‘‘I wonder that the great master who knew everything, when he called Sleep the death of each day’s life, did not call Dreams the insanity of each day’s sanity.” (Dickens, Night Walks).
It’s human arrogance to assume your dreams are your own.
”I am a dream planter by day” he said, and held out his hand.
So, there I was in Corsica with these red lizards, whilst someone who claimed to know my father biblically, developed a sudden, hoarse cough.
Wonderful, Jan (& C. Dickens!)