子浪小说

第10部分（第4页）

glad　to　no　purpose。　We　leave　outside　the　portals　of　Sleep　all

troublesome　incredulities　and　vexatious　speculations　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　converse　with　peoples　whose　language　I　have　never　heard。

Yet　we　manage　to　understand　each　other　perfectly。　Into　whatsoever

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　tavern。

I　do　not　remember　ever　to　have　met　persons　with　whom　I　could　not　at　once

municate；　or　to　have　been　shocked　or　surprised　at　the　doings　of　my

dream…panions。　In　its　strange　wanderings　in　those　dusky　groves　of

Slumberland　my　soul　takes　everything　for　granted　and　adapts　itself　to

the　wildest　phantoms。　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　exasperating；　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；

passionate　endeavour；　though　again　and　again　I　reach　out　blindly　for　an

object　to　hold　to。　Of　course　according　to　the　perversity　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　precariously。

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

toils　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　fortably

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