A parallel case to this is that of Mr. R—— E—— S——, an accountant in Edinburgh, and a shrewd man of business, who relates the following circumstance as occurring to himself. He is a native of Dalkeith, and was residing there, when, being about fifteen years of age, he left home on a Saturday, to spend a few days with a friend at Prestonpans. On the Sunday night he dreamed that his mother was extremely ill, and started out of his sleep with an impression that he must go to her immediately. He even got out of bed with the intention of doing so, but, reflecting that he had left her quite well, and that it was only a dream, he returned to bed, and again fell asleep. But the dream returned, and, unable longer to control his anxiety, he arose, dressed himself in the dark, quitted the house, leaping the railings that surrounded it, and made the best of his way to Dalkeith. On reaching home, which he did before daylight, he tapped at the kitchen-window, and, on gaining admittance, was informed that on the Saturday evening, after he had departed, his mother had been seized with an attack of British cholera, and was lying above, extremely ill. She had been lamenting his absence extremely, and had scarcely ceased crying, “Oh, Ralph, Ralph! what a grief that you are away!” At nine o’clock he was admitted to her room; but she was no longer in a condition to recognise him, and she died within a day or two.
Instances of this sort are numerous, but it would be tedious to narrate them, especially as there is little room for variety in the details. I shall therefore content myself with giving one or two specimens of each class, confining my examples to such as have been communicated to myself, except where any case of particular interest leads me to deviate from this plan. The frequency of such phenomena may be imagined, when I mention that the instances I shall give, with few exceptions, have been collected with little trouble, and without seeking beyond my own small circle of acquaintance.
In the family of the above-named gentleman (Mr. R—— E—— S——), there probably existed a faculty of presentiment; for, in the year 1810, his elder brother being assistant-surgeon on board the “Gorgon,” war-brig, his father dreamed that he was promoted to the “Sparrowhawk,” a ship he had then never heard of—neither had the family received any intelligence of the young man for several months. He told his dream, and was well laughed at for his pains; but in a few weeks a letter arrived announcing the promotion.
When Lord Burghersh was giving theatrical parties at Florence, a lady (Mrs. M——, whose presence was very important) excused herself one evening, being in great alarm from having dreamed in the night that her sister, in England, was dead, which proved to be the fact.
Mr. W——, a young man at Glasgow college, not long since dreamed that his aunt in Russia was dead. He noted the date of his dream on the window-shutter of his chamber. In a short time the news of the lady’s death arrived. The dates, however, did not accord; but, on mentioning the circumstance to a friend, he was reminded that the adherence of the Russians to the old style reconciled the difference.
A man of business, in Glasgow, lately dreamed that he saw a coffin, on which was inscribed the name of a friend, with the date of his death. Some time afterward he was summoned to attend the funeral of that person, who, at the time of the dream, was in good health, and he was struck with surprise on seeing the plate of the coffin bearing the very date he had seen in his dream.
A French gentleman, Monsieur de V——, dreamed, some years since, that he saw a tomb, on which he read very distinctly, the following date—23d June, 184—; there were, also, some initials, but so much effaced that he could not make them out. He mentioned the circumstance to his wife; and for some time, they could not help dreading the recurrence of the ominous month; but, as year after year passed, and nothing happened, they had ceased to think of it, when at last the symbol was explained. On the 23d of June, 1846, their only daughter died at the age of seventeen.
Thus far the instances I have related seem to resolve themselves into cases of simple clairvoyance, or second sight in sleep, although, in using these words, I am very far from meaning to imply that I explain the thing, or unveil its mystery. The theory above alluded to, seems as yet, the only one applicable to the facts, namely, that the senses, being placed in a negative and passive state, the universal sense of the immortal spirit within, which sees, and hears, and knows, or rather, in one word, perceives, without organs, becomes more or less free to work unclogged. That the soul is a mirror in which the spirit sees all things reflected, is a modification of this theory; but I confess I find myself unable to attach any idea to this latter form of expression. Another view, which I have heard suggested by an eminent person, is, that if it be true, as maintained by Dr. Wigan, and some other physiologists, that our brains are double, it is possible that a polarity may exist between the two sides, by means of which the negative side may, under certain circumstances, become a mirror to the positive. It seems difficult to reconcile this notion with the fact, that these perceptions occur most frequently when the brain is asleep. How far the sleep is perfect and general, however, we can never know; and of course, when the powers of speech and locomotion continue to be exercised, we are aware that it is only partial, in a more or less degree. In the case of magnetic sleepers, observation shows us, that the auditory nerves are aroused by being addressed, and fall asleep again as soon as they are left undisturbed. In most cases of natural sleep, the same process, if the voice were heard at all, would disperse sleep altogether; and it must be remembered that, as Dr. Holland says, sleep is a fluctuating condition, varying from one moment to another, and this allowance must be made when considering magnetic sleep also.
It is by this theory of the duality of the brain, which seems to have many arguments in its favor, and the alternate sleeping and waking of the two sides, that Dr. Wigan seeks to account for the state of double or alternate consciousness above alluded to; and also, for that strange sensation which most people have experienced, of having witnessed a scene, or heard a conversation, at some indefinite period before, or even in some earlier state of existence. He thinks that one half of the brain being in a more active condition than the other, it takes cognizance of the scene first; and that thus the perceptions of the second, when they take place, appear to be a repetition of some former experiences. I confess this theory, as regards this latter phenomenon, is to me eminently unsatisfactory, and it is especially defective in not accounting for one of the most curious particulars connected with it, namely, that on these occasions people not only seem to recognise the circumstances as having been experienced before; but they have, very frequently, an actual foreknowledge of what will be next said or done.
Now, the explanation of this mystery, I incline to think, may possibly lie in the hypothesis I have suggested; namely, that in profound, and what appears to us generally to have been dreamless sleep, we are clear-seers. The map of coming events lies open before us, the spirit surveys it; but with the awaking of the sensuous organs, this dream-life, with its aerial excursions, passes away, and we are translated into our other sphere of existence. But, occasionally, some flash of recollection, some ray of light from this visionary world, in which we have been living, breaks in upon our external objective existence, and we recognise the locality, the voice, the very words, as being but a reacting of some foregone scenes of a drama.