BEAUTIFUL SNOW, I told you so. They said that winter was over, but it wasn’t. Thick, fluffy stuff. Dream One: a large mansion, Gatsby-style, and a grand party. Everyone is there, even my ex-wife, who has an apartment in another wing of the building. Even my mother, who is happy, believe it or not. There is some kind of song-and-dance routine in the garden, with men in those old-fashioned 1910 straw hats and canes, with green hedges rising behind them, as if the backdrop for the stage. Even my brother and his wife and their kids arrive, but they are unimpressed and spend the evening in bed paging through magazines. Then word begins to spread among partygoers that the police are going to break it up, on account of COVID-19 restrictions, and there is panic. I run into my ex-wife’s apartment, but she is nowhere to be found. Instead there is a bathtub full of plants, and the taps are running and it’s about to overflow// Dream Two: Our gray old female cat got into a fight with the cat from down the street — named Ronja in the dream — which tore her ear clean off, and I put the cat ear in the refrigerator. In the midst of this, the girls are nowhere to be found to take the cat to the veterinarian to have its ear stitched back on. I find the middle one whispering in a cabinet with her cousin, but she won’t help. Then I find a phone, which has candid photos of my black sheep Uncle Giuseppe — hanging by the beach, sprawled in a chaise lounge, paparazzi style photos — and I think it’s Uncle Roberto’s phone (maybe some family reconnaissance), but it turns out it’s my eldest’s phone. But why is she spying on Giuseppe? I just don’t understand, but I don’t have time. Instead I take the cat alone, the cat and its ear, and drive off to Viiratsi. I hope they can reattach a detached cat ear, but knowing my luck, they’ll tell me it’s no use, and better to just put her down. Then all of a sudden I awake in a bright room, sprawled out on an elegant couch where I am wrapped in coitus with the Lady of the Lake, combined in heaving white warmth and flesh, perhaps the sole remaining source of safe female energy in my life, and I feel at least connected to her as we immerse. It’s a good, satisfying intercourse, and some things in the universe start to realign and flit into focus. Oh, thank heavens, I think. And no dead bodies! Then I am awakened by the snow plough outside my window and see the weather, chunky flakes floating down, beautiful snow. I told you winter wasn’t over.