It's a dream I had a few weeks ago about my father, who died 3 years ago.
It is at a family gathering, not happy with the air, as if we did not think enough of him.
Everyone is very embarrassed course, and by his return and guilt.
Everyone wondered: yes, he's right, do we think enough of him? Are we not often thinking of something else, to forget slowly?
And everyone is a little sore (especially me): it is right to come and back braces, we are now beginning to forget.
I still feel embarrassed at the bottom of my chest.
I understand why the ancients saw the dreams as signs to be observed: the images are virtual but the emotions they are real. Truth of the body, all the more mysterious qu'indicible ...
Illustration: Skeletons fighting over a red herring, a beautiful and disturbing picture of James Ensor.
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