15 June 2010

"i dreamed that we were together in some old-fashioned room. i read at the table. on the other side, j. lay on a wide bed, also reading in his favorite position. through a window directly across from him, the light of the rising sun fell on his body. i buttoned up some kind of white bathrobe and ran to kiss him.

-- i greet you with the rising sun! i called out. we never speak like that in life.

in dreams artificial, literary formulas sometimes turn up.

it seems that the dead always appear in our dreams just before we wake. in this way they remain somehow half real.

in my dreams his body is always phosphorescent blue."

/ excerpt from the journal of poet anna kamienska