The Hour of Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

pretty certain it had to do with him wanting Dr. Carter to transform him back to “normal.” He insisted that he believed it would set our destinies back on track.
    His long absences made my mind spin. He had to be working on something serious. So lying down, I decided to focus on his idea that we knew each other many lifetimes ago. Because if we did, then maybe he was right, and just maybe I wouldn’t be so worried about what he was planning.
    To help jostle the possibly suppressed memories from another life, I thought of Wes’ dream about the fire. I focused on the details, knowing that if they really were in Wes’ subconscious somewhere, then they had to be in mine too.
    I started with what he'd said about being a redcoat, and about the house burning. I tried picturing him in uniform, with an army. I engraved that image in my brain and kept it there until I could no longer keep my eyes open, and that’s when I slowly slipped into a deep sleep. At first it was dreamless, but then I found myself helping my mother prepare dinner. Only she wasn’t my real-life mother, but someone else entirely; yet somehow I still knew her to be my mother.
    Her dark hair was tied up in a bun that was starting to loosen as she bent over the wooden table, kneading something.
    “Phoebe?” she called, her voice soft and inviting, but also authoritative. “Can you fetch me a bucket of clean water from the spring, please?”
    “Yes Mother,” I found myself saying. Part of me wanted to protest, to ask what was going on, and how she was my mother, and why I was answering to Phoebe, but my body willed itself to move obediently. Before I knew it, I’d grabbed the pail and my shawl and headed outside.
    “Phoebe?” my mother called, stopping me short. “Take your father’s gun with you.” For the first time, I felt myself tense, knowing something was not right. “I just have a bad feeling,” she explained. “The war is getting too close for my liking.”
    At first I wanted to question, “What war?” But then, I knew. Phoebe's memories somehow became my own. Without hesitating any further, I walked over to my father’s cabinet and pulled down a gun. Strangely, I knew easily how to work it. I checked it for bullets and, when satisfied, I headed down to the spring for fresh water. It was about a quarter-mile walk along a dirt pass. A few horsemen trotted by, but it seemed serene and quiet.
    I would’ve liked to use the time to wrestle with my understanding of whether this was a dream or a memory, but my thoughts were overtaken by other faces. As I walked, images of a young, dark-haired boy and man crossed my mind, and I remembered they were out gathering firewood. They were my family too, and thoughts of them made me smile.
    I felt calm until I approached the spring, and then excitement took over.
    A girl my age, with long red hair, was already dipping her pail into the water. She squealed when she saw me. “Phoebe! Where have you been?”
    I was surprised to realize that I knew her name.
    “Charity? You’re better?”
    “Yes. All better. The dreadful cough is gone, and I’m free. Free as a bird. This is the first time Mama has let me out of that awful, dull house!”
    She hugged me tightly. “I missed you,” I whispered in her ear.
    “Me, too! I can’t wait to come visit you soon. I’ll be by later. She’s already put me to work. But I’m not complaining this time.”
    We smiled and filled our pails. On our way back, we passed a few other friends, including two lads who bumped into us on purpose, causing water to splash on our shoes.
    “Watch it!” Charity barked.
    “What are you going to do?” The taller, lanky one shouted. Something told me I knew his name once, but I couldn’t quite recall it.
    “I’ll sic my brother on you if you keep it up,” Charity warned.
    Both boys laughed and went on their way. It was then that I remembered how close a friend Charity was. We'd spent all our free time together, running