Sepia Toned Dreams

***please note: this is very brief as it's a writing assignment limited to 1,000 words***




         Where did this come from? Sherry noticed it, as she moved boxes into the sitting room. This wasn't here when the agent showed me the house. Built in 1842, it was a gorgeous, historic home in Round Top, Pennsylvania. But this sepia-toned photo in the ornate frame didn’t exactly fit with her décor. The man in the picture was a handsome, somewhat sad-looking person. She carefully removed it and stored it in the attic.

         The antique doorbell interrupted her thoughts with a melodic chime. Sherry was surprised and happy to see her friend and colleague from Georgetown University.

         “I’m so glad you came, Heather. I’m still unpacking and the house is a mess!” Sherry said.

         “Hey! I know what that’s like! Don’t worry about it.”

         “Thanks. I’ll get us some coffee. Feel free to explore the house,” Sherry offered. Heather meandered upstairs and later returned to the kitchen, just as Sherry placed coffee cups and scones on the table.

         While sipping their coffee, Heather complimented Sherry on her find. “This is a perfect house and location for an American History professor! Your research on Gettysburg will be superb, no doubt. Full tenure on the staff should be a lock.”

         Blushing, Sherry exclaimed “Well, I have the entire summer to do what I enjoy the most --field research, no classes, no papers to grade!”

         “I do hope you also analyze the eligible male population here, Sherry. You’re still young and very pretty, a great catch for a Mr. Wonderful.”

         “Now Heather, let’s not get into that again. It’s only been three years since Mark died. I don’t want to rush things.”

         An attractive, petite brunette in her early thirties, Sherry lost her husband in the Iraq War. She felt guilty if attracted to someone this soon, but her heart ached and tugged at her to find a new life partner.

         “Sherry, please promise me you’ll be on the hunt anyway.” Heather chuckled. They were good friends and both taught at Georgetown University in D.C. Heather declined an invitation to stay for supper, and Sherry continued unpacking into the late evening. Satisfied with her progress, she retired for the night.

***

         Where am I? It’s hazy and I can’t see. Who are you? Why are you so silent? Please tell me your name. Sherry woke with a start! She tried to sort out the crazy dream details, but was aware of two things for sure: He was wearing a Union uniform and she had a very strong attraction to him. He appeared, stared at her longingly, and then faded out. Oh boy, now I’ve got an historical dream lover! I wouldn't mind having that dream again, though.

         Dressed in casual slacks and a matching khaki top, she was fashionably yet functionally ready for her exploration in town. A pretty sun hat and sensible walking shoes rounded out her attire.

         As she rushed towards the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks -– the picture was back on the wall, same spot from which she previously removed it. Did Heather find this and put it up for me? Well, back to the attic you go, mister!

         She finished breakfast and hurried out the door. It was a great day for mixing research and pleasure; a bright golden sun, azure blue sky and low humidity beckoned her.

***

         Her exploration in downtown Gettysburg was extremely interesting and rewarding, with one aspect being the crown jewel – Gettysburg’s so-called "unknown battlefield." Sherry discovered, through conversation with town natives, that there was an actual battle in the town itself. Civil War buffs usually flock to the field instead, unaware of the battle that took place in town.

         Sherry searched the archives: Confederates overran the small village on July 1st, 1863, sending the 2,400 inhabitants into a frightened frenzy. They hid in their basements – harsh sounds of troops marched through the streets, gunfire crackling, wounded screaming. This lasted two days, and many citizens were still afraid to venture outside after the Confederates left. As far as the citizenry were concerned, the ordeal after the two days of fighting was worse than the town battle itself.

         Pleased with the information she gathered, she felt like a reporter with a big scoop. She went home to relax and get ready for the evening social. And perhaps do some “hunting a la Heather” while there!

         Exhausted from the fresh air and walking, Sherry thought I'll just grab a few winks. But, she rapidly settled into a very deep sleep and drifted through a familiar dreamscape. She was back in town, but it was very odd. Everyone was wearing period dress from the Civil War era. It was a very comfortable feeling to be there, and then he suddenly appeared -– the man from her previous dream.

         This time, though, he spoke: “Good day, Madame. Please allow me to make your acquaintance. I am Frank Holmgren. You resemble my late wife, and I just had to talk to you. Please forgive me if I've offended you."

         Sherry tried to reply, but inexplicably couldn’t. Then fading, fading…No! Don’t end yet! The dream dissolved and reluctantly returned her to reality. Feeling cheated, she wanted to talk to him; find out who he was and why he thought she was his wife. Decked out in a Union officer uniform, he was a ruggedly handsome man with dark hair and finely trimmed mustache. He had an effect on her that she couldn’t comprehend. She felt love for him, a perfect stranger in a dream! How can this be?

         Her heart ached with longing for this mystery man. She took a long, deep breath and sighed.

         This is ridiculous, she thought. Maybe my research is too intensive and manifesting itself in this historic dream! Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. That face is familiar – too familiar! She ran upstairs to the attic to get the sepia picture, but it wasn’t there. With trepidation, she slowly went downstairs to the sitting room. Her fears were confirmed. The picture was back on the wall. She stood frozen in place: Chills now danced up and down her spine. Oh my God!

          Staring back at her, through 143 years of time, was Frank Holmgren.


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