While showing guests my apartment, I found a huge room that I had forgotten about. It had hardwood floors, a solid walls of windows that was two stories high, and good but mismatched furniture (including the longed-for sofa). There were even a single-bowl sink and a door that led to a deck with the trash.

On the room’s many shelves, tables, and stands, I found things I had forgotten were missing. Then I discovered teas and biscuits that were growing mealy bugs and tried to rush them out to the convenient trash as they were the room’s only imperfection I could see.

Although the room had a television, I told someone that if it had a cable connection I would like their help moving my TV from the living room into this room. Subconsciously I saw myself moving into this room altogether.

I asked for assistance washing a mountain of dishes. It was really difficult with the single-bowl sink, and the two drain boards were small, pointed the wrong way, and dirty from disuse. I had no way to organize the dish washing, rinsing, and drying, and I became so frustrated that I almost cried. The water smelled and tasted terrible, too, and I wondered if that could be fixed.

Then we noticed that the room communicated across a divider, not quite a hallway, with a modern, frosted green glass room. I went to slide the doors shut, but someone from the other side was doing it already, a bit huffily. The glass walls went only part way up, though, but my wall was solid; I’m not sure how this worked with the narrow divider hallway. I decided that it was a conference room since it was so modern and offered no privacy.

I came back to find nearly everyone gone but a person (not sure of gender), who was my husband, apparently, and two boys who turned out to be my late husband’s orphans. I did know them at first and feared them, but found they were loyal and devoted to me. They were the boys that I had always wanted.

Somehow the the topic became someone else, a friend of theirs perhaps, who needed to be told about birth control, at least I thought so. I’m not sure what the other remaining people thought.

Then the husband (I didn’t remember having one, like I didn’t remember having the boys) started talking to me about our children, the religion we would raise them in, and so forth. I saw the two loyal boys who were virtually my own and then thought of the spiritual responsibility for children of my own. I was also confused at having this person in my life whom I didn’t know or even recognize. “Perhaps we should have discussed these things more before we got married,” I said. “I am 45 and did not think to have children at this point.” The person seemed stunned, although I could never quite see the face. The boys and the person then faded away, and they took the room with them.