from the fantastic patterns of dreams to the surrealistic behaving of reality

written in Dinglish (that's Germanic English)

Nόrnberg, Mittelfranken, 2007-11-17 - 4:20 a.m.

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it's level 43 – but don't count on me..

last night my friend Elfie called me – I can't quite remember why on one point of the conversation, she asked me how many stairs lead up to my flat on third floor.

well I live about 20 years now in my attick mansion but of course I had no idea how many stairs there are from street level to my floor & Elfie was shocked – “how could I not know?” -

I asked her how many stairs are there in your staircase? - she said “43” - I thought: “How could she know? - who counts stairs?” - in fact - like she told me – she counts everytime she walks somewhere her steps – she said, she just couldn't stop the counting – it goes automatically in her brain – it seems a compulsive act, like obsessional washing – maybe this counting is some kind of meditation to keep clear of any other thoughts? -

Even if I would try to count my steps, while walking from on place to another – I really would pretty soon lose concentration, while being involved in other thoughts – I really would totally confuse the numbers of steps, while walking some 100 meters.

I once had a grandfather who found out by counting his steps which way was more short than the other into town – for that task he had to walk both ways of about one kilometer & so found out that one way was about 50 meters shorter than the other. - meanwhile I have forgotten again, which one it was – not that it matters.

But at least he didn't count his steps usually – he concentrated on it just for this task.

Me – it seems – am pretty ignorant. - I don't even know by how many bricks my house is composed of, nor how many rooftiles are there on my roof, nor how many raindrops fell there on my roof, when it recently rained, nor how many hairs I have on my head – I classify them all as 'many' or 'more than enough'..

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