"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."
. . . .
Another brilliant sunny day.
Does there have to be something to do? I'm restless, shifting gears. Do you get like this at the start of summer? "But you're wasting it!" And: "But I don't know what to do first so why can't I read a book all day?" And: "You ought to be packing, baby. The road is open." But I'm on to none of those things. It's like clearing the desk to see what's what. A loathsome task.
***
1. Awe.
***
"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"
[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]
