by Annette Broadrick
Since the mysterious accident that had taken her memory - and almost taken her life - Raoul DuBois scarcely knew his wife. This was not the selfish, willful Sherye who had been his obsession for so many years. He saw in her now a loving gentleness he could never have imagined... Was it really possible that dreams could come true? Or was this just one more cruel game of fate?
Sherye stared up at the ceiling, trying to find something tangible to hold on to in this strange new world she'd found.
"This is all just too bizarre," she muttered finally. After another long silence, she sighed, nodding her head slightly. "I know what this is . . . I'm having some kind of a dream. They've got me on pain medication, and I'm hallucinating. I'll wake up in the morning and I'll laugh at this whole thing . . ." She closed her eyes, tugging the sheet up over her shoulders, trying to regain her equilibrium.
"Well," she murmured to herself some time later, as though she were alone, "this is quite a dream you're having. A husband, two children and a modeling career. If that doesn't win prizes of creativity, it should."
As she drifted off to sleep, she muttered, "Boy, I've got great taste in dream men, that's for sure . . ."
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