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thought are to be found in great imaginative poems like Spenser's 〃Faerie
Queene。〃 Lamb was impressed by the analogy between our dream…thinking
and the work of the imagination。 Speaking of the episode in the cave of
Mammon； Lamb wrote：
〃It is not enough to say that the whole episode is a copy of the mind's
conceptions in sleep； it is……in some sort； but what a copy！ Let the most
romantic of us that has been entertained all night with the spectacle of
some wild and magnificent vision； re…bine it in the morning and try
it by his waking judgment。 That which appeared so shifting and yet so
coherent； when it came under cool examination； shall appear so
reasonless and so unlinked； that we are ashamed to have been so deluded；
and to have taken； though but in sleep； a monster for a god。 The
transitions in this episode are every whit as violent as in the most
extravagant dream； and yet the waking judgment ratifies them。〃
Perhaps I feel more than others the analogy between the world of our
waking life and the world of dreams because before I was taught； I lived
in a sort of perpetual dream。 The testimony of parents and friends who
watched me day after day is the only means that I have of knowing the
actuality of those early； obscure years of my childhood。 The physical
acts of going to bed and waking in the morning alone mark the transition
from reality to Dreamland。 As near as I can tell； asleep or awake I only
felt with my body。 I can recollect no process which I should now dignify
with the term of thought。 It is true that my bodily sensations were
extremely acute； but beyond a crude connection with physical wants they
are not associated or directed。 They had little relation to each other；
to me or the experience of others。 Idea……that which gives identity and
continuity to experience……came into my sleeping and waking existence at
the same moment with the awakening of self…consciousness。 Before that
moment my mind was in a state of anarchy in which meaningless sensations
rioted； and if thought existed； it was so vague and inconsequent； it
cannot be made a part of discourse。 Yet before my education began； I
dreamed。 I know that I must have dreamed because I recall no break in my
tactual experiences。 Things fell suddenly； heavily。 I felt my clothing
afire； or I fell into a tub of cold water。 Once I smelt bananas； and the
odour in my nostrils was so vivid that in the morning； before I was
dressed； I went to the sideboard to look for the bananas。 There were no
bananas； and no odour of bananas anywhere！ My life was in fact a dream
throughout。
The likeness between my waking state and the sleeping one is still
marked。 In both states I see； but not with my eyes。 I hear； but not with
my ears。 I speak； and am spoken to； without the sound of a voice。 I am
moved to pleasure by visions of ineffable beauty which I have never
beheld in the physical world。 Once in a dream I held in my hand a pearl。
The one I saw in my dreams must； therefore； have been a creation of my
imagination。 It oulded crystal。 As I gazed
into its shimmering deeps； my soul was flooded with an ecstasy of
tenderness； and I was filled with wonder as one who should for the
first time look into the cool； sweet heart of a rose。 My pearl was dew
and fire； the velvety green of moss； the soft whiteness of lilies； and
the distilled hues and sweetness of a thousand roses。 It seemed to me；
the soul of beauty was dissolved in its crystal bosom。 This beauteous
vision strengthens my conviction that the world which the mind builds up
out of countless subtle experiences and suggestions is fairer than the
world of the senses。 The splendour of the sunset my friends gaze at
across the purpling hills is wonderful。 But the sunset of the inner
vision brings purer delight because it is the worshipful blending of all
the beauty that we have known and desired。
I believe that I am more fortunate in my dreams than most people； for
as I think back over my dreams； the pleasant ones seem to predominate；
although we naturally recall most vividly and tell most eagerly the
grotesque and fantastic adventures in Slumberland。 I have friends；
however； whose dreams are always troubled and disturbed。 They wake
fatigued and bruised； and they tell me that they would give a kingdom
for one dreamless night。 There is one friend who declares that she has
never had a felicitous dream in her life。 The grind and worry of the day
invade the sweet domain of sleep and weary her with incessant；
profitless effort。 I feel very sorry for this friend； and perhaps it is
hardly fair to insist upon the pleasure of dreaming in the presence of
one whose dream…experience is so unhappy。 Still； it is true that my
dreams have uses as many and sweet as those of adversity。 All my
yearning for the strange； the weird； the ghostlike is gratified in
dreams。 They carry me out of the accustomed and monplace。 In a flash；
in the winking of an eye they snatch the burden from my shoulder； the
trivial task from my hand and the pain and disappointment from my heart；
and I behold the lovely face of my dream。 It dances round me with merry
measure and darts hither and thither in happy abandon。 Sudden； sweet
fancies spring forth from every nook and corner； and delightful
surprises meet me at every turn。 A happy dream is more precious than
gold and rubies。
I like to think that in dreams we catch glimpses of a life larger than
our own。 We see it as a little child； or as a savage who visits a
civilized nation。 Thoughts are imparted to us far above our ordinary
thinking。 Feelings nobler and wiser than any we have known thrill us
between heart…beats。 For one fleeting night a princelier nature captures
us； and we bee as great as our aspirations。 I daresay we return to
the little world of our daily activities with as distorted a half…memory
of what we have seen as that of the African who visited England； and
afterwards said he had been in a huge hill which carried him over great
waters。 The prehensiveness of our thought； whether we are asleep or
awake； no doubt depends largely upon our idiosyncrasies； constitution；
habits； and mental capacity。 But whatever may be the nature of our
dreams； the mental processes that characterize them are analogous to
those which go on when the mind is not held to attention by the will。
A WAKING DREAM
XV
A WAKING DREAM
I HAVE sat for hours in a sort of reverie； letting my mind have its way
without inhibition and direction； and idly noted down the incessant beat
of thought upon thought； image upon image。 I have observed that my
thoughts make all kinds of connections； wind in and out； trace
concentric circles； and break up in eddies of fantasy； just as in
dreams。 One day I had a literary frolic with a certain set of thoughts
which dropped in for an afternoon call。 I wrote for three or four hours
as they arrived； and the resulting record is much like a dream。 I found
that the most disconnected； dissimilar thoughts came in arm…in…arm……I
dreamed a wide…awake dream。 The difference is that in waking dreams I
can look back upon the endless succession of thoughts； while in the
dreams of sleep I can recall but few ideas and images。 I catch broken
threads from the warp and woof of a pattern I cannot see； or glowing
leaves which have floated on a slumber…wind from a tree that I cannot
identify。 In this reverie I held the key to the pany of ideas。 I give
my record of them to show what analogies exist between thoughts when
they are not directed and the behaviour of real dream…thinking。
I had an essay to write。 I wanted my mind fresh and obedient； and all
its handmaidens ready to hold up my hands in the task。 I intended to
discourse learnedly upon my educational experiences； and I was unusually
anxious to do my best。 I had a working plan in my head for the essay；
which was to be grave； wise； and abounding in ideas。 Moreover； it was to
have an academic flavour suggestive of sheepskin； and the reader was to
be duly impressed with the austere dignity of cap and gown。 I shut
myself up in the study； resolved to beat out on the keys of my
typewriter this immortal chapter of my life…history。 Alexander was no
more con