Does France Really Exist?

Several years ago, I was backpacking across Europe and was staying at a hostel in Spain. There I had the pleasure of meeting a fellow named Mathieu, and after our initial greetings we decided to grab some drinks and head to the rooftop to celebrate our newfound friendship over a bottle of wine. "So where are you from?" I asked. "France," he replied, which drew a big laugh from me. "Good one," I said, taking a sip from my glass. This Mathieu was a funny guy. "France is not real though." "Oh but it is," he said, chuckling. "I am from Franche-Comté, a region of France close to the Swiss border. Haut-Doubs more specifically. It's a pretty cold area with lots of forests." I looked at him strangely. "My family used to go to a ski resort in Métabief every winter, I have some pretty nice memories of that place," he continued, taking a sip of his own. I smiled - he was trolling for sure. The details felt very specific though, as if it was something he had rehearsed a lot. He must be a very playful person who pulls this joke on a lot of people. I decided to prod him a bit more - that would surely poke some holes in his antic. "Oh yeah? Where did you go to school?" I asked. "For secondary school, I went to Lycée Victor Hugo. And for college, I went to Université de Lorraine in Nancy. I actually wanted to go to one of the colleges in Strasbourg, but the area was too expensive..." As I listened to him go on about his upbringing, it occurred to me that he might be suffering from a form of deep psychosis and had somehow made up a whole story in his head about being from France, to which anyone's knowledge, does not exist but in movies and books. The thought also occurred to me though, what if he was not lying, but France really existed? My brows furrowed and my grip tensed. That might mean that French people really exist, and that was a sobering thought that sent chills down my spine. As he trailed on about his childhood, the more intensely I felt the existential horror brought on by the possibility of France being an actual country. My mind reeling from the potential scenario, I was about to stand up and tell him I will perhaps retire to my quarters, when I looked at the clock on the wall and realized something was off about it. I peered at it closer and saw that the clock hand was moving counterclockwise. I woke up with a cold sweat. It was only a dream. Relief flooded my mind. To this day, I sleep peacefully, knowing that France is not real, and that French people exist only as characters in the media. This is a satire post, I love my French friends 🫶