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Steve Jobs in dreams

Modifié le : 2019/07/20

Don’t ask me when my dream began. I can tell you that it must have been 6:30 in the morn­ing. Its roots go back in part to the day before, when I did not deal with a cat, but with Fido, my tele­phone com­pa­ny. I renewed my con­tract and took the oppor­tu­ni­ty to get the lat­est Apple prod­uct, the iPhone 6. If I show a cat, it is because I promised myself to write about our lives, about these almost intan­gi­ble steps that it is so easy for us to count once they are lived. In the short time we have on Earth, we are a cat or snake, we con­stant­ly change our lives, or we change our skin.

It was in this con­text that I dreamt of Steve Jobs. The dream was sweet. Jobs wore a thick wool turtle­neck, the same blue that adorns the page. He was wear­ing grey socks, his pants the same col­or, so dressed in the style of Jobs, rich­ly sim­ple. We were in a hotel. He was alone, mature, a peace­ful look. He knew he was dying. He was not in denial, he seemed rather strong and serene to me. I was fas­ci­nat­ed by his pres­ence and, self­ish­ly, proud to be at his side, know­ing inward­ly that I would prob­a­bly get some priv­i­leges from him. Thus, in the face of this man’s great mis­for­tune, I only per­ceived his pow­er, his wealth.

He hand­ed me a scroll on which a poem was print­ed. I knew right away that these were his last words. The spir­it soaked in my dream did not allow me to under­stand or remem­ber this poem. I do remem­ber, how­ev­er, that Job went to bed in his hotel room, that he was soon to die. The paper I had in my hands con­tained a secret that I still had to decipher.

At the win­dow of my own room, the morn­ing light struck the walls of this pink dream. Every­thing evap­o­rat­ed. I have retained a sense of peace.

What else can I say ? No one is inter­est­ed in oth­er peo­ple’s dreams, and that’s nor­mal. Jobs still looked like that cat in the pic­ture. An ani­mal from anoth­er uni­verse, a dis­tinct con­scious­ness, a for­eign life, and yet it was throw­ing its waves against my cliffs.

I could play the idea that I was vis­it­ed by a mes­sen­ger, a guardian angel, who came to reas­sure me, to remind me that life is rich. I was hap­py when I woke up. I had a very nice day. Now the hori­zon before me is made up of storms, death, and spring, new begin­nings. I have many lives. I want to live them all.

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