Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-05-22
SHADOWS OF NIGHT,
Weird, Uncanny Fancies That
Chase Each Other in
Dreamland.
A GOLD CHEST TRAGEDY,
Faces That Crowd the Walls In the
Playhouse of Childhood.
PLNT0NIME TO CHILL THE BLOOD.
Ambitious Stately Structure Built on the
Euins Of Living Hearts.
A GOLD CHEST TRAGEDY,
PANTONIME TO CHILL THE BLOOD.
Ambitious Stately Structure Built on the
Euins Of Living Hearts.
SOME OF JEROME Z. JEROME's SKETCHES
WRITTEN FOR THE DISPATCH

I dreamt very curious dream abou
riches once that made a great impressio,
upon me. / thought that L and friend
very dear friend-were living together in
strange, old house. We very fond of on,
another and We lived very happily.
don't think anybody else dwelt in th,
house but we two One day, wanderin.
about this strange, old rambling place,
discovered the hidden door of a secret room
and in this room were many iron-bount
chests and when L raised the heavy lids
saw that each chest was full of gold.
And, when l saw this, 1 stole out softly
and closed the hidden door, and drew the
worn tapestries in front of it again. and
crept back along the dim corridor, looking
behind me, tearfully. And the friend that
! had loved came toward me, and we
walked together with our hands clasped.
But hated him. And all dav long kent
ever beside him or followed him unseen,
lest by chance he should learn the secret of
that hidden door; and at night Law ever
awake watching him. But one night l
slept, and when L opened my eyes, he is no
longer near me. 1 run swiftly up the little
narrow stairs and along the silent corridor.
The tapestry is drawn aside, and the hidden
door stands open, and in the secret room
beyond the friend that 1 loved is kneelinr
before an open chest, and the CLINT of the
gold is in nv ewes.
his back is toward me, and 1 crawl for
ward inch by inch; and when L am near
enough l kill him as he kneels there. His
body tails against the door and it shuts to
with clang, and 1 try to open it. and can
not. beat my hands against its iron nails.
and scream, and the dead man grins at me.
Inc light streams in through the chink be-
meath the massive door, and fades; and
comes again, and fades again, and gnaw at
the oaken lids of the iron-bound chests, for
the madness of hunger is climbing into nv
brain.
Then awake, and find that L really am
very hungry, and remember that in conse-
quence OF headache l did not eat anv
dinner. SO | slip on few clothes and 90
down to the kitchen on a foraging expe-
ditiop.
1t is said that dreams are momentary con-
glomerauons of thought, centering round
the incident that awakens US, and like most
scientific facts, this is occasionally true.
There is one dream that, with slight yaria
tlons, is continually recurring to me- Over
anf over again dream thai l am suddenly
called upon to act an important part in some
piece at the Lyceum. That poor Mr.. Irv-
N" should invariably BE- the victim seems
uniair bgt really it is entirely his own
fault Il is he who persuades and urges
me. myself would much prefer to remain
quietly in bed, aud L tell him so. But he
does not study my convenience. He thinks
@niv oI nimset, and insists on nv getting
mp Al once ard coming down to the theater
l explain TO him that | can't act bit. He
seems TO consider this unimpor ortant.
and saws, ''Oh, that will be all right
We argue for q while, but he makes the
matter quite personal one, ard to oblige
him and get him out of the bedroom | con-
sent though much against my own iudg-
ment [ generally dress the character in
my nightshirt, though on one occasion, for
bGt9g0 / wore pajamas-but then that was
q swell part-and L never remember single
word OF what | ought to say. How L get
through do not know. Irving comes up
stterward and congratulates me, but whether
upon the briliiancy OF my performance or
upon my luck in getting off the stage before
brlckbat Is thrown at me, cannot say.
Whenever L dream this incident L in
varlably wake up to find that the bed
clothes are on the floor, and that am shiv-
ering with cold aad 1t is this shivering, L
suppose, that couses ME to dream L am
wandering about the Lyceum stage in moth
ing but my nigEtshirt. But still l do not
understand why it should always BE- the
lYceum.
Another dream which I fancy I have
dreamt more thau oHce-or if not, have
dreamt that l dreamt it before, a thing one
sometimes does-is one in which am walk
ing down very wide and very long road in
the East End of London. 1t is a curious
road TO hnd there Buses and trans PASS
up and down the center of it, and il is
crowded with stalls and barrows, beside
which men IN greasy caps stand shouting:
yet on each side it is bordered bv a strip of
tropical forest. The road, in fact, combines
the advantages OF Kew and Whitechapel.
Someone is with me, but l cannot see
him, and we walk through the forest, push
ing our way among the tangled vines that
cling about our feet, and every now and
then, between the giant tree trunks. we
catch glimpseS of the noisy street.
AT the end OF this road there is narrow |
turning, ana when l come to it am afraid,
though 90 not know why L am afraid. 1t |
leads 20 a house that | once lived in when a |
child, and now there is someone waiting |
there who has something to tell me-
turn to run away. a Blackwell bus is |
passing, and | try to overtake it. But the |
horses tarn into skeletons and gallop away |
rum Lne, anu INV IeeI are ike lead, and the 1
thing that is with me, and that cannot see
selzes me by the arm and drags me back.
1t forces me along and into the house and |
the door slams to behind us, and the sound
echoes through the liieiess rooms recoc-
nlze the rooms; I lived and laughed and cried
IN them long ago Nothing is changs,l The
chairs stand in their places empty NV
mothers knitting lies upon the hearthrug, /
where the kitten, L remember, dragged it
somewhere back in the sixties.
20 up into my own little attic. NV cot
stands in the corner, and my bricks lie
tumbled out upon the floor q was always
an untidv child). An old man enters-an
old, bent, withered man-holding a lamp
above his head, and l look at his face and
1t IS my own face. And another enters,
and he also is myself Then more and
more, till the room is thronged with faces
and the stairway beyond and all the silent
house. Some oi the faces are old and
others young, and some are fair and smile
AZ me, and many are foul and leer at me-
And every lace is my own face, but no
two OF them are alike.
90 rot know why the sight of myself
should alarm me so, but L rush from the
house In terror and the faces follow me;
and run faster and faster, but 1 know that
shall never leave them behind me.
AS rule one is the hero of ones own
dreams, but at times [ have dreamt a
dream entirely in the third persona
Iream with the incidents OF which l have
lad no connection whatever, except as an
unseen and lmpotent spectator. One of |