Fuzzy Logic

She still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. The kissing. The gazes. The gentle caress of his thumb across her cheekbone. It was all too lucid.

And then, a second night in a row.

"Robert."

She nudged her sleeping husband. His eyes opened to slits. His brain barely cogent.

"Robert. Wake up." she said. The insistence in her tone made him sit up.

"What is it, hon?"

"You were cheating on me."

He blinked at her.

"What?"

"You were kissing another woman. I saw you."

All sleep disorientation drained from Robert, only to be replaced by another kind of stupor. The kind that comes from an accusatory stare. And utter confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Kissing a woman?"

"In my dream." she said.

He blinked at her again.

"You cheated on me twice. Two nights in a row."

"Well, I'm sorry for that. Whomever she was tricked me. I would never --"

Her tightening eyes and flaring nostrils told Robert to shut up.

"Sleep on the couch." she said.

"But --"

"We'll talk about it in the morning."

Robert's wife woke to a fresh bouquet of flowers and a spanish omelette which he'd found the recipe for by googling "easy fancy breakfasts."

"Good morning, Love." he said.

"What's this?"

"You had a rough night. I thought you should wake up to something special."

She folded her arms and shook her head.

"Seems like a lot of trouble over a dream."

Robert's smile receded. "It wasn't any trouble."

"We need help. I'm calling Dr. Schadman to schedule a therapy session. I'll tell you what time to show up. Don't blow it off."

Robert went to Dr. Schadman's office feeling a mix of intrigue and annoyance. On one hand, he'd never been in a psychiatrist's office before. He'd only seen them on episodes of The Sopranos and other TV shows and his curiosity about a real-life psychiatric setting should be satisfied. On the other hand, this was all very stupid and his wife was clearly crazy.

"Have a seat.' said the Doctor. "Make yourselves comfortable."

Robert's wife pointedly sat away from him, leaning so far in to the curled arm of Dr. Schadman's chaise lounge that she almost straddled it. Robert pulled up his slacks and seated himself toward the middle. He intened to make himself comfortable, indeed.

Dr. Schadman laid a legal pad atop his crossed thigh. "Why don't we start with you, Melissa?"

She cleared her throat and found a focal point on the floor. "We were at an office party. Robert spent the whole time with a cocktail in his hand, talking to everybody but me. As usual."

Robert exhaled loudly.

"Rebecca Morris was there. An old college friend. I watched the two of them yack it up in their own little corner for at least an hour. And then he started kissing her --"

Robert threw his hands in the air, letting them fall to his lap with a plunk. Dr. Schadman cocked his head back.

"Do you disagree with Melissa's recollection?"

"Of course not!" said Robert. He looked at his wife. "Why don't you tell him where we were."

"I already did. We were at a holiday party for my office."

"IN A DREAM!"

Robert's exasperated exclamation thickened the air in the room. He and Melissa both looked to the psychologist for counsel.

"Some people think dreams are a window into the soul." said the doctor. "But I don't. I consider them a premonition of the future. Clearly, at some point, Robert, you and your wife will be at an office party and you will cheat on her with a woman named Rebecca Morris. It's spelled out plainly in Melissa's nocturnal tea leaves."

Robert stared at him dumbly. His eyes involuntarily scanned upward, looking to find the credentials that were surely posted somewhere on the office wall. A diploma from a community college. A certificate from an online training course. Anything.

But the only thing there was a near-life-size poster of Jorge Garcia standing in a jungle with what was apparently the actor's signature scratched in one corner with a glitter pen.

"I had a dream of my own recently." said Dr. Schadman. "In it, I was in session with both of you. Melissa explained her side of things. Very convincingly, I might add. As her story more and more incriminated you, Robert, you became agitated. And when she described the moment of infidelity, you went into a rage. You brandished a pistol and gunned us both into the grave."

Silence smothered the room. Robert's eyes shifted from his wife to Dr. Schadman and back again. He slapped his own face to see if he'd wake up. He blinked a couple times.

Just then, two policemen entered the office and placed him under arrest.