27.03 night
I don’t like dreams – I always have the feeling that I’m being taken for a ride. Last night I was lying on the sofa, half-asleep, half-awake, Philip Glass supplying the music, as usual. From there I looked down at a garden in the depths of which, and unrecognisable, a group of women were walking (always women). The images turned like a screw, spiralling up towards recognisability. I hoped that it would turn out to be my mother, my wife, my daughters, my granddaughters and my sisters. But I was punished for my scepticism – they were unknown women, I was alone – I wanted to complain, but remained silent. I got up and went outside.
Whenever I go out at night, the cats always appear from various directions. They walk along with me, normally not more than a hundred metres. This time they followed me through the wood to the low-lying wide pool where we could hear water birds in the reeds. After an hour I walked back towards the house, the cats disappeared to their own patch. I lay down on the sofa once more. To get ahead of the dream, I thought of old people doing exercises in a town park. The park was familiar to me, it was the one in the town where I was born. The old people had once been teachers at my primary school. I could hear them talking, I was glad that I was no longer dreaming.
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