I used to wonder why scientific men and others were always asking me about my dreams. But I am not surprised now, since I have discovered what some of them believe to be the ordinary waking experience of one who is both deaf and blind. They think that I can know very little about objects even a few feet beyond the reach of my arms. Everything outside of myself, according to them, is a hazy5 blur6. Trees, mountains, cities, the ocean, even the house I live in are but fairy fabrications, misty7 unrealities. Therefore it is assumed that my dreams should have peculiar8 interest for the man of science. In some undefined way it is expected that they should reveal the world I dwell in to be flat, formless, colourless, without perspective, with little thickness and less solidity—a vast solitude9 of soundless space. But who shall put into words limitless, visionless, silent void? One should be a disembodied spirit indeed to make anything out of such insubstantial experiences. A world, or a dream for that matter, to be comprehensible to us, must, I should think, have a warp10 of substance woven into the woof of fantasy. We cannot imagine even in dreams an object which has no counterpart in reality. Ghosts always resemble somebody, and if they do not appear themselves, their presence is indicated by circumstances with which we are perfectly11 familiar.
During sleep we enter a strange, mysterious realm which science has thus far not explored. Beyond the border-line of slumber12 the investigator13 may not pass with his common-sense rule and test. Sleep with softest touch locks all the gates of our physical senses and lulls14 to rest the conscious will—the disciplinarian of our waking thoughts. Then the spirit wrenches15 itself free from the sinewy16 arms of reason and like a winged courser spurns17 the firm green earth and speeds awayupon wind and cloud, leaving neither trace nor footprint by which science may track its flight and bring us knowledge of the distant, shadowy country that we nightly visit. When we come back from the dream-realm, we can give no reasonable report of what we met there. But once across the border, we feel at home as if we had always lived there and had never made any excursions into this rational daylight world.
My dreams do not seem to differ very much from the dreams of other people. Some of them are coherent and safely hitched18 to an event or a conclusion. Others are inconsequent and fantastic. All attest19 that in Dreamland there is no such thing as repose20. We are always up and doing with a mind for any adventure. We act, strive, think, suffer and are glad to no purpose. We leave outside the portals of Sleep all troublesome incredulities and vexatious speculations21 as to probability. I float wraith-like upon clouds in and out among the winds, without the faintest notion that I am doing anything unusual. In Dreamland I find little that is altogether strange or wholly new to my experience. No matter what happens, I am not astonished, however extraordinary the circumstances may be. I visit a foreign land where I have not been in reality, and I converse22 with peoples whose language I have never heard. Yet we manage to understand each other perfectly. Into whatsoever23 situation or society my wanderings bring me, there is the same homogeneity. If I happen into Vagabondia, I make merry with the jolly folk of the road or the tavern24.
I do not remember ever to have met persons with whom I could not at once communicate, or to have been shocked or surprised at the doings of my dream-companions. In its strange wanderings in those dusky groves25 of Slumberland my soul takes everything for granted and adapts itself to the wildest phantoms26. I am seldom confused. Everything is as clear as day. I know events the instant they take place, and wherever I turn my steps, Mind is my faithful guide and interpreter.
I suppose every one has had in a dream the exasperating28, profitless experience of seeking something urgently desired at the moment, and the aching, weary sensation that follows each failure to track the thing to its hiding-place. Sometimes with a singing dizziness in my head I climb and climb, I know not where or why. Yet I cannot quit the torturing, passionate30 endeavour, though again and again I reach out blindly for an object to hold to. Of course according to the perversity31 of dreams there is no object near. I clutch empty air, and then I fall downward, and still downward, and in the midst of the fall I dissolve into the atmosphere upon which I have been floating so precariously32.
Some of my dreams seem to be traced one within another like a series of concentric circles. In sleep I think I cannot sleep. I toss about in the toils33 of tasks unfinished. I decide to get up and read for a while. I know the shelf in my library where I keep the book I want. The book has no name, but I find it without difficulty. I settle myself comfortably in the morris-chair, the great book open on my knee. Not a word can I make out, the pages are utterly34 blank. I am not surprised, but keenly disappointed. I finger the pages, I bend over them lovingly, the tears fall on my hands. I shut the book quickly as the thought passes through my mind, "The print will be all rubbed out if I get it wet." Yet there is no print tangible36 on the page!
This morning I thought that I awoke. I was certain that I had overslept. I seized my watch, and sure enough, it pointed35 to an hour after my rising time. I sprang up in the greatest hurry, knowing that breakfast was ready. I called my mother, who declared that my watch must be wrong. She was positive it could not be so late. I looked at my watch again, and lo! the hands wiggled, whirled, buzzed and disappeared. I awoke more fully37 as my dismay grew, until I was at the antipodes of sleep. Finally my eyes opened actually, and I knew that I had been dreaming. I had only waked into sleep. What is still more bewildering, there is no difference between the consciousness of the sham38 waking and that of the real one.
It is fearful to think that all that we have ever seen, felt, read, and done may suddenly rise to our dream-vision, as the sea casts up objects it has swallowed. I have held a little child in my arms in the midst of a riot and spoken vehemently39, imploring40 the Russian soldiers not to massacre41 the Jews. I have re-lived the agonizing42 scenes of the Sepoy Rebellion and the French Revolution. Cities have burned before my eyes, and I have fought the flames until I fell exhausted43. Holocausts44 overtake the world, and I struggle in vain to save my friends.
Once in a dream a message came speeding over land and sea that winter was descending45 upon the world from the North Pole, that the Arctic zone was shifting to our mild climate. Far and wide the message flew. The ocean was congealed46 in midsummer. Ships were held fast in the ice by thousands, the ships with large, white sails were held fast. Riches of the Orient and the plenteous harvests of the Golden West might no more pass between nation and nation. For some time the trees and flowers grew on, despite the intense cold. Birds flew into the houses for safety, and those which winter had overtaken lay on the snow with wings spread in vain flight. At last the foliage47 and blossoms fell at the feet of Winter. The petals48 of the flowers were turned to rubies49 and sapphires50. The leaves froze into emeralds. The trees moaned and tossed their branches as the frost pierced them through bark and sap, pierced into their very roots. I shivered myself awake, and with a tumult51 of joy I breathed the many sweet morning odours wakened by the summer sun.
One need not visit an African jungle or an Indian forest to hunt the tiger. One can lie in bed amid downy pillows and dream tigers as terrible as any in the pathless wild. I was a little girl when one night I tried to cross the garden in front of my aunt's house in Alabama. I was in pursuit of a large cat with a great bushy tail. A few hours before he had clawed my little canary out of its cage and crunched52 it between his cruel teeth. I could not see the cat. But the thought in my mind was distinct: "He is making for the high grass at the end of the garden. I'll get there first!" I put my hand on the box border and ran swiftly along the path. When I reached the high grass, there was the cat gliding53 into the wavy54 tangle55. I rushed forward and tried to seize him and take the bird from between his teeth. To my horror a huge beast, not the cat at all, sprang out from the grass, and his sinewy shoulder rubbed against me with palpitating strength! His ears stood up and quivered with anger. His eyes were hot. His nostrils56 were large and wet. His lips moved horribly. I knew it was a tiger, a real live tiger, and that I should be devoured—my little bird and I. I do not know what happened after that. The next important thing seldom happens in dreams.
Some time earlier I had a dream which made a vivid impression upon me. My aunt was weeping because she could not find me. But I took an impish pleasure in the thought that she and others were searching for me, and making great noise which I felt through my feet. Suddenly the spirit of mischief57 gave way to uncertainty58 and fear. I felt cold. The air smelt59 like ice and salt. I tried to run; but the long grass tripped me, and I fell forward on my face. I lay very still, feeling with all my body. After a while my sensations seemed to be concentrated in my fingers, and I perceived that the grass blades were sharp as knives, and hurt my hands cruelly. I tried to get up cautiously, so as not to cut myself on the sharp grass. I put down a tentative foot, much as my kitten treads for the first time the primeval forest in the backyard. All at once I felt the stealthy patter of something creeping, creeping, creeping purposefully toward me. I do not know how at that time the idea was in my mind; I had no words for intention or purpose. Yet it was precisely60 the evil intent, and not the creeping animal that terrified me. I had no fear of living creatures. I loved my father's dogs, the frisky61 little calf62, the gentle cows, the horses and mules63 that ate apples from my hand, and none of them had ever harmed me. I lay low, waiting in breathless terror for the creature to spring and bury its long claws in my flesh. I thought, "They will feel like turkey-claws." Something warm and wet touched my face. I shrieked64, struck out frantically65, and awoke. Something was still struggling in my arms. I held on with might and main until I was exhausted, then I loosed my hold. I found dear old Belle66, the setter, shaking herself and looking at me reproachfully. She and I had gone to sleep together on the rug, and had naturally wandered to the dream-forest where dogs and little girls hunt wild game and have strange adventures. We encountered hosts of elfin foes67, and it required all the dog tactics at Belle's command to acquit68 herself like the lady and huntress that she was. Belle had her dreams too. We used to lie under the trees and flowers in the old garden, and I used to laugh with delight when the magnolia leaves fell with little thuds, and Belle jumped up, thinking she had heard a partridge. She would pursue the leaf, point it, bring it back to me and lay it at my feet with a humorous wag of her tail as much as to say, "This is the kind of bird that waked me." I made a chain for her neck out of the lovely blue Paulownia flowers and covered her with great heart-shaped leaves.
Dear old Belle, she has long been dreaming among the lotus-flowers and poppies of the dogs' paradise.
Certain dreams have haunted me since my childhood. One which recurs69 often proceeds after this wise: A spirit seems to pass before my face. I feel an extreme heat like the blast from an engine. It is the embodiment of evil. I must have had it first after the day that I nearly got burnt.
Another spirit which visits me often brings a sensation of cool dampness, such as one feels on a chill November night when the window is open. The spirit stops just beyond my reach, sways back and forth70 like a creature in grief. My blood is chilled, and seems to freeze in my veins71. I try to move, but my body is still, and I cannot even cry out. After a while the spirit passes on, and I say to myself shudderingly72, "That was Death. I wonder if he has taken her." The pronoun stands for my Teacher.
In my dreams I have sensations, odours, tastes and ideas which I do not remember to have had in reality. Perhaps they are the glimpses which my mind catches through the veil of sleep of my earliest babyhood. I have heard "the trampling73 of many waters." Sometimes a wonderful light visits me in sleep. Such a flash and glory as it is! I gaze and gaze until it vanishes. I smell and taste much as in my waking hours; but the sense of touch plays a less important part. In sleep I almost never grope. No one guides me. Even in a crowded street I am self-sufficient, and I enjoy an independence quite foreign to my physical life. Now I seldom spell on my fingers, and it is still rarer for others to spell into my hand. My mind acts independent of my physical organs. I am delighted to be thus endowed, if only in sleep; for then my soul dons its winged sandals and joyfully74 joins the throng75 of happy beings who dwell beyond the reaches of bodily sense.
The moral inconsistency of dreams is glaring. Mine grow less and less accordant with my proper principles. I am nightly hurled76 into an unethical medley77 of extremes. I must either defend another to the last drop of my blood or condemn78 him past all repenting79. I commit murder, sleeping, to save the lives of others. I ascribe to those I love best acts and words which it mortifies80 me to remember, and I cast reproach after reproach upon them. It is fortunate for our peace of mind that most wicked dreams are soon forgotten. Death, sudden and awful, strange loves and hates remorselessly pursued, cunningly plotted revenge, are seldom more than dim haunting recollections in the morning, and during the day they are erased81 by the normal activities of the mind. Sometimes immediately on waking, I am so vexed82 at the memory of a dream-fracas, I wish I may dream no more. With this wish distinctly before me I drop off again into a new turmoil83 of dreams.
Oh, dreams, what opprobrium84 I heap upon you—you, the most pointless things imaginable, saucy85 apes, brewers of odious86 contrasts, haunting birds of ill omen29, mocking echoes, unseasonable reminders87, oft-returning vexations, skeletons in my morris-chair, jesters in the tomb, death's-heads at the wedding feast, outlaws88 of the brain that every night defy the mind's police service, thieves of my Hesperidean apples, breakers of my domestic peace, murderers of sleep. "Oh, dreadful dreams that do fright my spirit from her propriety89!" No wonder that Hamlet preferred the ills he knew rather than run the risk of one dream-vision.
Yet remove the dream-world, and the loss is inconceivable. The magic spell which binds90 poetry together is broken. The splendour of art and the soaring might of imagination are lessened91 because no phantom27 of fadeless sunsets and flowers urges onward92 to a goal. Gone is the mute permission or connivance93 which emboldens94 the soul to mock the limits of time and space, forecast and gather in harvests of achievement for ages yet unborn. Blot95 out dreams, and the blind lose one of their chief comforts; for in the visions of sleep they behold96 their belief in the seeing mind and their expectation of light beyond the blank, narrow night justified97. Nay98, our conception of immortality99 is shaken. Faith, the motive-power of human life, flickers100 out. Before such vacancy101 and bareness the shocks of wrecked102 worlds were indeed welcome. In truth, dreams bring us the thought independently of us and in spite of us that the soul
"may right
Her nature, shoot large sail on lengthening103 cord,
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1
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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2
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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6
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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7
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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8
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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11
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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14
lulls
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| n.间歇期（lull的复数形式）vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的第三人称单数形式） | |
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15
wrenches
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| n.一拧( wrench的名词复数 )；（身体关节的）扭伤；扳手；（尤指离别的）悲痛v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的第三人称单数 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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16
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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spurns
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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18
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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attest
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| vt.证明，证实；表明 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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23
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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24
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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26
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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30
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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41
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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42
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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43
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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44
holocausts
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| n.大屠杀( holocaust的名词复数 ) | |
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45
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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46
congealed
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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47
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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48
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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49
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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50
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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51
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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52
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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53
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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54
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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55
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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56
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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57
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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58
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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59
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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60
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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61
frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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62
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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63
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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64
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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66
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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67
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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68
acquit
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| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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69
recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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71
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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72
shudderingly
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73
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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74
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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75
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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76
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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77
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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78
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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repenting
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的现在分词 ) | |
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80
mortifies
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| v.使受辱( mortify的第三人称单数 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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81
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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82
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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83
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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84
opprobrium
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| n.耻辱，责难 | |
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85
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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86
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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87
reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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88
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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90
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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91
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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connivance
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| n.纵容；默许 | |
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emboldens
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的第三人称单数 ) | |
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95
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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96
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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97
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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98
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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99
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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100
flickers
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| 电影制片业； （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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101
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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102
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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103
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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104
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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