I had a strange dream, full of events and plotlines, but when I woke up, I couldn't remember anything at all, and I thought it was fine not to. But a few minutes later, I recalled a gaze, beautifully adorned eyes—it was Anya, who passed away two and a half years ago. In the dream, we were looking into each other's eyes, and there was a double bed between us, resembling the one she had at home. Anya sat on a chair, gazing intensely at me, and I admired her eyes. I complimented her makeup, saying, "You did it so beautifully!"

The workday passed in a rush and with challenges. Returning home, I felt exhausted, my throat was sore, and likely, I had a viral fever as many noticed my red face. Additionally, my nose was running. Tired, I decided to relax and immediately lay down in bed. I asked my daughter to make hot tea. I turned on YouTube, watched two short documentaries, and then my attention was drawn to a documentary about Gurchenko. As the funeral procession was shown with her memorial, I was shocked—I saw the same eyes again, the same I saw in my dream today. The same makeup. Almost exactly the same. Mysticism.

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