“I had begun having nightmares about the reality of adult life as early as perhaps age seven. (…) Then, when real sleep descended, it becomes a real dream, and I lost the perspective of someone merely looking at the scene and I am in it β€” the lens of perspective pulls suddenly back, and I am one of them, one part of the mass of grey faced men stifling coughs and feeling at their teeth with their tongues and folding the edges of papers down into complex accordion creases and then smoothing them carefully out once more before replacing them in their assigned file folders. (…) and in the dream, as our eyes meet, it is impossible to know what the adult me is seeing or how I am reacting or if there is anything in there at all.”

from David Foster Wallace’s “The Soul is not a Smithy”, one of seven stories contained in the author’s book “Oblivion”


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