Late in the evening I receive an SMS. A friend writes to me: I just got from you and Angela Merkel dreamed of. You were hiking! I fall asleep and dream that I answer her: You had a chain dream. You had that dream, and now I dream it, and whoever carries it on is Angela Merkel. She has decided to spend one night with each German.
I ask: Ms. Merkel, that's nice, I like to wander, but how are the costs financed? EU funds?
She says: That interests me privately.
I ask: what now?
She says: Well, to walk with you.
I am flattered and ask: where are we going? Mark Brandenburg, Fontane, home?
Merkel's eyes darken: What does that mean?
I blush: Well, because … uh, it's close, content and local. They come from there, and I'm from Berlin …
But not originally, she calls gently.
And indeed I see that we walk on the way between Wembach-Hahn, the Hessian village where I grew up, and the Veste Otzberg, a castle in the Odenwald. I'm not surprised that Ms. Merkel wears my dad's 70's hiking holiday in Bavaria leather trousers.
You know, I say, I'm glad we're both hiking …
And she adds in my voice: … but my father was wearing his pants when we took a trip to Villa Haselburg, an old Roman villa in the Odenwald, with the 8c and he was there to assist as parent speaker. The pants were so embarrassing and the red and white plaid shirt too.
Yes, I say. I do not ask how she knows that – she is a respect person and knows more. And that annoys me. Typically me, that I think that respect people know more!
Merkel says: My knee hurts and I do not know if we can make it to Haselburg today.
I say we can do it.
With still punishing dryness she answers: Funny.
I am ashamed, I would like to say that I am proud that she has taken in the refugees, that I consider her one of the few heads of state who at that time acted to the best of my knowledge and belief and therefore acted appropriately. But there I see that Angela Merkel has become my mother.
Matthi, says my mother, she is now wearing the Merkel-Papa leather trousers, it is too far to the Roman villa today, but we can make it to the Otzberg. More precisely, we are already here.
Right! There is a well, 85 meters deep, measured by me personally as a twelve-year-old by Steinchenwurf.
My mother says: This time I have light on it. She lets down a glowing light bulb on a cable until just above the shimmering water surface.
Lux lucet in tenebris I still think, then the dream is over.