Kamala possessed a small rare songbird that she kept in a golden cage. Of this bird he dreamed.

He dreamed that the bird had gone dumb, the bird which otherwise always sang at morning time,
and when this struck him, he stepped up to the cage and looked inside, where the little bird lay
dead and stiff at the bottom of the cage. He took the bird out, weighed him a moment in his hand
and then cast him out, out into the alley, and at the very same moment he was terribly frightened,
and his heart so pained him, it was as if he had cast away from himself everything of value and
all things good along with the dead bird.
Suddenly awakening from this dream, he felt himself surrounded by deep melancholy.
Worthless, so it seemed to him, the conduct of his life had been worthless and senseless up to
that point; nothing living, nothing in any way valuable or worth keeping had remained in his
hands. Alone he stood and empty. Like a shipwreck on the shore. (Page 66)