Martin Porter sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, holding his neck and gasping as if choked. His heart raced, the beating of the muscle thumping in his chest and in his throat. He wanted to run, but why?

            "What's the matter, Martin?" inquired a soothing, familiar voice.

Martin coughed, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, Sharon. I didn't mean to wake you. Please go back to sleep," he said rubbing his left hand on his wife's soft shoulder.

            "Another nightmare, sweetheart? Was it the war?"

            "Yeah, I mean, no...oh, I don't know," Martin replied, running the fingers of his right hand through his dark hair. "It's so confusing."

            "Wanna talk about it?" Sharon asked and propped herself up on an elbow. She rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, looking up at her husband. "You know you always feel better when you talk to me about it," she said, sliding a slender finger down the sleeve of the man's pajama shirt.

            Martin examined his wife's lovely face accentuated by the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window. "Have I ever told you that I love you more than life itself?"

            "Many times...but, those words never get old," she said, sitting up to kiss her husband on the cheek. "Nevertheless, Martin, you appear to be avoiding the subject of your dream."

            Martin cleared his throat, placed a hand on his heart, and conjured up his best English accent. "Ahem, well my lady, the eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive..."

            "...nor his heart to report what my dream was," Sharon said, completing the quote. "My dear, you are incorrigible," she said laughingly. "You know how I love Shakespeare. Now, come to me, come lie down and let me help you sleep." Sharon lifted the covers from the bed, inviting Martin inside.

            "As you command, my lady," Martin said with a snicker. He lay back and snuggled into his wife's warm embrace. She lightly ran her fingers over his forehead and he exhaled; the tension escaping his body like a leaking balloon.