... I found myself in the room where I really was lying. A double bed set in concrete; the bed, the curtains and the cover on the bed-stand were all made of the same old fabric we would nowadays call retro, too many mirrors on the cupboards and a chandelier that harmonized with the night-lamps. The people around me were Transylvanian writers, I explained to them that once in Cluj-Napoca in the bar ..., and then one of them told me he did the same thing, only a couple of years earlier than me. Then an actor approached me, came closer and closer, the bed was placed in the middle of the room and an unconscious alcoholic was sleeping right behind it. They asked about stuff and then I tripped in other people's suitcases. Weird things happened next that I don't remember clearly. Suddenly I realised I was hallucinating. I tried coming out of it, but the unsolvable happenings formed a thick layer around me head. I knew I had gone crazy and I can't stop my brain. And then I felt like I did it, it stopped, I was on the left side of the bed, seconds away from fainting. I woke up and looked at my watch; I had fallen asleep about 29 minutes earlier. My dream played a part in reality (or was it reality that played a part in my dream?), I tossed and turned until ten to in between the three seemingly very true realities: I had no say in either of them and all three were unprovable. I was hallucinating in my dream, I went crazy and I diagnosed myself. I felt this inert dread come over me. We keep struggling for life like a bee that drowns in tea with honey and our dreams grow on us like gladiolus grows over a child every day, until eternity ...
I speak of myself in the past tense. I'd like to watch my inexistence.
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