"One can dream anything...oh!"
"What is it, child?" For she had caught at her heart.
"Dreams...and not truth. Oh, are you here? Am I? Where are you—where are you? Hold me, hold me fast. Don't let it be just empty dreams."
"Hush, hush, my dear. Dreams aren't empty. Dreams are as near the truth as we can come. What greater truth can you ever have than this? For as men and women dream, they drop one by one the veils between them and the mystery. But when they meet they are shrouded in the veils again, and though they long to strip them off, they cannot. And each sees of each but dimly the truth which in their dreams was as clear as light. Oh, child, it's not our dreams that are our illusions."
"No," she whispered. "But still it is not enough. Not quite enough for the beloved that they shall dream apart and find their truths apart. In life too they must touch, and find the mystery together. Though it be only for one eternal instant. Touch me not only in my dreams, but in life. Turn life itself into the dream at last. Oh, hold me fast, my boy, my boy..."
"Hush, hush, child, I'm holding you..."
"You wept."
"Oh, did you see? I turned my head away."
"Why did you weep?"
"Because you thought I had misjudged you."