The estate agent’s office in Dublin’s southside
hums with the static of mid2000s digital radio.
He signs off on a sale, his pen scratching
across the paper like a shiver. The client
leaves, clutching a document stamped with a
faded crest. The agent doesn’t notice the symbol
until later, when he’s alone, flipping through
old files in the basement.
The crest belongs to a vanished estate, one
erased from maps after the Civil War. The
agent’s own family owned it once. He hasn’t
thought about it in years. Now, the name
surfaces in a land registry form he’s meant to
process. He files it away, but the image lingers.
He begins to dream of a field at dawn, the air
thick with mist. In the dreams, he walks
barefoot, the earth soft underfoot. He sees a
woman in a green dress, her face blurred. The
dreams grow sharper. He starts missing
appointments, leaving his desk unattended.
Colleagues mutter about his distraction.
One night, he finds a key beneath a floorboard
in his father’s old house. It fits a lock he’s
never seen, hidden behind a false wall in the
attic. Inside, a ledger dated 1921 lies open.
The entries are in a hand he doesn’t recognize.
A list of names, some crossed out, others marked
with an X. His own name appears, along with the
woman from his dreams.
He visits the site where the estate once stood,
now a housing development. The ground feels
different under his boots. He kneels, digging
into the soil. Something gives way—a buried
stone slab. Carved into it is the same crest.
Beneath it, a small metal box. Inside, a
photograph of his father as a boy, standing
beside the woman from his dreams. A letter,
written in a trembling hand, says: “We were
never meant to remember.”
He returns to the office, hands shaking. The
file on the estate is gone. His computer screen
flickers, then goes black. When it restarts, the
registry shows the land as unregistered, its
history wiped. The agent sits down, staring at
the blank page. He doesn’t know what to do. The
rules of the world have changed, and he’s caught
between two versions of himself.


