One night, about seventeen years ago, when I was spending a few days at Penmachno, in North Wales, where I had delivered a lecture, I dreamt that I was receiving a letter; and when I looked at the envelope, I recognised the handwriting at once as that of Lady Hills-Johnes, of Dolaucothy. I then opened the letter and read it all through, and found it was from her Ladyship; and when I awoke up from my sleep I remembered every word of its contents. In the morning as soon as I went down for breakfast, the landlady of the house delivered me a letter which had come by post. I looked at the envelope as I had done in my dream; it was from Lady Hills-Johnes; and when I read it, I discovered that I knew every word of its contents beforehand from my dream.
When I was in Australia ten years ago, I had another remarkable dream about Dolaucothy, just when Sir James Hills-Johnes was leaving home for South Africa, to see his friend Lord Roberts, during the War; but I have been asked by Lady Hill-Johnes not to publish the dream.
A remarkable fulfilment of a dream was reported in the “Aberystwyth Observer” in the year 1888, in relation to the sudden death of the late Colonel Pryse, an uncle of Viscountess Parker, and Great-uncle of Sir Edward Webley-Parry-Pryse, Bart., of the ancient Family of Gogerddan:—“It was not considered safe to break to Viscountess Parker the news of her uncle’s death for some days, and Mr. Fryer went up to London to convey to her the information. On his arrival at her residence, in Montague Square, a maid announced to her Ladyship his arrival. ‘Mr. Fryer!’ she said, ‘I know what it is. My uncle is dead. He died on a lane leading from Rhiwarthen to Penwern. I have dreamt four times in four years that this would happen, and the last time was the night before baby was born. I have tried many times to keep him from going that way. Ask Mr. Fryer to come up.’ She afterwards said that she meant the road leading to Penuwch which is in the same direction, and that she would know the spot.”
The editor of “Blackwood” gives authenticity to the following dream:—A young man, engaged in a china manufactory at Swansea, about the beginning of the last century, dreamed that he saw a man drowning in one of their pools; he dreamed the same a second time, and a third time, and then could not resist making an effort to rise and satisfy himself that it was not so. He did rise, went to the spot, and found the man drowned. A man in the neighbourhood of Newcastle Emlyn, dreamed a similar dream in the 18th century.
The late Rev. J. E. Jenkins, Rector of Vaynor, in Breconshire, in his interesting book on that parish gives the following account of a girl saved by a dream:—
“The Rev. Williams Jones, afterwards Canon Jones, was curate in sole charge here in 1822, and for many years afterwards. The Old Rectory House and the Glebe land was at that time occupied by a man named Enos Davies and his family. The Rev. W. Jones also had rooms at the Rectory.
“One morning at the end of May in that year, about two o’clock Enos had a remarkable dream. He dreamt the Church was on fire. He suddenly awoke, and in great excitement jumped out of bed and knocked at the bedroom door of Mr. Jones, and cried:—‘Master! Master! come down at once, I have dreamt the Church is on fire.’ The worthy divine laughed at him, and told him to go back to bed, and not to give heed to foolish dreams and nightly visions. Enos obeyed, but could not sleep. During the day Mr. Jones walked down to the Church, and found everything in the usual order, safe and uninjured. The following morning, at the same hour, strange to say, Enos had the same dream, and again disturbed the peaceful slumbers of his good master. ‘Come down to Church, Master,’ said he, ‘there must be something wrong, I have again dreamt the Church is on fire.’ ‘All right Enos,’ said Mr. Jones; ‘I will come with you, it is a fine morning.’ By the time they reached the Church it was half-past three. Coming-down the Lych Gate, which was close by the little brook—the old entrance—they were struck with a great awe and a terrified feeling came over them, for they heard a peculiar sound coming, as it were, from the direction of the Church. They stood, listened, and looked at each other in mute astonishment, and Enos’s hair stood on end. The sound became plainer: it was like the sound of a sexton digging or opening a grave inside the Church, as was often the custom in those days. Enos trembled, and became as pale as death; whilst the clergyman, who was a tall strongly built man, entered the churchyard, and stealthily went to listen at the west door. He could distinctly hear a man digging a grave. Mr. Jones soon found that an entrance had been made into the Church through one of the north side windows. Re-tracing his steps to Enos, who was still standing on the road by the brook, his attention was directed to a young girl coming down the steep pathway over Cae Burdudd—‘the field of carnage’—the field where the mound is. She came running down merrily, and in a pleasant manner, said—‘good morning, Mr. Jones, you are here before me.’ ‘Yes, my girl,’ said the curate, ‘where are you going so early?’ ‘Coming to be married, to be sure;’ was her joyous reply. The curate took in the situation in a moment and told her:—‘You have made a mistake as to the time. You must wait till eight o’clock; I cannot marry you before eight. Go up to the Rectory to Mrs. Davies and get some breakfast; we shall come after you in a short time. We will wait here until John comes, and will bring him up.’ The innocent girl departed as requested, but had not gone far when the south door of the church was opened from within by her treacherous lover. He was at once apprehended by the courageous curate and Enos, and was made to stand over the grave he had prepared for the girl he had shamefully deceived and ruined, and whom he had intended murdering. He pleaded hard for mercy, and, ultimately, in order to avoid public scandal, on his promising to leave the neighbourhood immediately, and never again to return to Vaynor, he was allowed to depart. He was a native of Herefordshire, and was at this time in a service at a well-known farm in the parish. He left at once, and was never heard of afterwards by anyone from this parish. The curate, in a calm, gentle way, partly detailed to the maid the evil intentions of her base lover, and stated how God, in his good providence by the means of a dream, had preserved her from an untimely death.
“The young girl was terribly shocked, and fell unconscious into the arms of the curate. She lost her health, and after a time was taken home to the neighbourhood of Knighton, and in a few months later news reached Vaynor that the poor girl had died of a broken heart, and the curate was asked to go up to bury her, but failed to go. The above account was given me by my predecessor, the Rev. Rees Williams, and was confirmed by the testimony of the late Mrs. Thomas, formerly of Cwm and others. Mrs. Evans, late of Pengellifach, however, added that the would-be murderer was handed over by Mr. Jones to the charge of the Parish Constable, and was afterwards released. It should be remembered that there were but few, if any, fixed pews in the Old Church, only movable benches. Neither was the floor paved or boarded.”