“In a sign I saw a prophetic dream. Something tore in time, and she appeared clearly—turned toward me, addressed to me—and the secret opened. I saw how the family passed by, and I, walking, suddenly stopped in the doorway before them. She was alone, and stood up to meet me, and suddenly she extended her hands and said a strange word—vaguely, about the love she feels for me. I held S. Solovyov’s poems and offered them to her—and suddenly it wasn’t poems anymore, but a small German book—and I was mistaken. And she kept reaching out her hands, and my heart was set in motion. And in that very second, on the edge of clear vision, of course, I woke up…”