I dreamed I was in Germany, hoping to buy a stamp. I had written a letter to my nephew, and I had no stamps. So I went into a sort of pub which sold both beer and stamps. But then, of course, I realized that I didn’t know the German word for stamp.
“Znaczek?” I said hopefully. “Znaczek?“
The German barmaid nodded as if she understood and went away, but she did not come back with a stamp.
That is not important, however. What is important is that I can remember Polish words in my sleep, thus proving wrong the doubters who told me to give up on Polish because I could never, ever learn it.
That said, I think this is going to take some time.
