Sometimes you have a dream. And you get involved, you believe in it, you love it. In the morning when you open your eyes, the two worlds are still confused. The brilliance of the light blurs the faces of the night. You’d like to remember, you’d like to hold them back. But they slip between your fingers, the brutal reality of day drives them away. What did I dream about, you ask yourself? What was it happened? Who was I kissing? Who did I love? What was I saying and what was I told? That you find you’re left with a vague regret for all those things that were or seemed to have been. You no longer know what it was that was there all around you.
Queen Marguerite from Exit the King, Eugene Ionesco (via viviandior)