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I was dreaming, that is, but not now--not now that I am awake.
There's a lot of things I have forgotten since I woke out of these
dreams, though I knew them at the time when I was--I suppose it was
dreaming. They called the year differently from our way of calling
the year . . . What did they call it?" He put his hand to his
forehead. "No," said he, "I forget."
He sat smiling weakly. For a moment I feared he did not mean
to tell me his dream. As a rule I hate people who tell their
dreams, but this struck me differently. I proffered assistance
even. "It began--" I suggested.
"It was vivid from the first. I seemed to wake up in it
suddenly. And it's curious that in these dreams I am speaking of
I never remembered this life I am living now. It seemed as if the
dream life was enough while it lasted. Perhaps--But I will tell
you how I find myself when I do my best to recall it all. I don't
remember anything clearly until I found myself sitting in a sort of
loggia looking out over the sea. I had been dozing, and suddenly
I woke up--fresh and vivid--not a bit dreamlike--because the girl
had stopped fanning me."
"
"
The girl?"
Yes, the girl. You must not interrupt or you will put me
out."
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