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There was no question I was close enough so he
could hear me, but he continued to walk, his head
lowered. I reached out and seized his right arm at the
elbow. It was enough to stop him, but he didn't turn
and he didn't speak. He just stood there, his shoulders
&nb
sp; swaying as if he were still walking.
"What is it? Why are you doing this? Where are
you going?" I fired at him, yet he still didn't turn.
"Linden!"
Finally, his shoulders stopped moving and he
stood deathly still, his head down, the strands of his
long, blond hair hanging limply like a small curtain
over his face.
I moved around to stand in front of him and
saw that his eyes were closed. In fact, he looked
asleep!
"Linden? Are you all right?"
Without responding, he turned slowly and
started to walk again, lifting his feet as though the
beach were made of sticky tar.
He's sleepwalking, I realized, I had never seen
anyone do it before and it was frightening. It was like
being drawn into someone else's nightmare. I caught
up to him again, my heart pounding.
"Linden," I said softly. "Linden, please wake
up. You're outside, on the beach."
I shook his arm gently, not sure what effect an
abrupt awakening might have on him and how he
might react in light of his recent head injuries and
