"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"
"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."
"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."
Saturday, March 4, 2006
the river, my river, the crossing toward the swimming hole seven miles up the road, the easy nobody fishes here place to get to by the trees that mark our fires
