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He woke up in the middle of the dream again.
She was wearing the same blue-red suit. 
Her brunette hair was scooped up, off her neck.
She was walking with a lively step, on heels.
He was intrigued. The heels were painted red on their bottoms.

Where were they? Chicago? New York? Some big city.
It felt American, but he could not be sure, of course.
This dream was getting familiar, he was expecting it now.
His mother was in his apartment, singing and cooking.
He had forgotten she was there. It was weird he had forgotten.

Maybe today you will find the mama of my grandbabies, she said.
He laughed and gave her a quick hug. At twenty-two he did not want babies.
His sister had two, she should have been satisfied with that.
When you meet the right girl, it will be no problem, she said.
He ate her breakfast which pleased her then had to go to work.
She was a treat to have as a guest, his mother.

His mother passed that same week, and he thought he would die.
He wanted to; he was her baby; she was his world. He was depressed.
He believed in an afterlife, but he did not want his mama to have one.
The dream about the beauty in the red-blue suit did not happen for two years.
When it came back, he thought about his mama and smiled.
Then he got on a flight to Chicago for work.

He had a big presentation. Lots of potential money could come to his firm.
If he did things the way the client wanted them to be done.
His eyes suddenly flew up, something red-blue was ahead of him.
It was his dream girl! She had a small tattoo on her neck.
He hurried to try and catch up with her.
She must have sensed he was there for suddenly she swung around.
She gave him a hate glare. He felt like apologizing. 
But instead, he moved on, pointedly not looking at her or her neck.

Another two years passed.  He was in New York Now.
Same dream girl. Same suit. Same neck. He cautiously tiptoed closer.
That is when he saw it. The spider like birthmark he had on his own neck.
She turned and he turned, looking behind him, as if he had dropped something.
She guessed “Jeremy?” and he turned back. 
“Veronica?” They had been expecting to meet at lunch today.

“Can look a bit closer at your birthmark?” she asked him. He nodded.
She came really close and inspected him. “And you are Jeremy Piles.”
He nodded. 
She gave him a warm smile. I think we were destined to meet.
“Me too,” he said.
“I have dreamt of you,” she told him.
Years later she told him about the strange guy following her in Chicago.
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