He knew that she had been dreaming that night, and he knew what her dreams were about. She had forgotten them. He forebodes to look at her. It gave him a grim, horrible, and rather uncanny sensation to think that a vivid, lacerating life could go on when one sunk in unconsciousness, a life so real that it could cause tears to stream down the face and twist the mouth in woe, and yet when the sleeper woke left no recollection behind.
— W. Somerset Maugham
Christmas Holiday
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