"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."
. . . .
Alone in my house with suitcases and a closet. Overcast and overgrown. The fan rattles the pinata. A car passes in the street, a generator kicks on. No birds sing.***
"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"
[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]
