He walks over to the fireplace and stares at the flame with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I was born in this very room in the year 1868." He turns his head so he can look me in the eyes and I can actually feel his anger. "Twenty years later, I also died here."

His tone immediately changes my mood. I look away, hoping he doesn't suspect I'm starting to freak out again. I need to keep my head clear even though I'm asleep.

This is crazy.

"You do understand ...