Hmm… let me tell my dream, or rather, the house and the murder inside my dream. It sounds so strange when I say it aloud.The dream returned again. But this time, the woman was not only standing there in silence. She was showing me things. Guiding me. She held out a necklace. On it were engraved the words: With love, from M to Ameli.At last, a name. Ameli.How many Ameli could there have been in Bucharest at that time? Was it a common name? I don’t think so. It didn’t feel common.The obvious first step was to search the internet. But as before, I found almost nothing. Fragments. Dead ends. Silence. So I decided to go further,  to the National Library of Romania. If answers still existed, perhaps they were sleeping there, between old pages and forgotten ink.The next day, when I finally had time, I went to the library.But once inside, another question rose: what exactly was I looking for? Old newspapers? Police records? Books about crimes? Reports buried in dust?Was the murderer ever caught? If no … is that why she comes to me? Is she trying to make me search the criminal?These questions haunt my mind.I began with old newspapers, scanning announcements and reports about crimes from that period. I searched for her name. For Ameli. For any mention of a woman killed in a beautiful house or in any house at all that resembled the one from my dream.Nothing.No Ameli. No necklace. No house.Only silence.So… should I keep searching?