This is a death dream
In the daytime
I go to the cemetery buildings
In search of books
And never do I find the right one
I just browse through death books
When it seems the ones I want are out
In the night time I go with friends to the cemetery
And the entire time concerns
Carousings and adventures within the cemetery
But all others are insincere and even silly
Some figures predominate and I compromise my
Especial meeting to go with them
I always attempt to get some of these friends to go with me
But they are afraid
It seems I do not want to go alone
And leave each successive night with hopes for
Tomorrow’s daytime excursion to the cemetery
Last time I was particularly upset
Despair that the right books will never be there
Because people will not bring them back and
My reliance is weak
I should find a way to require that which I want
Of special interest in the dream is the night time attraction
Of particular growing things
Which previously were cultivated in horror with another
In the night wanderings I attempt to get back to these to encounter horror
But they — others are afraid or silly
And one or two are not
But show me replicas which are not the same
This I know and am disappointed
Earlier for interest I had a wine bottle
Weird death monsters approached and I admitted them
As they filed past into my house
Not the bedroom where others were
They danced in the living room
Extremely macabre and death-like moves
Others saw them and sometime later expressed horror as they left
Or escaped
