May 12, 2004
In my dream last night, I was reading La Disparition, and I suddenly realised that for many pages the text had been using e's. I had already missed many of them, but I reached a page on which they were in bold. I started turning pages back, to find where the e's had begun. I was surprised how far back I was going. And the more pages I retreated, the more disappointed I felt that the author had compromised his text to such a degree. My dream offered an uncertain, inexpressible, but plausible justification for the letter's reappearance. And when I say inexpressible, I mean I can't express it. But if I try, then I would say that a certain section of the book was presenting something external to itself: as if it were discussing other books, or posters, or simply other texts, and this explained its right to include the forbidden character. In spite of this, I was, I repeat, very disappointed. Not only to find the book's objective unfulfilled but because, in my dream, I had been living, like Anton Voyl, the same type of world without e's. With their reappearance, I felt I had to dodge things; I felt the discomfort of being trapped between formalities. It's almost as if a dose of reality (the e), had suppressed a piece of my idealised liberty. When I awoke this morning however, I was content that La Disparition could induce such a trippy vision, and I read it with greater fervour.