A collection of dreams, anonymously received and randomly assigned to be illustrated.
“ I remember a fairly spartan oftalmologic office, with dark green chair and all the classic ophthalmological equipment.
I’m seated, my chin resting on a telescope and on my nose a pair of glasses with a thousand lenses and a super heavy frame.
When the visit is over I get rid of it, and suddenly realize the oculist is my father (who died a few years ago, and was a biologist!).
He writes me on the blackboard -8.3, my new gradation: quite pissed off, I tell him it’s not possible my vision has deteriorated so much.Before waking up, my father tells me: “la realtà non è così come credi di vederla”
(”reality is not what you think to see”). ”