There is something in people's dreams lately; I don't know what, but if anyone dreams an inexorably festive parade, I am out of here.
Just before I woke up, I dreamed I was lying in bed in an army hospital, where the bedstead was white cast iron and the ceiling plastered the color of a yellow peach, ribbed with whitewashed rafters; there was nothing else in the room to suggest a war. If there were windows, their curtains were drawn. I would have needed to turn my head to see the door. Out of the rafters started to bulge the throats and leaves of pitcher plants, translucent green and mottled with crimson, like the mouths of lizards. They were as densely clustered as barnacles; there was no sense of time-lapse in their proliferation. I knew they were not there in a way that anyone else could detect, even if I were to scream for the day nurse, and I knew that when they brimmed over, something terrible would happen. I screamed anyway, I think.
This was the only portion of last night's dreams that was not a nightmare.
Just before I woke up, I dreamed I was lying in bed in an army hospital, where the bedstead was white cast iron and the ceiling plastered the color of a yellow peach, ribbed with whitewashed rafters; there was nothing else in the room to suggest a war. If there were windows, their curtains were drawn. I would have needed to turn my head to see the door. Out of the rafters started to bulge the throats and leaves of pitcher plants, translucent green and mottled with crimson, like the mouths of lizards. They were as densely clustered as barnacles; there was no sense of time-lapse in their proliferation. I knew they were not there in a way that anyone else could detect, even if I were to scream for the day nurse, and I knew that when they brimmed over, something terrible would happen. I screamed anyway, I think.
This was the only portion of last night's dreams that was not a nightmare.
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