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  “I expect not.”

  They were still face to face on the sidewalk, rain quietly sprinkling on them. Eeva wanted to slap him. To hug him. She didn’t trust him, but above all, she didn’t trust herself. She might have never got to the shop. She might have snapped on the way and thrown herself under a passing bus. The perspective of having someone else take charge was very attractive. Even if it was this asshole.

  “I need coffee. Can you get me some?”

  * * *

  “The dreams are getting worse. And I’ve had more of the impossible dream. The one you kicked me out for.”

  “Miss Roivas, I must be clear and honest with you. My purpose today is to get you back into the hands of a more appropriate specialist. I am very interested in hearing what you have to say, but you’ll have to repeat it all to your GP.”

  “You still think I’m a liar.”

  “I would not put it this way. I am open to hearing you and help Doctor Juvonen find you the treatment you need.”

  “You think I’m a liar.”

  He lowered his gaze. “The dream you told me about simply could not have happened.”

  “It did. It still does. Once or twice a week. You stubborn condescending asshole.”

  By this, she wanted him to scream, or slap her, or walk out and slam the door, and not without one of his overblown phrases with a four syllable average per word. But he did none of this. He didn’t even look pissed.

  “To believe you would equal denying proven hard science.”

  “Well fuck you then.”

  He gave her a long, hard, blank look. The kind he got when he wanted her to end the silence. But she stayed put and he had to be the breakee.

  “I am not unwilling to change my mind, you see. That’s how science advances. When someone challenges established knowledge. But I need a good reason for that.”

  “And you don’t have one, so why bother.”

  “Well…” He looked down, like he was not sure what to say. Was she getting somewhere with him? “Actually, I wonder. I’ve seen you long enough now to know that you’re… well… a wreck. You couldn’t possibly entertain the perspective of fooling me again in the state of advanced exhaustion that you’re in. I’m confident I would see through you in an instant. So, now that I think about it, there is only one possibility. You were telling the truth, you’re actually about to disprove proven hard science and I should lose my license to practice for having thrown you out the way I did.”

  Eeva let her heart inflate to three times its normal size before getting a hold of it and shoving it back into place. The last thing she needed was to break down crying in public. “Glad you came to your senses,” she said instead. “But brace yourself because it only gets weirder.”

  And she told him of the recurring setting. Of the fact she’s always conscious in-dream. Of the stunts she’d pulled, trying to get a hang of the place. He listened politely through the whole thing with the typical expressionless expression. He believed her. Or at least, he had decided he would until further notice. So she also told him of her failed attempt at using the dream to find out who her father was. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

  “I don’t think so. Given the extraordinary nature of the dream, it was a pretty sensible idea.”

  “Yeah right. But I meant that it wasn’t going to work.”

  He looked up for a while. Eeva could almost hear his hard-drive clicking. “Not necessarily. Dreams are a frequent vector for suppressed memories to take shape. It might be that some critical clue in finding who your father is is right there in your subconscious mind, and that dream might be a way of unlocking it.”

  “You got to be shitting me. You actually saying that if I find out who my father is in-dream, I’ll be able to find him when I wake up?”

  “No, I never said such thing. I only said it is not impossible. Let’s not get all carried away.”

  “Shit! Why won’t she fucking tell me!”

  “In the eventuality that it really is the way I just said, it probably is because the memory is heavily suppressed for one reason or another, and it takes time and dedication to unlock it.”

  “Yeah. And the dream is always so short! I can’t do any lock-picking if I only get ten minutes with her.”

  “This is when a hypnotherapist comes in handy.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Come again? Are you just saying you want to try it?”

  “I certainly am. I refused to resort to hypnosis earlier because I was worried it would put you in danger. But, and this is an official diagnosis, you are already in danger. It is time to… hem… pull out the big guns. We’ll go to my office immediately if you agree.”

  * * *

  The taxi trip took only a few minutes. That’s how much time Eeva had to come up with a good plan to make her dream-mom spill the beans. Pull out the big guns, he’d said. Maybe it was time. Carried away by the taxi driver and the wind of hope, she came up with something before she was told to sit, and breathe, and empty her mind.

  “…and when I’ll count ‘three’, you will sleep and you will dream, and it will be the dream of your life with your mother. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.” she said, absent-mindedly, already drifting away.

  “And you will not leave the dream until I clap my hands. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you will tell me what is going on in the dream, so that I can decide when to bring you back. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, I’m going to count to three, and then you will fall asleep, and dream that dream. One. Two. Th…

  * * *

  On the bed with missing boards, Eeva woke up like a firecracker. Like she’d been flung out of her dreams with a slingshot. She was already sitting on the bed when she opened her eyes, fully alert. She looked around. Messy. smelly, broken mirror, the usual. All right, down to business.

  She stormed downstairs. “What the fuck is going on with…” she didn’t bother to listen to the end. “Expect me in an hour.” she said on the way out, right before slamming the door almost off its hinges. That should keep her on her toes.

  She hit the street until she found someone who would talk to her. “Where is the police station please?” It was a kid her age, with a smoking joint hidden in his palm between his fingers. He laughed at her face. Like she had just told a really funny joke. The next one was an old Chinese lady. “Three blocks down that way, and then another couple of blocks to the left.”

  * * *

  “Where did you run off to like that?”

  “Mom, we need to talk.”

  She had come back running and was still panting. With her new fat belly, thighs and those huge blobs that kept bobbing around, better not be in a hurry. Breath made even shorter by the heroin she’d been probably shooting every now and then. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. She didn’t know squat about hypnotherapeutics and was worried Doctor Astikainen could only keep her in-dream for so long.

  “What da fuck you mean ‘we need to talk’. You just ran out like a maniac.”

  “I was at the police station.”

  “And why would you go to the police station? You looking for a job there?”

  “I’m suing you. That’s why.”

  “What the fuck!”

  “That’s right” she pulled a paper out. “This is a police injunction. You have to go to the station within two weeks and tell them your version. You’ll get a copy in the mail in two or three days.”

  “And why the fuck would you sue me? For not kicking your ass hard enough when you deserved it?”

  “For refusing to tell me who my father is. But tell me now, and I’ll run right back to the cops and cancel everything.”

  That froze her like a ‘pause’ button. I crashed the dream. Eeva thought. But after a couple of seconds, Mom collapsed back on the sofa, her face hidden in her palms. “What have I done to
the world to deserve a little… bitch… like you.”

  And Eeva knew that she was going to win this time.

  “Your father is the worst asshole that ever saw the light of day. I don’t understand why you’d want to meet a guy like that. Isn’t it enough for you to know that? What do you want to do when I tell you?”

  Eeva felt her resolve waver for a moment. Was Dad the person responsible for the state in which she saw Mom now? Then the last thing she wanted was to meet him, if not to slap him in the face. Then she remembered this was a dream and that she was fighting some figment of her dormant mind-thing. “Not your problem. Tell me. Or the cops will make you.”

  “Fuck you Eeva. You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  Eeva’s heart sank. It’s just a dream. She almost burst into tears. Mom wasn’t really like this. If Mom hadn’t had her, she might not be living in such a dump now. Maybe it was because of her that…

  “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be alone and poor. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have let this asshole destroy my life.”

  This is not real. Not real, not real, not real. This is just my subconscious mind trying to keep stuff from me. Or whatever.

  “One way or another, you’ll have to spit it out. I don’t mind waiting for the court.”

  Mom raised a flaming gaze on her. She stayed like on the verge of physical assault for a couple of seconds. My mind wouldn’t attack me, right? Then something broke in her. She shrunk back into the couch, staring at her belly.

  “I wasn’t telling you to protect you. But if you want it so bad, there it is. His name is Kimmo Anttila. He used to live uptown. I don’t know where he lives now. He might be dead, for all I care. I dumped him because he was a loser, and he prevented me from getting married to the man of my dreams. The one that would have been good to us. He’s the worst asshole on Earth and this is the last time you hear me talk about him. Now get the fuck out of here, I’m gonna need to puke.”

  Eeva heard hands clapping and she was jerked up into Doctor Astikainen’s office, screaming hate and anger and frustration and sadness ; yet overflowing with hope. Her head landed on this son-of-a-bitch’ shoulder and there she cried long and hard. And fell asleep again after what had felt like an eternity.

  And she dreamed of nothing at all.

  * * *

  In the bus, she felt terribly scared. She actually held hands with the doctor. He didn’t seem to mind at all and was watching out the window like they were going to the park or something. When she had woken up again, it was early morning, and she was still on his office’s couch, under a blanket. She felt so rested she couldn’t believe it. That’s what a night’s sleep felt to normal people? Even orgasms couldn’t be better than that. It was so awesome she actually cried out of happiness. Then she noticed that the doctor was right there, at his desk, shamelessly looking at her and she felt really silly. The poor bastard had probably stayed up all night.

  He had. And he had kept himself busy.

  They went to a cafe downstairs for breakfast and he told her everything he had gathered on Kimmo Anttila. First, the guy did exist. Second, he was the right age. Third, it appeared that he’d been living in town fifteen years before. This couldn’t be a coincidence!

  “It actually could,” the doctor said. But she could tell he wanted to believe it too “keep yourself open to the possibility of it. Of it being a coincidence. If it turns out he knows nothing of your mom, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

  “No dreams last night. That a coincidence too?”

  “Actually, this is something to expect. Given the state of exhaustion I found you in, and the quite intensive hypnosis session that I had you go through, it is not unlikely at all that your brain went into maintenance-mode, if I may be allowed such a gross metaphor, and stayed in slow-wave sleep with REM phases so short that dreams just didn’t have time to formulate.”

  Blah blah blah. Have it your way, this Kimmo dude is my dad alright. And asshole or not, he’s going to get a piece of me very soon. He still lived in town. Doctor Astikainen had found his address. He had even called and requested an interview. He actually said that. ‘Request an interview’. What a douche. They were meeting him at noon.

  And that’s how she found herself riding the bus with the doctor, squeezing his hand like a lemon.

  He was a painter. Her dad was a painter! She couldn’t even draw! And a good one too. The doctor had shown her some of his stuff on the internet. It wasn’t just good, it was awesome. Not that she could tell a good painting from a bad one, but it just looked that way to her. She obviously wasn’t the only one thinking that because he was exhibiting in an art gallery right now. They were going there.

  Granted, it wasn’t exactly the Museum of Modern Art, but it did seem like a cool gallery nonetheless. It wasn’t packed with people, but it wasn’t empty either. Dad was a decently successful painter. Her imagination had gone up in flames when she’d heard he was an artist. Millionnaire-type living in a castle over the lake, finding inspiration watching the sunrise from the highest tower… Then she remembered what her mom had said about him and she managed to not feel too disappointed. The worst asshole on Earth couldn’t be selling paintings in an art gallery, right? And the price tag on each frame had enough zeros that he must make a good living out of it.

  There she was, wasting her time looking at the walls, because if she turned around, she knew she’d notice that, of all the people in the gallery, only one guy fit the description. It was him, she knew it and she was so not ready.

  “Do you want me to go talk to him?” The doctor. Doing his job.

  “I don’t know… maybe… you could introduce us?”

  “That’s a very good idea.” He started towards him at great strides. No! Wait! One more minute!

  She followed him a few steps behind. The guy was probably expecting to talk to a buyer or at least something related to his exhibition. The doctor had told him nothing over the phone. The guy gave him his best smile, not paying the slightest attention to her. Good. She could keep observing him. He wasn’t bad-looking at all for a guy in his forties. “Doctor Astikainen! How are you doing? – Very fine, thank you. Is this your daughter behind you?”

  Fucking asshole! She pushed the doctor aside, stepped forward and nailed him with a look that said shut the fuck up and listen. “No dude, it’s actually yours.”

  The doctor gasped. She hadn’t actually meant to say that! She found herself to be scared shitless. Her heart was pounding harder than batucada. But she did not stutter, did not lower her gaze. She was dead serious, and he had to fucking know it.

  The guy knew: he turned livid. Like a tween on a weed-induced bad trip. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but said nothing. Looked to the left, to the right, back at her…

  Then he did something she hadn’t expected, because she hadn’t really expected him to be the worst asshole on Earth. But he must have been: He turned his back on them and dashed out of the place like the hounds of hell were after him. Everyone stared, one woman even let out a startled scream as he ran past her. Eeva felt the doctor’s arm going around her shoulder. Not the comforting kind. The ready-to-catch-her-when-she-fainted. Eeva used the opportunity and did just that.

  * * *

  She didn’t actually black out. Her legs just went limp like overcooked pasta. The doctor carried her to a chair, sat her down and called for coffee to be brought forth (he did use the word ‘forth’. This guy… seriously…). One sip on the sweet caffeine juice was enough to take her back into the world of the living. Everyone in the gallery had formed a cluster around the two of them, gossiping heavily. They were totally getting the wrong idea, even the one that incidentally whispered “She could be his daughter!” Dad was going to have a hard time selling paintings to those people… Eeva turned to the doctor. “What the fuck just happened?”

  He looked up.“I’m confused. I never would have expected such a rea
ction.” Then back down at her. “Are you feeling strong enough to walk.”

  “Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Once they were out, away from the gossiping crowd, they tried to frame Dad’s reaction into a perspective that made any sense. In vain. “It’s not like it’s any use running. We know where he lives. He’ll have to come back to his home one day and we’ll find him then.”

  “It is likely that he did not think it through.”

  Or did. Because he never picked up the phone, never replied to their emails, and never came home. For the three following days, she stalked his home during most of her waking hours. Her sleeping time had been taken over by the nightmares again. After the dreamless night in the doctor’s office, she’d actually thought the hypnosis had cured her. The doctor must have been right about her brain being too exhausted to dream. Or maybe she had been cured by the certitude of having found out who her dad was, and had gone back to the nightmares when he ran. Depressing food for thought.

  Three days standing under the facing porch in the cold. This is bullshit, she thought. I’ve found my Dad, saw him for a second, and poof he was gone again. And for good, it seemed. She would never even be able to ask him why he ran!

  That’s when she thought of it: yes she could! She just needed to find him in-dream!

  * * *

  “You seem to conceive of your dream as a parallel universe, but you have to realise it is a story that your mind is telling you. If you try to dream of him, you probably will. But since your mind has no idea why he ran, his dream-avatar will probably just make up a realistic reason that might incidentally coincide with reality, but most likely will not. In any case, we won’t be able to tell.”

  She really hated these long-winded explanations of his. “Dude, it is a parallel universe.”

  “I am very reluctant to send you back in there if you’re so deluded about the nature of dreams.”

  “How do you explain that I got the name of my father.”

  “This we have not confirmed yet. It might very well be that he ran because of some reason completely unrelated to you or your mother. We don’t know if he really is your father.”