Fragments de vies rêvées, nuits vécues, mes rêves comme dévoilement du caché.
I remember we were in the countryside, in a field, sitting around a table, having a picnic outdoors, surrounded by greenery, with many people my age. Julia was there, and there was also a girl who seemed interested in me, who wanted to talk to me. I remember her hair was dyed blue. But I wasn’t interested at all. She kept insisting, trying to get my attention, pressuring me, but I didn’t want anything to do with it.
The dream moved on, and I found myself in the black-and-white checkered hallway of my country house. Then, as I looked down, a glass dish fell abruptly because of a girl and shattered on the floor. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, and tiny bacteria that looked like orange grains of rice were mixed in a juicy liquid, like orange marmalade. I remembered we were not supposed to touch them, or we would catch a serious, incurable disease—a cancer-causing one.
Without thinking, I accidentally touched one of the bacteria with my foot. Fear gripped me instantly. And then, I woke up, suddenly.
