All of Our Dreams

By James Andrew Wilson

In each installment of 7 Hours, a character is visited by the enigmatic Thomas Constant, who makes a heart-stopping statement: “You are about to die. But you may choose from one of three options: Live seven more hours, travel back in time and relive seven hours, or accept the inevitable and die now.”

Luke Harrison is haunted by dreams of an imaginary past. Five years ago his wife, Arianna, fell victim to a horrifying degenerative disease, unraveling all of their dreams in an instant. Luke’s entire life is focused on her care and comfort.

But there is an approaching darkness, a malevolent Watcher who seems intent on taking Arianna from Luke.

Dreams and reality collide as Luke faces his own impending death. He doesn’t know what's real anymore, and time is running out.

The clock is ticking. What will you do with the time you have left?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781414375052

Book preview

1

That’s not right. I turned from my reflection in the water and yanked the knot loose. Don’t any of you know how to tie a tie?

My fellow groomsmen shrugged. Jacob, my best friend since our sophomore year in high school, cinched up the knot at his neck. We just left them in overnight. My dad tied ours yesterday at the rehearsal.

I draped the tie around my neck, trying to remember if the thick side went on the right or the left.

I think it goes the other way, Robert said. Robert’s dad was rich, and Robert was the self-appointed expert on everything—especially women, though I couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a real date. No, the other way.

I put one end over the other, pushed it around, through, over, under. Pulled it tight. There. Did I get it?

Jacob tilted his head. Looks a little off.

I turned back to the fountain. Even through the rippled and swaying mirror, it was clear that the knot around my neck was not the knot it ought to be.

This is just fantastic, I said, once again prying the knot loose. The ceremony is supposed to start any minute. I’m gonna look like a dork up there without a tie.

I don’t think a tie is going to change that, man.

Shut up, Robert. I gave the tie another hasty attempt.

Are you boys ready?

I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. A quartet of ladies in emerald-green dresses stood with bouquets in their gloved hands. The tallest, and the one whose voice I had recognized, was the groom’s sister Jewel—though between her and her brother, Mike, I’d have to say that she got all the good looks.

We’re supposed to be lining up to march down the aisle, Jewel said. They’re ready to start.

Robert stepped forward and offered his arm. Then let us be off, my dear maiden of the pale moon.

Jewel pushed him aside. I’m not walking with you, idiot. You’re with Brittany.

Robert frowned and stood beside Brittany, plunging his hands into his pockets. Brittany—she was one of those girls with a good personality, you know—pried her fingers under his arm and said, It’s no picnic for me either, darlin’.

Jacob cleared his throat and offered his arm to Jewel, all casual and calm, like he’d done this sort of thing a hundred times before.

Jewel smiled. Thank you, sir.

My pleasure, Jacob said, then winked at me.

Our fourth groomsman was one of the bride’s brothers. I couldn’t remember his name. He was walking with Mike’s other sister, Elizabeth.

Which left me and the remaining bridesmaid. Since I wasn’t able to make it to the rehearsal the night before, this was my first time meeting her.

In the movies, this moment is accompanied by a moving orchestral score and lit with a dazzling glow from a myriad of carefully placed lights, and the film is slowed down to enhance the mood, to let you linger in that place of awe. That is how I remember it.

She was a porcelain doll with rosy-red cheeks and dark curls of chestnut hair. I noticed her eyes because her emerald dress made them shine. Her skin was fair, like morning, like pale sunlight. Whereas Jewel stood tall and proud, a classic American beauty queen, my partner for the journey down the aisle was small and petite. She was like one of the flowers in the bouquet she was hiding behind—her delicate grace was not evident from afar; you had to stop and notice, and then you were entranced.

I did not possess the debonair charm Robert flaunted, otherwise I might have offered her my arm and called her a goddess of the sky. Neither was I as smooth as Jacob, able to drop girls to the ground in a fainting spell simply by saying hello.

Hello, I said.

Hello.

I guess we’re walking together.

What’s your name? she asked.

Beautiful. I shook my head. Luke. My name is—you look beautiful.

She smiled. Then, in a shockingly adept Yoda impersonation, she said, Arianna, my name is. And then in her normal, sweet voice: You look handsome.

The music started. That was our cue.

We were supposed to be marching down the aisle right now—the aisle that was on the other side of the courtyard.

Uh-oh, I said.

Your tie, she said.

We better run.

Your tie, she said again.

There isn’t enough time.

It’s a little—

I grabbed her hand and started toward the rows of chairs on the lawn. It’s all wrong, I know. It will have to do. We’re out of time.

Stop. She pulled me back.

How could I have realized the significance of that moment? Not only was it the first stroke of our love, but it proved a foreshadowing of that final, elusive, most important stroke.

In the end, we didn’t have enough time.

They’re waiting for us, I said. It’s good enough.

Hold this. She thrust the flowers into my hands. Then she reached up to my neck. Good enough isn’t good enough. It has to be just right. Her fingers danced around my collar. I could smell her perfume. She tugged the knot tight and stepped back. Now you’re ready.

I’ve come to learn something: love is not an accident, a bolt of lightning that strikes you and renders you helpless under its power. Love is a choice, sometimes the hardest of all.

But I didn’t know that then. I was struck with the awareness that this young woman who stood before me was the most fascinating creature I had ever seen. She was perfect. A flawless cloud—graceful, heavenly. Nobody could have predicted the storm.

May I have my flowers back?

2

Like so many nights since the darkness entered our lives, I was wide awake, watching the minutes and the hours tick by, unable to sleep. My doctor had prescribed a medication that was supposed to help, but I refused to take it, to be bound by any pill, ritual, or comfort of this world. I learned long ago not to trust in the temporal.

After tossing back and forth, seeking in vain to find a comfortable position, I left the bed. In pajama pants and slippers, I walked across the room to check on Arianna. She was sleeping.

Five years ago, I would have rolled over and found her in the night and gently run my fingers over her smooth skin. We would have embraced each other, fearless of the dark, warmed by our then-unbroken dreams of the future.

I left our room and traveled down the hall to the staircase. We thought the creaking stairs were quaint when we bought the old house. After a time, I determined that they were no longer quaint but in fact a problem that needed to be fixed.

The seventh stair from the top creaked as I descended. Then I was standing in the entry hall, looking at the front door. Like the rest of the house, it was of classic Victorian design, hand carved and elegant. Sadly, years of neglect and carelessness from the previous owners had left not only the door but most of the house in one state of disrepair or another.

It’s a fixer-upper, we’d told each other. If we put some work into it, we should be able to turn around and sell it for almost twice what it costs.

But even before we started down our long list of repairs, Arianna had

Reviews for All of Our Dreams

[reviewsfromtheheart · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Even though I couldn't explain how he could do such a thing, I wasn't yet ready to believe that Thomas Constant possessed supernatural mastery over time because of one simple parlor trick. I stood and went to the window. Outside, the world was like a photograph. The trees were bent ever so slightly to the east from a wind that no longer blew; a child riding a bicycle appeared to be pedaling as fast as he could, though neither his legs nor the bicycle's tires were moving. Time had stopped. Thomas Constant had stopped it.Now that he believed, all Luke Harrison had to do was make a simple choice. 7 more hours to live or go back to any 7 hours in his past. Faced with the horror of what his life would become if he made no choice at all, he chose 7 more hours. He had some last minute details to take care of if he ever wanted to spend eternity with his wife, Adrianna. He only had 7 hours to make sure everything was taken care of.The one thing he knew for certain was that Time is not a constant. It is priceless and fragile, gentle and fierce, your companion one moment, then suddenly gone. He knew that his time had come to an end. He wasn't afraid, not anymore.In the short story, All Of Our Dreams by James Andrew Wilson, captures his version of the premise all the six other authors have been challenged with, to create a remarkable story with his talent dealing with a simple choice when faced with death. I think James did an exceptional job at creating his own masterpiece. This is my first experience with James Andrew Wilson's writing and it most certainly will not be my last. I was captivated from the first line and he held me tight in his grasp until I read the final line. I am ready!This is my fourth book in the 7 Hours Series, which is a collection of short stories geared to wet the appetite of anyone looking for a great experience in suspense in a short amount of time. But a warning must be issued to the reader, you won't be able to read just one. You will want to read them all! If you love twisted short stories with a powerful message, much like the Twilight Zone or Night Galley episodes, then you will LOVE this book as well as the rest. I easily rate this one at a perfect 5 out of 5 stars!