But now the very blissfulness of her dream woke Mary up; and with a tender tremor she fell upon her own son´s heart, saying with tears, "None, save a mother, knows what it is to love." And as she spoke the earth sank to its place ( where its own aether flowed around its orb), and with it that glad mother with her arms about her child.
And all this bliss bursting upon my heart dissolved my dream. And I awoke- but nothing had truly changed or passed away; for the mother of my dream still clasped her child close to her heart here on earth´s face; she reads my dream, and, for its truth, forgives, perchance, the dreamer who tells his tale.
- Jean Paul Friedrich Richter