6 a.m.

Paris, 6 a.m., just woke up from a dream.

It was my sister’s wedding. I believe we were in a church and some people were giving speeches. It was very crowded and for some reason I did not want to go up, face the audience, and say the few words I had written on a piece of paper that I was keeping in my hand.

There was a cute little kid running around carelessly between the benches, playing with imaginary friends, in an imaginary world, as kids do. And suddenly we became friends. We had a small chat and played together a little as I was wondering who this kid was and where his parents were, and how in the world did they let him wander around like that in the middle of this massive crowd. Someone mentioned that his parents didn’t care.

And so they appeared, a few moments later. The mother was asking herself why Louis - that was the boy’s name - was here all alone instead of playing with his friends. The father answered: “you know your son has no friends, stop lying to yourself, he is completely asocial.” I was outraged by the man’s words and decided to go back to the kid and show his father that his son did have friends.

We started playing again. Louis ran around me, tried to get on my shoulders, put his little hands on my face, grabbed my nose. His mother looked happy and relieved. His father had a smirk that seemed to say, or did actually say: “but that’s not a real friend, they’re not the same age, this is an adult.”

At this very precise moment, Louis took a step back and looked at me in the eyes. He had a gentle smile, and I realized for the first time that his hair was long, just like mine. He said to me: “you and me, we live in the same world.” My eyes got wet the second he finished his phrase, as another one rung in my head: “and one day, you will say the same thing to your daughter.”

Paris, 6 a.m., and I just woke up in tears.

@1 year ago