But my own crying awoke me:- and I came to myself.-
Thus did Zarathustra relate his dream, and then was silent: for as yet he knew not the interpretation thereof. But the disciple whom he loved most arose quickly, seized Zarathustra's hand, and said:
"Your life itself interprets to us this dream, O Zarathustra!
Are you not yourself the wind with shrill whistling, which bursts open the gates of the fortress of Death?
Are you not yourself the coffin full of many-hued malices and angel-caricatures of life?
Like a thousand peals of children's laughter comes Zarathustra into all sepulchres, laughing at those night-watchmen and grave-guardians, and whoever else rattles with sinister keys.
With your laughter will you frighten and prostrate them: fainting and recovering will you demonstrate your power over them.
And when the long twilight comes and the mortal weariness, even then will you not disappear from our firmament, you advocate of life!
New stars have you made us see, and new nocturnal glories: verily, laughter itself have you spread out over us like a many-hued canopy.
Now will children's laughter ever from coffins flow; now will a strong wind ever come victoriously to all mortal weariness: of this you are yourself the pledge and the prophet!
They themselves did you dream, your enemies: that was your sorest dream.
But as you awoke from them and came to yourself, so shall they awaken from themselves- and come to you!
Thus spoke the disciple; and all the others then thronged
