Dream:
I had a dream that EKB was standing at my front door. I knew he was supposed to be dead, yet there he was, alive and knocking. The weight of disbelief hit me as I opened the door. I told him how heartbroken I had been, how many hours I spent crying, mourning, and saying my farewells. I admitted that I’d even confided in my lawyer, questioning whether his death had been a lie — or perhaps, orchestrated for reasons I couldn’t understand.

EKB, with a tired and fragile look, explained softly that he “had to do that”—pretend to be dead. The exhaustion was clear on his face as he sank onto a nearby surface, gazing up at me. He spoke in a low voice, revealing that his death had been a ruse, part of a larger, dangerous situation he had no choice but to escape.

I turned to go back into the condo, trying to process the surreal encounter, but when I entered the kitchen, EKB was suddenly there with me. Without warning, he opened a massive barn-sized door—one I had never noticed before, hidden in the back of the kitchen. It led into a cavernous room, one so vast it could have housed four garages. Inside, the room was filled with odds and ends: old furniture, janitor sinks, forgotten relics from neighbors’ condos. And then, I noticed something strange—a square area, completely empty.

I stepped inside, a feeling of awe washing over me as I realized the space was mine. It felt like an undiscovered treasure, a room I had never known existed. As I moved my eyes across the cluttered space, I saw other people, their figures distant and blurry—some were moving things around, others casually strolling with baby carriages. Despite the chaos, I felt a profound sense of joy and amazement. How could I have missed this all this time? It was as if a hidden part of my life had just been revealed.

But EKB, still visibly drained, tried to lay down on a small, uncomfortable piece of furniture. I offered him my bedroom, but he was too weary to stand or even make it up the stairs.

At some point, I glanced out the window. There, in the shared driveway below, a strange scene unfolded. On the opposite side of the drive, children’s riding toys were scattered about, and it looked like a garage sale was set up, a jumble of items waiting to be sold. I told EKB we should go outside. Slowly, he dragged himself up the outside stairs with his hands, each movement a struggle.

When he reached the top, I noticed his legs—swollen, bloated, and painful. His feet looked the same, as though the weight of his suffering had seeped into his very body. I told him, my voice filled with concern, that this wasn’t good. With great effort, I reached out, pulling him upright, my arms straining to lift him. But then, something magical happened.

In an instant, we were dancing, as if the very air had shifted around us. EKB’s strong arms enveloped me, lifting me off the ground, and together we danced among flowers that seemed to bloom from nowhere. The world around us was vibrant with color, flowers cascading in every direction, filling the air with their fragrance. I felt weightless, suspended in his arms, lost in the pure joy of the moment. I pointed out each flower, naming them for him, as if they too were part of this fleeting dream.

There were arbors draped with blossoms, arches overhead that seemed to stretch into infinity. We moved effortlessly, the rhythm of the dance carrying us through a landscape of beauty and peace. In that moment, I was free, surrounded by love and the sheer beauty of the world. But as quickly as it had come, the magic disappeared, and EKB was gone.

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