One seventeen. Great. I'd been in bed two hours. Two hours when I hadn't closed my eyes for long and most certainly hadn't been able to sleep. It's not that I wasn't tired. I was exhausted. But I knew what waited for me the moment I let sleep come and I wasn't ready for it, wasn't strong enough for it. Who could be? I rolled onto my side and punched impatiently at the pillow. Unfortunately it was little comfort. I was caught in that revolving door of emotion and memory - and the knowledge that nightmares would plague me if I let my guard down. So I couldn't sleep, no matter how tired I was. It had been bad enough when the nightmares centered around Maryanne's wedding. There'd been the dreams where my mother had chased me through the streets, yelling that all I had to do to make her the happiest woman in the world was settle down with "some nice boy" and give her grandchildren. The worst had been the one where I'd tried on the maid of honor dress from Hell, only to find I could never take it off.
