Awake

Miles turned in the white, starchy sheets. The hospital bed was hardly comfortable, but as he watched the snowfall outside he was, at least, grateful to be under a roof - reasonably warm and somewhat fed. He didn't have a memory of his favorite foods, but he could definitely scratch the dry, tasteless lasagna from the hospital cafeteria off of his list. 

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breath, but if it wasn't the sound of staff in the hallways or the occasional beeping and whirring of machines in rooms nearby, it was two sets of eyes pleading with him everytime he tried to sleep, that kept him awake. The wolf with the blue eyes and the woman with pale green irises. He felt caught in their sight, drawn to them, but he knew how this would go. Like in all the other dreams he’d had about them, the faster he ran toward them the further they would seem, and when he’d stop a dark shadow would yawn over him. 

He shook his head to clear the images his subconscious seemed obsessed with, and his ridiculous, dark wavy hair flew to the sides and rested naturally right over his eyes. He sighed in frustration and pulled it back, twisting it into a loose bun over the top of his head and twisting a hair tie over it. The first thing he’d do tomorrow, as soon as he was out of this place, was to see about getting a haircut. Of course, he didn’t have a lot of money for that kind of thing. On second thought, there had to be a good set of scissors around here somewhere. He’d ask Tom, the nurse on duty in the morning, about that in the morning. 

Eager to think of anything else, he closed his eyes again, but forced away the woman and the wolf. Instead, he thought of Dr. Temple. She’d worn her red hair down today and she’d smelled amazing - not perfumy, but fresh. Something citrus. She’d never been anything but professional with him, but she was a beautiful woman. She was the kind of woman he should be attracted to - wide hips and a small waist. He tried to imagine her soft pink lip in his ear, whispering sweet nothings. Something like ‘traumatic brain injury,’ no. Maybe, ‘limbic system.’ Yeah, nothing. Damn. He wondered what kind of women he’d been attracted to before the accident. Or maybe, he though with a frown, he wasn’t attracted to women at all. He thought about the nurse, Tom. He was a fairly handsome man with a full head of blonde hair and a jaw as sharp as a blade. Miles tried, really tried, what it would be like to hold his hand as they walked down the street or hold him close for a kiss, but other than some discomfort at the idea he felt nothing. No, he felt reasonably sure that he wasn’t gay. 

He sighed. He needed sleep, but the fear of the looming unknown of his life (and the known of his nightmares) kept him awake. There was a good chance he’d be released tomorrow and he had no idea what he’d be walking into. He had a permanent address, according to his driver’s license, where he would go tomorrow, but all efforts from law enforcement to find any family members had failed. Officer’s had also gone to his apartment, which was apparently devoid of any living thing. The neighbors recognized his name and face, but none of them considered themselves close enough to visit him in the hospital.

It seemed odd and a little sad, but what did he know. Maybe this is how all neighbors were everywhere, he mused. Except that he’d seen the jovial way the staff talked to one another. He’d heard the tears and laughter of friends and family visiting their loved ones. He hoped there would be evidence of a full life when he got back to his apartment. Maybe an address book or pictures. He closed his eyes to try to imagine what it would be like to have a family, to maybe slip into a dream in which he was known and loved, but at once the woman and her wolf reappeared. He sighed, groaned and then chose to just embrace it. He needed sleep and he could no longer resist the pull of their eyes. 

The wolf sat by the woman’s side. She gripped one blue-tinged hand in it’s fur and they whined as one as he entered the dream. Her dark hair stood up like branches, frozen in the wind. Her skin was dark as cinnamon, but he could see blue frost and climbing across her neck and fingers. They were in the same position as they always were in his dream, yet something was different. 

Unlike before, Miles felt his own presence here. His arms gripped his sides as the cold wind whipped around his hospital gown around his legs. He looked down to find his feet had disappeared into several inches of snow. 

“Who are you?” he asked, surprising not only himself, but the wolf and the woman as well. The wolf dropped to its belly and whined and the woman’s widened. Miles could see the that the whites of her eyes were like glass, a thin layer of ice keeping them open. She opened her mouth to speak and ice cracked over her lips as she did. 

“We’re your memories,” she said, her voice croaked. “And we’re your heart.” 

“What does that mean? You're just my subconscious, right?” 

The woman frowned deeply before she responded with what looked like great effort, rebreaking the ice around her mouth, “There’s not much time left, please come save us, Miles.” 

“Save you? Save my memories, right? There’s some kind of, like, self realization I need to come to? Maybe about my accident or...I don’t know.” 

“You need us,” she whispered and a tear fell and froze on her cheek, “and we need you. Please.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he took a step forward, surprised to find that he was actually able to make some headway. He sunk into the snow again and again until he was right in front of them. The wolf sat back up on its haunches and reached his muzzle out to him. Miles put his hand out to let the wolf sniff him. The wolf reacted quickly, before he knew it, it sunk it’s jaw’s deep into his wrist. 

Miles sat upright in the hospital bed, clutching at his right hand. His feet felt wet and numb from the cold and his gown was drenched, but from a cold sweat or the snow in his dream, he didn’t know. He slowly uncurled his protective arm around his hand to find that blood oozing out of two neat punctures on the top of his wrist and two smaller ones matching it on the bottom. 

“Damn, that hurts,” he grumbled. He grabbed a thin, white blanket from his bed and wrapped it tightly around his wound.