Kafka kept me waiting - a memoir of a dream

The rain fell heavy on the pavement. You could hear the tires squish and they pressed it to the concrete. This sound was my first inkling that it was raining, and raining hard. I pushed back my bedding and slowly stretched myself into the morning. A soft knock on the door heralded the morning tea; black, strong, with two perfect white cubes next to the cup and teaspoon. 

Trying in vain to remember the events of the night before I grabbed the book next to the bed and flipped through the pages. Nothing read familiar to me, yet I know I read for many hours last night. Maybe I was more tired than I had imagined. Or maybe I was merely flipping pages to my own worrisome thoughts. I had waited for months for this book to arrive and now I find that once again Kafka has kept me waiting.


Until next time,