"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."
. . . . .
Now that spring is waffling in and the trash remains on the porch another week after weeks of being left behind because it is Friday morning (and when is there anything extra left on Friday morning?) the bottle green flies will enter the screens to set the porch alight. Meanwhile, something departing by today's post and clouds flying by the office window. The bare tree in the frame shivers in the sun.
***
"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"
[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]
