It is clear: I am sick. I have never had dreams before. They say that for the Ancients, it was absolutely usual and normal to have dreams. Yes, of course, it seems their whole existence was just such a horrific carousel: green, orange, Buddha, sap. But we, here and now, know that dreams are a serious psychic disease. I also know: until now my brain was chronometrically regulated and gleaming, a mechanism without a single speck, but now . . . Yes, particularly now: I feel some kind of foreign body in there, in my brain, like a fine eyelash in the eye—the rest of you doesn’t feel it, but the eye
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