Sleep Dream. I am at the family house in the Springs. It is still in the family, it has not been sold, as is the case in waking life. Zaiga is dead. The feeling is that Armīns, too, is dead and that I am coming to take care of things, dispose of the place. There is no one in the house, I am alone. I am my current age. It is a quiet, perhaps cloudy sort of day. The house is furnished as it was when I lived there, not the pack rat’s den that Armīns turned it into in the years after Zaiga’s departure.
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