"Where, Wistik?"
"In that still autumn day, where the gold on the tree-tops never fades, and a branch never breaks. Do you remember?" asked Wistik, hardly above a whisper.
Johannes nodded, in silence. After a while he said:
"It is splendid, Wistik, that I still remember, even in the night, and stay awake and knowing things, even although my body is asleep in bed. I will not be dead and lie down like a log, forgetting everything, as some do in sleep. Neither will I dream all sorts of nonsense, as if every night I grew foolish. That is shameful. I will not do so."
"Right, Johannes! No one wishes to be dead, and no one wishes to be foolish. And when human beings sleep they are dead, and when they dream they are foolish. None of that for me!"
"I shall try to live in my sleep, and to be wise in my dreams," said Johannes. "But it is hard, and time flies so fast!"
He gazed at his hands, his limbs, and his whole body. He had on his handsomest suit. In amazement, he asked:
"What body is this I have on, Wistik? And how silly to wear clothes. What clothes are these?"
"Do you not see? They are your own clothes."
So it was. Johannes recalled them precisely. And he held in his hand one of Marjon's blue forget-me-nots.