Lauren and the children were in a new house. Judging from the state of the house, they had moved in a long while ago, and I was not living with them. Every room was incredibly messy, but the bathroom was especially so. The bathtub was clogged up, and all kinds of things—toothpaste tubes, hair brushes, lipstick containers, scraps of cellophane wrapping—were floating on whitish water, which was saturated with bath oils and soaps. A coarse sheet and a thick blanket covered the bathtub, as though Lauren had a habit of sleeping in there. I remember trying to remove the covers, but I gave up with a shrug when I realized that they must be attached to the rim of the tub. When I came down to the kitchen, which was on a high ground floor, Lauren was preparing breakfast for the children. Large bay windows opened to the street, which was quite busy. It was sunny out there, too. Several lines of cars were moving up the street at a sluggish pace. Then I saw Jasna Kronja come out of a car and wave through the window at the driver. She was our nanny. When I announced that Jasna had arrived, Lauren told me under her breath that she could not stand her any longer. She had to find someone else, she said in a tired voice. I wondered why, but all Lauren could tell me was that she felt more and more uncomfortable around Jasna. “I am suffocating in her presence,” she shook her head as if in disgust. All the while, I could see what was going on in the street, although I made sure I was not staring. Her back turned toward us, Jasna was still waving at the driver, who was pulling away in a large Volvo station wagon. It was petroleum blue and obviously quite new. I knew this was her new boyfriend. It was obvious from Jasna’s behavior that she was very much in love. As he drove off, his wheels on one side were up on the curb, and Jasna laughed when he finally came down to the road with a thump. Then she waived for the last time and walked up the stairs toward the front door. I hurried to open it for her. As I came closer to the door, I heard the grind of the key in the lock. She had her own key, I realized. When she entered the house, the sunshine pouring in from behind her, Dorian joined us in the entrance hall. She was smiling happily at both of us, but Dorian did not say a word. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently: “Say something when you meet someone!” He just grunted, his face blank. On top of his head there was a blue winter hat with earflaps. The hat was a couple of sizes too small for him. His cheeks looked so round and full that they appeared inflated. I crouched down to his height and pinched those pink cheeks, one with each hand. He tried to squirm out of my hands. Turning up to Jasna, I commented with a bitter smile: “He looks like a little pig, doesn’t he?” I woke up before either of them could say anything.