silver, no humanity, no warmth. Sometimes, at night, after waking from my dream, I felt like those eyes were burned into the back of my eyelids, so that even when I closed my eyes, they glowed there, watching me.
I shuddered.
"Yes," he said.
"All right, so what? Maybe she's one that you haven't seen yet. Or, maybe they all look so much alike you can't tell them apart."
He raised his eyebrows at me, a look human enough that I understood what he meant. He'd seen them all, knew the differences between them and I needed to give up the ghost on this particular argument.
Fine. I had other bridges to burn. "They're dreams, not literal interpretations, anyway," I pointed out. "Besides, what has any of this got to do with how old I was when the dreams started?" His original question had nearly gotten lost.
78
Stacey Klemstein
He stared at me for a long moment, then in a tone of something close to wonder, he said, "You do not see it, for even in the dream you are lost."
"Don't see what?" I asked, starting to get exasperated.
"Zara." He leaned toward me, and I instinctively mirrored his movement. "You are a child in these dreams." 79
The Silver Spoon
Chapter 7
I almost laughed. "Caelan, it could be anything. A metaphor for my feelings of helplessness in that dream, leftover grief from my parents' death, just some really bad brain wiring. It doesn't really mean anything, literally." Then I heard myself and shook my head. "Good Lord, I'm starting to sound like my shrink." He frowned, not understanding.
"My psychologist. Someone who listens to you talk and then pretends to have all the answers to your problems." I thought about the last time I saw good ol' Dr. Conroy and the look of fright on his face, and I grinned.
Caelan tilted his head at me, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "What did you do to him?" He must have caught a glimpse of something in my mind.
"He told me that my dreams were the result of repressed guilt over my parents' death. I told him that while I was still saddened by their death, I would talk about it with him freely because I didn't think that was truly the issue. Then he said," I paused, remembering the flare of frustration that had overtaken me at his next words, "'denial won't help the situation, Zara,' in that clipped tone of his."
"And you..." Caelan prompted.
"I threw an ashtray at his head and walked out." I smiled and shook my head, looking down at my hands folded in my lap. "It was not my most mature moment. But I'd really hoped that he would...I don't know, fix me or something. But he didn't, couldn't, I guess."
"What has made you feel that you need to be repaired?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Not sleeping well in a couple years, waking 80
Stacey Klemstein
up, clawing at my own throat, trying to breath. Feeling like there's this big giant cloud of badness hanging over us here, covering us, gradually blocking out the light, and one day, we'll be in total dark, because no one will believe me." I lifted my eyes to stare out the windshield. "It sounds crazy, I know." I looked at him. "And I'm tired of being the crazy one, the defect." He shifted closer on the seat, his eyes meeting mine. "You have not left rational thought, Zara. I believe you are closer to the truth of...something, than many others, including some of my own kind."
"Thanks." His words made me feel a little lighter, like I wasn't quite carrying the entire world on my shoulders. "But no offense, I'm not sure that anyone would hold you up as a paragon of sanity. You know, prophecies, missing memories, other aliens chasing after you..."
We sat in silence for a several moments. Then he said, "When I first saw you, I almost didn't recognize you as the one from the prophecy."
I looked over at him.
"You seemed small and frail...human." He turned his head toward me, eyes glowing in the faint light of the moon. "Not one who could possibly triumph over Nevan, one so strong that it takes many of us to remain
I shuddered.
"Yes," he said.
"All right, so what? Maybe she's one that you haven't seen yet. Or, maybe they all look so much alike you can't tell them apart."
He raised his eyebrows at me, a look human enough that I understood what he meant. He'd seen them all, knew the differences between them and I needed to give up the ghost on this particular argument.
Fine. I had other bridges to burn. "They're dreams, not literal interpretations, anyway," I pointed out. "Besides, what has any of this got to do with how old I was when the dreams started?" His original question had nearly gotten lost.
78
Stacey Klemstein
He stared at me for a long moment, then in a tone of something close to wonder, he said, "You do not see it, for even in the dream you are lost."
"Don't see what?" I asked, starting to get exasperated.
"Zara." He leaned toward me, and I instinctively mirrored his movement. "You are a child in these dreams." 79
The Silver Spoon
Chapter 7
I almost laughed. "Caelan, it could be anything. A metaphor for my feelings of helplessness in that dream, leftover grief from my parents' death, just some really bad brain wiring. It doesn't really mean anything, literally." Then I heard myself and shook my head. "Good Lord, I'm starting to sound like my shrink." He frowned, not understanding.
"My psychologist. Someone who listens to you talk and then pretends to have all the answers to your problems." I thought about the last time I saw good ol' Dr. Conroy and the look of fright on his face, and I grinned.
Caelan tilted his head at me, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "What did you do to him?" He must have caught a glimpse of something in my mind.
"He told me that my dreams were the result of repressed guilt over my parents' death. I told him that while I was still saddened by their death, I would talk about it with him freely because I didn't think that was truly the issue. Then he said," I paused, remembering the flare of frustration that had overtaken me at his next words, "'denial won't help the situation, Zara,' in that clipped tone of his."
"And you..." Caelan prompted.
"I threw an ashtray at his head and walked out." I smiled and shook my head, looking down at my hands folded in my lap. "It was not my most mature moment. But I'd really hoped that he would...I don't know, fix me or something. But he didn't, couldn't, I guess."
"What has made you feel that you need to be repaired?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Not sleeping well in a couple years, waking 80
Stacey Klemstein
up, clawing at my own throat, trying to breath. Feeling like there's this big giant cloud of badness hanging over us here, covering us, gradually blocking out the light, and one day, we'll be in total dark, because no one will believe me." I lifted my eyes to stare out the windshield. "It sounds crazy, I know." I looked at him. "And I'm tired of being the crazy one, the defect." He shifted closer on the seat, his eyes meeting mine. "You have not left rational thought, Zara. I believe you are closer to the truth of...something, than many others, including some of my own kind."
"Thanks." His words made me feel a little lighter, like I wasn't quite carrying the entire world on my shoulders. "But no offense, I'm not sure that anyone would hold you up as a paragon of sanity. You know, prophecies, missing memories, other aliens chasing after you..."
We sat in silence for a several moments. Then he said, "When I first saw you, I almost didn't recognize you as the one from the prophecy."
I looked over at him.
"You seemed small and frail...human." He turned his head toward me, eyes glowing in the faint light of the moon. "Not one who could possibly triumph over Nevan, one so strong that it takes many of us to remain
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