On his part, he also attempted several conciliatory moves that didn’t reach a safe harbor. At some point he tried to lure me to his side, though I haven’t yet found out what he proposed to me exactly. By the looks of it, it seems he tried to use me to appease the workers’ spirits.
I am working and someone proposes something to me. I hear my name is Jérôme. And though at the beginning I didn’t see anything, later on I saw the one who was proposing it to me was Étienne, dressed much more elegantly than I am, wearing a shirt with wide, rolled-up sleeves, always sweating due to the effort (I wipe off the sweat on my brow with my right forearm). I don’t like his proposition, and I ask him, “Why me?” I think it is because I defend my colleagues’ interests well. It is as if we constituted a guild or something like that and I always was trying to improve the economic situation. The word syndicate comes to me. But I don’t know what he proposes to me, although I have felt at some point that I could have been also part of the government or the Town Hall, before things got worse and there were a excision or something like that… before things ended up getting bloody.
(Regression November 20th, 2012).
I suppose that after this, Étienne also realized there wasn’t anything else to do… only he didn’t dare to tell me face to face. One day I saw myself inside my home, little more than a humble cabin in the outskirts, in a high area of the town. I was helping my son, who was five or six years old by then, to write on the kitchen’s table. I also saw a daughter below one year of age in her mother’s arms. Someone knocked on the door and I opened it. I was given a sealed letter. When I opened it I saw it was Étienne’s, telling me he couldn’t do anything to help me. As I was reading the letter a great rage and a great disappointment settled in my soul. That was a low blow for me. He was the only hope we had. I considered it a grave betrayal of our friendship, I trusted him… Infuriated, I went to the Town Hall and tried to walk into it to demand him an explanation, but I couldn’t reach him because someone stopped me taking me by the arm. There were guards, or bodyguards or police agents… I am not sure if I did confront him, but flashes came to me which showed that at some time I managed to get to the office and yell at him, with the crumpled letter in my hand. I think this happened another day, as in this first occasion I saw him going out of the building and sneaking away among the public workers.