.

Where?

Across that threshold you’re standing in.

I glance down at my feet. I’m wearing white Italian leather shoes. They look expensive. They’re not mine.

Baby, we don’t have all night. Get in here, will you?

No, wait. I know that voice. I know that voice. Aunt Fran?

Bingo. Get in here.

This is going to be one of those dreams where I wake up crying in my pillow case. I haven’t heard my aunt’s voice in almost a decade. The last time I saw her alive, I was twenty-nine years old.

The year I met Nick again. The year my whole life turned blue.

Yes, my little enchanter. And I have an offer you can’t refuse.

Suddenly, I’m sitting face to face with Aunt Fran.

We’re seated on two white chairs I can’t quite make out against the white room surrounding us. She’s dressed in a long white tunic. Young again. I must be remembering her before the lung cancer took her life. She’s smoking a thin white cigarette. I’d forgotten how beautiful she really was. Those long red nails—I missed seeing them. Her green eyes are like to mossy stones catching a light I can’t trace. The light seems not to have an origin here. It just is.

Her dark red hair is tucked into a chic white silk turban. There are tiny golden bells sewn into the turban, and when she moves, they jiggle. She’s always been an eccentric. God, how I missed her. Tears sting my eyes as I reach for her hands.

No, don’t touch me, baby.

But why?

Because I’m not really here.

I know…I’m dreaming.

Derek. You’re not dreaming. Look, I don’t have much time. You know, you stood by that door for six hours.

Six? I’m sorry. It’s almost morning then.

Forget morning. Forget that for now. Listen to me. I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re in a coma, baby. You’re lying in a hospital bed. You’re not breathing on your own yet. There’s some encouraging activity in your brain, but you’re not responding to light, touch or sound.

Why do I always have these stupid bloody dreams? Why can’t I have a nice dream where we’re having a picnic or something?

Der, you don’t believe me? Have I ever lied to you? You’re not dreaming, honey. Tonight, after a tense dinner, you and Nick argued again. About moving back to the city and opening a new restaurant. Selling the house in the burbs. You went for a ride to clear your mind. It was raining. Your motorcycle skidded off the road.

I wear a helmet.

Yes, and it saved your life. You could fully recover from your brain injury. Now…listen.

Wait, I feel something in this fog, nearby. Close. That energy. So strong and willful. I’d know it anywhere.

That’s your Nicolai, honey. He’s been sitting by your bed for the last hours. Hasn’t moved. He sits there holding your hand, commanding you to live.

The room feels different. Everything seems to be thin. Almost see-through.

I hear your thoughts, Derek. The place we are, it isn’t a place. It’s only a temporary bridge between us. And it’s fading fast. It’s my love for you, my little Red, that holds this space together. It’s what brought me into your mind. We’ve always been connected, you and I, remember?

Yes, I remember. Of course I remember. Aunt Fran, you were like a mother to me. My spiritual guru. You were there for me in my darkest hours.

That’s why I’m here now, Derek.

Because this is the darkest of them all and you’re going to need all the help you can get.