I dreamt I was angry at her. And then she started slumping over, eyes glassy, for periods of time. I tried to call 911, without being able to remember how. 111, 999, what is it again?…
Finally, I reached 911, which here was more of a religious hotline. I explained the problem and frantically asked for help. Towards the end they asked me if I was a believer; I said no. As soon as I hung up, one nun turned to another (they were sitting on a talk show stage, bathed in rosy light) and asked if they were going to help me.
“They’re not believers, so no.”
Without my being able to find any help, even from this dreamscape 911, she died. I was inconsolable. Many other deaths at the hand of this same phenomenon happened soon after. “A shot of earwig,” it was called. “Earwig” apparently being some sort of parasitic insect.
Some time later, I ran into her apparition in a bathroom mirror. Overcome with emotion, I begged her never to leave and assured her I would stay there in the house her ghost visited forever. Until the day I died, together.
Su compañerita nunca la volvería a dejar.