My name is Mathieu. I am a psychologist specializing in human behavior. I am starting work at an orphanage tomorrow morning, but last night, I had a strange, almost mystical dream, full of hidden messages—almost philosophical—about my life.
I was walking along the seashore. At that moment, I saw my body from a second perspective. I could see it moving: I was average height, about 1.75 meters, with brown hair and round glasses, giving me a cold, distant, almost too-intelligent appearance. My face was thin but radiant, with feverishly red cheeks; my lips were delicate and refined. As for my outfit, I wore my favorite suit: a dark blue two-piece suit, a light blue shirt almost white, and leather shoes. In that attire, I looked like a philosopher or a scholar.
But it didn't last. Suddenly, my vision was projected toward my body at high speed. I merged with it and regained my original perspective, no longer seeing myself from the second person. Everything happened very fast after that: a wave swept me into the ocean. I was in the water, unable to breathe, watching myself drown. I did not pray to God, for I was an atheist, yet it felt as though an underwater tornado was dragging me into the depths of an endless abyss. The sensation was agonizing, as if I were dying on the spot.
The deeper I fell into darkness, the easier it became to breathe. Suddenly, I was in the sky, among the infinite stars of the universe. It was magnificent—but the thought quickly turned to fear: my breathing accelerated, and the cold of space was unbearable. I screamed, but nothing came out, except a bubble of water or air. It gradually transformed into a black hole. I tried to escape, my breath unbearable, but the pain was worse: it felt as if every part of my body were being torn apart simultaneously.
I despaired of ending in tatters, yet the pull of the tiny black hole was too strong. My entire body was shredded, reduced to mush, and sucked into the black hole. Inside, I fell at a normal speed, but the world was disproportionate. The gates of hell were there. A thought crossed my mind: I was falling into hell, watching paradise from afar. A flicker of anger arose in my heart.
But a grotesque creature, with thousands of eyes and mouths but no body, made of mud, stared at me and kept saying:
— "You see us!"
— "Come join us!"
— "Paradise has rejected you too!"
Their words were icy, almost unimaginable. Each time they spoke, it felt as though all the already mutilated parts of my body suffered even more. I soon escaped this chaotic world, falling into darkness, with an increasingly bright light ahead. My body clung to it, but the sensation was strange and painful, as if cubes were being shifted within me.
I crashed onto the ground: thud! No injuries, yet something was odd in this world. The water reached my heels, and a path led to a house resembling a brain. When I looked at my reflection in the water, my body looked like a Cubist artwork, mixed with soft cubes. At this sight, I vomited. Half of my face was blurred, almost like melting wax. I touched my face with my hands, understanding nothing…
Suddenly, the house's door burst open with a loud crash. Silence fell. A man with a completely blurred face, black squares in place of his eyes, and a body far too large for a normal human, noticed me. He ran toward me at incredible speed. When he touched me… I woke up with a start, as if I had been killed in my dream. Another message, once again.
This is the story, roughly. What was my dream trying to tell me? Well, back to sleep: tomorrow, I start very early at the orphanage.
---
It was ten in the morning, and in the dining room, all the important people were there: the general director, Dr. Dupont, and many others, all wearing masks to avoid recognition in real life. They stood on a terrace, from which they could watch the poor children betray and manipulate each other to survive.
So… what was I doing there? Working, of course… but was it worth it?
I was in an office, about twenty steps away, organizing files. A sound of footsteps echoed behind me, at the door. It opened: a man entered. Tall, wearing a black suit under which one could see a white shirt. He must have been in his forties. His features were marked by fatigue, dark circles hollowing his face. His small brown eyes reflected a hardness, perhaps caused by trauma or shock. He looked at me and said, almost irritably:
— Come on, hurry up! You're not going to stay here while Dr. Dupont is waiting for you!
I stood to follow him. In any case, I didn't have much choice.
Exiting the office, I rejoined the place where the general director had given her speech to all the youths. We turned left to join the others. If you looked back, you could see a staircase leading down to the ground floor, where the nuns watched the teenagers. Their role: to prevent any escape. A valuable piece of information, even for me. They observed them like animals… yet these were human beings like us. But I wasn't sure they understood that.
When Dupont saw me, he smiled and raised his glass to all his "guests" in a charming, almost noble tone:
— I present him to you as a friend… but above all because this man changed the course of human psychic and behavioral studies: Mr. Mathieu!
At his words, applause erupted. Everyone turned toward me, their almost friendly smiles directed at me. A waiter handed me a glass of alcohol. A man shouted:
— To the arrival of our dear friend Mathieu!
Everyone raised their glasses to welcome me into this new world. Even the general director, even the famous Dr. Dupont, gestured with their glasses to greet me. They spoke among themselves like fanatics. Especially the woman… the general director. It was as if she knew everything.
Suddenly, she pointed outside, as if inviting us to watch a spectacle. And indeed, there was one: two teenagers fought to join a group. It looked like a return to the Middle Ages. But one thing was certain: the one leading the operations was either Dupont or the director.
Dupont was different. He wore a doctor's coat, but underneath, a dark gray two-piece suit and a blue shirt were visible. Always a small pen in the pocket and a notebook at hand. His large, delicate hands seemed made to wield a scalpel with incredible precision. Brown leather shoes, impeccable. All this gave him an air both noble and courteous, almost unreal… at the crossroads of scholar and doctor, with a hint of mad scientist.
He must have been in his thirties, maybe forties. Fine wrinkles marked the corners of his eyes and mouth. His pale complexion was lit by slightly rosy cheeks. He wore no glasses or accessories, except a gray watch. His gray-white hair, still partially dyed brown, was thinning. But behind that soft, charming lamb mask… hid a creature that the devil himself could have created in his image. Like the creature I had seen in my dream, all his words were filled with lies.
I really had to keep my distance from these people.
My gaze then fell on a teenager sitting on a bench. If I remembered the student list correctly, it had to be Pierre. On paper, he had no parents, no surname. A poor child abandoned at birth… Yet he was different from the others. Calm and composed. One could say he was a handsome man. Black, almost charcoal-like hair, steel-gray eyes… but behind that gaze, a shadow lurked. Cold, calculating eyes. The fine features of his face gave him an almost perfect beauty, worthy of a model. Strange for someone without social ties, who isolated himself from society.
He was not very tall: barely 1.70 meters, according to the records. His clothing was simple: a light blue t-shirt and black shorts, a calm and ordinary outfit. Yet a strange impression caught my attention: this young man had a lifeless gaze. Almost machine-like. It was dangerous!
I had to watch this boy named Pierre closely. He had to be part of Dr. Dupont's plan…
---
I got up from my bench to meet my future groupmates when suddenly, a strange feeling swept over me. As if someone were staring at me from behind. My neck tensed immediately, then became wet, as if a cold hand had just rested on my nape. Someone was watching me, hidden in the shadows. I had to act quickly.
I had in mind eleven victims, if you could call them that: eleven people socially excluded from the orphanage, also rejected by their peers. People destined, without a doubt, to end up in the last group. But such people are well aware of their place. That is why my first target had to be an innocent girl, a bit naive, perhaps even foolish. It would give me a softer, protective image… and help inspire trust among the other outcasts.
End of this episode.
And thank you for reading it.