Chapitre 6: Think about everything
"You stole my ideas! You stole my book! My thoughts!"
I woke up in the middle of the night.
What was that?! Nightmare? And my nightmare was that young man with sunny hair?! Why doesn't he leave me alone even in my sleep?
I woke up like I'd been asleep for years. It was hard to remember what day today and where I am in general.
But looking around, making sure I was in my room, on my bed which is surrounded by books almost to the ceiling, I calmed down.
I couldn't sleep again that night. So, I spent the rest of my hours watching documentaries about dreaming and other supernatural topics.
By 7 a.m., I was already on campus.
Today was probably the most sensitive topic of all. The theme of love. And as usual, all the students looked cheerful and ready to listen to me like never before.
Still, love silences a person.
Let me tell you what my lecture was about before I tell you about a meeting that will change my life for the better. (This meeting will happen later in the evening)
Walking on the "scene" in my new suit which was perfectly brown, I disappointed those who believed in eternal love.
"Briefly, what is love? And then comes to mind a constant, eternal sense of tenderness and kinship with a certain person. And here comes the word Permanent. Constant love, the one that will never die, which will live forever in the hearts. But is it always good? If a person always keeps his hand in the water of a running river, then eventually the hand will break. Here is the same principle with the human heart. When a person aspires to permanence, to constant love, it can deplete, destroy the mind and soul. And even if the heart is still beating, the mind and soul will be cold and lifeless. Whether you like it or not, the man is fickle. He is like the seasons of nature. And to hold, to want permanence, sometimes leads to the fact that a person simply loses himself."
Then I fell silent, I finished my lecture on this, because if I continued to say, everyone would just start swearing and throwing books at me.
I saw them all dissatisfied. But to tell them that eternal love is good, I was unable to say it. Because for a philosopher, constant love and in general permanence, the same as death.
Finally, one of the students decided to say his opinion, "But if you do not strive for permanence, the person will become no one else but simply incapable of anything. If you do not strive for eternal love, it means that human is so weak that he or she is afraid of responsibility to another person."
"Responsibility is another topic. And it has nothing to do with love."
"Professor, you say that, but in reality you really want love," said one girl who was sitting in the front row.
I smiled and adjusted my glasses. My answer was, "I aspire to love. But not the one you aspire to."
"What a mysterious you are," added a guy in an expensive suit.
"It is a very dangerous thing to argue with you. Professor Moon, we better not start. Otherwise, in a matter of seconds you will prove to us that we are stupid," said the girl in the green turtleneck laughing and waved her hand at her friends who wanted to argue with me and prove to me that love and to love someone is very important.
In that case, I had an answer that sounded like, "Love is just a ploy of nature to make the human race multiply."
But no one dared to say anything more to me and I added in the end, "That's it for today. No homework. You can rest."
"Hey Skye, would you like to go and have some wine with us?" the math professor asked me on the way out. "You're always so busy and you look like you're going to be on stage and giving a speech. You need to relax. Don't say no to me. I want to help you. Let's go."
Looking into his gray eyes filled with fatigue, I replied, "I have a lot to do."
"How can you be like that? At your age, I had so much fun! You should have known! I didn't miss a party."
"Very happy for you."
"So you're going? And Ikuta will go! If he goes, you do, don't you? Is that true?"
"No. I really have to go."
"What kind of person are you? What's wrong with you? Why are you always so cold? Or do you think we're not smart enough to waste your precious time on us?"
He was screaming, but I was already walking away, and when I got out, his voice remained a quiet squeak in my mind.
When I got on the bus I sighed and leaned back. Today I decided to go home by bus.
Headphones, music, a bus rushing through empty streets, that's happiness. At such moments, thoughts become clear and you look at everything differently. At the moment when my favorite song starts to ring in my ears and houses and lanterns flash past, at such moments I feel like a superman.
Music really works wonders.
Dipping into meditation to the cheerful rhythm of one song, I did not even notice how opposite me sat an elderly woman in the hands of which was a small kitten.
Feeling her close look, I took off my headphones and looked at her. To my surprise, she had a very kind face. Her eyes were so sincere that I involuntarily smiled.
Then I looked at the kitten that was so small that it fit in a glove.
The kitten looked somewhere in the distance and trembled a little.
While I was stroking his small and warm head which had a black stain, I felt joy in my soul.
"I see you like him," said the woman and handed me a kitten.
Once on my knees, he immediately curled up in a tangle and purred.
"His name is Dreamer. Looking at him as he sat in the rain, I decided to give him that name. If you want, you can take him with you."
"Dreamer?"
"If you don't like it you can change."
Feeling the warmth emanating from his small body, I felt happy. And I wondered why I didn't think to have a better and most sincere friend before. But now with that chance, I said, "I'm going to take him home. The dreamer will now live with me."
"I'm so glad. When I saw you, I knew right away that I could trust you with him," the woman said, and when the bus stopped she stroked him and smiled at me and said, "I have to go out. Good bye. Thank you for your kindness."
"Thank you."
And so I met the Dreamer who painted my life in all colors.
"Professor Skye?" suddenly a familiar voice could be heard.
Ethel sat down abruptly beside me and said, "We often meet each other. Are you my soul mate?"
Laughing loudly she added, "I am kidding. So, who is it?"
"This is my new friend, Dreamer."
When Ethel began stroking a slightly frightened kitten, she asked me, "Are you coming home?"
"Yes," I said.
"I don't think so."
"What? Why is that?
I was surprised that she acted like she'd known me for years. But I liked her sudden change of behavior. From a serious girl to a sharp and friendly personality.
"Because I want you to invite to my home," she replied, continuing to stroke the Dreamer.
"Do you want to show me the new painting?"
"Yes. How did you know? I want to show you the picture and introduce you to my mother."
"Why did you want to do that?"
"Because I told my mother about you and she now wonders that there are still sophisticated and well-mannered man like you in the world. That's why she said I had to introduce her to you."
Having caught on to her confident look I had to agree.
It's much better than sitting in the company of colleagues and pretending that I like wine.
"I live here. So let's go. This is our stop."
When we approached the small house with a beautiful courtyard in which stood a small fountain, Ethel opened the wooden gate and I followed her.
As soon as the door opened and we were met by an elderly woman with glasses.
She was very much like Ethel, and I knew right away that she was her mom.
"Mom, this is Professor Skyemoone. Professor, this is my mother. Her name is Ayn."
An intelligent woman with a kind smile on her face looked at me from head to toe, and as a lady befits, she nodded her head slightly instead of reaching out to me.
"It's nice to meet you. Finally I saw you with my own eyes," she said once more scanning me with her gaze.
It was only later that I noticed that she was wearing a sweater that depicted planet Earth and stars.
"Please come in. Feel at home. I'm going to make tea," said Ethel, and disappeared from sight.
Ayn sat across from me. Making the light in the room brighter, she put on her glasses and picked up the book. "Buy a kitten?"
"It's a pleasant accident. I didn't plan on buying him."
"We used to have cats, too. But after the last cat's death, we couldn't get a new one," she said, lowering her already quiet voice. And then when she leaned over to the book, I noticed that her hair was black and wavy.
I didn't know what to say, so I started looking at a painting that was hanging on the wall above the fireplace.
The painting depicted people facing a high mountain. And the moonlight touching their heads created a feeling that they were glowing.
Most of all, my attention was drawn to this very moonlight imprinted by all the colors of blue.
Ethel knows how to create the impossible on a simple blank canvas.
While I was looking at the painting, Ayn was looking at me.
I was obviously interested her, and she didn't hide it.
"So, you're a professor?" she asked, wanting to get to know me better.
"That's right."
"And what is your favorite philosopher?"
"Perhaps Schopenhauer."
Raising the book to her face, she smiled a little, and then I saw that she was reading one of his books at the moment.
"And what do you think of him?"
"It is quite acceptable. His thoughts, one might say, are part of everyday life. There are philosophers who write and write but the essence of their thoughts seems to be somewhere far away, in another universe. I don't like this. But with Schopenhauer, everything is clear."
"I agree with you."
"What are you talking about?" asked Ethel, and placed a cup of tea on a small table.
"It seems Professor Skyemoone liked your painting," Ayn said.
"This was painted at the most difficult time of my life."
"I love the way you put the moonlight on. It's so real."
"Smart and gorgeous people like you are always single," Ayn said.
Here Ethel felt awkward and said loudly, "My mother likes to look at beautiful things and beautiful people. She's a poet. And don't be surprised that after a while she will start writing poems for you and they will all be about your beauty."
"I'm just honest. I'm talking about what I see in front of me. Men don't shine with their minds or appearances right now, but you're a nice exception."
In response to her compliment, I just drank a few sips of herbal tea in which dried berries swam.
"So, do you write poetry?"
"It's my only way of saying what's in my heart. In the poems I can be selfish," Ayn replied winking at me.
"My mother likes to write about love. She loves romance but at the same time belies any romance between two people."
Meanwhile, the Dreamer was playing on the carpet and jumping like a rabbit.
The next thing I remember from our conversation is that we started discussing different poets and ended our spontaneous conversation about Salvador Dali.
And in that short time, I've gotten used to Ayn and Ethel.
After I said goodbye and left their cozy house, I didn't even feel a headache.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone