More swann!
This is the next two paragraphs.

I got back to sleep and sometimes I had some short moments of waking, enough to hear the normal cracking of the house, to open my eyes to fasten on the kaleidoscopic darkness, to taste through a fleeting flash of consciousness the sleep into which was plunged the furniture, the chamber, all of which I was only a small part and to its unconsciousness I would soon unite. Or frequently in sleep I had recalled effortlessly an age I could never return to of my early life, finding some of my childhood terrors, like those of when my great uncle would pull my curls, that had dissipated the day – the dawn of a new era for me – when they were cut. I had forgotten that event during my sleep, in encountering again the memory I also had succeeded at waking myself to escape the hands of my great uncle, but as a measure of precaution I completely encircled my head with my pillow before returning to the world of dreams.

Sometimes, like Eve was born from Adam’s rib, a woman is born during my sleep from a strange position of my leg. Formed of pleasure that I was on the point of tasting, I imagined that it was she that offered it to me. As my body that felt in hers my own heat willed to join to it, I woke up. The rest of humanity appeared very distant to me compared to that woman who with difficulty I had left some moments ago; my cheek was still warm from her kiss, my body still aching for her presence. If, like it sometimes happened, she had the traits of a woman that I had known in life, I gave myself entirely to one goal: to find her, like those who leave on a journey to see with their own eyes a city desired, and imagined that one can then taste in reality the charm of one’s dream.