Chapter 6 ## The Inquiry
434 Words
Dr. Chen sat in his office after Adrian left, the silence settling around him like a second skin.
He didn't move for a long time.
The notebook lay open on his desk, the words *"emotional description unusually detailed"* still visible in his small, neat handwriting. He read them again. Then he closed the notebook and set it aside.
*Coincidence*, he thought.
He had been a psychologist for nearly twenty years. He had heard hundreds of patients describe their dreams. Vague impressions. Fragmented images. The occasional vivid nightmare that felt real but dissolved upon waking.
He had never heard anyone describe a dream with the precision Adrian Volkov had just used.
*The temperature of the air. The weight of the light. It's not like imagining something. It's like being somewhere.*
Dr. Chen removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen. A forwarded email from his assistant, subject line: *Consultation inquiry - Indonesia.*
He almost ignored it. It was after hours, and he had a standing rule about not checking work email after six. But something—habit, curiosity, the restlessness Adrian's session had left behind—made him open it.
The email was brief.
*Dear Dr. Chen,*
*I found your website through a search. I hope it's alright to contact you directly.*
*I keep dreaming about the same man. I don't know if this is normal. I don't know if I'm going crazy or if something is actually happening.*
*If you have time, I would like to talk to you.*
*Thank you,*
*S.D.*
*Central Java, Indonesia*
Dr. Chen stared at the screen.
The email had been sent at 3:47 PM Chicago time. Adrian Volkov's appointment had been scheduled for 4:00 PM. The inquiry had arrived while Adrian was still in his waiting room.
He scrolled up to check the timestamp again. Then he looked at his watch.
*Almost the same minute.*
The word *coincidence* floated through his mind again. It felt thinner this time, less like an explanation and more like a wish.
He set his phone down on the desk.
The cat in the corner stretched, yawned, and went back to sleep.
Dr. Chen opened his laptop. He created a new folder on his desktop. He didn't name it. He just dragged Adrian's appointment confirmation into the folder, then the email from Indonesia.
Two files. One from Chicago. One from Java. The same dream. The same time. Opposite sides of the world.
He closed the laptop.
He told himself it meant nothing.
But he didn't delete the folder.
And he didn't delete the email.
- Writer
