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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 31 | volume VI | March-April, 2003



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 31March-April, 2003
Prose

I Turned towards the Wall and I Continued Sleeping

(Leoncibitaljio)


/6
p. 1
Mihajlo Pantić

Because dreams have no power
    over the man who, if he wants, forgets even real events
    easily and quickly, and he does not even remember his dreams at all

    Ivo Andrić

Her arms were stronger than mine…
    Vlada Divljan

     Unlike me, my wife remembers her dreams. And her dreams are deeper. When she was thirteen, a middle-aged man who looked like I do now, appeared in her dream and told her “You’d marry the one whom you beat at arm wrestling.” And just as the unknown man told her that, she woke up and decided, once and for all, with a clear mind, as if she had not just awaken from a deep sleep, that that was how it was going to be. She knew what she was supposed to do, a thirteen year old girl, still flat chested. She rolled the few pieces of clothing she had in a bundle, just like in a story, bid good-bye to her surprised parents and went to another city. Her mother told her at farewell never to sleep with her mouth open again, in order not to breed a bird inside herself, and she also remembered that advice.
     Unfortunately, the city she arrived to wasn’t hers. She realized that immediately, the week after she had arrived, just as she entered her new class. It doesn’t matter, but let’s mention it anyway; she had a sore wound on her knee and her older brother’s shoes on her feet. The children at school laughed at her, because she spoke a bit through her nose and not many people understood her, except for some crazy teacher who tried to seduce her, bragging that he could read backwards, that is, more fluently than from left to right, too little for a thirteen year old who was used to remembering her dreams, just like that. Still, she managed to finish the last two classes of primary school, grumbling all the time, and then she went to some aunt in an even bigger city, do I really need to mention its name. For a while, a month or two, during the summer holiday, she worked in a shoe store, to make some money for new shoes (her brother’s ones had already fallen apart) and now I could swear that it was the first time I saw her, passing by the shop window, I, the guy who had less years than my






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