I went to bed, wondering what to do about her dad. I didn't know what he looked like, what his name was, where he last lived...or even if he was still alive. I sighed, This is impossible.

I looked at the clock. 1:32. Linda usually woke up around this time. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, unintentionally pulling out several loose strands. I need more sleep. It was becoming a schedule and I didn't like it. Sure enough, three minutes later I heard a soft whimper coming from her room that steadily got louder and more pain-filled with every second. I swung the door open and crouched beside her, shaking her shoulders until she woke up. Even when she did, she was still dreaming.

"Dad!" she cried. "Don't hurt him!"

"Linda, Linda, it's okay" I looked her in the eye as she slowly came back to reality. "I'm sure he's okay, we'll find him," I held her close to me and she sobbed into my shoulder. "it's okay... It was just a dream...he's okay...." She took quite a few deep breaths to calm herself, lying back onto the bed.

I waited until she was asleep then got up and stumbled to my bed, passing out once my head hit the pillow.

~~~

Saturday morning started at 10:30 for me, having slept in. I rolled out of bed--I mean that literally--and walked to Linda's doorway. As always, she was already awake and petting Martha when I woke up.

We went through the morning exercises. She walked to the living room and back with little trouble.

"Do you remember anyplace your father lived?"