Since recently I have been feeling like a character of Dan Braun’s ‘The Da Vinci Code’. Except that in my case I am more likely a character in The Dreams’ Code. For my daughter dreams start, last and end with crying. That crying that makes my hands tremor as someone in the last stage of Parkinson, and because of which my hair gets a shade whiter than that of a man who has just seen a fairy in the eyes.
When tired from playing and amusement, her dream comes quietly and humbly takes her to wonderland. Then, I spend at least seventeen minutes in contemplating this masterpiece that not that long ago reminded me of herself with kicks three centimetres below my first left rib. In these rare moments, life is Hause Goût de Diamants and strawberries Kleri . Unfortunately, as I just mentioned, they are as rare as Mercury to pass through the disk of the Sun.
In all other situations, occurring with the intensity of a New York resident in a street congestion with a hand stuck to the horn, my blood clots straight in the heart, and my brain suffers from convulsions…almost in interlock with the kicks and plucking that I bear while the little one is fighting with the sleep. There is no hush, hug, pacifier or wizard that can make this process just a little bit more charismatic. When it finally happens, I have already spread out a small carpet on the floor and vividly worship all Gods for the mercy they showed. Somewhere around the twenty-third bow, however, a far away almost muted snort is heard. I freeze instantly. Do not even breathe. Every molecule H2O that gets out of me will reveal my presence in the room. Shortly follows a real snort, long uh-uh-uh-uh and there is already something mixed between Baykal Lake and Caspian sea of mucus and tears. After some time of excruciating hush and waggling the apocalypse is prevented and I start counting how many glasses of wine have remained in the bottle from last night.
And since none of this seems to be sufficient, the waking up from the afternoon nap is announced by the alarming signal of a cry that makes me ponder on the meaning of life. After nearly twenty-six minutes, that I consider longer than a lifetime, follows the sweetest cuddle in the world that reminds me why life is so enchanting.