sethkates:

We’ll act as if all this were a bad dream.
                                                                A bad dream.
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream.
                                                                 A bad dream.
I remembered everything. I remembered the cadavers and Doreen and the story of the fig tree and Marco’s diamond and the sailor on the Common and Doctor Gordon’s wall-eyed nurse and the broken thermometers and the Negro with his two kinds of beans and the twenty pounds I gained on insulin and the rock that bulged between sky and sea like a gray skull.