Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1909-11-27
THE RIDDLE OF SLEEP
A Mystery That the Mind Of Man
Is Unable to Penetrate.
THE CAVERN OF MORPHEUS.
II 10 Pitch Black as Far as Human
Understanding Goes, For We Know
No More About Il Than We Do About
Its Twin Mystery, Death.

/
Understanding Goes, For We Know
No More About Il Than We Do About
Its Twin Mystery, Death.
When all is written, how little we
know OF sleep. II is a closing OF the
eyes, disappearance. a wondering re-
turn. In uneasy slumber, In dreamIess
dead rest, In horrid nightmare or In
ecstasies OF somnolent fancies the eyes
are blinded. the body is abandoned.
while the inner essence is we know not
where. We have no other knowledge
of sleep than we have of death In de-
lirium or coma or trance, no less than
In normal sleep and In dissolution. the
soul Is gone. In these II returns, In
that 1t does not come again. or so we
ignorantly think.
Yet when reflect on my death for
get that have encountered 1t many
| times already and find myself none
the worse. forget that l sleep. The
fly has no shorter existence than
mans. We hustle about for few
years with ludicrous Importance. as
bottIefiies buzz at the window panes.
They. too, may imagine themselves of
infinite moment In this universe we
share with them. But this is to take
no account of the prognostics of sleep.
There is something hidden. something
secret. some unfathomed mystery
whose presence we feel. but cannot
verify; some permeative thought in
sistently moving in our hearts, some
phosphorescence that CLOVIS we know
not whence through our shadowy at
oms.
Neither sleep itself nor half its prom
ises nor mysteries have been plumbed.
1t is the mother Of superstitions and
of miracles. In dreams we may search
the surface powers of the freed soul
Visions in the night are not all hallu-
citations; voices IN the night are not
all hooking There is prophet dwells
within the mind-not of the mind, but
deeper throned In ohscurity.
The brain cannot know of this holy
presence nor of its life in sleep. The
brain is mortal and untrust worthy. a
monograph and camera for audible
and palpable existence. Strike II
blow in childhood so that 1t ceases hs
labors and awake It by surgery after
forty years and 1t will repeat the in
fantile action or word II last recorded
and will take up Its task on the in
slant. making no account OF the inter-
mediate years. They are nonexistent
to It, Yet to that hidden memory those
diseased years are not blank. 1t knows.
1t has recorded. though the brain has
slept And in hypnotic or psychic
trance. when that wonderful ruler is
released from the prison of the body. II
can speak through the atom blent ma
chinery of the flesh and tell Of things
man himself could not know because
OF his paralyZed brain. This ruler Is
not asleep In sleep, nor I'm delirium Is
1t delirious, and in death is 1t dead?
Through all the ages II has been our
sphinx. which we have Intercepted in
vain. 1t joins not in our laughter nor
our tears. We have fancied 1t with i'm
mobile. brooding features Of utmost
knowledge and wisdom and sorrow. II
from the day OF Oedipus unto today
have we answered rightly. so that we
die of our ignorance. 1t il Osiris liv-
ing In us. 1t is the unknown God to
whom we erect our affairs. the fire in
the tabernacle. the presence behind the
veil. Not In normal wakefulness at
least will II answer our queries. but in
sleep sometimes 1t will speak And 1t
may possibly be that at last. after all
these centuries. we are learning how
to question 1t and in hypnotic trance
and In the Fearful law Of suggestion
are discovering somewhat of it's mys-
terry and how to employ It for our
worldly good. Yet TO its essential Sc |
cret we are no closer than our fore |
fathers were.
We may define dreams and night |
mare. coma and swoon and trance
with what terms we will. search their
physical reasons and learn to guide
and guard. yet we know no more of
them than of electricity. We may be-
gin to suspect that telepathy and clair
voyance and occult forces of the soul
are not superstitious fancies. and we
may even empirically classify and
study and direct them. Yet the soul
itself Is no nearer our inquisition.
Though we should know of its real
Ity.. though our finite minds should
fathom the infinitude, OF what benefit
would It be? Would 1t modify our be-
liefs or our hopes or our faiths? Would
It dictate one action to our passionate
lives? There would be no change in
human nature and no reforms of the
world. We are the children OF our ia
fhers. and our children will tread the /
prehistoric paths. Dreams are our life
we wake or sleep. We browse
through existence. awaking and dying
md being reborn daily ever torpescent
md unamazed. and our thousand slum-
1erous deaths we call restorative sleep
sleep that restores our physical be-
ng, building up where we have torn
Town. recreatfng, what we destroy.
Rlack-pitch black. indeed-is the
'avern Of Morpheus. Faith peoples It
with varied legions and, builds its
'haos into myriad forms. Nightly we
inter It and drain the Lethean air and
orget. and daily we return with re-
oicings. babbling Of dreams that were
lot dreamed. and finally we enter for
he last time and drain somewhat
more deeply the essence of ecstasy
md awake no more and no more re-
urn TO the autumn dyed skies Of the