《the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)》海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第20章

and　huntress　that　she　was。　Belle　had　her　dreams　too。　We　used　to　lie
under　the　trees　and　flowers　in　the　old　garden；　and　I　used　to　laugh　with
delight　when　the　magnolia　leaves　fell　with　little　thuds；　and　Belle
jumped　up；　thinking　she　had　heard　a　partridge。　She　would　pursue　the
leaf；　point　it；　bring　it　back　to　me　and　lay　it　at　my　feet　with　a
humorous　wag　of　her　tail　as　much　as　to　say；　〃This　is　the　kind　of　bird
that　waked　me。〃　I　made　a　chain　for　her　neck　out　of　the　lovely　blue
Paulownia　flowers　and　covered　her　with　great　heart…shaped　leaves。
Dear　old　Belle；　she　has　long　been　dreaming　among　the　lotus…flowers　and
poppies　of　the　dogs"　paradise。
Certain　dreams　have　haunted　me　since　my　childhood。　One　which　recurs
often　proceeds　after　this　wise：　A　spirit　seems　to　pass　before　my　face。　I
feel　an　extreme　heat　like　the　blast　from　an　engine。　It　is　the　embodiment
of　evil。　I　must　have　had　it　first　after　the　day　that　I　nearly　got　burnt。
Another　spirit　which　visits　me　often　brings　a　sensation　of　cool
dampness；　such　as　one　feels　on　a　chill　November　night　when　the　window　is
open。　The　spirit　stops　just　beyond　my　reach；　sways　back　and　forth　like　a
creature　in　grief。　My　blood　is　chilled；　and　seems　to　freeze　in　my　veins。
I　try　to　move；　but　my　body　is　still；　and　I　cannot　even　cry　out。　After　a
while　the　spirit　passes　on；　and　I　say　to　myself　shudderingly；　〃That　was
Death。　I　wonder　if　he　has　taken　her。〃　The　pronoun　stands　for　my　Teacher。
In　my　dreams　I　have　sensations；　odours；　tastes　and　ideas　which　I　do　not
remember　to　have　had　in　reality。　Perhaps　they　are　the　glimpses　which　my
mind　catches　through　the　veil　of　sleep　of　my　earliest　babyhood。　I　have
heard　〃the　trampling　of　many　waters。〃　Sometimes　a　wonderful　light　visits
me　in　sleep。　Such　a　flash　and　glory　as　it　is！　I　gaze　and　gaze　until　it
vanishes。　I　smell　and　taste　much　as　in　my　waking　hours；　but　the　sense　of
touch　plays　a　less　important　part。　In　sleep　I　almost　never　grope。　No　one
guides　me。　Even　in　a　crowded　street　I　am　self…sufficient；　and　I　enjoy
an　independence　quite　foreign　to　my　physical　life。　Now　I　seldom　spell　on
my　fingers；　and　it　is　still　rarer　for　others　to　spell　into　my　hand。　My
mind　acts　independent　of　my　physical　organs。　I　am　delighted　to　be　thus
endowed；　if　only　in　sleep；　for　then　my　soul　dons　its　winged　sandals　and
joyfully　joins　the　throng　of　happy　beings　who　dwell　beyond　the　reaches
of　bodily　sense。
The　moral　inconsistency　of　dreams　is　glaring。　Mine　grow　less　and　less
accordant　with　my　proper　principles。　I　am　nightly　hurled　into　an
uhical　medley　of　extremes。　I　must　either　defend　another　to　the　last
drop　of　my　blood　or　condemn　him　past　all　repenting。　I　mit　murder；
sleeping；　to　save　the　lives　of　others。　I　ascribe　to　those　I　love　best
acts　and　words　which　it　mortifies　me　to　remember；　and　I　cast　reproach
after　reproach　upon　them。　It　is　fortunate　for　our　peace　of　mind　that
most　wicked　dreams　are　soon　forgotten。　Death；　sudden　and　awful；　strange
loves　and　hates　remorselessly　pursued；　cunningly　plotted　revenge；　are
seldom　more　than　dim　haunting　recollections　in　the　morning；　and　during
the　day　they　are　erased　by　the　normal　activities　of　the　mind。　Sometimes
immediately　on　waking；　I　am　so　vexed　at　the　memory　of　a　dream…fracas；　I
wish　I　may　dream　no　more。　With　this　wish　distinctly　before　me　I　drop　off
again　into　a　new　turmoil　of　dreams。
Oh；　dreams；　what　opprobrium　I　heap　upon　you……you；　the　most　pointless
things　imaginable；　saucy　apes；　brewers　of　odious　contrasts；　haunting
birds　of　ill　omen；　mocking　echoes；　unseasonable　reminders；
oft…returning　vexations；　skeletons　in　my　morris…chair；　jesters　in　the
tomb；　death"s…heads　at　the　wedding　feast；　outlaws　of　the　brain　that
every　night　defy　the　mind"s　police　service；　thieves　of　my　Hesperidean
apples；　breakers　of　my　domestic　peace；　murderers　of　sleep。　〃Oh；　dreadful
dreams　that　do　fright　my　spirit　from　her　propriety！〃　No　wonder　that
Hamlet　preferred　the　ills　he　knew　rather　than　run　the　risk　of　one
dream…vision。
Yet　remove　the　dream…world；　and　the　loss　is　inconceivable。　The　magic
spell　which　binds　poetry　together　is　broken。　The　splendour　of　art　and
the　soaring　might　of　imagination　are　lessened　because　no　phantom　of
fadeless　sunsets　and　flowers　urges　onward　to　a　goal。　Gone　is　the　mute
permission　or　connivance　which　emboldens　the　soul　to　mock　the　limits　of
time　and　space；　forecast　and　gather　in　harvests　of　achievement　for　ages
yet　unborn。　Blot　out　dreams；　and　the　blind　lose　one　of　their　chief
forts；　for　in　the　visions　of　sleep　they　behold　their　belief　in　the
seeing　mind　and　their　expectation　of　light　beyond　the　blank；　narrow
night　justified。　Nay；　our　conception　of　immortality　is　shaken。　Faith；
the　motive…power　of　human　life；　flickers　out。　Before　such　vacancy　and
bareness　the　shocks　of　wrecked　worlds　were　indeed　wele。　In　truth；
dreams　bring　us　the　thought　independently　of　us　and　in　spite　of　us　that
the　soul
〃may　right
Her　nature；　shoot　large　sail　on　lengthening　cord；
And　rush　exultant　on　the　Infinite。〃
DREAMS　AND　REALITY
XIV
DREAMS　AND　REALITY
IT　is　astonishing　to　think　how　our　real　wide…awake　world　revolves　around
the　shadowy　unrealities　of　Dreamland。　Despite　all　that　we　say　about　the
inconsequence　of　dreams；　we　often　reason　by　them。　We　stake　our　greatest
hopes　upon　them。　Nay；　we　build　upon　them　the　fabric　of　an　ideal　world。　I
can　recall　few　fine；　thoughtful　poems；　few　noble　works　of　art　or　any
system　of　philosophy　in　which　there　is　not　evidence　that　dream…fantasies
symbolize　truths　concealed　by　phenomena。
The　fact　that　in　dreams　confusion　reigns；　and　illogical　connections
occur　gives　plausibility　to　the　theory　which　Sir　Arthur　Mitchell　and
other　scientific　men　hold；　that　our　dream…thinking　is　uncontrolled　and
undirected　by　the　will。　The　will……the　inhibiting　and　guiding
power……finds　rest　and　refreshment　in　sleep；　while　the　mind；　like　a
barque　without　rudder　or　pass；　drifts　aimlessly　upon　an　uncharted
sea。　But　curiously　enough；　these　fantasies　and　inter…twistings　of
thought　are　to　be　found　in　great　imaginative　poems　like　Spenser"s　〃Faerie
Queene。〃　Lamb　was　impressed　by　the　analogy