29/11/25

I had a dream.

Me and Beans were still together.

We were renting a place somewhere in North Africa, I don’t know if it was Tunis or Morocco. The owner was trying to scam us, though. But I was like: I am a smart and strong woman, haha. I was talking with Juan about how to handle the situation, and even though there were obstacles, things somehow unfolded in the way we wanted.

Beans was worried and tense at first, and then he softened, relaxed, became joyful again.

I remember his smiling, loving eyes, his sweet and safe hugs, that feeling of “we are together.”

I woke up feeling so… far away.

I suddenly realised I’ve had so many beautiful “building a home” type of dreams with him. They were meaningful, real and raw.

I also realised that after all this, over a month of constant pain, all my analysing and all my insights, I don’t really picture him in my life anymore.

That’s why the dream felt familiar and strange at the same time.

Later I went to a café and found a good specialty coffee place near my apartment, about a 15-minute walk away.

Then I went to meet my new friend Julian. We first saw each other at Vipassana, never spoke, then one day on a hike I suddenly saw him again, what a surprise. We arranged to go to MAM, the museum of modern art.

When I arrived, I saw a group of people dancing. It wasn’t zouk, it was something called Nossa Lambada, and of course I joined them.

After that we finally went into the museum.

He asked if I’d been meditating.

I said I have, but I’m not doing the full one-hour sits; I’m doing the breathing plus visualising that my therapist taught me.

It’s really hard.

I usually end up feeling dizzy or flooded with intense emotions.

Gui’s friend Shanti had a performance, also in front of MAM.

It was very impressive.

After the performance she invited me to join her and her partner to watch Borda by Lia Rodrigues (Rio de Janeiro, Brazil). I’ll write another blog just about that.

Before the show, I felt a bit hungry, but not hungry enough for a full meal, so I suggested açaí. The funny thing is, the place I chose was right next to a bar with a big TV, full of people watching a futebol match, Flamengo, I think.

The açaí guy was so funny.

Everyone was there at the bar, no one was at his stall.

He walked over to us and said, “I have fish for you.”

We were like, “Huh?”

LOL.

We watched a bit of the match with açaí.

To be honest, I’m still not a futebol person; I just felt the tension in the air.

So we left and went to join Shanti for the performance.

The choreography was absolutely spectacular.

That was my 29/11.

I realised recently that writing a diary actually makes me feel a little better, I don’t have to think too much, I can just write.

It feels like I’ve been crying every day for more than a month now.

29/11/25 was the first day I didn’t cry at all.

As for which “stage” of grief I’m in, I honestly don’t know.

But I do know this:

I am grieving.