Last night I dreamt I was flying. A tree was growing on a chair, and I could eat its ripe fruit—I'm not sure if they were apples or hearts… I remember I was playing with Porfirio, my friend, my dearest friend. I don't remember if time was moving forward or backward, but a strange feeling of the past becoming present disturbed me. A beautiful, billowing cloud rained buttons, or were they seeds? As I flew through a starless sky, a dark hand caught me until I turned to dust. What a strange dream!