Záviš Kalandra

The Reality of Dreams

At dawn after a long February night, I had a dream that ended with the following sound image:

A wide river with a completely still surface is damned by a weir. In the middle of it, there is a sluice – the only thing I can see at that point. High, seething waves are rushing through the sluice, carrying away a tangle of old metal that spins across them as if it were wood. Big pieces of rotten girders and heavy chains bump into each other, making one hell of a row.