Forty-SixMy dreams were back, and each time a new memory or an old one surfaced; I forced myself to wake-up, not allowing the dream to take hold and sink me deeper into sadness. By mid-week, I was exhausted, but my ability to wake-up just as the dream began was almost perfect. Every memory I'd ever had of Mary and Thomas was pushed away as far as possible, never allowing them to get even the slightest grip. I was determined to go back to the life I had before the dreams began.
Each day seemed longer than the next and as the expression goes 'a watched pot never boils' the same holds true for the days of the week when checking the calendar every day. Though it was only four days away, Sunday wasn't coming fast enough. So on the eve of Thursday, I planned to get out of the apartment and get
