My ideas were confused. In a peculiar way, the unreality of the outer world appeared to be an extension of my own disturbed state of mind.
I had never before met anyone who owned a telephone and believed in dragons.
Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.
Something in her demanded victimization and terror, so she corrupted my dreams, led me into dark places I had no wish to explore. It was no longer clear to me which of us was the victim. Perhaps we were victims of one another.
I had a curious feeling that I was living on several planes simultaneously; the overlapping of these planes was confusing.
She herself did not seem quite real. She was pale and almost transparent, the victim I used for my own enjoyment in dreams.
As her fate, she accepted the world of ice, shining, shimmering, dead; she resigned herself to the triumph of glaciers and the death of the world.
