“Who and what gave to me the wish to woo thee?”
and admired it as a striking piece of versification conveying some noted philosophical ideas in a forcible and beautiful manner. The following night I had a very vivid dream of a condition of pre-existence, in which I imagined myself to be. The connection between the dream and the poem I had been reading was sufficiently well marked, and did not astonish me. I was, however, surprised to find that the next night I had exactly the same dream, and that it was repeated three times subsequently on consecutive nights.
The dependence of dreams upon ideas which we have had when awake was well known to the ancients. Thus Lucius Accius,[77] a poet who lived more than a hundred and fifty years before the Christian era, says:
“Quae in vita usurpant homines, cogitant, curant, vident
Quaeque agunt vigilantes, agitantque casi cui in somno accidant,
* * * * * Minus mirum est.”
Lucretius[78] declares that during sleep we are amused with things which have made us weep when awake; that circumstances which have pleased us are recalled to our minds; that objects are presented to us which occupied our thoughts long before; and that recent events appear still more vividly before us.
Petronius Arbiter[79] cites Epicurus to the same effect. Tryphæna having declared that she had had a dream in which there appeared to her the image of Neptune she had seen at Baiæ, “Hence you may perceive,” observed Eumolpus, “what a divine man is Epicurus, who so ingeniously ridiculed these sports of fancy.
“When in a dream presented to our view
Those airy forms appear so like the true,
No prescient shrine, no god the vision sends,
But every breast its own delusion lends.
For when soft sleep the body wraps in ease,
And from the inactive mass the fancy frees,
What most by day affects, at night returns;
Thus he who shakes proud states, and cities burns,
Sees showers of darts, forced lines, disordered wings,
Blood-reeking fields, and deaths of vanquished kings;
He that by day litigious knots untied,
And charmed the drowsy bench to either side,
By night a crowd of cringing clients sees,
Smiles on the fools and kindly takes their fees;
The miser hides his wealth, new treasure finds;
Through echoing woods his horn the huntsman winds;
The sailor’s dream wild scenes of wreck describes;
The wanton lays her snares; the adultress bribes;
Hounds in full cry, in sleep, the hare pursue;
And hapless wretches their old griefs renew.”[80]
It is related of an ancient tyrant that one of his courtiers described to him a dream in which the courtier had assassinated his master. “You could not,” exclaimed the tyrant, “have dreamed this without having previously thought of it,” and then ordered his immediate execution.
Now besides this foundation of dreams upon circumstances which have transpired during our waking moments, they may arise, as has already been intimated, from impressions made upon the mind during sleep. Sensations may be so intense as to be partially appreciated by the brain, and yet not strong enough to cause sleep to be interrupted. In such cases the imagination seizes the imperfect perception and weaves it into a tissue of incongruous fancies, which, however, generally bear a more or less definite relation to the character of the sensorial impression. Many examples of dreams thus produced are on record, and many others have come under my own observation. The interest which attaches to phenomena of this character must be my excuse for quoting some of the more remarkable instances of this kind which have been brought to my attention.
The following are related by Abercrombie:[81]