FLOWER LANGUAGE

the dream of a former diplomat

This morning I woke up with the memory of my dream that night. We were standing side by side with Vladimir Putin at the dining table in our former family kitchen.

Yes, he appeared to be rather short, and I can not remember whether the sinks of the apartment have been welded down beforehand.

Putin commented the bunch of red roses in my hand with admiration mixed with some envy.

- Roses are rather expensive in Moscow this time of the year. – he said.

- They are surely much cheaper in Georgia – I replied without much hesitation. Then I reconsidered what I just uttered and waited for his response with some tension.

He smiled and gave a short answer:

- Yes, flowers are surely blossoming all over in Georgia now as well, I presume.

He presented his right for a handshake, which I accepted with a short, yet noticeable apprehension. As if an eternal moment would have passed between his offer and my acceptance.

Putin turned around swiftly and left the apartment with my sister as his translator.

 I woke up murmuring to myself: you f...g idiot, you can give the right answer even in your dreams, now wonder your diplomatic career was cut rather short. Needless to say, I have never been to Georgia.