I was half asleep when I felt you calling me. The same crystal-clear, silvery voice, a transparent bubble glittering in the sun, without a trace of impurity.

“Irvetta.”

I was indeed dreaming.

I am sleeping on a beach in the evening, the sand a bit cold, or maybe it was my bed, cooling my body. I do not feel the fine sand grinding my body, and I do not hear the whirling cry of seagulls flying in the distant sunset glow. But I can see the ocean waves lapping on the shore, darkly and violently, wandering through the heavy night sky.

The sea breeze blows through my eyes. I smell the taste of salt air and taste the cold wind. My eyelashes gently sway, trying to open, but instead retaining the images as if driven by an unknown sixth-sense power. Clarity. Confusion.

The sea breeze is you—calling my name—dancing on my pillow. I feel pure happiness, but a tear seems to slip down my face. The dusk pays the beach a visit, clothing it with golden gauze. You and I are looking at each other silently. I smile in the reflection of your deep brown irises.

You slowly kneel on one knee, gently lift my left hand, and kiss it. My heart pounds hard against my chest. All my nerve ending receptor cells move to my left hand, exhilarating in the touch of the soft lips—the touch that I imagined. I didn’t feel it. It was in a dream. And once you are dreaming, you can only follow the stream of unconsciousness and see where it takes you.

“Irvetta.”

You hold the ring, raise your head, and look at me right in the eyes. The purest smile. I could see your lips moving and I could sense the words, but I could not hear your voice. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

I want to say yes; I want to affirm our love. But you fade away. I cannot hold on to you, your image, the ring, your voice. I am frustrated, helpless.

I am being dragged into a dark, chaotic whirlpool. There are shadows distorting, intertwining with each other, faces with wide open mouths, screaming, shouting.

Disgusting. How can two women marry each other? She is homosexual, stay away from this monster. God forgive me for viewing this blasphemy. You are never my daughter, get out of this house! All these words swirled in my brain.

Then you reappear in a white dress—the only light in the endless darkness. I cannot see your face, but I know it is you. I widen my eyes, trying to grasp every detail, my eyes wider and wider.

And I opened my eyes.

I only saw the half-opened door of the balcony in front of me. The lonely curtains passed by the night breeze, swaying leisurely, casting a dim shadow on my body. I had fallen asleep on the hotel sofa, foolishly trying to stare at the cold night ocean wind.

The wind blew me back to three years ago. I closed my eyes again, hoping that when I opened them, I would still be on the golden beach, with you.