Forgot

When I was forty-six, my aunt in law told me that my mother's father was a staunch Nazi and had actively served Adolf Hitler. From then on, I was able to see my mother with completely different eyes and understand her limitless suffering. I also suffered from this knowledge and was deeply ashamed of my grandparents until the end of my life. From the moment I found out about my Nazi grandparents, I distanced myself completely from people and developed into a convinced, completely happy loner. I tried and tortured myself from my earliest childhood to be like the others. Unfortunately, over the years I had already copied and appropriated a great deal, too much, from the people here. And this made me sad and downright angry now and then. But in the end this realization of being different and not wanting to belong under any circumstances allowed me to discover the real me and actually become a deeply satisfied person. 

Strangely enough, a few days after I moved to boarding school, Steff came to a secondary school seventy kilometers from our home. From then on she lived with friends of my father's and only came to our parents' home on weekends and during the holidays. Just like me.

After moving into boarding school, my nightmares suddenly stopped. Overjoyed and satisfied, I slept through the nights without gruesome interruptions. And over time it became crystal clear to me that my father had to know something about my nightly and involuntary excursions. Because he asked remarkably often about my well-being and my night's sleep. And it seemed a lot easier for him when I answered his recurring question with a clear, definite 'Yes' and 'I'm fine, Papa' every time. How he knew about my nightmares and the giants, I couldn't explain.

Soon after I moved into this facility, in which only physically handicapped students lived, I realized for the first time that I had to be 'different'. And not because of my severe physical handicap, with which I was not noticed in any way at this boarding school. No, I had something about me that bothered my fellow human beings a lot and also seemed to scare them a little. At the same time, however, and this was the strangest part, it seemed that most of the people around me felt safe and understood with me. Because every time they were with me, I believed that almost all inhibitions were gone and they could tell me things that they would not confide in anyone else. I was even able to hypnotize my teachers with my gaze and my calm charisma, so that they gave me better grades and I got a better school leaving certificate. (Which, by the way, I am extremely ashamed of !!!!) Also my sisters sometimes chatted cheerfully, otherwise they seemed to be afraid of me.

I stayed at this boarding school near Frankfurt for eight years and felt pretty unhappy there. I was way too far removed from my family, whom I was unlikely to be attached to as a little girl. And even if I hadn't had those terrible dreams any more, I would have much preferred to have been home. The boarding school building was in a kind of park with many tall, old trees and a lot of green areas around them, where in the summer there was barbecues and lazy days on woolen blankets. There was even an enclosure with rabbits, guinea pigs and hamsters on the boarding school premises that we students had to look after. We were allowed to house the animals in our rooms in autumn and winter so that they would not freeze to death. In the boarding school itself there were six floors, on each of which there were three living groups. Up to ten students lived in these residential groups. At first I hated having to share my rather small room with another girl. And even if the room was twenty square meters, with two small desks, two built-in wardrobes and two beds it was still very small and cramped. Due to a lack of space, my wheelchair had to be in the hallway every night so that Luisa, my roommate walking, wouldn't stumble when she padded to the toilet in the dark and drowsy.

However, in retrospect I had to admit that I was absolutely lucky to have to share the room with Luisa, my classmate of the same age. Because I no longer slept alone in the room, these giants, whom I firmly believed wanted to kill me, had no chance of getting at me without further ado. And even if our room was equipped with a balcony, through which our classmates visited us unnoticed on mild summer nights, who were hardly physically restricted, it was difficult for the giants to get to me. Especially since the teachers took turns on duty at night and made patrols through the rooms every two hours. I also rarely dreamed of the giants during the rest of my school days at boarding school.

My second great luck was that Luisa wasn't physically handicapped at all and was able to protect me a little from these terrible monsters at night. However, the teachers deliberately divided the rooms so that a severely handicapped student could be with a slightly handicapped pupil. Because this enabled these two students to complement and support each other. And so Luisa drove the giants away a few times. However, it wasn't until a few weeks after we finished school that I found out that the giants were actually trying to rob me of my room two or three times a night. Fortunately, my roommate always believed that she had only dreamed of having saved me from the hands of the strange giants. And so she never asked me unpleasant questions. Only when we wrote to each other after our boarding school did she briefly tell me that she had had rather terrible dreams of strange giants, quite realistically.

Although Luisa wasn't physically impaired at all, she was an orphan who ran away from the children's homes where she was housed again and again. For this reason she finally came to our boarding school. And she felt so comfortable with us that she no longer felt the urge to run away and became calmer. She couldn't say why that was so. Luisa was an incredibly sweet, nice, sensitive and pretty girl. At the age of twelve she was already quite tall and slim, did a lot of sport, was hardworking in class and had alert, attentive gray-green eyes. It also had a very, very fine antenna. And her "fine antenna" was most likely the main reason why we became friends really quickly and well, despite my initial displeasure at having to share a room with her.

As I got older, I began to be more aware of my surroundings. I began to watch my fellow human beings more closely. It struck me more and more that the people in my immediate vicinity couldn't laugh heartily and honestly. At first I was very surprised, because laughing was something wonderful. Especially when it came up from the heart and from very, very deep down. Later, in adulthood, I felt a kind of sadness and a little later even a kind of bitterness. Why couldn't people laugh heartily and honestly? I couldn't understand! I've heard of some cultures where laughter was seen as something completely normal and also something very, very beautiful. Only my closer contacts were not really cheerful. But even if the seriousness of my fellow men passed over to me over time, despite everything I tried to keep my humor and my hearty laugh and to laugh whenever it was possible and appropriate. But unfortunately, after many, many years, I too forgot my happy, exuberant laugh. And this terrified me deeply. However, it wasn't just me who noticed that most parts of society were quite humorless, but Finn too. Because my long-time friend also loved to laugh at each other in a twisted way. And after we learned that we did not come from planet earth and had made the acquaintance of numerous other witches and wizards, who all felt exactly the same, we mostly just called the people "the creatures without hearty laughter".