Last night I dreamed of coming home.
Even in my dream I somehow knew that it wasn't really my home. But there was this little girl who treated me like a long gone sister and led me through the spacious country house as if they had only moved in the meantime, but the furniture in the rooms was still the same.
I loved the little girl from my dream and I felt connected to her as if she were an ever-present sister. I put her to bed and slept on the couch in the next room, which seemed strange to me, despite the inexplicable intimacy. As I lay down to sleep in my dream, I realized that I had no idea who I was.
Frightened to death, I tried to hold together the last threads of my memory, which kept trying to slip away. I remembered being in some big city, but when I realized that I hadn't only been there for the short visit that the people in the country house wanted me to believe, I realized that I didn't know them either.
When I realized this, I began to flee head over heels. I climbed out through the skylight and began to run and took nothing with me except a daring idea of the little girl who is still there in that big country house.
And when she wakes up I won't be there anymore.