The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1890-08-04
SLEEP, DEATH, DREAMS.
rne Strange Analogy They Bear to
One Another.
Correspondence Of the Press, l

iGeas ilaIorlty Of civilized hlJigaa he
ings are strongly attached to lie under
anytain5 Ike favorable conditions. and
seem to shrink instinctivelv from the
idea OF humiliation, they invariably en-
JOY sound, unbro'gen. oblivious sleep,
and speak Of it as rare blessing of
nature. Yet such sleep is, so far as we
may judge, IA counterfeit and exact
counterpart Of death, which IS declared
to be the king Of teTrors. How is this
glaring inconsistency to be reconciled?
Most persons would say that they relish
sleep because it is good for them, be-
cause it is restorative, because it is brief
Have they any reason for thinking that
death is not good for them, even better
than sleep, since it is eternal?
Men are always illogical. A strange
analogy pervades the universe. Sleep
and death, rs has frequently been said,
are brothers. They must be equally
desirable. Both of them must give us
rest-one at close Of day, the other at
close OF life. We. sleep every fifteen to
eighteen hours. We die consciously
but once. We imagine that we compre-
bend sleep. Death we account mys-
terry, and, being mysterious, it is alarm
ing. But do we comprehend sleep and
its concomitant dreams? Not at all.
Dreams have puzzled sages from time
out of mind, and puzzle them still.
They are far more unintelligible than
death. This seems to be simply the end
of activity, the stop Of functions. the
finality of motors. 1t is no task to con-
ceive of the termination of anything;
the more complicated a thing is the
more natural that it should terminate.
Dreams appear to be sort of life, diff
ferent from and yet analogous to our
normal life, while the normal life is sus-
pended. We generally lose while
dreaming all power of will, all control
of current thoughts which go on I'M
imitedly, involving us in contradic-
tons, absurdities, impossibilities. We
appear to share the same feelings, to
cherish the same passions, to perform
the same acts as in our waking hours.
Nevertheless, in coming out of dream
land we remember that we were not our
actual selves there; that our princi-
pies, our morals our judgments were
changed.
Things that are clear, consistent, per-
fectly natural during sleep become in
tangible, inconceivable, unthinkable on
our return to the familiar world. Plato
seeks to explain this by the theory that in
dreamspur souls are freed from the body,
have higher conceptions, more luminous
visions, deeper insight, and that when
fettered and obscured again by the body
we cannot grasp their import. Philoso-
piers and poets in every age have had
numberless fantasies and conceits on this
subject and have given them plausible
names. But we can reach no conclusion.
We are no wiser in the last quarter Of
the Nineteenth century than were the
mystagogues two thousand years ago.
Dreams are curious studies, are exceed
ingly suggestive, are full of interest, but
they battle us at every turn.
Sometimes dreams appear more real
more harmonious, more satisfactory than
life itself. How can we tell whether we
are awake or dreaming; where dream
ends and life begins? Our supposed life
may be dream. Our supposed dream
may be life. Philosophers have declared
that neither time nor space exists; that
there Is nothing eternal only our idea of
the external. Is it singular that in this
clash of opinions, this contradiction of
teaching, men, losing faith in one thing
after another, finally become universal
skeptics? If Pyrrho, the Grecian, could
be such a skeptic twenty two hundred
years ago the present time should abound
in Pyrrhomists.
May not death oe dream of life?
May not life be the death of dream? If
we should die-and may we not?-as of
ten as we sleep, death would lose its
solemnity. We should think no more
of dying than Of taking our breakfast;
and breakfast may, after all, be more i'm
portant than our exit from the planet.
Nature takes no account Of theindividual.
We are wholly without consequence
save in our own partial eyes, Flimsy
as dreams may appear they have played
a most prominent part in the history of
humanity. The influence that they have
exercised is beyond estimation. The
origin of theology, the primal idea of
power above ourselves, the earliest ap-
prehension of what we call God, NAV
have come from dreams. 7,bbes has
said that the genesis of God is the dread
of an unknown power. The unciyilized
man may have been frightened by his
dreams, and from these may have been
evolved, gradually Of course, what ulti-
mately became Il theologic system. This
is q philosophie, not an orthodox view,
which is based, it is believed, on inspira-
ton.
Dreams differ widely with different
persons. Some of these seem to have a
genius for dreaming. They dream ra-
tionally, consecutively, to positive adj
vantage. No doubt all of us dream
Dreams are the natural attendants and
outcome of sleep. But many who for
get their dreams on waking believe that
they have not dreamed We often rise
III the morning, and should not think of
our dreams over night if some occur
renee Of the day did not recall them.
SO strange, so coincidental, SO unac-
countable are dreams often that it is
not singular they have been considered
supernatural by those the least disposed
to superstition, full of dread, warning
and prophecy. Some accredited dreams
that sound like fiction are worth chroni-
cling.
Condorcet, the renowned French
mathematician and philosopher Che
wrote in favor OF American independ-
ence, advocated republican principles,
and committed suicide to avoid execu-
ton by the extremists Of the French
revolution, who had prescribed him for
being q Girondist), worked out in q
dream very difficult proposition that
had bafIled him during the day.
Condillac asserted that while writing
his elaborate Course Of Studies" he fire.
quently finished in his dreams chapters
which he had failed to conclude before
going to bed.
Coleridge recites an incident of his
own experience-that he had composed
while asleep in chair the poetical frag
ment "Kubla Khan" He had read in
Purchas' pilgrims" 'Here Kubla Khan
commanded palace to be built, and a
stately garden thereunto, and thus ten
miles of fertile ground were inclosed
within wall" The poet awol1e after
several hours with the conviction that
he had made two or three hundred
verses, Remembering them wildly, he
at once wrote them down as they are
printed in his works.
Giuseppe Tartini, the most celebrated
violinist Of the Eighteenth century, al
NvaVe 1,ooinA,;-,o1 4Io+ 1,ic {nocf opJllnO-