And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
― Khalil Gibran
Fragments of Dreams
The Yorkville Village Kath knew in the 60's was gone―even her/our house was gone. We had no idea where we belonged.
We were standing on Hazleton Avenue looking around at all the trendy, updated real estate and we both were lost.
"C'mon,: I said, taking her hand, "Let's get coffee and talk."
We walked in silence, each of us pondering the neighbourhood changes , not to mention our own inner tumult.
I bypassed Starbucks because she wouldn't have known that brand back in the 60's and found a Tim Hortons and the sight of a familiar logo seemed to relax her.
"I know this coffee shop from my trips to Hamilton―I didn't think there were any in Toronto," she said.
I realized my blooper. The chain of coffee shops started in Hamilton in the 60's and didn't get to Toronto until the early 70's.
"Well, at least it's something familiar," I replied lamely
Of course, it wasn't familiar―even the donuts she ate in the 60's had been replaced with updated versions.
"I can't believe they don't have any dutchies, " she complained.
"Things change," I said, "the honey dip donuts are still the same and the chocolate dipped ones."
"I guess," she replied sombrely, gazing round at the strange cityscape outside the plate glass window.
I waited until she relaxed a bit before raising what could be a painful subject.
"You called the Village house ours. Are you saying I was back there with you in the 60's?"
"It's complicated," she said, shifting in her seat and avoiding my gaze.
"You know I wasn't born until 28 years later and I am now just turned 28 years old?"
The colour drained out of her face and I thought she was going to pass out.
"What's wrong―what did I say to upset you?"
"You don't get it do you?"
I stared at her blankly.
"You're the guy in my dream―you're the reason I allowed myself to be drawn here. It felt like I was caught in a rapids but I gave in...surrendered to the pull of the current―because of you."
I was shaking now. I knew that she was familiar. She was the girl in my dreams and yes, I had seen the Village house before but only in fragments of dreams, half remembered and out of focus...but clearly, in some way I had been there.
"You look like him, you know?"
"Who―the guy in your dreams?"
She shook her head.
"You know, for a Professor, you're quite dumb. I'm talking about Brad Lockhart―your cousin, or so I guess. He died in Vietnam fighting a war that wasn't his―volunteered to join the U.S. army and was killed. And we were in love."
My stomach did more this time than give a little flip. I stumbled into the washroom and threw up in the toilet. I was shaking so hard I could barely stand up.
I knew it in my gut there was more than a chance connection between us. But, what the hell ? Who am I―Brad Lockhart returned?
I needed to talk to Charlotte. I needed answers.