My main concern was lest I should wake wholly, for the vision, incomplete as it was, enchanted me.

At least the carpet of rare ferns was really there.

As I groped in the night air and plucked them I said to myself: "Surely these plants are real, for I can touch them and I have them in my hand; surely they will not disappear when the dream vanishes." And I grasped them with all my strength to be sure of keeping them.
I awoke.

A beautiful summer day had dawned, and in the village was heard the noise of recommencing life.

The continual clucking of the hens as they roamed about in the streets, and the click-clack of the weaver's loom caused me to realize where I was.