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And then, when it is almost evening, the same (dreamed) voice tells me: You will never dream again! I am standing above in the art gallery of the residential palace and I feel the warm breath of the small panting white dog at my throat. Restlessly I look at pictures in which the stories of Jupiter, Salome, Judith, Callisto, and other famous characters are told, none of which I understand. I read one or two lines in the explanatory notes and have already lost the thread. And the little dog is panting. At that moment you come out of the neighboring room and immediately start reproaching me severely: How could you swap our baby for this ugly little dog? I reply: But all these myths and Biblical allegories are wrong, don’t you see, this whole masquerade is just . . . Without waiting for the end of my sentence, you run back into the neighboring room and immediately return, laughing, with our baby. „That’s pretty daring, I’d say,“ I say loudly. We look at the wondrous pictures together until late at night, while the little white dog plays with our baby on the floor. Then we all fall asleep.
BabyBuddha 