Dream

You close your eyes and see two families of hedgehogs in an open field. The weather is not brilliant. The members of one family get together to maintain the warmth of their bodies. The other family has a different strategy: they also gather, but they keep a certain distance. You look closer and see how they are still shivering a bit. It's going to be a chilly night. You stare at the tight family. They're a cozy pack. You wish you were one of them. You fall asleep thinking unity makes strength.

You are back in the open field. It's daytime. Some of the hedgehogs of the distant family don't move anymore. They froze overnight. You run to the tight family. Some of them don't move anymore. They bled to death due to quill wounds.

You want to escape the dream. You already know it's a dream, but for whatever reason you have to bury the bodies.

While you drive the shovel home, the hedgehogs who survived from the tight family are climbing on each other's backs. A hedgehog tower. As if nothing.

The tower looks harmonious and geometrically perfect. I can't describe the shape, because I don't know the name of many geometrical figures. The members of the distant family are methodically preparing butter sandwiches. You can't tell if they're devastated or unbothered. You can't tell how anybody feels.

You bury the wounded and frozen bodies. It takes you an eternity. You know you're in a dream but you can't escape it, so you keep digging.

There are no hedgehogs anymore in the open field. There's just you and a tiny, blonde lady with a pixie haircut. She's some metres away from you, looking up at the sky. You look up too. She extends her arms as if awaiting something. You extend your arms a little too.

Two objects crossing the atmosphere at the speed of meteors rush towards you and the pixie lady. When yours is close enough, you realise it's a baby. You jump to catch him in such a way that his head doesn't get hurt from the impact against your body.

You catch him. The baby is alive, his head is undamaged. You can't stop staring at him. You've never seen anything as tender, inherently good, fragile and lively. You know it's a miracle. You've almost forgotten you're dreaming. But you haven't.

Then your arms start to ache. Terribly. You notice the baby is very, very heavy but for whatever reason you can't change the way in which you're holding him. You are in agony but he must not fall. He's the most extraordinary thing you've ever held.

You look at the pixie-haircut lady. She's holding an identical baby in a completely different manner. She looks fine, so you try to copy the position of her arms.

It's pointless. For whatever reason you can't.

You drag yourself towards her to ask for help. When you're close enough, you see half of her tiny body is already buried in the ground due to the weight of her baby. She smiles while the ground swallows her.

You want to escape. You remind yourself it's all a dream, but you can't leave the baby. He must not fall. You open your eyes.

You see your room. You carry on with your life. You make yourself a butter sandwich. You can't tell how you're feeling. You see perfect geometrical figures everywhere. You still try to learn their names. You cure your wounds. You keep a certain distance. You bury bodies. As if nothing. You decide you'll hold life once again. It's very, very heavy but for whatever reason it must not fall.

It's the most extraordinary thing you've ever held.