Again in my dream I was back in my room. It was dark and I knew it’s a dream. My phone was broken and I was fixing it in the dark. I took it apart and tightened the screws of the electronics inside.

My dad came into my room. “What’s going on?” He said. His silhouette filled the doorframe, and I knew that’s the distortion of the dream, for he was not very tall, nor very packed. But in this dream he was muscular and wearing only a boxer.

“Just go away.” I said. But he didn’t leave. He went to my closet and started refolding the clothes, kneeling on the ground.

“Please go away,” I pleaded again, “please, please. It’s a dream and I don’t want to lose you. Don’t get me worked up or I will lose you, dad.” He didn’t seem to hear me. His bear back working in the moonlight.

“Dad! Oh, dad!” I was choked awake by my own tears.

It was then I realized that all I am doing in Vienna, of working hard to get paper published, of worrying the economy and the current trade war in China, of working out, staying healthy and strong, is to prepare, like a woman preparing for the birth of her child, I prepare for the days of my return to Wuhan. For that I will need to build a strong foundation and career on my part so I can take care of my aging parents, lower down their burdens, and carry on my family line.

All these working subconsciously till now. Damn. Ancestral genes at its finest.