One took place in the museum. When she was a little girl, the lady had visited a sculpture museum and had been quite taken by a statue of a male nude that didn’t have the customary fig leaf over its sex. But the reason for her astonishment, and the mild discomfort she felt, wasn’t because she’d seen what was usually hidden, but rather because it looked so small and slender compared to figure’s stature. At the time, her knowledge of the subject was rather vague, and she wasn’t precocious by nature. The matter had upset her unconsciously, and she had ended up forgetting the whole episode.

In the dream, the statue appeared to her at night, in a garden that was very dense and dark. It was extremely tall, and the head was lost in the shadows. The lady recognized the statue, and once again felt that same discomfort, though it was much stronger and more distressing. Her gaze hastened to the place that had upset her, but there was no trace of what she’d glimpsed back then. There was only the customary fig leaf. The lady knew it was the man in the hotel.

In another dream, the man turned up in an even more obvious manner. The whole town was on fire, and a terrified crowd was fleeing to the mountains. The lady tarried because she was looking for someone. At this point the gentleman entered the scene. He moved with long, slow strides, even though he was running. He ran fluidly, like someone filmed in slow-motion. The lady immediately recognized the gentleman’s legs, and their strange movements didn’t surprise her because she was used to observing the gentleman when he got up from the table. She’d noticed that he had long, agile legs, like a boy, but that his stride was slow and pliant, almost springing at the knees. The embarrassing thing was that the gentleman was wearing a flowing white nightshirt, the kind the lady had never seen, other than perhaps in some silent comedy from her childhood. All of a sudden, the lady knew she was dreaming, and she took advantage of this to satisfy her curiosity. She approached the gentleman and extended her hand, with the intention of lifting up the flowing gown, but just as she did this she woke up; or at least, that was the part of the dream she remembered.

There was a second conversation. The gentleman said he was waiting for a friend to arrive, to go up the glacier. This conversation was also very brief, but it didn’t end like the earlier one, because the gentleman didn’t leave. Instead something else happened.

The lady and the gentleman were seated across from each other, close to their usual window. All of a sudden, even before finishing his cigarette, the gentleman leaned his head against the window jamb and closed his eyes. The lady wasn’t offended, but she felt her heart clench in a brief burst of anguish. She looked at the gentleman’s face, nobly agitated even in sleep, and felt like crying. Then she turned towards the mountain, where the familiar fields of rye rippled in the wind like small lakes in a storm.