“Excuse me, sorry.” I’m running as fast as I can, and I struggle to get the words out as I’m panting hard. Up ahead is the yellow sign saying gate 122, the gate closing notice is flashing angrily, but somehow everybody has agreed upon walking in slow motion and right in front of me. If I don’t make it, I won’t be able to pick up Luke from Kindergarten tomorrow as promised. And even worse, I might not make it home in time for his fifth birthday.

“Can you move, please? I’m sorry.” I’m squeezing my way through a group of people on a travelator as they have decided to stand on both the left and the right while looking at their phones. It seems that people have conspired to get in my way or slow me down.

Finally, I can see the check-in woman looking impatiently at her watch and flipping through a printed list. When she sees me, she puts on a forced smile and crosses me off the list.

“Late again, Ma’am….”

I’m still puffing and get out my passport and boarding card. “I’m sorry. I just had to get a present for my kid.”

“Did you see anyone else running this way?” There is a small sign of a thaw in her tone of voice.

“No, I didn’t look back, sorry.”

I throw a glance to her list, where two people are still not crossed off.

“Have a pleasant flight, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.” The departure hall is deserted, and I head straight for the plane. A woman in a tight suit welcomes me, and I hurry down toward my row. A few passengers manage to move their attention from their tablets and give me the “you are responsible for the late departure” look as I pass. Luckily, I don’t have to walk through the whole plane; I’m in my favorite row, number seven.

“Excuse me.”

The lady at the aisle seat looks up from the emergency folder.

“I’m by the window.”

She moves just enough for me to slip past, and I drop down in my seat with a sense of relief.

“This is the flight attendant speaking. Will passenger Mr. Wung and passenger Mrs. Jensen please let yourself be known to the staff?”

I reach for my diary and start flipping through it. Grocery shopping, pick up Luke, playdate with Luke, prepare for Luke’s birthday. Luckily, I just managed to get him a present, a massive box of the latest released LEGO castle with warriors. A warm sensation flows through my body, making me blush. There is no way I will let Luke out of my sight for the next few days. The story I just did grew much bigger than I anticipated; I was supposed to go home last week. But it developed, and I had to stay till the worst crisis was over. Hopefully, I will cash in a big check and be able to take off work for a few days. If I’m really lucky, I might be nominated for the Pulitzer Prize again this year. It would be my third nomination, and hopefully, this time… I don’t finish the thought. Instead, I cross out an appointment with John; that’s not happening, I think to myself.

“We still need to hear from Mr. Wung and Mrs. Jensen.”

So much for being the one to blame. I look around. Everybody is absorbed in their own world, watching something on their devices. The staff is busy too. That gives me a chance to call Luke.

“Hello,” a tired voice answers at last. I turn toward the window so that the flight attendant can’t see that I’m on the phone as she walks by looking for the missing passengers.

“Hi, it’s me. Can you put Luke on the phone?”

Andreas sighs dramatically. “He’s about to go to bed. Do you really think this is a good time to call? He never settles down after talking to you.”

This is not the time or place to get into a brawl with my ex-husband. I lower my voice, “Just put him on for a minute. I promise I won’t say anything to get him too excited.”

Andreas grumbles and puts down the phone. A few seconds later, I can hear Luke’s voice.

“MOMMEEEE!”

I press the phone even closer to my ear. “Hey, Luke, my love. How are you?”

“I miss you. When are you coming home?”

His voice is not as energized as yesterday, and I have to press the phone even harder to my ear to hear him. It sounds like he has given up on the question he has asked every day during my three-week trip. I wish I didn’t have to go away from him so long, but the circumstances are unavoidable. After Andreas and I split up, I was forced to go back to freelance journalism. That was the easiest way for me to make a living, but it also keeps me on the move. At least tonight, I have a better answer for Luke.

“I miss you, too. But I’m on my way home; I’m actually on the plane, we will take off very soon. I’ll be there to pick you up from Kindergarten tomorrow.”

“And you won’t be going away again?” His voice is soft, and I can hear his yawns.

“Not for a while….” My heart beats faster. “We’ll have plenty of time together. Time to do lots of fun stuff. Maybe I’ll even let you stay home from Kindergarten for a couple of days.”

“That sounds grrreat,” At that moment, Luke sounds wide awake. His voice is full of the kind of enthusiasm I wish I could bottle and bring with me on a trip like this.

He is telling me about an excursion to the park with Andreas and the Kindergarten and how they got ice cream on the way home. I’m forcing myself not to comment on it and start to explain how I interviewed some people who lost their homes in a big storm and how they managed to survive. Luke is not saying a word, but I can hear his soft breathing through the phone. While we are talking, I pull out my favorite picture that I always keep close of Luke, Andreas, and myself on Luke’s last birthday. His blue eyes are sparkling. I rest my eyes, looking at his blond hair and little nose, and lean my head against the window, feeling just a little bit closer to him. When Andreas and I were together, we always went to Legoland on Luke’s birthday; it’s his favorite place on earth. The colors on the picture have started to fade. I close my eyes as I feel my heart expanding. I rest the stiff photo paper on my chin. Now, Luke has another birthday approaching, his fifth. Where did the time go?

Andreas is in the background, telling Luke that it is time for bed. His voice is firm with a hint of irritation. I stare out the window where workers are looking through the baggage trolleys, most likely searching for the two missing passengers’ suitcases.

“Luke, I will see you tomorrow. Have a wonderful sleep. I love you.”

“Bye, Mom. I love you, too.”

“Bye, Luke. Can you put Dad back on the phone?”

There is a scratching sound. The phone is rattling, and a moment later, Andreas is back on.

“What’s up? I need to get him settled.” Andreas is clearly annoyed. There is no doubt that the call interrupted the flow of his evening. I take a quick look through the seats in front of me. The front door is still open, and the staff are chatting up front. It doesn’t seem like we are taking off right now.

I clear my throat and do my best to speak calmly and friendly. “It’s Luke’s birthday the day after tomorrow. I thought maybe we could do something together, the three of us.” Andreas isn’t saying anything in response, so I continue, “You can come over for dinner. As long as you don’t bring any of your new girlfriends.” Again, Andreas says nothing.

“Okay, I’ll come over,” Andreas says at last. “I need to talk to you about something, anyway.”

“We have located the luggage of the missing passengers and are now in the queue for takeoff. Hopefully, we will be on our way in approximately five minutes. We apologize for the delay.” The voice sounds like a tape recording, but I can see the flight attendant moving her lips.

“Great, see you at seven. I’ll make dinner.”

“See you,” Andreas answers briskly before hanging up.

I throw the phone in my handbag and look over at the woman next to me, all dressed in red. She is still studying the safety instructions and doesn’t pay any attention to me. I better get some sleep, so I’m all fit when I get home. The past several days have been exhausting, and I’ve hardly slept. The images of burning houses, animals running for their lives, and people suddenly without homes are printed on my retina. I don’t know how I manage to cover stories with so much devastation, but I do. It must be my ability not to feel other peoples’ pain. The images get blurry, and I doze off.

* * *

“Please, fasten your safety belt.” The flight attendant’s voice is firm, and she walks with a fixed stare ahead. She is wearing a snug skirt with a matching tailored jacket, very classic and straightforward in dark blue with a stripe down the side. Her smile is rather indulgent.

“But we won’t be landing any time soon,” I reply wonderingly and sit up straight, rubbing my eyes.

The attendant has already moved on to the next row, but she leans back toward me. “We’re heading toward some bad weather, but it should be over soon.” With a sure step and gentle sway of her hips, she continues up the aisle to find more safety-belt sinners.

I reach for my plastic cup of water and take a sip. It’s tepid. Suddenly, the airplane lurches. My cup of water slides from one side of the tray table to the other, and I just manage to put out my hand in time to stop it from falling over the edge and onto the woman seated next to me. I lift my tray and hold onto my cup of water, now half-spilled on the floor, with one hand. I try to push my bag under the seat in front of me with my foot. Another bump sends my diary to the floor. When I try to reach for it, my head is a few inches from bumping into the chair in front of me. I force myself back in the seat and pull my belt tighter. Even though it is dark outside, I can make out some flashes of light on the horizon. We must be above water or a nature reserve because there is no other source of light to be seen. It seems that we have left the bad weather behind.

I manage to drink the rest of the water in a mouthful and look over to see if the lady next to me has noticed the potential spill. She is reading the monthly horoscope in a magazine—a believer just like my mother. The woman holds onto the magazine so tight that her knuckles are all white. Her forehead is lined with deep wrinkles as she stares endlessly at the same page. Her red suit doesn’t have a crease, and her short hair is styled as if she has just left a salon.

Then the plane lurches again, followed by a bump that makes my stomach sink. Images of Luke flash before my eyes in brief glimpses. It is like a slideshow that runs at high speed. He is laughing and waving at me. I shake my head quickly a few times and smile to myself, glad that I fastened my safety belt. If not, I might have hit the ceiling and ended up on the lap of the woman next to me.

I am not the type who scares easily, but I must admit that sometimes I can’t help thinking about how I would react if something suddenly happened, that is, something critical. Would I act heroically and be the one who takes over and calms the other passengers, or would I save my skin and hope for the best?

My mother has always said that I was born under a lucky star. I think she’s right. It seems like things just come to me when I am in need. Not that I just lean back and wait passively; I am not the type who goes around searching for a lucky chance. Deep down, I believe that I will be all right, and everything will be fine. That is, at least until I’m not meant to be here anymore.

There is a loud explosion, and the whole airplane lights up for a couple of seconds and then goes into a free fall. My stomach drops so that I can hardly breathe. There seem to be arms and legs everywhere. Up ahead, an older man has fallen into the aisle. The sound of screams and crying children rises like a wall around me. The flight attendant I just talked to is trying to assist the fallen man but falls herself and only manages to grab hold of an armrest a bit further down. I hold my breath.

In an instant, everything becomes white. The rumbling of the airplane is gone. No one is screaming. Everything is perfectly still.

I’m not sure whether my eyes are open or closed, and I can’t feel my body. Everything is perfectly still. I consider moving or standing up, or better yet, I’ll just try to raise my hands to determine whether my eyes are open. I attempt to lift my arms, but there is no reaction. What’s happening? Where am I? Where is the woman who was seated next to me?

The light becomes more intense, and it is burning inside me. Everything is almost luminous white. Why can’t I see anything; why can’t I feel anything; what’s happening to me? Thoughts fly around my head, and I can hardly complete one thought before the next one starts.

“Eva.”

A voice is whispering my name.

“Eva.”

A soft, warm voice is coming closer and is becoming stronger. But I still can’t see anything. I feel the heat on my eyelids that is spreading across the rest of my face. It feels like the sun is melting some ice, leaving behind a new sensation on my cheeks. I can suddenly feel my lips. The warmth continues down the length of my spine and heats the small of my back.

I am lying perfectly still; that is, I think that I am lying down. Somehow, I can sense a figure coming toward me, but my eyes are not open, or to be more precise, I can’t actually see anything. Everything seems utterly unreal, and my body is tense. A second ago, I was sitting on the airplane next to the woman wearing a red suit. If I could feel my body, I know it would be trembling. That’s putting it mildly. As long as my eyes are closed, I feel safe. Here, inside myself, I feel secure. Just like children who don’t think that anyone can see them if their eyes are closed, I am pretending to hide in my own universe.

“Eva, when you are ready, you can open your eyes,” says the calm voice in a kind tone.

Yeah, sure, that’s easy for you to say, I think. I’m the one lying here with no idea where I am. You are out there and know where we are. I notice that my breathing has begun to slow. How bad could it be to find out where I am? I can always just close my eyes again. Why don’t I just open them? I’m not usually afraid of anything.

“Eva,” repeats the voice. Now the voice is right next to me.

“Y-yes,” I stammer. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and it is as if the word is stuck and can barely come out. If I keep my eyes closed, maybe the light and the voice will go away, and the friendly flight attendant will come back. Perhaps I’m just in the middle of a very realistic dream.

One… two…

I take a deep breath and hold it.

Now.

Three.

I release the air from my lungs while I slowly raise my eyelids. The light is even sharper, and I am blinded by it. I squint slightly and blink a couple of times. A tear runs from my left eye. I want to wipe it off, but my hand won’t move; even when I focus on my hand, I can’t budge it.

The light is overwhelming, and it is impossible to see a thing. Is it the sun? It was just the middle of the night. What’s happening?

A shadow bends down toward me. I narrow my eyelids so that there is just a little slit to peek through. It feels like I am looking at an unknown world, like observing another reality from my safe hiding place.

The figure becomes more distinct, and it is almost beside me. It looks like a man, a young man. I try to focus.

“My name is Thomas.”

I let my eyes widen, and the muscles around them relax. My tongue moves so that I can generate some saliva, and I try to moisten my lips. Instantly, my chin drops, and my mouth opens. He is the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Long, dark blond hair falls into natural curls along the sides of his face. His skin looks as soft as a baby’s, and he has distinctive cheekbones. The crystal clear, blue eyes are almost transparent.

“Thomas,” I mutter. So far, so good. How long have I been lying on the floor? I don’t know. I have totally lost my sense of time and space. My eyes have become accustomed to the light, and I let my gaze wander without moving my head, but I can’t find a fixed point. All of the surfaces run together, and everything seems to be out of focus. It looks like I can see the room, but there is nothing to see. I slowly turn my head from left to right and back again, but it looks the same everywhere. It is all white, and a kind of nebulous haze surrounds me.

I start to notice that what I am lying on is soft and actually quite pleasant. The floor is subtly diffuse, and the indefinable surface makes it seem alive.

“Do you feel like sitting up?” Thomas’s voice is calm and smooth as silk.

He stretches out his hand toward me, immediately inspiring confidence. I look into his eyes and feel a rush inside, taking yet another deep breath that turns out to be more like a gasp. I thought that I had tried just about everything in my life. This is, without a doubt, the most extraordinary dream I’ve ever had. I want to laugh, but nothing happens.

My gaze fixes on Thomas, who is now sitting next to me. He is wearing a long blue silk shirt with a simple gold thread that forms a pattern of cascading flowers from the shoulders downward. The upper part of the garment hangs loosely, revealing his muscular body. He looks like a prince from a fairytale, which makes me confident that this is a dream. Thomas places his hand on my shoulder and supports me as I sit up. The room changes: it is as if the walls are moving. Am I on drugs? Have I gone crazy? If this is a dream, I would like to wake up now and be on my way. I’ve got a plane to catch and a family waiting at home.

“Welcome to In-Between,” Thomas speaks slowly and clearly, looking at me and smiling so I can see his beautiful white teeth. His eyes sparkle as he talks and become even more transparent.

“In be—what did you say?” I mumble and let my eyes wander while I move my head in small jerks.

“In-Between,” Thomas repeats calmly. He seems to be very understanding. “Come, I’ll show you around.” He leans forward and gently puts his hand on mine. It’s warm and so soft.

“Stop,” I say in a very firm tone and manage to raise my right hand in front of me. “Before I go anywhere, I want to know what’s going on.”

When I was a child, a friend taught me that I could interrupt my dream’s storyline. If I were trying to escape from the bad guys, I could just say that it was just a dream and then muster up the strength to turn around and overpower them instead of running away. That is my new tactic in this dream. Whoever Thomas is, he has to learn that he can’t mess around with me. I am not going anywhere until I know what is going on. Even though Thomas doesn’t seem like a bad guy, I still have the right to know what I’m doing here.

“I want to know where I am and what I’m doing here,” I manage to say in a small, shaky voice with much less command in it than I intended.

Thomas doesn’t appear intimidated in any way. “Later. Come on, let me show you around.”

“Yes, but…” I manage to stutter. Thomas has already risen and is heading off.

“Wait for me.” So much for that plan. I get onto my feet but need to rise slowly since my head is spinning, and I find it hard to stand on the floor’s drifting substance. I count to five before hurrying the best I can after Thomas. There is no way that I want to be left behind. Walking on the floor is very peculiar. It gives way in a bit of a rubbery manner. I can’t see any doors, but there is some sort of opening in the slightly diffuse surface. The floor, ceiling, and walls are covered with this drifting substance, vague, indistinct, and in constant motion. My legs are stiff, and I shake them a bit as I start to walk.

“Hey, wait for me,” I call after Thomas. “I’m coming.” I feel almost like a small child trying to keep up with an adult who has much longer legs.

With careful steps, I pass through the opening and enter a large room. My eyes widen, and a shiver runs down my back. It is so bright, light, and open, but there are still walls of some kind. I can’t feel my feet, and I squeeze my hands together tightly. My brain can’t make any sense of this place. I don’t know what it is that I’m seeing.

Thomas stops walking and waits for me to approach.

“The place we just came from is the reception area.” He turns toward me when I join him. His arms hang loosely along the sides of his body, and he projects serenity. “That is where everyone who comes here lands. I am one of those appointed to receive new people and ensure that you get settled comfortably. Over here is our center, and from here, you enter In-Between and can move about freely.” He points toward a large surface framed by a fine red line that marks a door and continues in a circle all around us with more indications of doors. The rest of the room is bare and rather uninteresting. Some long passages run from the doors, but it isn’t possible to see where they lead.

I am still unable to comprehend anything at all and look up despairingly at Thomas. “What is In-Between?” If I continue to repeat my question, perhaps he will answer, and I will finally understand. That is my new strategy.

I notice some more colored circles on the wall. Thomas stands directly in front of me and looks right into my eyes. His crystal-clear blue eyes are so penetrating, and it seems like he can look right through me. I feel utterly naked under his gaze—like he somehow knows all about me, and I don’t know anything about him. Quickly, I lower my eyes and take a step back. If only there had been a chair to sit on. My legs feel like jelly, and my hands are placed deep in my pockets.

“What is the last thing you can remember?” The light from the skylights falls gently on his face, marking his cheekbones.

My body tenses, my shoulders and back tighten, and my breathing becomes strained. I raise my head and make eye contact. “I remember sitting on the airplane.” I gasp for breath. “It was nighttime and dark outside. And then there was a storm and a lot of turbulence. The woman who was sitting next to me… I remember that she was uneasy, but I don’t remember anything else. Then I woke up in the other room and heard your voice.” I reach out in a gesture of despair, looking around as if there were some answers to be found.

Thomas nods passively. “It’s perfectly normal. The transition went quickly, and it can be quite a shock for your body.”

“My body?” Now that he mentions it, I can feel every single muscle in my entire body. Places that I didn’t even know could ache are shooting off little bolts of pain. I shift my weight from one leg to the other and move my hands across my face. There is nothing to feel, no cuts or scratches.

“You are beginning to feel your body.” Thomas points at my legs, which are still swaying from side to side and shaking slightly. I stop abruptly and freeze on the spot. He notices everything. I have to watch what I say and do until I have figured out what is going on.

“I’d like to show you where you are, but it can be rather overwhelming.” Thomas looks grave and quite firm. Such a severe expression does not seem to suit his face; it looks like it has a more playful nature. What could be so serious or frightening? Isn’t this still a dream?

I glance down at myself. I am still wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt with a white sweater on top that hangs open. I have a ring on my finger and a white gold chain with a pendant around my neck that Andreas gave me when Luke was born. I put my hand around it and squeeze it tightly.

Thomas presses his hands gently together in front of his chest and slowly raises them upward toward his chin. “The way that people react varies greatly. I cannot prepare you for what you are going to see. No matter what happens when we enter, please know that I am here for you.” He looks toward a door to our right and pulls up the sleeve on his long blue shirt very precisely.

I turn my head in the same direction, now starting to feel a bit nervous. My hands turn cold and sweaty. They are not usually clammy, but what Thomas is saying sounds pretty strange, and I simply can’t relate at all. I fumble with the zip of my sweater. After a few attempts, I manage to zip up my shirt and feel a tremor throughout my body.

“Are you ready?”

Am I ready? Ready for what?

“Yes, sure, I’m ready,” I say, regretting my words instantly.

Thomas gently places his hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes. “All right then, we’ll go in. Remember that whatever happens, I am right here beside you, and I’m not going to leave you.”

I can feel the warmth from his hand on my shoulder and the subtle vibration of energy flowing through me. Hesitating, I take one step and then another toward the door… slowly, very slowly. My legs are stiff, and my feet are so heavy. There is a resounding silence here.

Thomas seems to know that I need some time to walk over there. He walks calmly by my side and doesn’t let go of me. There is no way to avoid it. I know that, but even so, I feel a strong urge to turn around and go back or maybe just to keep the conversation going. Why can’t he just say where I am and get it over with? Why make such a big deal out of it?

Although we only walk about four yards, it feels like an eternity. The back of my neck tightens, and my shoulders are almost up to my ears. I am panting and squeeze my eyes together to try to make out what is waiting ahead. That doesn’t make it any easier. Right about now, it would be nice to call a friend or grab hold of some kind of lifeline, but Thomas and I are the only ones here.

Thomas is standing next to me, as solid as a rock. I slowly raise my eyes and lean slightly forward.

A section of the wall starts to move slowly aside, and I stiffen.