The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #14)

I didn’t feel like reading, and I never felt like sewing. I couldn’t even concentrate on the list of things I needed to buy for the house, as Mabel’s and Daniel’s cases kept flashing through my mind. I was dying to get out and do something. I wondered if anyone had spoken to the firemen who were called on the night Mabel’s parents died. Might they have seen anything strange? Since Mabel’s parents’ house had only been on Eleventh Street, and thus within easy walking distance of my home, the fire engine would probably have come from the Jefferson Market fire station, at the bottom of Patchin Place. And nobody could object to my stretching my legs that far.

I had just moved on to Daniel’s case and was going through the list of victims again, trying to find anything they had in common, when to my delight, I heard a door slamming across the street and saw Sid and Gus heading in my direction. My mother-in-law responded to the knock on the front door and I heard her say, “No visitors today, I’m afraid. She overdid things yesterday and isn’t feeling at all well.”

That was too much for me. I got up from the sofa and went to the door. “That doesn’t include my friends, Mother Sullivan. What I need now is cheering up, and I’m sure they can do just that. Do we have any coffee left in the pot?”

She shot me an angry look, but she let Sid and Gus come in and stalked off to the kitchen.

“Not what you’d call a warm welcome,” Sid said in a low voice. “Is she really banning all visitors, or is it just we who are persona non grata? I have the feeling she disapproves of us.”

“She was just doing what she thought was best for me,” I said, just in case she was listening. “I really didn’t feel well this morning. I also had a horrible dream last night. Maybe Gus can interpret it for me. I’ve actually had it a couple of times before.”

“When did you start having it?” Gus asked.

“After the accident. When I was lying in the hospital.”

“So it’s not a long-term problem you’ve been dealing with.”

“No.” I took a deep breath, making myself recall the details of the dream. “I’m lying in a dark, confined space, and I can hear water dripping and there is a horrible rumbling all around me, and I know I have to get out before it’s too late.”

Gus looked at me and smiled. “I don’t think that one is too hard to interpret, Molly. You were in a train crash. Didn’t you say you passed out and when you came to your senses there were people lying on top of you? And I’m sure the rumbling was the motor of the train still running nearby. You’re just reliving a moment of great terror, the way Mabel is.”

“I suppose so,” I said, “although in my dream it feels as if I’m underground, and I can’t breathe properly.”

“You were buried under bodies in the train, so your brain is playing with the notion of being buried,” Gus said. “Now, what I want you to do, the next time you dream it, is to take control of it. Visualize a square of light in one corner and say to yourself, ‘Why, there is a way out after all.’”

“One can really do that in a dream?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. And it’s very effective. If you wake up after the nightmare, you make yourself go back to sleep, fall back into the dream, only this time you make it have a positive outcome. You face the monster. You stop the horse from running away with you. I’m told it really does work.”

“I’ll try,” I said. “And of course it would make sense that I’m dreaming about my terror in the train crash.”

“And you know you have to get out in a hurry because the car is hanging over the edge and might fall,” Sid said.

“You’re right.” I beamed at both of them. “I feel so much better now.”

We looked up as Mrs. Sullivan came in carrying a tray with coffee cups and cookies.

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Sullivan,” Gus said. “But you should have called us. There was no need for you to carry it through yourself.”

“Oh, it was no trouble,” she said as she put the tray down on the low table.

“Won’t you come and join us?” I asked.

“No, thank you, dear. I’ve the lunch to prepare and I want young Bridie to keep up with her lessons. I’ve set her some arithmetic to do. She’s not too keen on long division.”

“We’d be happy to help with Bridie’s lessons, wouldn’t we, Sid?” Gus asked.

“No, thank you kindly. I’d rather do it myself,” My mother-in-law said quickly. And she made a hasty retreat. Sid and Gus looked at each other and started to laugh.

“Obviously we’d be a corrupting influence on young Bridie,” Sid muttered. She looked around. “So where is the divine Liam today?”

“Just went down for his morning nap,” I said. “He’s been playing so hard with Bridie that for once he was exhausted. Otherwise he resists naps these days.”

“We were considering going back to see Mabel Hamilton today,” Gus said, “and we wondered if you wanted to come with us. But, given the circumstances, you’d better not go anywhere today. We’ll have to report back to you.”

“Do you think Mabel will want to see you again so soon?” I asked. “She became so agitated yesterday. Will she be prepared to discuss her dreams this time?”

“Maybe not,” Gus said. “But she might have dreamed again last night and written it down. I also wanted to pursue what she said about sleepwalking. That might be significant.”