Michele's dream Part I.

I. No one can see me cry.

No one, father, can see me cry. So please don't turn away: I'm ashamed of these tears.
Speak, son: I listen to you.
Father, my heart has become covered in darkness and all I see is death. My city has become a torment for me, and my father's house has become an incredible unhappiness, and everything I had shared with her has turned into excruciating suffering without her. My eyes search for her everywhere and do not find her; and I hate all things because they do not have her, and can no longer say to me: "Here she is, she will come", as when she was absent. I myself have become a big question mark for myself, and I ask my soul why it is so sad, why it torments me so much, and cannot answer me anything. Only crying is sweet to me. And I continue to be a place of unhappiness for me, where I cannot stay, from which I cannot escape.
What happened to you?
I need your help, Father: alone I cannot save the people I love. You know that I have always been faithful to you. Mine is not blackmail, but a cry of desperation: if you don't help them, don't count on me anymore.
I've been waiting ages to hear you say these words, Mikael.
(The Being turns from behind, smiling. Michele shields his eyes with one hand).
You! Monster.
Well, I wouldn't even say I'm a monster: I've probably lost a bit of my former luster, but I'm still in great shape. I see you haven't learned yet that in front of me you need to protect your eyes with polarized lenses. Here, wear these Persols.
Why this stupid joke?
Frankly, Mikael, I don't know which of us is making fun of the other: or do you think I missed your mediocre plagiarism of Augustine? Those glasses look good on you; among other things they mask the tears: protocol doesn't require me to see you cry.
It was a quote, not plagiarism.
And yet, when quoting, you should always indicate the author's name, don't you think? Anyway, I'm here: spill the beans.
I don't mean to talk to you about it, Ishtar. Goodbye.
Why not? Empathy isn't my strong suit, but I'm extremely curious and, you'll admit, subtle in my analyses. Even involuntarily, I can help you untangle the tangled mess you are entangled in. What do you think of the play on words?
 
You are making a fool of me?
Absolutely not, what makes you think that?
I don't have to listen to you: on a dialectical level you have always been superior to me; I am suited for action, not for words: “let your words be yes and no”.
Again a quote without the author's name: you are incorrigible.
And you are the usual joker: you enjoy playing with words, you float on the surface of the form instead of paying attention to the substance. So you don't see the tragedy.
Interesting metaphor. But pure intellect is just like that, my dear: it grasps the form and laughs at it. This is why the comic is superior to the tragic.
Stop it: your puns are nauseating.
It depends. I know how to use my dialectical weapons in various ways. But let's get to us: I understand that you are suffering from an insignificant atom of nothingness that, who knows why, has taken up too much space in your welcoming spiritual being. I will never be able to understand the interest of you chosen spirits towards insignificant and, from all points of view, defective creatures. It occasionally happened that some of us, like Samael, felt carnal attraction to women particularly predisposed to copulation, but this had at least an aesthetic justification. Your case is different, it's more like an illness: you suffer for a creature who has nothing interesting about it, one of the infinite ordinary women who have followed one another in the history of the human species.
This insignificant atom of nothingness had been entrusted to me, I had to take care of it. I tried in total good faith: I believed I had given her everything she needed to be happy. Instead I lost her.
And where would the problem lie?
I failed on all fronts: I worked hard for my family, but my efforts came back like a boomerang. I don't understand where I went wrong: I helped my father with the factory, but business is getting worse and worse and he is more dull and depressed every day; my mother has closed herself off in a world of her own; my brother, that adorable child I carried in my arms, has become an antisocial liar, hangs out with dangerous people and has taken my wife to bed.
In love with him, I guess.
Yes. He also got her pregnant.
Congratulations Mika-el. A nice strike.
I should hate him, but you know that's not like me. I didn't even realize he was in danger; he pretended well, but this very thing should have alarmed me: pretense and lies are your weapons.
It's just that you've always been a little distracted, Mika-el; and also, if I may say so, rather presumptuous. You have sinned of hybris: not everything is under your control, you leave us too much room for action.
You're right, I'm distracted. However, my brother saved himself by going to live with a girl. She is the daughter of family friends, serious people.
In that case we have one less problem, right?
Maybe, but it remains a personal defeat: I didn't understand that he was ill, I wasn't able to protect him and he had to move away from me to save himself. She, on the other hand, doesn't have the strength: by moving away from me she will lose herself. She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know where to go, she will suffer a lot and I won't be able to do anything for her.
Mika-el, my goodness, you are so corny. It's the usual, hackneyed problem of weak souls: it's always happened. And leave her alone, right?
No, I can not.
You see dear, women like her are attracted to characters like me, except for the fact that I don't look like anyone. Besides, it's normal: corrupting souls is my job, although lately I've gotten a little bored.
Bored in what sense?
I'll explain it to you later, if I feel like it; but I don't think I will feel like it. Now let's come to your case. Forgive my frankness, Mika-el, but you have lost clarity: where did you think you were going with this mediocre parish play? It seems like a grotesque vaudeville. Who wrote the script? Let me meet him, I'd like to spit in his face. Dear God, he's a dog: it's a frayed text full of errors, your role is outlined in a summary and approximate way; moreover, you took him seriously, and this is an unforgivable gaffe for an actor: you know that you must always maintain a certain distance from the role you play, otherwise the character sticks to you like a second skin. An amateur interpretation: I marvel at you.
What would be the errors in the script, Iblīs?
There are a lot of them, you're spoiled for choice. For example, listen to this line again: "Spending time suffering from an unhealthy relationship is a luxury that I cannot afford, not to mention that I consider it the behavior of truly miserable people."...
Hello... Hello! I can't hear you well anymore, the line is disturbed...
Oh I know, it comes and goes. They are the Kuiper Belt kids, they enjoy playing pranks.
Huh? What?
Oh yes, well... we'll talk another time, Mika-el, I'll call you back later.
Hello... Hello!!!