An artist with recurring dreams and the psychiatrist whose dreams mirror hers…is she a patient who needs his help? Or his soul mate from another time?
Psychiatrist Max Molinari specializes in past life regression. For years, he’s waited for a dream lover—the woman he has loved in many past lives—to walk through his door. Could his new patient be the one?
Artist Roz Lennon needs help unraveling her dreams of places she's never been and a man she's never met. When Roz draws the exact people and scenes from Max’s own regressive dreams, he has to fight to maintain his professional distance.
Roz could be the woman he’s searched for all his life, but he cannot lead her to that conclusion. Will Roz recognize him as they explore her dreams? Or is their soul-deep love all in his head?
Page Count: 57
Word Count: 13280
I looked for the artist’s name. Finding none, I hurried over to Barb and said, “Excuse me. Barb, do you know who drew those pencil sketches near the coat room?”
“No, Max, I don’t. Go see that guy,” she said, pointing. “The one near the toilet sculpture over by the door. He’s the owner of the gallery and an art dealer. I’m sure he’ll know. But Max—”
Before she could finish I was halfway across the room.
The owner, a guy named Gil Gregory who looked like he’d just emerged from a smoky, ’60s, Beatnik poetry-reading room, told me, “She’s local. I have her card in my office but it’s locked right now and—”
“Can you find it?”
He glanced around the room. “I’m kinda busy right now, Mr.—”
“Doctor. Dr. Max Molinari. You don’t remember her name?”
“She brought these in at the last minute. She’s not really a serious artist. She has a full-time job.”
He said this with some disdain, as if having a regular paycheck was beneath an “artiste.”
“I only put her work in the show as a favor to a mutual friend,” he added.
I took out a business card and handed it to him. “Will you please give her this? Will you be seeing her soon? Can you call her tomorrow?”
I was rambling. I sounded like an idiot. I didn’t care. All my life, I had anticipated that I would see a stranger across a crowded room, she would see me, and we would know. Music crescendos, mad dash to each other, Hollywood ending.