Before being imprisoned in his marital jail, Herjuno was an adventurer in love. He was traditional: he championed the values of feudal patriarchy, updated. He considered the attributes of a modern knight to be the latest car (instead of a handsome steed), money from his old man to fund a start-up (instead of inherited land) and slim girls in shapewear (instead of virgins in corsets). Herjuno boasted of all these.

All his life, Herjuno had known two types of women and he dated them simultaneously: those who were virgins and those who were not. For him, non-virgins existed to play around with. Meanwhile, his true vocation was testing virgins. If, during their courtship, a girl ‘surrendered her chastity to him’ (this was a favourite phrase of Herjuno’s – pretty anachronistic for the twenty-first century, huh?), that meant she didn’t resist temptation, which meant she failed his test, which meant she was unworthy of becoming his wife.

Always leave room for the best: that was another of my friend’s catchphrases. I noticed that whenever he ate he saved his favourite side dish for last, only touching it once he had finished his rice and other dishes.

Dewi was a female of the virgin category who, predictably, failed his test. But she also fell pregnant. Yet, I think what happened was no catastrophe. Herjuno, the larger-than-life knight who had never even heard of, let alone contemplated, pulling himself up by his own bootstraps, accepted a rotting durian because Dewi’s father owned a major corporation with mining interests.

Two weeks later, I received an invitation that proudly announced their names: Herjuno Bambang Prasojo, MBA and Dewi Wulandari, BEcon. The marriage reception was held in the ballroom of a hotel that Dewi’s father had invested in. The usual reception halls were booked until the end of the following year. Among the wedding guests were General So-and-so, Minister Such-and-such and other faces that regularly greet the public on TV screens.

Their child was born seven months after the festive marriage. From that point on, Dewi Wulandari, BEcon, became a consummate housewife. She cared for the baby, breastfeeding until the child was two. Herjuno entrusted his own small enterprise to his younger brother, a recent university graduate, while he accepted an offer as a director in his father-in-law’s corporation – proof that his MBA stood for more than Married By Accident.

My friend was now desperately assuring me that something was going to happen. The dream was too real, too vivid, and Herjuno believed that a dream that leaves a question mark after waking is a sign.

‘Besides, Gus,’ he added, ‘I’ve got a genuine problem.’

Maybe the dream was a warning, but it could also have been a solution.