Chapter Seven

“So, what should be on the agenda today?” Lisa asked as she reached for the small jar of sweetener and container of creamer.

“I’m not sure,” said Poul, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. “I put in for – ” His voice died in his throat as he looked up just in time to see her scoop three heaping spoonfuls of the sweetener into her tea and then use her telekinesis to stir her mug while she poured in enough creamer to turn the liquid a pale white. He looked physically pained with how little her drink now resembled actual tea.

She caught the faint grimace tugging at his lips and grinned. “The creamer cools it down, and I like it sweet.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “It seems sacrilegious…”

Lisa laughed and squeezed his hand. “Sorry, but I like what I like.” As if to prove a point, she took a deep gulp of her sweetened creamer with mild tea flavoring and made a satisfied sound. “What were you saying before I offended you so?”

Her smile and sense through the link let Poul know that her comment was lighthearted. He shook his head again as if to clear it and said, “I took leave from my job until further notice. I…I don’t want to go back to work so soon after we reunited.”

She nodded. “That’s no problem. Will they be okay with it, though?”

He shrugged and admitted, “I don’t really care.” Reaching for her hand, he said, “This is more important. I…I need your help…”

“Of course,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “Whatever I can do.”

Poul ran his thumb over her knuckles, his gaze fixed on the space between their hands. He felt the weight of her patience through the link, a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t in any rush for him to speak. The words he wanted didn’t come easily, tangled as they were with his lingering doubts.

“I just…” he started, then paused, searching her face for something unspoken. She tilted her head slightly, her expression open, waiting. “I don’t know what’s next,” he admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Lisa smiled softly and leaned a little closer. “Then we start small,” she said. “One thing at a time. Together.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

“What comes to your mind first?” she prompted gently.

“Your dreams,” he blurted out, his gaze dropping to their entwined hands. “While you were asleep, I could see your dreams.”

Lisa nodded in understanding. “The link will do that, yes.”

“It seemed like you could…control them?”

Another nod. “It’s called lucid dreaming. I’ve always been able to do it. I realize I’m dreaming, then I can basically do whatever I want.” She caressed his knuckles with her thumb, and Poul noticed the tips of her wings taking on a faint blue tint as he sensed a flicker of sadness through their link. “When I’m missing someone, I can ask for them to appear. I don’t know if it’s their spirit or just a construct of my subconscious…I haven’t had the courage to ask. In the long run, it doesn’t really matter.”

Feeling her sadness, Poul squeezed her hands. She looked up at him, her smile soft and grateful as she returned the gesture. “Anyway, you want to know if you can learn how to lucid dream?”

“I…thought…maybe if I could control my dreams like you can, the nightmares might not…torture me so much.”

Lisa’s grip on his hands tightened slightly, her voice warm with encouragement. “Lucid dreaming is something people can learn, though success depends a lot on the person. That said, you’ve got an advantage most don’t.”

He tilted his head curiously. “What’s that?”

She chuckled. “Me. Well, specifically, our link. I can use it to guide you – help you recognize when you’re dreaming and teach you how to take control. Combine that with a few real-world techniques, and I’m confident you can pick it up.”

The beginnings of a smile curved Poul’s lips. “Do we have to wait for tonight, or…?”

“Well, to actually dream, yes,” she said with a soft laugh. “But there are techniques we can start practicing right now, if you’re ready. The first is called reality testing. It’s about questioning your reality throughout the day – looking at your surroundings and asking yourself, ‘Am I dreaming?’ You can also check for small inconsistencies, like reading text twice or counting your fingers. In dreams, things like that don’t stay consistent.”

Poul frowned slightly, considering it. “So…constantly questioning whether I’m dreaming?”

“Not constantly,” she said with a soft laugh. “Just enough to make it a habit. The idea is, if you do it during the day, it might carry over into your dreams.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And then what?”

“Then there’s something called the Mnemonic Induction of Lucid Dreams, or MILD for short,” Lisa continued. “Before you go to sleep, you focus on the idea of realizing you’re dreaming. You can repeat a phrase to yourself, like, ‘I will know I’m dreaming,’ and visualize catching yourself in a dream.”

“Sounds…like a lot of effort before bed,” Poul admitted.

She smiled. “It takes practice, but it works for a lot of people.”

“And keeping a journal?” he asked, picking up the technique from her thoughts.

“Exactly,” Lisa said, her wings giving a little twitch of enthusiasm. “Write down your dreams as soon as you wake up, even if it’s just fragments. The more you do it, the better you’ll get at remembering them. That’s important, because if you don’t remember your dreams, you won’t remember whether you were lucid.”

Poul tilted his head. “I suppose I could try those. Is there anything else?”

Lisa hesitated. “Well, there are supplements and medications,” Lisa admitted, “at least where I’m from. But those aren’t really necessary. You’ve already got everything you need to make this work.”

Poul gave her a wry smile. “I didn’t think you’d suggest anything like that.”

She chuckled, her wings giving a slight twitch. “Good, because I wouldn’t. We’ll do this the right way. Do you have anything to use as a journal? A notebook or something?”

He thought a moment. “I may have one in the desk in my off…er, that is, in your room.”

She smiled. “Let’s go look then.”

Lisa used her telekinesis to levitate their breakfast dishes to the sink before taking Poul’s hand. Together, they made their way to the spare room that had initially been designated as hers. Though she hadn’t used it for sleeping, the space was neat and organized, her folded clothes resting on the bed, which lacked blankets or pillows – those had migrated to Poul’s room once it was clear he slept better with her by his side.

At the desk, they began rummaging through the drawers. Poul frowned thoughtfully as he pulled out a few stray papers and small items, eventually uncovering a plain, well-worn notebook. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of its empty potential.

“This will do,” Lisa said, her voice warm with approval as she gently took the notebook from him. She flipped through the pages, nodding at the blank spaces. “Plenty of room for dreams.”

“Let’s hope there’s something worth writing down,” Poul murmured, half to himself.

Lisa squeezed his shoulder lightly, her wings brushing his arm in a gesture of reassurance. “There will be,” she said confidently. “Even fragments are valuable. It’s all part of the process, and every step forward matters.”

He tried to smile and take her word for it, but his mind wouldn’t allow him the luxury. For every step forward, how many steps backward would there be?

Hey, said her voice in his mind as she cupped his face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. The link opened fully and he immediately felt her courage, love, and confidence wrap around him like a warm blanket. We’ll get through this. Whether it’s two steps forward and one step back, or one step forward and three steps back…whatever happens, I’m here.

Poul embraced her, pressing his face into her hair and breathing deeply, letting the breath out slowly. As he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the rows of boxes still stacked neatly along the far wall – the boxes full of his past cases, including, he was certain, the incident on Storm Mine Four.

A tremor ran through him as he gripped her arms to ground himself. “I think… I think these boxes need to be sorted through and removed.”

“There’s no rush,” she assured him gently.

He shook his head. “No, Lisa. Even though I sleep better with you beside me, this room is still yours to do with as you will. You shouldn’t have my clutter in your space.” He met her gaze, searching for her reassurance. “Will you help me?” He knew the answer, but he needed to hear her say it.

Her smile was warm, her response immediate. “Of course I will,” she said, squeezing his hands. “We’ll take it one box at a time.”

End chapter seven.

Back *~*~* Chapter Six *~*~* Chapter Eight