In those very few societies in which monolingualism is the norm, bilinguals are sometimes asked which language they dream in. The answer is, of course, invariably: ‘It depends what or whom we are dreaming about.’ That tends to put monolinguals in their place: they show respect for the rhetoric. In fact, the correct answer is that as bilinguals we are unable to keep our languages entirely apart even in our dreams. We may associate certain expressions or phrases with particular events, gestures, or faces, but in our dreams as in our everyday conscious communication we strive for the absolute liberty to use our entire linguistic repertoire freely, with no constraints, and we adore those moments when we can converse with fellow bilinguals who understand and even encourage us to do so. Language contact is about the way we live with the expectation that even our dreams should be monolingual, about how we bypass these restrictions and mix our languages in actual conversation, and about the way in which even monolinguals sometimes end up enriching and re-shaping their own form of speech thanks to their interaction with bilingual individuals. This is essentially the idea that is presented, in somewhat more detail, in the following chapters.

I feel fortunate to have been raised in a multilingual environment and in a multilingual family, and I owe many of the insights that I am able to present here as my own to the stimulating and compelling circumstances that allowed me to participate, observe, and reflect on the way individuals and societies practice language contact.