“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
Oh, yes, the nightmares. She meant a very special kind of nightmares. They were not “nightmares” in the full sense of the word (we called them that to shorten it) and neither were they something very recurrent, but they continued happening with relative frequency, outside of my control. It was not normal. And the truth is that it had started to scare me a little. Anyone affected by all the traumas I myself had just mentioned aloud would at the very least have had themselves admitted to a psychiatric facility. However, I was still standing and trying to do my work for the public face of the family, and striving to be a good father behind closed doors.
There was a lot that was wrong, of course there was.
But, as I wanted to believe, it was a matter o
