I dreamt that I was in a large hall teeming with young people. In their late teens and early twenties, they formed many small groups. And they were all engaged in lively conversation. Their animation and openness struck me as beautiful. I had a small camera with me, and I photographed many a small group from afar. I was going for their faces. Their open eyes and lively mouths delighted me. There was no mischief in them. Everyone spoke from the heart. And then my beloved appeared out of nowhere, snatched my camera from me, and disappeared in the crowd. I screamed at the top of my voice. I was both frightened and angered by her unexpected intervention. The scream woke me up in the middle of the night, but I managed to fall back asleep soon afterwards. I found myself in the same crowded place, but there was not a trace of animated conversation any longer. I remember seeing my beloved watching me from some distance. Clutching the camera that she gave me many years back, she watched me intently. Haltered and scorn beamed from her eyes. When I woke up again, it was still dark outside, but I got up and went to my study to record the dream. I was afraid it would peter away by the morning. I had no idea what to make of it, but putting it into words seemed essential to me. It took me a while to go back to sleep one more time. Only when I got up in the morning it dawned on me that I was dreaming of 1968. I have not seen such open eyes since my youth.