I wake up to the notion that I’m falling, only when my consciousness settles, I realize it felt more like floating. I know this because of the splashing in my ears as I laid weightless. The expanse of the blue sky seemed close enough to touch but I couldn’t move. What seemed so realistic now has me perplexed, dream or not, it’s gone. Unexplained.

The sun isn’t out yet, but light isn’t needed to see this is not my room. I figure it’s taking more effort to get up this morning. Why else would I be so disoriented? My mind is divided; these sheets and pillows feel both mine and someone else’s. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up, the clock stares back 5:35am. Did I sleep over a friend’s house? No, clearly I haven’t woken up yet.

Accepting this idea, I drag my feet to the bathroom. This apartment doesn’t seem at all familiar, nothing sticks out to me. I know for a fact I’ve never been here before yet somehow my sub-conscience brought me here; funny how dreams work out that way. I reach for the toothbrush in the dark and as I go through the natural sequence, a tiny voice inside says that’s not actually mine.

Flipping the light switch, I squint my eyes till they gradually adjust, but something feels off. I draw closer till the tip of my nose barely touches the mirror. That’s not me. I’m beginning to doubt but instead I smile and shake my head. Come to think of it, I can’t recall what my hair looked like before, but this auburn color feels new. As my body trails down to the kitchen, opening the cupboards to grab the coffee container, I question what’s my name. The answer should come naturally, but nothing. My mind is blank.

Who are you and where am I?

“Note to self, no more coffee before bed.” I chuckle.

This isn’t funny. Why are you laughing and not answering me?

Fingers tap on the counter while I wait for my thermal to fill. An object captures my attention from the corner of my eye and I’m immediately walking towards the purse, pleased by the control that seemed involuntary just moments ago. I don’t know what I’m searching for until I pull out a wallet. And there it is, there she is, Susan Cunningham’s New Jersey driver’s license.

“What the?” We say at the same time as she drops the wallet back in her purse. “What is going on with me today?”

From the quick glance, I remember her birthday’s February 24, 1981, she’s 27. But that still doesn’t explain why this dream seems more real with each passing minute.

It’s time to wake up now!

Susan’s hand reaches over and pinches her other arm. Did I provoke that? This is all too real, but how? I must try one more thing.

Can you hear me, Susan?

“Susan, get your shit together. Today’s a big day!” She moves about her bedroom, grabbing two hangers from the closet and a pair of black heels.

What’s going on today?

“We have an important meeting, new client-since when do I talk to myself?”

I recline inside her mind, blown away by the realization. The inner voice, the same one from before . . . is me.

How sure can I be of what’s going on? I’m trapped and curious as to why, why her? Why bring me to New Jersey? What am I saying?! I’ve just never had this happen before, I’ve never been aware of a dream while still in it.

I see whatever she sees and yet as she leads me into her building, I’m observing more than she cares to notice. I’m watching the people pass her by, counting how many smile and say hello. She greets them but doesn’t stop. We walk into an office and the first thing she notices are the frames on the desk before hugging some woman. The questions keep coming yet I prefer to observe for a while.

“Rebecca, I’ve had the weirdest morning let me tell you,” she sits and sips on coffee.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. It started with this weird dream of me drowning. . . I think, and now these random thoughts keep popping in my head. I can’t say I remember them all.”

“Lay off the drugs!” Rebecca laughs, making Susan smile.

“If I must,” she winks, “by the way, how often do you talk to yourself?”

“All the time!”

Susan’s drawn to the picture frames on the desk, they hold photographs of Rebecca’s children and I feel her chest begin to tighten. There’s a longing, an ache. It gets stronger whenever she sees those little faces.

This is significant!

Why do you keep looking at her pictures? Are you close to her kids?

“How are you doing? Does anyone in the office know yet?” Susan asks with a heavy tone.

“Just you and Greg. I suspect the others will catch on, it’s been a few weeks since I haven’t worn my ring. And I’m alright, better each day. I just want to get the papers back so it’s official. I don’t hate the bastard but I’m glad I’m free.”

“Hey ladies, Greg is calling everyone to the meeting now.”

“Thanks, Ben! Aren’t you glad we got this new client?” Rebecca smiles. “This distraction couldn’t come at a better time.”

Snatching a portfolio, I take one last glimpse of her desk and smile as well. We leave her office and join the others in the conference room. I’m a tourist slowly introducing myself to all aspects of Susan’s daily life. So far, I can tell Greg, her boss and head of the agency, is excited about this new client and wants them to finalize their product pitch.

We take our seats and once I open my leather cover, I see sketches all over the place. Ideas are scribbled in tiny fonts and this goes on for pages and pages. Glancing at Rebecca’s pad, she’s taking notes and underlining key words he emphasizes. Reaching a blank sheet, I make bold strokes and soon I’m drawing the first image that comes to mind, Susan’s mind.

Hours pass by and she’s glued to the drawing table in her office. Susan completes two draft boards and mumbles how she expects to present them tomorrow. I feel as though Susan’s actions and my thoughts are separate entities. I have no knowledge of what she’s doing except it looks impressive. There’s a lack of picture frames in this room except for the art work decorating her walls. I imagine how much she enjoys her job while I speculate there’s no one else to feel equally passionate about.

Greg’s voice approaches the hallway and to our surprise, he’s not alone.

“And you remember Susan, our creative director,” Greg walks in with his guest. “This is our new client, Reid Sharp.”

“Please, call me Reid, and yes I believe we met in passing.”

His face. . .

“Nice to meet you, again,” Susan smiles and avoids staring so bluntly. My-her hands are getting warm and shaky.

“Reid is curious to see what we’ve done so far. . . “

“Well, I hope to not disappoint.”

He has an interesting effect on you, Susan. Your heart is skipping.

“Would you care to show him what you’re working on?”

Nodding, Susan spreads her illustrations across the table and watches quietly for a sign of approval. Mr. Sharp doesn’t flinch or smile, his eyes scan over each board, silent, and it’s making her hands clammy. I find myself observing him, or observing Susan as she observes him, careful not to get caught. I agree he’s attractive but there’s something more to him.

He stands errect with his hands clasped behind his back. I can tell he’s fit by the way his sleeve tightens around his bicep. This pleases Susan as she lingers there. His shirt fits looser around the waist but is neatly tucked behind the belt. It’s no wonder he wants this agency to advertise his health products, they clearly work for him.

“I like what I see, Susan. I’ll be looking forward to the final presentation,” he says startling her from our daze.

“Good job, Susan. Come Reid, there’s some ideas I want to run by you.”

Mr. Sharp follows Greg outside and Susan fans herself to keep from blushing. Not a moment later Rebecca storms right in with a grin from ear to ear. Her expression annoys me.

“Since when do we get clients that look like that?”

“I know, now settle down before someone hears you.” Susan shakes her head and returns to the table.

“Hey, a few of us are grabbing drinks after work. You’re coming, right?”

“Maybe. I have to finish this last sketch and I thought about doing one more...”

“Those are fine! Besides the meeting isn’t till after lunch, whatever you don’t finish tonight you can complete in the morning.”

“I don’t know, I think you want to get me in trouble.”

“If by trouble you mean fun, then yes. Let’s get drunk and share stories in the morning over coffee.” She winks.

“Fine! Maybe one drink.”

“Good, and did I forget to mention Mr. Sharp is going?”

“What? How? Why?”

“Apparently Ben invited him, I heard him say they were old classmates.”

“And he said yes?”

“There’s only one way to find out . . .”

I knew there was a reason for your temperature rise!

---

I told you he’d be here.” Rebecca winks looking back at me.

“I wish my blouse wasn’t so wrinkly, or my eyes. If someone even thinks about saying how tired I look. . .” Susan mumbles. She amuses me.

Looking straight ahead, Ben and Reid have already made themselves comfortable, perhaps they’re feeling nostalgic as they share classroom stories. There’s a couple more from the office and the closer we get, the faster Susan’s heart races. The table is a bit crowded, causing her to detour over to the bar. A young bartender acknowledges her arrival and signals he’ll be right over.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a White Russian, please,” she says while the air conditioning awakens a layer of goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” says a mysterious voice.

You again.

Reid takes the stool beside us. The goosebumps remain but heat flows to Susan’s cheeks.

“I’m fine. I’ll warm up after the first drink.”

“You know, I really liked your work. I was thinking about asking you to redesign our logo.”

Susan nods and keeps a professional face. I don’t have to be inside her head to know she’s disappointed.

Were you expecting him to flirt with you?

“I can start working on it tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. I wanted to tell you earlier but was rushed off . . . I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Right. Well I’ll get to it.” She smiles anyway.

That’s a horrible fake smile, you know?

The waiter comes back with her glass and she desperately takes the first gulp.

I noticed you’re more confident in your work than you are with men.

“Do you want to open a tab, ma’am?”

“Umm, no. I’ll just pay for this one.”

“Excuse me, can you just add it to my tab with any additional drinks,” Reid adds.

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” she interjects and places her hand on his arm for reassurance. Good move.

“It’s my treat. Consider it a thank you for your great work.”

“Okay.” Hand slides off.

“Are you planning on joining the table or are you waiting for someone?”

“No, no. I-I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“Good to know, I wasn’t sure if I’d get slugged trying to talk to you,” Reid looks down at his beer bottle and licks his lips before looking back at her.

He anticipated your arrival. Flirt back, Susan!

“Was-was that a line?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What you did there, was that you flirting with me?” She smiles, but that wasn’t the comeback I had in mind.

“I…” he taps his fingertip on the counter. “Yes, is that alright or does that break some company code?”

“I don’t think there’s a policy against flirting,” we chuckle and I take a long gulp.

“Thirsty? Like another?”

Susan nods and wipes her mouth on a napkin. Reid orders another round and we forget about joining the rest of the group. I notice how much he keeps staring at her. I’m drawn back to the hunch of his familiarity. If I can’t remember anything outside this dream, not even my own identity, how can I trust this feeling? I only know that Susan and I fit somehow. And I’ll wake up eventually . . . I hope.

“May I say this, I feel like we’ve met before. I can’t put my finger on it but I can’t brush the feeling either.”

He didn't!

“Really? That’s strange and interesting, I guess.”

Who doesn’t want an attractive man spilling thoughts of an inexistent meeting with you. She could’ve lied and agreed with him, but she didn’t. For a brief moment, I wonder if he had a strange day too. Any nightmares?

“Listen, tomorrow is the last presentation, and in case there is a policy you’re unaware of . . . would you be interested in having dinner with me the night after?”

YES!

Susan blinks a few times and parts her lips to give a response, but once she looks at him, she freezes. I have more faith in her than she does in herself, and I’ve only known her for a day. His smile unfreezes her but I step in anyway.

“Yes! . . . That sounds nice.”

Resuming my position in the back seat, I listen to them chat for the next hour or so. Granting them some privacy, I lose myself in the dream I had before this one. What was the reason or message behind it? Does it even mean anything?

Reid and Susan exchange numbers before Ben steals him away. She is satisfied and stands to say goodnight. The group encourages her to stay, yet her mind is made up. Work is still the most important thing to her. I don’t suppose the fact that Reid has anything to do with it adds on to the pressure and excitement. But I can tell by the sloppy thumb work, as she schedules her dinner date on her phone, this rarely happens.

You deserve this.

Notes

Final edit.