“What's this damn thing made of?" Eric released the chain.

"We'll go downstairs and cut it off."

"Right." If we can, Emma added to herself.

"Eric do you really not remember what just happened?"

“That your wimp son can't break a necklace?"

"No, before that?"

"Mom, are you...?'

“Answer the question without another question." She spoke as if he were a witness she was questioning.

“Do you remember what we did before that?"

"Wow," Eric muttered.

"No more homemade wine for you, young Lady."

When she glared at him he rolled his eyes.

"You came in and caught me watching a movie and yelled at me and then said you were sorry and we talked about the house and the dreams we had."

"That's it?"

"Yes, mom." He seemed annoyed which told her he was telling the truth.

Eric had no recollection of their touching and conversation.

"Good, do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"You have any more weird dreams or if anything seems strange to you, tell me." When he nodded, she added.

"Promise."

“Promise, but right now only thing that's strange is you."

“Funny. And you sure you didn't dream about anything but what you told me?"

"Mom, I..." He jumped at the sound of a loud horn blaring from beneath the window.

"Movers are here!"

"Go downstairs and let them in." Emma instructed.