What goes on in dreams, where the laws of physics and probability are suspended, is far more interesting than what goes on in waking life. To demonstrate, here is a dreamt scene of professor Vladimir Nabokov’s on a night in 1964, from notes he made in the morning:
Clear end of one: am correcting, with other people, students’ examination papers. Of the three I get, the first read proves to be a little masterpiece. The name of the student is Mostel (not known in waking life). I am wondering what to give him, an A or an A+. Cannot find my pencil and am, moreover, upset by a sordid and complicated love affair with another’s wife (unknown in waking life and not shown in dream). A colleague (I have never in my life corrected papers collectively!) urges me to finish my batch. I still can’t find an implement to write with and furthermore am badgered and hampered in my movements by the betrayed husband, a very small man who works with his arms as he pours out a torrent of complaints. In exasperation I take him and send him flying and spinning into a revolving door where he continues to twist at some distance from the ground, in a horizontal position, before falling. Awkward suspense: is he dead? No, he picks himself up and staggers away. We return to the exam. papers.
(Quoted from “Textures of time,” page 15 of the Times Literary Supplement, October 31, 2014.)
For a brief biography of Vladimir Nabokov, click here. For images of or relating to Vladimir Nabokov, click here.
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