1 Wine was a thing he had read and dreamed about.
2 For a week after this, life was like a restless dream.
3 He thought of her naked, youthful body, as he had seen it in his dream.
4 He lay back with his eyes shut, still sodden in the atmosphere of the dream.
5 He dreamed a great deal all through this time, and they were always happy dreams.
6 The conspiracy that he had dreamed of did exist, and he had reached the outer edges of it.
7 What was curious was that at the time, in the dream, the words had not made much impression on him.
8 There was the dream itself, and there was a memory connected with it that had swum into his mind in the few seconds after waking.
9 In the dream his deepest feeling was always one of self-deception, because he did in fact know what was behind the wall of darkness.
10 It was a vast, luminous dream in which his whole life seemed to stretch out before him like a landscape on a summer evening after rain.
11 To return to the agricultural past, as some thinkers about the beginning of the twentieth century dreamed of doing, was not a practicable solution.
12 He could not remember what had happened, but he knew in his dream that in some way the lives of his mother and his sister had been sacrificed to his own.
13 In the dream he had remembered his last glimpse of his mother, and within a few moments of waking the cluster of small events surrounding it had all come back.
14 The pain of the coughing fit had not quite driven out of Winston's mind the impression made by his dream, and the rhythmic movements of the exercise restored it somewhat.
15 He could not now remember whether it was before or after having the dream that he had seen O'Brien for the first time, nor could he remember when he had first identified the voice as O'Brien's.
16 It was one of those dreams which, while retaining the characteristic dream scenery, are a continuation of one's intellectual life, and in which one becomes aware of facts and ideas which still seem new and valuable after one is awake.
17 The dream had also been comprehended by--indeed, in some sense it had consisted in--a gesture of the arm made by his mother, and made again thirty years later by the Jewish woman he had seen on the news film, trying to shelter the small boy from the bullets, before the helicopter blew them both to pieces.
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