At night, as I lie down and pull the covers over myself...
"God is going to speak to you in a dream," an angel says.
And the dream comes...
From the same drawer where I had taken my ex-husband's last clothes to donate, I pull out two of Cássio's shirts.
How strange... What are these shirts doing in my house? I think, offended, lifting them to eye level and examining them.
One was beautiful—a blue shirt that looked like part of a military uniform. The other was white, covered in signatures, like the shirts students sign on their last day of school before saying goodbye.
That afternoon, I meet Cássio in a place filled with trees. It looks like a woodland grove.
"Do you have them, Ana? I had no idea!" he says, surprised.
I hand him the shirts. He gestures toward the white one and refuses it.
"Not that one."
He takes only the blue shirt and studies it with a smile.
"This is the only one I want. Wait... I'll come back for it in a little while," he says, handing it back to me.
He offers some excuse. Leaving both shirts behind, he quickly walks away and disappears among the trees.
The wind begins to blow. I hear the rustling of leaves.
I feel cold, so I leave the blue shirt folded on a cut tree stump and put on the signed shirt—the farewell shirt—since that was the one he didn't want.
A man I have never seen before appears, takes me gently by the arm, and invites me for a walk.
We stroll through the forest arm in arm while he talks endlessly. I have no interest in the conversation, so I let go of his arm.
"I need to go back," I say, pointing toward a path.
I am worried about the blue shirt I left behind. What if someone takes it?
As I run back, I push branches aside with my hands to clear the way. From a distance, I spot the blue shirt folded on the stump exactly where I left it. Beside it stands a woman with black hair.
I move closer.
Attached across the chest of the shirt is a row of tiny dolls.
How did I not notice those dolls before? I think, irritated.
They are all identical—featureless, unclothed, stiff little figures. All except the last one.
The last was an ugly witch wearing a pointed hat, and it was moldy inside.
The woman stares at me with fury.
With one hand, she crushes the witch, and it swells back up.
She crushes it again, and again it inflates.
She squeezes harder. It looks as if it is about to swell once more, but this time it doesn't.
It remains shriveled.
She broke it, I think.
The woman keeps her eyes locked on mine. She is furious.
I assume she is going to ask for the blue shirt, so I warn her:
"That shirt belongs to my friend," I say, picking it up and turning away.
I lift my head toward the sky.
Night is falling.
When I look back at the shirt, the dolls are gone.
The woman is gone too.
I am alone.
I return to the place where everything began and wait for Cássio.
Darkness settles over the woods.
There I am, wearing the farewell shirt and hugging the blue one.
But Cássio never comes back.
I can't believe he isn't coming to get these shirts! I think angrily. Now I'll have to take them home again!
I wake up.
All day at work, I keep thinking about the dream and what it might mean.
That evening, my mother calls, and I tell her everything.
"I'm going to open the Bible..."
She reads:
"Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; but whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not grow weary of doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, let us do good to everyone, especially to those who belong to the family of believers." Galatians 6:8–10.
Then she offers her interpretation.
"This dream shows that it isn't over yet. You planted good seeds: you prayed for him and helped him. During that time, he grew stronger in his faith, didn't he?"
"Yes. God asked me to help him, and I did—without expecting anything in return."
"The sowing is finished. You don't need to keep helping your friend. Between sowing and harvesting, there is a season of waiting. Now is the waiting season, because a seed needs time to sprout, and a plant needs time to mature. He will reflect on everything. For now, pray for yourself, for your own life. You will reap what is good."
"Thank you, Mom. God bless you."
"God bless you too."
The following night, it is Lívia who calls.
"Tell me more about this dream..."
"Taking his clothes out of the drawer and returning them means I want to remove him from my life. He doesn't take the clothes back, which means he won't accept the end of the friendship. I put on the farewell shirt because I've decided to finish this mission. I think the little dolls represent a legion of demons that is being defeated, but one of them still works, so he isn't completely free from evil yet. As for the woman, I'm not sure. She seemed angry at the dolls and kept crushing the witch. Could she have been an angel? Night falls, and during the night nothing can be resolved; it isn't over yet. I think that's what the dream means."
Lívia thinks for a moment before reaching a conclusion.
"I feel that woman was Dona Pomba. She isn't angry with the dolls—she's angry with you. She squeezes the witch, but it stops working when you come near. It's because of your prayers that they can't act in his life. In the dream, you go back to retrieve the blue shirt... you need to go back to praying for him."
"I think you might be right. I stopped praying for him after everything that happened, but I'll start again."
"Ana, I'm going to bed. I'm sleepy."
She falls asleep.
So do I.
The next day, I tell Cássio about the dream, hoping he might provide some new insight.
"I don't know what it means. I have absolutely no idea," he says.
I share my interpretation with him.
"I don't know. I really don't know," he insists firmly.
"But doesn't any of what I said mean something to you?" I ask, exasperated.
"I can't tell. I'm not sensitive to those things," he replies, gesturing with his hands.
"I thought you might be able to help me..."
"I don't know. But maybe someday, in the future..."