“But you must be thirsty” he continued. He
pointed to the small table at bedside. On it was a carafe of
clear liquid, water I presumed, and a partially filled glass. I
noticed that his hand held steady as he motioned in the
direction of the table. The index finger with which he
pointed was unwavering and completely straight.
At first, I didn't react. My thoughts were otherwise
occupied as I wracked my brain in an effort to reconstruct
the events of the evening prior. The scene was all very
clear to me. There seemed no conceivable way that I had
imagined any of it. But, my sleep, the dreams were an
entirely different matter. I could recall nothing of them
with any clarity except that I knew that the things that
happened to me in them were of the most incredible
nature, that my body and bed were left wet with
perspiration when I awoke. When I again focused on my
present surroundings, I found that a glass was extended in
my direction.
“Yes, of course” I said. “Thank you” and took the
glass from his hand. Although I felt neither hunger nor
thirst, I took a sip of the liquid. As I had the night before,
I experienced an immediate and overwhelming sense of
euphoric warmth and contentment. I took another more,
substantial taste. Then sleep quickly followed and another
session of fantastic dreams.
III
When I awoke, I found I was once more
imprisoned in the bed, bound at the hands and feet and
completely bare of clothing. This time, I lay uncovered.
16