‘The heartless wind picks up. The building lurches to the side, but surely it’s my imagination – buildings can’t lean over. It’s the wind whipping my body this way and that. I’m exhausted and my knees are trembling. I can’t hold out for much longer.

‘But I stand firm, still holding on. I refuse to look down, and somehow I’m hanging on. Another gust of wind, my body sways, the building tilts a little further. Time to give up? I’m going to fall anyway – but not yet. I must try to hold on a little longer, just a little longer. There’s still a chance I might be saved.

‘But the wind blasts again and my body is thrown from the building.’ Mr Akino wrapped his bento box neatly in a red gingham cloth, then stowed it away. He looked up at me. ‘So what do you think?’

I had no way of responding.

He was telling me about a dream he often had. ‘It’s always the same. For whatever reason I’m standing way up in some high, dangerous place. If I fall, it’s all over for me, but all kinds of other awful things come along to make it even worse. The wind gusts, or the building leans over, and in the dream I know I’m going to fall any minute now. I try my best to hold on, to grab on for dear life, but in the end I always fall.’ He explained it all so matter-of-factly.

‘If you fall in a dream, do you die?’ I asked.

Mr Akino inclined his head. ‘I don’t know. That’s not really important.’

Then what is important? And why did he start telling me about his dreams anyway?

‘I have the same dream over and over. In the beginning I would do everything I could to hold on. But even then, I still fell.’

‘That’s a pretty scary dream.’

‘It’s awful. I’d wake up covered in sweat. But gradually, even when I was dreaming I began to understand that I can’t be helped, that I’ll always end up falling. Struggling won’t help. And over time I learned to give up more quickly.’

To my surprise, I saw the faintest glimmer of a smile on Mr Akino’s face.