The Dream in the Awakening

I was to start my work that day at six o'clock. Could I sleep quietly until then? No. I woke up three times to look at the watch.

I was wrong to worry. At five thirty precise my alarm rang. Finally reassured, I fell asleep again immediately.

I came back to myself the instant after, and got up with a bound. Then I began to climb the staircase, which leads to the office. Arrived at the landing of the first floor, I threw a glance backward. What I saw astonished me.

At mid-height, lying across on one of the steps, a dark form resembled a person. Yes, the more I looked the better I thought to recognize a woman. What bizarre shadow: slow, lazy, forgotten. Thereupon, the light goes out.

*

I press the button of the timer. Nothing. It

must therefore that the current is cut. If it is cut, no work. It remains only to return to bed, there is a story. I go down two steps and suddenly I remember the woman that I am going to trample. And where does she come from? What is she doing there? I feel suddenly that I lose my reason. I go up hastily, I press the timer and repress it like a lost one. From this wound to the spirit, does one ever heal? Ah! this time the light comes.

It's a chance! For an instant I had really believed to lose my reason. The shadow was no longer there. But saved, no. For I continued to press. It happened that I woke up. I was in my bed, and the work that awaited, what shame. I stood up. It was to fall into a new anguish.

For finally, since I was dreaming, the electricity it was me. It is I who had given myself this anguish. And if the timer had not played the second time? Why did I torture myself? By what perfidy? Why did I save myself? But if I had not had pity? I felt despair.

In favor of this debate, I had already passed my

shirt and my pants, and I climbed the staircase cheerfully.

(signed Maast, in Les Cahiers du Sud, January 1, 1945)