It was directed at his supporters, seeming to ignore millions of Egyptians, threatening massive chaos if he is ousted, and repeating the word legitimacy over and over (I wonder what Freud would say about that?).
"Ahmed, can you hear me?" The question brought me to the future, to the darkness, bullets and ambulance sirens.
"You will be on air in a few seconds."
I was in another flashback. To Wednesday night. All eyes were glued to the screens, in total silence, with flags swaying slightly in the tender air.
The deep voice of al-Sissi announced the temporary halt of the constitution and the appointment of the president of the constitutional court to lead the country in a transitional period.
Everyone was cheering; some were praying, thanking God. Civilians joined soldiers and officers in singing the Egyptian national anthem.
"Ahmed, you are on air."
I don't know what I said. Did I say I am against the death of anyone, whether he is with or against me? Did I say it is a win-win or a lose-lose situation?
I finished the interview in a few minutes and left the building. In few hundred yards, I melted into the protesters in Tahrir Square.
I hoped then - and continue to hope, even as the violence escalates - that the army will not let us down.
Al-Aidy is the author of the novel "Being Abbas el Abd." This essay, translated from Arabic by Nermin Abdelrahman, first appeared in The Washington Post.