Surprisingly, we had never noticed Selma’s perfect resemblance to the Dutch television host Rudi Carrell; it took someone from outside to come and point it out to us years later. But then the resemblance hit us with full force. Selma’s long, slender body, her posture, her eyes, her nose, her mouth and hair: from head to toe, Selma resembled Rudi Carrell so perfectly that, from then on, in our eyes, he was nothing more than a poor copy of Selma.

In the dream, Selma and the okapi stood in the Uhlheck without moving. The okapi turned its head to the right, toward the forest. Selma stood a few steps away. As in each of these dreams, she was wearing the very same nightgown she was sleeping in; sometimes her nightgown was green, sometimes blue or white, but always ankle-length and always flowered. Her head lowered, she looked at her toes in the grass, long and old and crooked just like in real life. She glanced at the okapi now and then from the corner of her eye, looking up at it from below, the way you look at someone you love far more than you’re prepared to admit.

Neither moved, neither made a sound, even the wind that always blows across the Uhlheck was still. Then Selma raised her head and the okapi turned toward her so that they were looking directly at each other. The okapi gazed at her with eyes that were very gentle, very black, very wet, and very large. It gave Selma a friendly look as if it wanted to ask her something, as if it were sorry that okapis can’t ask any questions—even in dreams. This scene lasted a long time with the image of Selma and the okapi looking into each other’s eyes.

Then the image disappeared, Selma woke up, and the dream was over, just as some life nearby would soon be over.

The following morning—it was April 18, 1983—Selma wanted to play down her dream of the okapi, so she put on an emphatically cheery front. She was about as slick in feigning cheerfulness as an okapi and believed the best way to show high spirits was to sashay around. And so, the morning after her dream, Selma sashayed into the kitchen wearing a crooked smile and I didn’t notice that she looked just like Rudi Carrell when, in the opening of Rudi’s Daily Show, he stepped out of a very large globe, a globe with light blue oceans, golden landmasses, and sliding doors.

My mother was still asleep in our apartment above Selma’s. My father was already at his medical office. I was tired. I’d had trouble falling asleep the night before and Selma had stayed at my bedside for a long time. Maybe something in me had sensed what Selma would dream about and so wanted to keep her up.