I dreamt that my beloved and I became acquainted with a young woman who had become an acclaimed writer in Japan. She came to meet me because she learned her craft by writing a doctoral dissertation about my writings. She dissected them into a number of genres, which she followed pretty exactly. Some of the genres I still remember: observing, conversing, overhearing, arguing, dreaming, and so forth. Following the format of my writings, she came up with a huge collection of her own. Having published several books of short pieces along these lines, she became rather famous in her country. Her goal was to have them translated and published in the so-called west. Thus her visit. I remember that I was getting annoyed with the young woman because she was overly concerned with literary form rather than substance. In addition, I did not like her insistence on success in the marketplace. She took it as central. But my beloved was quite fascinated with the Japanese writer. “Listen to the tailor’s apprentice,” she would nudge me every now and then. I had a feeling that she wanted me to taste of the literary success myself, and so I would brush off her comments, too. When I woke up, it was morning already, but it was quite early still. My beloved was awake, as well. She advised me to go back to sleep, but I could not. After a while, I told her that I had had an interesting dream, which keeps ricocheting through my mind. “Go and write then,” she said. “A good idea,” I sighed and went to write down my dream about the tailor’s apprentice. My beloved, that is.