as i dream about movies they won't make of me when i'm dead -

'he's dreaming now,' said tweedledee: 'and what do you think he's dreaming about?'

alice said 'nobody can guess that.'

'why, about you!' tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. 'and if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?'

'where i am now, of course,' said alice.

'not you!' tweedledee retorted contemptuously. 'you'd be nowhere. why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!'

'if that there he was to wake,' added tweedledum, 'you'd go out - bang! - just like a candle!'

'i shouldn't!' alice exclaimed indignantly. 'besides, if i'm only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, i should like to know?'

'ditto' said tweedledum.

'ditto, ditto' cried tweedledee.

he shouted this so loud that alice couldn't help saying, 'hush! you'll be waking him, i'm afraid, if you make so much noise.'

'well, it no use your talking about waking him,' said tweedledum, 'when you're only one of the things in his dream. you know very well you're not real.'

'i am real!' said alice and began to cry.

'you won't make yourself a bit realler by crying,' tweedledee remarked: 'there's nothing to cry about.'

'if i wasn't real,' alice said - half-laughing though her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous - 'i shouldn't be able to cry.'

'i hope you don't suppose those are real tears?'

(vienā no pirmajiem sapņiem, ko atceros (piecu, sešu gadu vecums), pēc tam, kad man kāds pirms iemigšanas bija lasījis šausmu stāstu par sarkangalvīti, bēgu no vilka, un tad ilgi skaidroju vecmāmiņai, ka es, atšķirībā no viņas, esmu īsta, un tāpēc tagad pamodīšos. arī viņa raudāja, kad teicu, ka viņa ir tikai sapnis... bet dzīvē viss nāk atpakaļ. lūisa kerola atriebība.

nē, nopietni. dzīvē viss nāk atpakaļ. cik ilgi jānodzīvo, lai izgudrotu velosipēdu. maiji arī nāk atpakaļ. paldies dievam. )