After all these years, all these 'eons,' she dreamed of him, still. Her dreams, persistent and inescapable, were larger than her sleep, more brilliant than her waking life. She’d awaken in a shivered panic, as if she were in a December snowstorm, and the house was burning to the ground. She felt she'd been drenched in ice water. In her dreams, there invariably appeared two bodies, tightly twined together. Though frozen and huddled, they nonetheless burned bright and luminous—gasoline torches' blazing white in an incessant June day of an Arctic night.