Doug: Dreams and Memories

Daniel’s eyes snap open in the darkness, physically stopping his body from twitching. He fancies he can smell gunpowder and hear faint screams, but they are just memories. They sometimes come at night, without cause or warning.
Next to him, Irene stirs. He had hoped he hadn’t woken her, but she’d always been a light sleeper. “Dream?” She asks softly, perhaps hoping she hadn’t felt him awake.
“No,” he shakes his head, “memory.” The imagined smell of burning flesh lingers in his nostrils. He sits up, after a moment, Irene does as well, sheet falling from her naked body. She turns, nuzzling his neck. He doesn’t respond. She pulls back to look him in the eyes. They are distant, not seeing.
“Hey.” The ice blue eyes hold steady, “Come back to me.”
They flicker, change to a deeper shade. He forces a smile, “Hi.”
She kisses him then, softly. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”
“I know, I just forget, sometimes.”
“Come back to bed.” She lies down again, pulling him down with her.
He wraps his arms around her, nuzzles her neck softly. She purrs in contentment. His eyes stay open, staring at her hair, her face, marveling in her beauty. This beautiful creature always knows how to bring him back from the night. There is no place he feels safer, no other place where he feels truly at home.
A long time later, he shuts his eyes, and sleeps.