I wish herein to tell a few dreams, those which most intensely disturb or console a being who has dreamed considerably. Since adolescence (save for one or two exceptions, I scarcely remember my childhood dreams), I have been accompanied throughout my nocturnal life by a dozen disquieting or propitious dreams, as identifiable as musical motifs’ and susceptible, like them, to infinite variation. These dreams subdivide into groups, into clearly distinguishablefamilies, similar to the provinces of some mysterious country that might only be visited with closed eyes. The reappearance of a selfsame character, of an object, of a detail of scenery, of the same sensation in my sleeping mind permit me to mark this or that nocturnal region where previous dreams had already transported me, but which I can never be sure of visiting again in thefuture. There is the region of dreams of remembrance, dominated by thefigure of my deadfather; the cycle of ambition and pride, which I have seldom wandered except during the nights of my twentieth year; the cycle of terror, the most primitive of all, populated with phantasmagoria of prisons, lepers, dragons, and torn-out hearts, but which I penetrate lessfrequently than before, since with time, dread diminishes like hope, and we will doubtlessly grow old as reassured as paupers, who have no reason to fear the theft of their misfortune.*
KeywordsFoam Mold Sponge Mane Excavation
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