In this chapter, Bauby reveals that, over the last eight months, the only food or drink he has actually swallowed are a few drops of lemon-flavored water and half a teaspoon of yogurt. He tells us that he receives his daily calories from two or three bags of brownish fluid per day, administered directly to his stomach through a tube.

He then contrasts this current state of affairs with a vivid recounting of his ability to summon sumptuous meals from his memories through the power of his imagination. In his mind, he treats himself to whatever meal he fancies at any given moment—from a perfectly-tender boeuf bourguignon to a simple soft-boiled egg with buttered and salted toast. He further elaborates: “indigestion is never a problem. Naturally, I use the finest ingredients: the freshest vegetables, fish straight from the water, the most delicately marbled meat” (36). He then provides more details about his imaginary feasts, specifying that not only they are always perfect, but they also match the seasons. He ends the chapter by revealing that sausage is one of his favorite foods, and that his fondness for it dates back forty years. When he was a child, he would ask his grandfather’s nurse for a sausage every time he visited his grandfather’s gloomy apartment.