Vincent (11 years old)
I don’t know if you can too, but I can dream with my eyes open. In my dream I walk barefoot on the wet grass. The wind blows through my hair and the sun shines on my face. I see a squirrel jumping from tree to tree, a little horse trots on its long legs, a big worm pokes its head out of a hole in the ground and on a thin blade of grass a beetle glows. In my dream I can talk to the animals, I understand everything they say. The little beetle grumbles about the stones blocking his way.
“They are just pebbles,” I say laughing.
“To me they are mountains, you know!”
And the little horse asks:
“What do you call a beetle without little legs?”
I shrug. The worm does the same, but you can only see it if you look very closely.
“I have no idea,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter what you call him, he’s not coming anyway!” the little horse neighs triumphantly. The squirrel bursts into laughter.
“Ahah, very funny,” I tell the little horse, even though it seems a bit of an insulting joke.
And then I hear my companions are back in the corridor.