It’s time I confessed to you one last thing. Perhaps you have already guessed. I have declined the Doctor’s operation. I’m sure if anyone understands why, Reader, it will be you.

When I first woke up I thought I knew this world, only to be told that I didn’t know this world at all. And that made me sad. I believed that if you, too, remembered these forgettings, then certainly I could shout to the Doctor that she was wrong. Now, though, I see that my whole idea was mistaken, because I only know my world just as you, Reader, only know your own.

The Doctor, too, remains distant from me in her own strange worlds, caught in the past or preoccupied by the future. In the end, I don’t know if the operation she urged was meant to benefit me, or to help her. In spite of her advice I have discovered a remedy, something much more reliable than medicine to make things better. I have realized that my world is the only one that I hold on to, and more, the only one that matters anyway. And I am happy, again.

The first thing I asked of you was to read my dreams and, if they meant nothing to you, to put these forgettings in a drawer. But I will ask you one more favor before we part. Who knows how long it will be until our dreams meet again? From time to time, will you close your eyes and remember? My memories won’t last forever. If the Doctor is correct, I’m not sure how much longer I can protect them. So someone must still care for dreams. Reader, if you have read this far, then I am sure you are a dreamer, too.

There remains only one small matter to attend to before we part. It is appropriate, however, to leave the difference between men and women to the very end because, really, the only time you can understand it clearly is now. The difference is in how they say goodbye.

x. the difference between men and women The difference is in how they say goodbye.

Women always turn their eyes away. They do this to hide the tears, they say. Women look away and stare off for a long time afterwards. They are looking at the past, at what was before. In this way, they will always remember the wonderful something that they are saying goodbye to.

Men, instead, roll their eyes. Their eyes can turn in any direction because, after all, they stare blankly. Men are looking at the future. They search desperately for the moments, hopefully not far off, when there will no longer be a goodbye to say, or to remember.

The only place people will never look is at each other, at the present the other holds in the eyes. Because, if we did look, we would see that goodbyes cannot really exist. They cannot be drawn or kept or followed. People simply pretend that there are goodbyes because we can’t imagine what life would be like without them.

People have trouble allowing things to end. It’s too bad, really, because endings are what make it possible to look back and remember (or to forget). And it is these memories – even memories of forgetting – that ironically make up the world. Yet we always turn our eyes at the very last moment so that we can never know this for sure.

You and I have met by accident, so I know we are to be the greatest of friends. Our dreams wanted very much for us to meet. But, as I told you before, I have a weak heart. You must forgive me for one last thing. I don’t believe in goodbye, Reader. I’ll say it to you, if it makes you happy, but I’ll never mean it.