The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I
December 18, 1915
I must write a little more for ‘le temps’ is so exciting. I had a very vivid dream last night that I and my brother were in Berlin without passports. We were having lunch in the waiting room of a railway station at a long table, with several German soldiers just back from the front with their equipment, etc. I see now the proud wives carrying the men's coats for them, etc. Suddenly in a dreadful pause I began to speak in English. I said the woman reminded me of a Miss Lindsay, bootmaker's assistant on Lambton Quay. In a flash I knew we were done for. Brother said, “Make for the telephone box,” but as we got in a soldier smashed his helmet through the glass door—Crash! I woke to a violent clap of thunder. It was raining, hailing, the shutters flashed pale yellow with the lightning. I heard the bells ringing in the hotel—the servants in felt slippers running along the corridors. Bang! went the thunder, rolling and tossing among the hills. The air was so electric that one's hands and feet sang. Finally I got up, put on my mackintosh and opened the shutters. I felt sure that I'd be struck, especially as my room, being at the corner for the full force of the storm. It was a wonderful sight. I shall never forget the dignity of the sea. It drew back from the land a long way. There were no waves, only a fold or two where it touched the shore—and it looked as cold as a stone. Above the coast the sky was bright silver and above that a bright fantastic green. As I opened the window I smelled the sharp smell of the wet blue-gum trees. Oh, it was exciting—it was lovely and all the while the hail springing against the window pane and the low thunder and the fluttering light. I rang for my breakfast and that became a kind of thrilling feast, too. I put the milk jug under the édredon when I had poured out my first cup of coffee and it stayed there warm as a pigeon and I had a second boiling cup. That seemed a miracle of ingenuity and forethought! Then the spry maid tripped in and lit the fire—I heard the little twigs cracking: she sat back on her heels and told me which rooms the water had flooded—when such a thing had happened before, etc. I felt that I was going to jump out of bed, wash and dress as quickly as possible, pack a small bundle and catch the ark at about half past ten. But it is half past ten now and the wind has dropped, two roosters are crowing somewhere and the sky is silver.
I am very much better—in fact to all intents and purposes cured I believe by that unguent. Here is a geranium—I quite forgot they were there. Here is your Xmas box….