In my dream I was watching an opera
on television. Already this was strange, as in waking life I'm utterly
uninterested in opera. It appeared to be a nineteenth-century Italian opera. A
pair of twins—short, fat, bald, dark Sicilian-looking men in Renaissance
costume—were singing an aria in unison. I knew that they were singing about
guilt, but I don't know whether this was because I understood the words or was
familiar with the libretto. Then I realized that one of the twins had just
realized that the other twin was not his brother at all, but rather a
manifestation of his own guilty conscience.
At this point, Roberto
Benigni, the Italian comic actor, appeared on stage singing the same aria. He
seemed startled and upset by the presence of the bald twins. He made
exaggerated comic gestures that signaled his fear, as if in a silent film
comedy. He ran to the back of the set and hid behind a curtain, then peeked out
at the twins with an ambiguous smile on his face. At this point I could tell
that Benigni had realized that the twins were not real people, but rather
representations of his own guilt. This liberated him to leap out from behind
the curtain and continue singing his aria. The twins had disappeared.
The perspective in the dream
then shifted from the stage set on TV to the room in which I was watching the
program. There was another man in the room, sitting in a chair with his back to
me. He was a large, bald man. I had no idea who he was.
"What am I feeling guilty
about?" I said to the back of the man's head.
