This is a death dream   In the daytime    I go to the cemetery buildings    In search of books    And never do I find the right one    I just browse through death books    When it seems the ones I want are out    In the night time I go with friends to the cemetery    And the entire time concerns    Carousings and adventures within the cemetery    But all others are insincere and even silly    Some figures predominate and I compromise my    Especial meeting to go with them    I always attempt to get some of these friends to go with me    But they are afraid    It seems I do not want to go alone    And leave each successive night with hopes for    Tomorrow's daytime excursion to the cemetery    Last time I was particularly upset    Despair that the right books will never be there    Because people will not bring them back and    My reliance is weak    I should find a way to require that which I want    Of special interest in the dream is the night time attraction    Of particular growing things    Which previously were cultivated in horror with another    In the night wanderings I attempt to get back to these to encounter horror    But they — others are afraid or silly    And one or two are not    But show me replicas which are not the same    This I know and am disappointed    Earlier for interest I had a wine bottle    Weird death monsters approached and I admitted them    As they filed past into my house    Not the bedroom where others were    They danced in the living room    Extremely macabre and death-like moves    Others saw them and sometime later expressed horror as they left    Or escaped