“Ashley! What is it?” She was trembling. “On the... the screen—” Shane turned on the computer.
A picture of a kitten chasing a ball of yarn across a green lawn appeared. Shane turned to look at Ashley, bewildered.
“What—?” “It's-it's gone,” she whispered. “What's gone?” She shook her head.
“Nothing. I-I've been under a lot of stress lately, Shane. I'm sorry.”
“Why don’t you go have a talk with Dr. Speakman?” Ashley had seen Dr. Speakman before.
He was the company psychologist hired to counsel stressed-out computer whizzes.
He was not a medical doctor, but he is intelligent and understanding, and it was helpful to be able to talk to someone.
“I’ll go,” Ashley said. Dr. Ben Speakman was in his fifties, a patriarch at the fountain of youth.
His office was a quiet oasis at the far end of the building, relaxed and comfortable.
“I had a terrible dream last night,” Ashley said. She closed her eyes, reliving it.
I was running. I was in a huge garden filled with flowers… They had weird, ugly faces...
They were screaming at me... I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I just kept running toward something… I don’t know what....
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