Maximilien Marie Isidore Robespierre (rabid_lamb) wrote in mourir_libre,
Maximilien Marie Isidore Robespierre


September is so full of memories. Not, I am obliged to say, very pleasant ones.

You know, a woman once left flowers in my passageway. I remember the color of them, though of course the only scent was the burnt oak and ice water smell that everything takes on, here. Nowadays there aren't even leaves falling. Just people-- in waves-- faceless, unfamiliar. Are we here under Providence?

I've been waiting for an answer for years.
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I'm surprised you don't think that you have one already.
Oh, Camille. I thought you'd gone.
I never really go anywhere, you know.
You went to Rome. I had a dream in which you went to India, it was curious. You wore indigo robes and rode an elephant. You had a black dot on your forehead like a star, and there were other extraordinary things.
It would have been much more extraordinary if I had done those things in Rome. Or France.
When I dream of you in France you frequently have a wing for one arm. Once you were perched among the trees in the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was winter, so the branches were bare and I could see you quite clearly. You had on a linen shirt and you had torn out the sleeve for your wing. How tragic it was. I knew you were never going to fly.
Max . . . Max. You still think I'm a dove.
You could have been a pigeon. Or a loon. It wasn't really specified, in the dream.
That makes me feel much -- safer. Yes.
In fact I think that you were once a heron, in my dreams. Obviously when you were a heron you did not nest in the Jardin du Luxembourg. That would have made no sense at all.
Where did I nest, then?

I don't believe I have ever made much sense anyway. Less than average people, I'm sure.
You didn't nest at all. You went skimming down the Seine just as smoothly as you please. You had rather large gray-blue wings; I think you were going out to sea. In fact in the dream I was sure of it, and went running along the riverbank trying to keep pace with you, though I knew that in the end we'd reach the coast and I couldn't follow you anymore.

I have so many dreams I could tell you about, Camille! Would you like to hear about my dreams?
Oh, yes! I would certainly love to! Please do tell me all about them.
Once I had a dream in which I was standing in a great hall filled with white marble statues. The antique kind of statue, you know. They all had such pale implacable faces. Their eyes were blank. I took a chisel to one and it split open from the heart out; great chunks of stone went splintering across the floor, and you were inside shivering and covered in fine white dust.

Once I dreamed that we were alone in a little boat just off the coast of Iceland, with glaciers floating in the water all around us. I was admiring the ice and speaking about natural history, and you gave a sad cry and turned into a seagull and flew away.

Once I dreamed you brought me a book and told me that inside of it was all your heart. But when I opened the book I found that it only contained a smaller book, and when I opened that book there was a smaller book again. I kept opening and opening the books until I woke up.

Oh, I've had so many interesting dreams about you!
I don't know if my dreams about you are so pretty.


11 years ago


11 years ago


11 years ago