Musings/Träumereien/Devaneios

Published 2005.

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the

wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass, if

he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—

there is no man can tell what. Methought I was—and

methought I had—but man is but a patch’d fool, if he

will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man

hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand

is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart

to report, what my dream was.

(4.1.203–212)

(Paraphrase: I had the strangest dream. It is outside of the abilities of mankind to explain it: a man is as foolish as a donkey if he tries to about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there explain the dream of mine. I thought I was – well no one can really say what exactly. I thought I was – and I methought I had, -- but man is but a patched fool, if thought I had – but someone would be an idiot to say what I thought I had).

I remember watching the play for the first time in Quinta da Regaleira, Sintra in 2002 (staged by Rui Mário). Shakespeare has always been an over-riding need for me. I don't have the ability to act, though I do write betimes, but there's nothing like the thrill of a life performance, like the one I watched in 2002.

The rest of this review can be found elsewhere.