"All this had happened so often, both in dream and reality, that I could no longer separate one from the other. Neither did it seem all that important to do so. It was a fact that the pages crumbled and fell into pieces beneath my fingers. A fact that the crumbling bits stuck to my fingers...But this happened many times, both in dreams and in reality. that's why I didn't try to separate the two. When I was sure I was dreaming, the electric fan would suddenly stop and I would find myself bathed in sweat. Certain that it was real, I would raise a book in order to smell it, be awakened by the raindrops splashing on to my face through the open window. I didn't worry about it. Isn't it possible that some relationships should extend from dreams into reality, the others be spillover from reality into dream?"
-Ambai, Squirrel, originally published as Anil, October 1986
"Once Zhuangzi dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering around, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn't know he was Zhuangzi. Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuangzi. But he didn't know if he was Zhuangzi who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi."
ReplyDeleteThat was beautiful :)
DeleteDreams and reality both seamlessly interwoven...
ReplyDeleteI will have to get hold of the translated copy !