Soren Kierkegaard

day, August26, 1848, drivenby an obscureimpulse, he traveledto Fredens-
borg and stayed at the Great Inn. Kierkegaard felt inexplicably happy and
strangely confident that he would encounter the Olsen family, who often
stayed in Fredensborg toward the end of the summer. When he arrived, no
one was to be seen, however. He took his usual walk down along the
Skipper Alle ́e, a long, straight road that starts in front of Fredensborg Castle
and slopes downward toward Esrom Lake, ending at the Skipper House.
When Kierkegaard reached the house he chatted a little with a boatman
named Thomas, who correctly observed that this was the first time the
magister had been in Fredensborg that year. Kierkegaard asked casually how
often Councillor Olsen had actually been there in the course of the year,
andThomasreplied thattheonlytime hehadbeentherehad beenonEaster
Sunday. Kierkegaard then walked back up to the Great Inn and ordered his
dinner, but just as he began to eat, a man walked past the window and
caught his attention: Councillor Olsen!
Kierkegaard very much wanted to speak with the councillor and if possi-
ble to reconcile with him, but he could not do it with a mouth full of food!
Before he could finish chewing his food and put down his napkin, the
councillor had vanished. Kierkegaard looked for him and began to get im-
patient, for he had to return to Copenhagen before long. So he decided to
take a walk down Skipper Alle ́e; he justmightencounter the councillor
there, but he promised himself that he would only take one look. And,
indeed, there stood the elderly man. Kierkegaard had many strong feelings
about him: “I go over to him and say: Good day, Councillor Olsen. Let us
speak togetherfor once. He tookoff his hatin greeting, butthen he brushed
me aside with his hand and said, ‘I do not wish to speak with you.’ Alas,
there were tears in his eyes, and he spoke these words with stifled emotion.
So I walked toward him, but then the man began to run so fast that it would
have been impossible to catch up with him even I had wanted to. I did,
however, manage to say this much, and he heard it: ‘Now I make you
responsible for not listening to me.’ ”
Kierkegaardwasthirty-five yearsold,thecouncillor wassixty-four.Nev-
ertheless, it was impossible to catch up with him. And now, a year later, he
was dead, and Kierkegaard had never managed to say what he wanted to
say to the man he respected so highly and whose daughter he had sinned
against out of melancholy love. He had even considered “dedicating some
piece of writing to the memory of Councillor Olsen,” but it never came to
anything, and now the idea would not do at all. During the night of June
27–28, 1849, Kierkegaard slept fitfully and had a mysterious dream. He
otherwisenever wroteabout hisdreams, andthis onewas notin factwritten
down in his journal untilmonthslater. He could not remember whether he