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going to head into the office but call if you need me, okay?”

“I will,” Josie said, squeezing his shoulder. Damien was always protective of Josie and often considered himself responsible for her. She hoped the simple gesture reassured him she would be fine.

“Text me when you get an appointment made with the therapist, okay?” he said, patting her hand before standing and heading to his room to get ready for work.

“Okay!” Josie called after him.

“Just us,” Michael said. “You should continue to rest today, too. Want your laptop on the couch?”

“Okay, will you stop with ‘Dad mode,’ I can work in my office, I am fine.”

Michael held his hands up to demonstrate defeat and said nothing further. Josie left the kitchen, intent on getting some work done after dressing for the day.

When 9 a.m. rolled around, Josie decided she wouldn’t put off calling for an appointment with one of the recommended therapists from her ER visit. Grabbing her phone she forced herself to dial the first number on the list and waited while the phone rang on the other end. After a few rings, the receptionist answered, dashing Josie’s hopes that no one would pick up. She recounted a succinct version of her story of ending up in the emergency room after fainting and that Dr. Reed was one of the recommended therapists for a follow-up. Within short order, the receptionist was offering dates and times for the next available appointment. The doctor had an appointment open at 6 p.m. the following evening. Hoping Damien would go with her, she booked that appointment since it was well after he was home from the office.

The rest of the day dragged. Josie struggled to stay awake. She considered napping, but worried it would cause her to be unable to sleep that night so she opted to fight to stay awake.

When evening came, she elected to turn in early, hoping it didn’t take long to fall asleep and that she would stay asleep. She told Damien he didn’t have to sleep in her room tonight, hoping that her weariness would be enough to keep her sleeping through the night. A small part of her was almost afraid to close her eyes for fear of having the dream again, but within minutes of her head hitting the pillow she drifted off to sleep.

Regrettably, she did not remain asleep for the duration of the night, as she hoped. Around midnight, she awoke out of breath, drenched in sweat, having dreamt again of running through the cave, frightened and panicked. As she took several deep breaths attempting to lower her heart rate, the dream raced across her mind. She hated to continue to think about it, but she couldn’t help herself. Something was bothering her about it; something seemed different. She replayed it in her head over and over. As she lay back down, a new thought struck her. She bolted upright again. The difference in her latest dream was subtle. As she ran through the cave carrying the book, terrified and panicked, she turned to look behind her. That was usually when she awoke from the dream. In this dream, she did not have the book and continued running after her glance backward. As she began to run again in her dream, someone called her. Except they weren’t calling to her, they were calling to someone named Celine.

Celine. There was that name again. She recalled that was the name used in the note with the music box. She wondered if her mind had added that detail; had that incident crept into her nightmare or did she wake up and add that detail? Either way, she had a strong urge to go look at the music box. She threw off her covers and crept downstairs, trying not to wake the others in the house. Where had she put that box, she wondered? She remembered she had shoved it into the closet after Michael had invited himself to stay. She made her way to the closet and retrieved the box. Sitting on the floor, she pulled it open and took out the music box, opening it. The tinkling music filled the air; it calmed her frayed nerves. A peaceful mood settled on her. Her hand rubbed the necklace inside. As if on autopilot, she took it out and put it on, sensing its weight around her neck. She pressed a hand against it as she listened to the music.

“Josie, Josie! Josie, hey, Josie!”

Was someone calling to Josie in the distance? She felt her body shake. As if being pulled out of a dream, she slowly came to her senses, blinking her eyes and glancing around. Damien and Michael were both standing above her. “Josie,” Michael said again, “hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, yes, why, what’s wrong?”

Damien and Michael exchanged a glance. “What’s wrong,” Michael began, “is that we found you here at two in the morning dazed sitting on the living room floor listening to this music box. We’ve been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes.”

“What?” Josie remembered that she had come down after her nightmare looking for the object. “2 a.m.?” Josie was perplexed, had she been down here for almost two hours?

“Yes, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing up and listening to this?” Michael asked.

“I…” She stammered. “I had the nightmare again, and I got up and I don’t know, I was thinking of this music box.”

“So you weren’t sleepwalking?” Damien chimed in.

“No. I was awake. I remember coming down here, but it seems like I just did. But you’re telling me that was hours ago.”

“You were unresponsive, Jos, we were talking to you and you were just staring into space like you were sleeping with your eyes open,” Damien said.

“I’m more fatigued than I realized, I must have been lost in thought,” Josie answered. “I should go back to bed and try to sleep. The upset the nightmare caused has passed now.”

Josie stood up to

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