Page 58 of The Circle

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I watch him walkout the door and I stretch my back out with a crack.

“Fuck, I’m getting old,” I say.

Christine, still looking after where Alec just left, now turns her attention back to me and says, “Who isn’t?”

She smiles and I wave her to come over and join my naked ass on the bed. She does. She saunters over and lies down beside me, wet hair splashed across my chest.

Jesus, I wish it could be like this all the time. I must make a sound to accompany the thought, because she asks me, “What?”

“What what?”

“You made a sound.”

“Did I?” I say. She nods. “What kind?”

Her wet head is still on my chest and when she speaks, the vibration resonates throughout my whole torso. How can another person feel this good? Dunno. But she does as she answers, “Kind of a ‘mmmmmnnnnnuuuuuahhhhhhhh’ kind of a thing.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Hm. Yeah, well, I suppose that about sums it up.”

And then I think I fall asleep. I’m not sure for how long, but I doze off without meaning to and in whatever amount of time I’m out, I have a dream. A kind of a lucid dream but a dream, nonetheless. It starts with me sitting on a beach, contemplating my life. A thought passes through my brain…

“I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being happy.”

And then I see the yellow dress. The one Christine had so many years ago.

Walking along the beach, ankles being lapped at by the waves.

There’s going to be a… party, or something? A celebration maybe? Of what, I’m not sure, but there’s a big bonfire set up and…

And then I’m talking to someone. A friend? He’s handsome. Dark skin, Australian accent. Or New Zealand maybe? As established, I’m not great at picking that shit out. He’s older. Not old, per se, but older than me. Except he’s not.

Because I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and I’m older too. I’m older, and tanned, and weathered, and for some reason, I’m wearing an eyepatch. It honestly looks kind of badass, but I’m still surprised to see it there. I start to ask the guy, my friend maybe, if he knows why I’m sporting it, but before I can, the dream shifts and I’m somewhere else. Some other place. Some other time.

A castle.

There’s yelling. And running. And mayhem. And…

“Danny?”

I snort awake at the sound of Christine’s voice. “Hm? What’s happening? What’s going on? Whozat?”

Christine is sitting up beside me. She laughs quietly, pats me on my bare chest. “You fell asleep,” she says.

“Apparently. You too?”

“No.”

“What were you doing?”

“Just watching you.” I can’t specify why, but that makes me smile. A lot. “What were you dreaming about?” she asks.

I have to think. It’s weird. I know I was just dreaming. And it seemed incredibly vivid. But suddenly, I can’t recall entirely. Something that felt like ... a premonition? That’s certainly what it feels like now as the spotty images dart in. I don’t really believe in that type of thing. Premonitions. Or visions. I mean, I feel like I have them a lot. Maybe more than most people. But that doesn’t mean I have to believe in them.