I had the weirdest dream: I didn’t know exactly where we were, it could have been Athens or New York, but my father, Savopoulos, just showed up, alive and not dead, alive and just as young as i remembered him. We were all shocked and when he invited to take you and I to the casino, we went. It was dark and I was in the front seat, you were in the back, and he was driving. We didn’t say anything: I couldn’t believe my eyes. How did he stay so young? Where were the years? We would look at each other, but neither of us could say anything. How could we, we were riding with a ghost. But as we approached a bridge over a very wide river, I could tell he was tired and falling asleep. I told him to let one of us drive and at first he would not let go of the steering wheel. When we almost crashed we struggled over the steering wheel and he finally let us drive. This time you sat with me up front and he slumped into the back seat. As we drove back home, I kept staring at his reflection in the rear-view mirror until I finally asked him, “So if I didn’t kill you, who died? Who died for you?”

I woke up with bile in my mouth.