"I want to... ," my husband virtually whispered, his voice trailing off, as he ran out of breath.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He tried several more times, each time running out of breath.
I told him, "Sweetie, say only one word at a time. I know you said, 'I want to...'. What is the next word?"
"Go," he said slightly louder.
I asked, "Go where?"
"To," he answered. He took another breath. "The"... and then something indecipherable.
I repeated what he had managed to say to that point. "You want to go to the... where?"
With another deep breath, he said, "Basketball court." Success! He managed to say two words.
I repeated what I thought I heard. "You want to go to the basketball court?"
"Yes."
"What basketball court? Where is it?" I was quite confused and curious, because not only had he never, in our decades of marriage, shown any interest in sports, but we are, to put it bluntly, short.
He tried to point towards the back of the house.
"Sweetie, the only thing back there is the bedrooms and a bathroom."
"No, it's there."
"Honey, where?"
"In the bedroom."
"I don't think a basketball court would fit in the bedroom."
"Yes, it would," he answered with difficulty.
"Sweetie, think about it. A basketball court would take up our entire lot. It would be bigger than our house."
"No, its there."
I asked, "How do people get to it?"
He motioned towards the closet in my office/sewing room, where he believes there is a staircase that sometimes changes locations.
Logic could not dissuade him. The basketball court joins the invisible apartment, which he discovered a couple of years ago, over the house. The only explanation is that we have a Hogwarts house, with expansive hidden rooms and moving staircases. Of course, there is the Lewy Body Dementia.
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