It was him, the shape I’d seen in my Retreat bungalow, in my Arcade hotel, the figure of my half dreams. He was frozen at the foot of the bed. I knew he wasn’t real, because this time I could see his face. It caught streetlight and floated in the dark. It was Pavel Firea, unmistakably—Pavel’s clustered features, his broken-looking nose and crumpled lips.

Unlike the times I’d seen him before, I could move. I felt fury toward the ghost, how he’d crept into the waking world, and in one thoughtless motion I lunged for him. But my hands met something solid, a real man, warm to the touch, and he wasn’t a dream as he stumbled back with a yelp of surprise and fell against the dresser.

The lamp toppled and I got to my feet, clutching the sheet, as he scrambled out of my room.

I slammed the bedroom door and pressed it shut. I don’t know how long I leaned against it, barely breathing as I listened to the apartment. The space seemed to expand for miles in every direction. There was silence, as if I really was still sleeping, and only the fallen lamp exposed the truth. It had happened.

8.

It was after dawn when the cops arrived. I’d made coffee and watched the sky pale. Rain had fallen at some point in the night, and it was soothing to hear the morning traffic glide over wet asphalt.

I poured coffee for the officers and they took notes. After I told them what had happened, they asked for a physical description of the intruder. I sketched Pavel’s features, but added that I’d been dreaming of someone I once knew, a dead man, before waking up.

The officers exchanged glances.

“I understand,” said one. “But you’d recognize this creep if you saw him again?”

“I think so.”

“Invasions like this are getting more common,” he said, peering out my window at the scaffolding. “A really committed perv will climb a few stories, easy.”

“This is pretty good stuff,” said the other officer, swirling his mug. “Can I get a refill?”

“Scaffolding is like monkey bars to them. I’ve seen a guy swing on these bars like a fucking orangutan.”

“He’s not kidding. You notice anything missing?”

“No.”

“Then you’re lucky. But you’ve checked, you know, panty drawers and all that?”

I dutifully went to the bedroom but didn’t notice anything. I righted the lamp and smoothed the sheets.

The officer flipped his notebook shut. “Well, you gave us a solid description. I don’t want to make any promises, but you never know. In the meantime, you’d better get locks on these windows. How’s your landlord?”

“Average, I guess.”