It must be morning, Rose thought, but when she woke it was still dark. She lay there with pounding heart, trying to be sure she was really awake. The window and the furniture were normal again.

She got up and opened her bedroom door and peered out. The house was silent, but Jerram’s light still came from under his door. She walked across the hall. Jerram was at the door almost before she lifted a hand. They had always had a kind of mental communication between them, knowing what the other needed or wanted. But lately the bond between them seemed to be growing weaker.

“What’s up?” Jerram asked.

“I had a dream . .. about Nancy Emerson.” Jerram drew her in and shut the door. His room was a litter of projects, not enough desktops or tables to accommodate them all, so some were set out on the floor. It only looked like a mess to an untrained eye. It was laid out with orderly precision.

“What about it?” Jerram asked.

“It was more than a dream. It was as vivid as if it had been really happening, as if Nancy had come here tonight to tell me something. Why me, Jerram? I’m not her friend.”

“I don’t know. Just tell me the dream.”

“We flew over a pine forest. It was nice. It was as if I always knew I could fly. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Everyone knows flying in dreams is sexual.” “Come on, Jerram, I was hardly having a sexual dream. She was wearing a red flower. So red. Blood-red. Do you think it was blood? Do you think Nancy was trying to tell me she’s been hurt?”

“You need to go back.” Jerram was serious now. “Get in touch with exactly what you did and saw. Redream it, but stay awake when you do.” She closed her eyes. The balcony, the silly search for gray or red socks, the forest, the mound of pine needles, the flower running red.

“I think she’s dead, Jerram. And I think she was showing me where she was buried.”

He put his arm around her, and she realized she was shaking. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Take it easy. Breathe.”

He breathed with her, getting her calm. They sat together on his bed, his arm around her, hugging her the way he used to do when they were kids and Mom or Dad had yelled about some mischief. She felt safe with Jerram’s arm around her, his body close. He has always been like a half of me, she thought, and lately the half has been missing a lot.

The sky began to lighten. She went back to her own room. “Thanks,” she said, groggy with sleep.

Jerram wasn’t the least bit sleepy. “Tomorrow,” he said, “you’ll have to tell someone about this dream.”

Four