I dread people telling me their dreams. I never quite know how to react: of course they’re surreal and strange, they’re dreams – not reality.
So let me tell you about one of mine…
I hardly ever remember my dreams unless I wake up in mid flow laughing or in a state of utter terror. A couple of nights ago I was putting the finishing touches to the picture above when I realised that its subject could in fact be a ghost or a corpse. With that thought I went to bed, read a few pages of Stacy Schiff’s book on the Salem witches and awoke a few hours later, disoriented by the following dream which I’ve tried to convey in the chopped-up way that I remembered it:
Where would the path have led us if we’d followed it to the very end?
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