Adam opened his eyes, awakened by the sound of quiet whimpering in the next room. “Jane,” he whispered, but there was no response. He stumbled out into the living room, squinting his eyes against the glare of the reading lamp she’d left burning, and saw her fast asleep on the couch, her face covered with tears.

“Wake up,” he said, shaking her gently.

She stirred and muttered in her sleep. “Avril…” she said. “Adele... Amy, no, no…”

“Jane!” he said again. “Wake up! You’re dreaming. Wake up!”

Jane opened her eyes, jolted awake by the sensation of someone shaking her. She struggled for a moment to take in the face looking down at her. Adam. So young. She reached up to touch his cheek. The skin was smooth and firm, the stubble still dark brown, not yet faded to the grey of old age. Adam, here with her again. She let out a gasp at the sight of him.

“You were crying in your sleep,” he said, slipping his arms around her.

“Adam!” She reached up and flung her arms around his neck.

“Shhhh,” he soothed her gently. “It was just a dream, little girl. Just a bad dream.”

Jane was still out of breath, her chest heaving up and down as she clung to him. “Adam!” she exclaimed. “Did you know her?”

“Did I know who?”

“Amy Winehouse. Did you ever know her?”

“You were having a nightmare about Amy Winehouse?”

“She’s dead, right? Tell me she’s dead.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “She died last year.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead.

“You were living in Idaho,” Jane sobbed. “You were living there with Amy Winehouse.”

“Idaho?” Adam raised his eyebrows. “You do know she was British, right?”

“Oh Adam, you’re alive!” she exclaimed.

He chuckled as he tenderly stroked her back. “Did someone listen to Back To Black a few too many times?”

She brought up one hand to cover her eyes, as the fragments of her dream washed through her mind. “Where are we?” she asked after a moment. She took her hand away and looked around the room then, taking in the unfamiliar furniture and the disarray of half-unpacked luggage.

“Greece,” he replied. “Janie, what are you doing sleeping out here on the sofa?”

Greece. A villa carved into the side of a cliff on the isle of Santorini. The recollections of the past week came flooding back to her. She and Adam had flown out a week ago to be on-site for the final preparations, but the weather hadn’t cooperated. They’d spent the whole time cooped up, drinking too much of the villa’s stockpile of red wine and entertaining themselves as best they could inside.

The weather had been bizarre since the day of their arrival. Some kind of freak meteorological occurrence – a solar flare. The resulting electromagnetic storm had caused all kinds of havoc. Phones weren’t working. Internet was down across the whole island. Both their iPhones had their memories wiped. Adam had lost his entire music library, but somehow the first few dozen songs on Jane’s phone had been spared. The result was a selection of only artists and song titles that began with the letter “A”: Adele, Amy Winehouse, Avril Lavigne…

“No more,” Adam had groaned after she’d played Back to Black for the fourth time in a row.

“But you like Amy Winehouse,” she’d protested.

“It’s just a little morbid. Don’t you have anything more upbeat?”

Jane had scanned through the list of songs still remaining on her phone. “Hmmm. How about 22? Taylor Swift?”

He’d furrowed his forehead in confusion. “That doesn’t begin with an A.”

“Hey, you’re right,” she’d murmured. “I guess because it starts with a number—oh look, I have Applause!”

“Lady Gaga?” He’d made an outraged face. “Why do you have that?”

“I like that song!”

“Pretentious Madonna wannabe,” he’d muttered under his breath, reaching out his hand and grabbing her phone. “Give me that. Let’s see.” He’d wrinkled his forehead as he looked through the list. “How about some Avicii,” he’d said at last, and she heard the jangly banjo accompaniment to the song that had been playing endlessly on the radio all summer, Wake Me Up.

Feeling my way through the darkness,
Guided by a beating heart.
I can't tell where the journey will end,
But I know where to start.

Adam had drummed along to the beat on his legs. He didn’t know all the words, but he’d sung whatever snatches of lyrics he could remember. Jane could still hear them now, reverberating in her memory, as the disjointed images of her nightmare slowly receded.

They tell me I'm too young to understand.
They say I'm caught up in a dream.
Well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes…

She suddenly remembered the horrifying sensation of not being able to open her eyes – being trapped in a perpetual sleep that wasn’t sleep.

So wake me up when it's all over,
When I'm wiser and I'm older.
All this time I was finding myself,
And I didn't know I was lost.

I didn’t know I was lost, Jane thought to herself. She shuddered again and felt Adam give her another reassuring squeeze. It was only a dream. Only a dream.

The music had gotten old after a few days, and they’d scanned desperately through the TV channels for anything other than static. The storms had messed with the cable, but for some reason they’d been able to access the villa’s on-demand children’s menu. They’d ended up making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers in front of a movie marathon of old Hollywood musicals: The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Annie… Adam had balked when they got to The Wizard of Oz.

“I hate this movie.”

She’d looked at him like he had just grown two heads. “Who hates The Wizard of Oz?”

“It irritates me. I get all invested in the story, and then it turns out it’s all just a dream. What kind of bullshit ending is that?”

“It is a weird ending, isn’t it?” she’d mused. “I never really thought about it.” She scanned through the list of movies again as she spoke. “Well, in that case all we have left are Disney cartoons. Sleeping Beauty?”

He’d rolled his eyes. “No cartoons. Dammit, are we sure there are no books in this place?”

“There are lots of books,” she’d responded. “They’re just in Greek.”

“I’m gonna go check again.”

He’d come back triumphant with a well-worn paperback copy of the only English language novel he could find: Jane Eyre. They’d spent the evening cuddled up in bed, reading it out loud to one another. Jane had slipped out to the living room and stayed up late to finish it after Adam had drifted off. She found it now, tucked between the couch cushions.

“Jane?” Adam gave her another little squeeze now and she snapped her eyes back to his. “What are you doing sleeping out here on the couch?”

She didn’t answer but looked out the living room window. It suddenly occurred to her that the sound of howling wind that they’d been listening to all week was no longer there. Had the storm blown over at last? Just in the nick of time? She went to the window and looked out at the clear, dark sky. The first rays of dawn were just starting to lighten the horizon.

“You can’t see me!” she exclaimed, spinning around to face him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s bad luck,” she continued. “It’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day!”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s a bunch of superstitious crap.”

She shook her head at him, looking rattled. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be worse luck if throw your back out on your wedding day because you insisted on sleeping on the couch.”

He was right, she knew. She allowed herself to relax against him. It was just a silly superstition.

“Come to bed,” he whispered, taking her hand and leading her toward the bedroom.

She followed him without further protest, but she stopped dead in her tracks after just a few steps. “What are you humming?” she asked.

“What? Was I humming something?” He thought for a moment and then started singing the lyrics to a song.

And I find it kind of funny.

I find it kind of sad.

The dreams in which I’m dyin’

Are the best I’ve ever ha—

 “Why were you singing that?” she interrupted.

“I don’t know,” he said with a stifled yawn. “It was just stuck in my head.”

She shook her head. It didn’t make sense. Neither of them had Tears for Fears on their phones. Why that song? And why did the sound of it send a shiver down her spine just now?

“Seriously, Jane. Bedtime. We’ve got to be up in two hours.”

She gave in and let him tuck her beneath the covers. He turned off the bedside lamp, but he switched it back on a moment later when he heard her whisper a question.

“Are you scared?”

“I’m happy,” he said, but his smile was forced.

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me the truth.”

He looked away for a moment before returning his eyes to hers. “You have to promise me, Jane. Promise me you’ll never leave again.”

She heard a trace of fear in his voice. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked intently into his eyes. “You asked me to marry you, and I said yes,” she told him. “I wouldn’t have said it unless I was sure.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered. “I know.”

He nodded, satisfied.

“Are you sure, Adam?”

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure.”

It was Jane’s turn to look away now.

“What?” he whispered. “You tell me the truth too, Jane.”

“Am I too old?” she asked.

He chuckled. “We’re the same age.”

“You’re a man, though. You’ll be one of those George Clooney types that the girls are still drooling over when he’s old.” She smiled back at him. “I’ll just be old.”

He kissed her softly. “You’ll still be Jane,” he said.

“And those 22 year olds will still be chasing you. What happens to me when you fall for one of them?”

“It’s never going to happen,” he said.

“How do you know?”

He held her gaze with look of absolute certainty. “I know,” he whispered, “because I am utterly incapable of loving anyone else.”

The words should have reassured her, but for some reason she had the strangest deja vu feeling. Had he said it to her somewhere before?

“Now, no more talking,” he said to her firmly. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Is it?” she murmured drowsily, her eyes already fluttering closed.

He watched her slide into sleep, unable to close his eyes just yet. That damned creepy ‘80s song was still stuck in his head.

And I find it hard to tell you

‘Cause I find it hard to take.

When people run in circles…

“Big day,” he muttered to the sleeping form of his bride-to-be, as he switched off the lamp once and for all. “Big day, Janie Jane Jane Jane,” he whispered. “First day of the rest of your life.”

THE END