The hall was a gray labyrinth which stretched on into the distance. As I walked on, I began to see a room at the end which looked very familiar.

I was in no hurry to get there, though. Instead, I was rather enjoying the sound of the distant voices talking and laughing in the distance. I knew the voices well. I enjoyed playing a game of sorting out one from the other. This is Janice that is Evelyn. As I approached, the light from the room grew brighter. I turned to look back and saw a hospital room whose light seemed to recede.
I turned and entered the lit room and saw that it was my room, in my house, the house I had built.

It seemed especially beautiful tonight, as if someone had decorated it for a party. It glittered in the golden light. There were many people at my party. My parents were there talking to each other in a corner. They knew no English so they just smiled and waved as I came in. My brother and sister were there as well, looking at the architectural plans for my house. They were very impressed with the design and told me I had done well for myself. In the center of the room, there was a huge sofa.

My wife sat there, chatting with her seven sisters. Virginia, Frieda, Aurelia, Milly, Sophia, Veronica, Amelia.

They were all so beautiful, but my wife was special. I could see my whole life then, as I looked at her. The children, my house, the trees and birds in the yard, all present at once. I remembered building each room and planning each detail of its dimension. I remembered the children running through the upstairs hallways and then, flushed with color, dashing down the stairs into the basement.

As these memories came to me, I felt my body relax as it had never relaxed before. I felt this way for some time and I stood there smiling at all my guests. My thoughts then carried me outside the house and I could visualize the street very clearly. I asked my wife how she had enjoyed living on 10th Street all these years and she looked surprised. "No John, she said, we live on 12th Street. Is something wrong?"

Then, I was in the hall again.

The moments of peace had left me.
I was moving away from the voices, away from the light, away from the party. My wife was at my side. She couldn't keep up, so I was carrying her. I reached my hospital room, relieved that the door was not locked. I was exhausted. As I lay down, I noticed my wife's empty dress hanging over my arm. I put it down on a chair.

As I fell asleep, I wondered about the house I had never built on 10th Street and if I should visit it again soon.