So why am I so uneasy? Why are my hands trembling so badly that my writing is scrawly, why this pounding of my heart, and why am I still so cold? In movies a character sometimes realizes that he was only dreaming the bad things, I’ve used the trick before myself, in Lola and Uncle, but the truth is: When you’re awake, you know that you’re awake. Am I dreaming? is not a question anyone asks seriously. I know I wasn’t dreaming. But I must have been dreaming.
