There were so many things about her which he could not understand. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes.
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