The Dream

In a dream last night it had all come together. I'd figured it out. I was a successful writer. I had a following -- modest, but devoted. I was earning a decent income pursuing my craft. I was happy with my position.

I would never be popular: I saw that. I could not sway the crowd but I might appeal to a little circle of kindred minds. The English critics, perhaps, would recognize me as one of the Celtic school by reason of the melancholy tone of my poems; besides that, I would put in allusions!

Yes, it's true that my dream may have resembled Little Chandler's musings as he made his way through the streets of Dublin but by GOD Little Chandler never worked as hard or as long as me.