"I do not understand it, Wistik! That I have a dream-life—that I travel with you in the night, that I do understand. But how did my clothes get here? Do my clothes dream, too?"
"Why not?" asked Wistik.
Astonished, Johannes continued to meditate. The water swirled and splashed all about the hollows in the rocks. The exquisite warbling of a yellow-finch rang sweet and plaintive from between the clefts.
"But if everything can dream, then everything must be alive—my trousers too, and my shoes."
"Why not?" said Wistik again. "Just prove to me that they are not."
The way to do that was not clear to Johannes.
"Or perhaps," he resumed, "perhaps I make everything—rocks, sea, light, and clothing. One or the other; I dream it and make it, or it dreams everything itself and makes itself."
"It cannot be any other way," assented Wistik.
"But then, I could make something else if I wished to."
"I think so, too," said Wistik.