Robert could not tear his surprised and enthralled gaze off the Christmas tree. This was the first time in his life that he had seen such a wonder.

Robert could not tell if what he was seeing was real. He looked around and to his surprise saw that he was in a different, tidy, foreign room. It was light and spacious, with walls painted bright yellow and a blue ceiling blazoned with tiny, skillfully painted stars. New furniture clung to the walls, which were adorned with an entire library of the most varied of books.

On the other side of the room stood a black lacquered piano, ready to be played. And toys – dozens, maybe even hundreds of toys. The sheer abundance of playthings made him dizzy. There were small and big model cars, leather balls for football and basketball, but most importantly there was a huge model railway set. Its tracks wound around the Christmas tree and throughout the room. There were tunnels, lights, bridges, and other incredible details beyond Robert’s wildest dreams. Above his bed a model of a real aircraft hung on invisible threads. Everything was astounding and incomprehensible.

Robert sat on the bed, his eyes wide open with bewilderment and fascination. This was the first time he had experienced such a vivid dream and he did not want this fairytale to end. Robert shut his eyes dreamily…

“Robert, get up! How many times do I have to call you?!" his mom called from the kitchen. She approached Robert’s bed and shook his shoulder.

Robert opened his eyes and got up. He was still in his old room. There was the small Christmas tree on the table in the middle of the floor. The bright colors had vanished, as did all the toys. On the wall next to Robert’s bed hung a photo of a new car from an automobile magazine, pinned wall with blue plasticine at the four corners.

His mother was making a ruckus in the kitchen.

Sitting on his bed, Robert tried to comprehend what had just happened to him. Suddenly he realized what had startled and flustered him the most. In his dream the woman had called him Trevor, and it sounded normal to him, not surprising at all, although he had never heard the name in his life. Why Trevor? Where was he just now? What kind of dream was it, why was it so vivid, real, almost genuine? And why auntie?

But the dream had vanished like a fairytale.

Amanda’s office was on the third floor of a seven-story building on Rue du Cendrier 19, in the very heart of Geneva. Jovan was waiting for Trevor at the front entrance after his session. Trevor greeted his friend with a warm hug and a slap on the shoulder. They quickly ascended the wide stairs and stopped at the door. Under the intercom button, the plaque read “Amanda Fabian – Psychologue[16]”.

“Is she Belgian?” asked Trevor, but Jovan had already pressed the button.

A tall young man in this thirties dressed in a black suit and tie with smoothly combed dark hair opened the door.

“Please, come in, Mr. Jovan, Amanda is expecting you,” he said and looked at Trevor. “You must be Mr. Blanche. Hello. Let me take down your details. I need to enter them into our system.”

Victor started entering the information, while Trevor listened to the music that played on the computer. It seemed very familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“This is…” Trevor said, pointing at the speakers, but Victor was ahead of him.

“Yes, that’s Parisienne Walkways. Do you like it? Here are your documents. Please, go in,” he said seriously and indicated the door.

“Hello again, Amanda. I’d like to introduce my friend, Trevor Blanche,” said Jovan and looked back to see Trevor entering the doctor’s office. “Trevor, this is Amanda, my guardian angel.”