An early winter storm greeted me on Saturday morning by rapping its strong fingers on my bedroom window. I ignored it, once again finding myself distracted by the thought of what to do to fill the time between then and when I was able to go to sleep that night. I thought about going to a movie, but decided to do something a little more productive. I spent a couple of hours writing down some of my new insights and questions, did some stretching and pushups, and ended up doing two long-put-off projects, cleaning out a couple of cabinets and organizing my files. Out with the old and making room for the new, I thought to myself.

Before bed, I took out the garbage and saw Greg walking someone out of the lobby, apparently saying goodbye. I said hello to him, but he didn't respond. At that moment, I realized I had missed his party. Dejected and totally upset with myself, the thought so much for turning over a new leaf popped into my head. I even felt a little sick to my stomach, wondering if this was the final nail in the coffin for our friendship.

“I'm so sorry, Greg. I was preoccupied with something and completely forgot about your party. I really did mean to come. Really. I'm so sorry.”

He turned toward me and I knew immediately that he was very upset. “You forgot about it? But if you had remembered, would you have come?”

I just stood there, not knowing what to say.

“Look, it's okay. Really. I should have known better than to actually think you would show up. Take care,” he said as he walked back into his place.

I felt even worse. I really wanted to show him, and more so myself, that I could change. I thought about what Jean had said, and wondered if I actually could. Maybe I was kidding myself that cleaning and journaling meant that I was on a new path. Maybe a part of me missed the party on purpose. I just didn't know.

I had no real idea if it was the case, but a deepening queasiness told me that I had blown my chance for getting into the portal that night. That evening, my feeling was confirmed. During my dream, I stood before the five portals with the first one remaining only slightly lit. I couldn't tell if it had darkened a little after my encounter with Greg, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it had.

Thursday came, but I was in no mood to have another therapy session, so I left a message that I was ill and that I'd reschedule when I was feeling better. I figured Jean might charge me for the session, as I was within her twenty-four-hour cancellation policy, but I didn't care.

Over the next two weeks I considered apologizing to Greg again and wondered if it was my conflict with him that had caused my dream quest to stall, which it had. I saw the portals in every dream, but nothing about them changed. A few times I tried to put my hand in the first one, but it wouldn't go through, feeling more like glass than liquid. I did see Greg a few times in passing, but I couldn't get myself to say anything other than “Hey,” after which he just nodded.

* * *

It was Wednesday, the day before the big Concord meeting. I hadn't spoken to Damon in quite a while. At one point late in the day, I saw him talking to Karine. He looked my way and then turned his attention back to Karine. I figured they were talking about me, and perhaps the Concord deal. Seemed like we were all in a holding pattern. Holding our breath, perhaps.

There had been no sign of the stranger in the black cap, so at least that was a good thing, but it had now been close to three full weeks since I'd seen Lucena. Between that, the job, and the Greg situation, I was feeling quite sorry for myself. I didn't even have enough energy or desire to look out the window. My pity party was interrupted by Karine, who burst into my office and closed the door behind her.

“Scott, we need to talk.”

“What's going on?”

“I've always liked you. Unlike the other people here, you never disrespected me. So, I want to be completely honest with you now.”

This was definitely not the same person I thought I knew all these years. Karine was sharp, powerful, and direct. I had to do a watch check to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

“I've been seriously contemplating a lot of things, and I'm going to lay it all on the line here. If I don't get the Eric Concord account, you're gone. And if I do get it, you're still gone.”

“What?! How do you know that?”

“Damon basically told me so. He probably didn't even realize that I understood what he was saying. He told me to do whatever I could to get the account. I know what he meant. It made me sick to my stomach, and that's why I'm here. I'm done with this shit.”

“I'm sorry about Damon. He's …”

“Forget it. It's all part of the game. I'm just done playing it by everyone else's rules. Listen, I work my butt off here. You have no idea. And I'm not complaining about the pay, which is actually pretty generous.”

As soon as she said that, I felt guilty, because I knew she was compensated well, but not well enough for the work she really did. I looked at the pearl bracelet I'd given her, which I somehow thought would make up for that inequity, but seeing it just made me feel even more guilty.

“Listen, Karine, I do appreciate you and all you do for us. I said that if we got this account that there would be something in it for you …” She didn't let me finish.

“I don't think you understand. I am not going to land that account. You are.”

I froze as a wave of panic shot through me. I tried to talk but felt a huge sickening lump in my throat that blocked the words. It took several deep breaths to calm me down enough to speak.

“Wh … what do you mean, Karine? I can't close that deal. I … I …”

“Stop it. That's just bullshit. You're better at this than anyone else I know. That's how I got so good at it. You taught me. You don't even see it. You're a brilliant strategist, and you're also very good at connecting with people when you want to.”

I hesitated and looked at the floor as I spoke. “So, since you're being so honest here, I will be, too, and tell you that I really don't know if I can pull this off. I don't believe I can. And if I'm really going to be honest …” I looked up at her to continue. “I don't have what you have.”

“You mean my body? Well … listen, I know some people think I sleep with the clients. I'm the ‘sexretary,’ after all.”

“Oh, Karine … how …”

“Puh-lease!” she said emphatically. “You think I don't know what goes on here? I do. I basically run this whole place, Scott. I know every detail of this business, and one of those is that if you don't meet with Concord yourself, you can kiss this job goodbye.”

As I considered Karine's words, I came to the conclusion that even though I'd complained a lot about the job, I really wasn't prepared to leave it at that point for many reasons, including financial ones. That realization must have prompted an insight, because it suddenly came to me that doing this might somehow be related to me being able to get into the portal. Maybe the COO I needed was to take action in spite of my fears.

“Karine, I'm not even sure I'd know where to start,” I said, and then took a deep breath, “but I guess I could try.”

“You do know where to start,” she stated firmly. “How do you think I land all the accounts I do?”

“I … don't know.”

“Of course you don't. You never asked. And that's fine. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't know what to think, either. I do a ton of research on every single client, including looking into their hobbies, likes and dislikes, special interests, their families, their history, and anything else that will help me understand who they are and allow me to make a connection with them. Start there, Scott. You know how. I'm sure you don't remember teaching me how to do that, but you did. And you know what else? I always genuinely try to make each potential client I meet with a friend for life, regardless of whether I get their account, so think about that, too.”

She then took out a file and dropped it on my desk. It landed with a bang that knocked some pens around. It said Eric Concord on it and was the size of an old encyclopedia.

“I'm really sorry, Karine. I had no idea. I'm very embarrassed around the assumptions I've made about you. I've learned an important lesson.”

“Still having a truth truce, Scott?”

“Of course,” I said.

“So right now, you're humble, open, honest, and even vulnerable. All those things are real, and they are very attractive. Embrace them and use them with Concord. I know you can do this. I have faith in you and I trust you. And besides, if you don't get the account, we're both gone, as Damon will freak out that I passed the meeting on to you.”

I wasn't sure why, but I started to feel more confident and powerful. “You're right, Karine. About everything. But I don't really understand why you're doing this.”

“I'm tired of the charade,” she said with a stern frown. “It's so draining trying to be the image of what others want me to be. I'm acting here. I acted with you just the other day, playing dumb about how much I knew about Eric Concord. Did you really think that I didn't know who he was?” I looked at her sheepishly, remembering how concerned I'd been during that conversation. Karine went on without waiting for a reply. “I even pretend that I don't know how to type very well. I dress the part just to keep up the charade. I believed that they wouldn't give me the chances they have if they thought I was a threat to them. That if they knew the truth, they'd be jealous or intimidated, and I'd have a whole new set of challenges to deal with. But enough is enough. Like I said, I won't do it anymore.”

“So, you're willing to risk your job? For me?”

“For you, and for me, too. Do you ever dream, Scott?”

“Uh, yeah, I can say that I do.”

“I've been having a bad one for a long time and it haunts me. In it, I'm at my own funeral, and the room is filled with men. Someone asks, ‘Does anyone have anything they'd like to say about Karine?’ and they all snicker and no one comes up to speak. But I also have another dream. A powerful one. One I think about all the time. In that dream, I'm always completely myself, and I make a difference in the world, every day. It's time, Scott, for me to live that dream. I don't really care if I stay here or not. Either way, I'll be fine.”

“Thank you, Karine. For the truth, for your trust in me, for everything. Thanks for never letting go of your real dream. I can do this. Just tell me how I can repay you for everything you've done for me.”

“Well, I have a list! It's in another book, just about that size,” she pointed to the Concord file, smiling. “Seriously, I will ask one thing of you, regardless of whether you get the account. Take Nowell out to dinner. I'm his only friend here, and he could use another one.”

“That's it?”

“Well, one more thing, actually. Wear a nice buttoned-down blue shirt tomorrow.”

“Really? Why?”

She again pointed to the Concord file. “It's all in there. You'll need to start reading now and probably pull an all-nighter to get ready.”

I thought about Lucena's comment about having access to all information, past, present, and future. I felt my head nod and I said something that I would always remember as one of the most astonishing things I ever heard myself say. “Thanks, but I won't need the file.”

“Scott, there's months of research in there.”

“You said you trusted me. Well, trust me,” I said.

* * *

That night, I saw the portals and although the first one seemed brighter than before, I didn't even try to get inside. Instead, I snapped my fingers and I was in front of a library. There was a statue of Rodin's The Thinker on one side of the entrance and a large marble globe on the other.

I entered and noticed there were no books, just an average-sized computer screen with no apparent processing unit. The screen was across the room, and I extended my arms forward and flew over to it.

I touched the screen, and like a giant iPad, a keyboard appeared on it. I typed in Eric Concord and saw his picture. When I touched it, I was transported to his early years, in what I figured was about the fourth grade. His teacher, Mrs. Kretzer, was asking the class what they wanted to be when they grew up. Eric's hand was the first to shoot into the air.

“A big movie star!” he shouted, with his hand still raised. The rest of the class laughed, even Mrs. Kretzer.

“That's exciting, Eric, but perhaps something a little more practical should be considered.”

“Nope! That's what I'll be,” he said and put his hand down. I imagined there wasn't a person in that classroom who could have wiped the smile from his assured face.

The scene then changed, and I witnessed him as a teenager in a car with a girl. They were parked near a beach at the Jersey shore looking out at the ocean on a beautiful and cloudless evening. He wore a blue shirt, which I somehow knew was his favorite piece of clothing. His arm was around the girl, and they kissed a few times.

“I'm so sorry, Grace. I just know that if I don't pursue my dream that my life will be wasted.”

With tears in her eyes, she asked, “But why California, Eric? Why not just go to New York for acting?”

He explained that the opportunities on the West Coast were more advantageous for him and that leaving her was one of the hardest things he would ever have to do.

For the remainder of the dream, I watched Eric go through acting school, get rejected at multiple auditions, and land a small nonspeaking role in an independent film. I watched that movie from a theater, seated next to a man who had a small flashlight and was writing notes. The man was an agent, and I later saw the two of them at a Yankees game, toasting with a beer in celebration of Eric landing a leading role in an adventure movie.

The alarm woke me, and I wondered if I had dreamt the entire night. Regardless, I was ready.

* * *

I came to the office wearing a blue buttoned-down shirt. I was carrying a paper bag, which held a special something that I hoped would get a reaction out of Karine, who winked at me as I passed her desk and followed me into my office with a box in her hand. It had a bow on it.

“You look pretty good, but something's missing.” She handed me the box. While I opened it, she said, “This is a reminder that the key to success starts with you getting out of your comfort zone.” It was a thin polka-dotted tie that matched the blue shirt. “Tie it, you'll like it,” she said with a smile.

“Everyone's a comedian,” I replied. I went to the restroom to put the tie on and then looked in the mirror. “Ghastly!” I said. Karine was still in my office when I returned. I reached into the bag I brought and pulled out a Yankees hat. “How about this?” I said, excitedly.

“Nice touch with the hat! You did do your homework, and since I know you're a Mets fan, I'm even more impressed that you're willing to wear that. Oh, and nice tie.”

“Well … I hate it,” I said.

“No, you don't,” she replied. She was right; even though I believed it was out of character for me, I actually loved it.

“I'm ready, Karine.”

She looked me in the eyes and nodded. “I believe you are.”

* * *

About an hour later, Karine knocked on my office door and walked in, accompanied by an extremely good-looking man in his mid-thirties, wearing a pair of chinos, Nike sneakers, a Mets hat that covered much of his blondish hair, a buttoned-down mauve shirt, and a thin polka-dotted tie. Mauve was my favorite color. Oh my God, Karine! I thought.

Karine made a quick introduction and left. Eric took off his sunglasses, looked at my tie, and said, “She got to you, too, huh, and I guess you're a Mets fan?” We shared a very comfortable laugh. “You know, you have one amazing colleague. Although I'm not so sure of her fashion sense.”

Eric and I talked for more than three hours. I remembered what Karine had said and, early in the conversation, decided that I wasn't going to concern myself about getting the account. Instead, I'd present myself authentically and humbly, with the goal of helping him in any way I could.

Eric told me of his and his partners' real estate holdings, which he confirmed were valued in the billions. He also owned a number of restaurants on both coasts. I was shocked to learn that he lived in an average-sized home just outside the city, drove a five-year-old car, and besides going on vacation from time to time, spent very little money on himself. Instead, he used his money to help out his family, and he donated to several charities.

As I listened to his story, I could see he was a genuine, honest, and kind person. I shared a lot about me, as well, including the fact that I had not met with any new clients for more than five years, and that Karine “encouraged” me to make an exception in his case. I felt honored to have had that time with him and let him know that.

“Well, thank you,” he said. “You have to believe me when I say it's my honor. Seriously. Karine told me so much about you. How great you are at what you do, how you truly care about people, and how honest you are. Except for your taste in baseball teams, I think you're a good guy.”

My self-doubts rose right to the surface, and I cringed as he spoke those words. Still, a small part of me wondered if any part of what he said was true.

Eric went on, telling me how impressed he was that I spent what must have been countless hours learning all I did about him. I thought about telling him how I learned what I did, but since I wasn't sure I could even explain it, decided against it. In fact, as I sat there, I realized how big of a risk I took in relying on getting such important information in my dreams. I figured I must have been out of my mind to have even considered doing that. But I was really glad I had done it and wondered if perhaps we all truly were connected at a deep level. Maybe the only thing that's truly impossible is to understand what's possible, I thought to myself.

“You still with me, Scott?”

Eric's voice brought me out of my contemplation, and I simply replied that Karine had taught me a lot about connecting with people.

I was curious about something that I couldn't contain and blurted out a question that I'm sure he never expected me to ask. “What ever happened to you and Grace?”

He opened his eyes and mouth as he smiled. “No one knows about her. You're good.” Maintaining his smile, he turned away to reminisce. “She and I kept in touch for a few years after I left for California, but then it just fizzled out. It really was a beautiful relationship, but I have no regrets.”

I would have enjoyed sharing and learning more, but since I knew he was a very busy man, I felt that we did need to change the subject to discuss his account. Eric explained that he wanted to meet again before he made a decision on whether to give us his business. I thought we really hit it off, but I understood. This was a very big deal, and he was not just representing himself but also a group of partners who trusted him. I quickly figured that my bonus from it would be nearly seven figures, which was bigger than all others I've gotten over the years, combined. It would change my life, dramatically, but to be true to his agenda, I knew I couldn't push him.

He suggested that in a week or so, we go for a ride on the subway and have our next talk while we headed nowhere in particular. I thought that was very creative and fascinating, but not as fascinating as hearing myself say, “That sounds like fun. Let's do it!”

I was hungry and figured he was as well. I also took advantage of something I learned the night before. “How about an early dinner? I know a great Puerto Rican place and don't ask me how I know it, but I believe you like that cuisine.”

“I won't ask, yes I do, and I'm starving, but one of us should take off our tie so we don't freak everyone out.”

“Actually,” I said, “I was thinking we'd leave them on for the exact same reason.”

“Man, I knew I'd like you!” he said as we stood up and shared a warm handshake.

The waitress introduced herself to Eric as “Ava,” and I was glad she did. I had always called her “the waitress” or “ma'am.” I was sure she had mentioned her name before, but I didn't remember it.

It was another long and interesting chat, as we sat, our polka-dotted ties now loose around our necks, sharing our own memories while creating new ones, together. Toward the end of our dinner, I started looking at my watch, believing that I'd demonstrated enough of the personal COO that was required to get me into the first portal. I was optimistic that I would create another great memory after I went to bed that night.