The Dreams

Dream 85

A tram station — and I was confused as to where in it I should wait for mine to arrive. But I was really awaiting the radiant face of the beauty in the window overlooking the stop, at which I kept on staring and staring.

My longing went on and on, and how many of my friends had asked me how long my torture would continue? Yet I was going on a trip that I could not avoid, as though it were Fate or Destiny. In truth, it was a strenuous, debilitating journey, much longer that I thought it would be. And on my return, the only thing that I could make out was a square-shaped enclosure, which was the window.

I spotted her within it, but she appeared to be mute, neither asking questions, nor answering them. As in the past, I stood beneath the aperture indifferent to the passers-by, until finally the sound of a conversation drifted down, like a whisper mingled with discreet laughter.

I heard a voice wonder, “What’s this guy’s story, the one who’s hanging around under the window?”

“He’s blubbering over the memory of a sweetheart — and her house,” came her giggling reply.