We by Yevgeny Zamyatin — Read

Night. Green, orange, blue. The red royal instrument. The yellow dress. Then a brass Buddha. Suddenly it lifted the brass eyelids and sap began to flow from it, from Buddha. Sap also from the yellow dress. Even in the mirror,--drops of sap, and from the large bed and from the children's bed and soon from myself. It is horror, mortally sweet horror!.

I woke up. Soft blue light, the glass of the walls, of the chairs, of the table was glimmering. This calmed me. My heart stopped palpitating. Sap! Buddha! How absurd! I am sick, it is clear; I never saw dreams before. They say that to see dreams was a common normal thing with the ancients. Yes, after all, their life was a whirling carousel: green, orange, Buddha, sap,--but we, people of today, we know all too well that dreaming is a serious mental disease. I. Is it possible that _my_ brain, this precise, clean, glittering mechanism, like a chronometer without a speck of dust on it, is.? Yes it is, now. I really feel there in the brain some foreign body like an eyelash in the eye. One does not feel one's whole body but this eye with a hair in it, one cannot forget it for a second.