Sleight of hand,

The slightest touch,

Slighted and slighted,

Because you demand too much.

And why make demands? After all, it's all just a dream.

     But before—before it always seems so real. We, whose task is wakefulness itself? We? He who flees the world of dreamers awakens to a world of slumbering corpses, alone and haunted by an unfamiliar chill. The "he" is real—the "we": a dream.