I had a dream and the man I met was a from Normandie, a very difficult man who haunted me each time I had a dream in english. I often have a dream in english because of apartrental and all what I have to write in this language. Though it is hard not to hear it when one is visiting the Tour Eiffel, le Louvre or Le Marais in the City of Lights. It was not an artificially produced dream nor a sleeping one but a virtual one. I was going out the RER at Port Royal, near the university René Descartes, when I met him and he told me he was born just there, at the corner of the Boulevard Port Royal and Saint-Michel. As B is a great connaisseur of the english I did not tell a word. He informed me that the place where he was born, here, was only at ten meters of the Closerie des Lilas at Montparnasse. I didn't move as I couldn't get the clue of what he was trying to tell me. At home, hours later, looking on the web about the famous café, I understood and remembered the book of Hemingway who liked to sit down there and write. I had read only the three first chapter of a moveable feast, about the Place Saint-Michel, Miss Stein and the Lost generation. Now, I had to go on with the fourth, about Shakespeare and company, and particularly the library of Silvia Beach, 12, rue de l'Odéon. Many thanks to B, the man of my dream.