Heppner gazette. [volume] (Heppner, Morrow County, Or.) 1892-1912, 1909-12-30
THE RIDDLE OF SLEEP
A Mystery That the Mind of Man
Is Unable to Penetrate.
THE CAVERN OF MORPHEUS.
1t Is Pitch Black as Far as Human
Understanding Goes, Fer We Know
No More Abcut Il Than We Do About
Its Twin Mystery, Death.

ilS WIN NyStSTyp GSakts
When all is written, how little W,
know Of sleep. 1t is Il closing of The
eyes, n disappearance. a wondering re
1uru. In uneasy slumber, in dreamless
dead rest in horrid nightmare or II
ecStaSicS Of somnoent 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 thar
in normal sleep and in dissolution. the
soul is gone. In these it returns, in
that ii does not come again. or so we
ignorantly think.
Yet when reflect on my death for
get that | have encountered it many
times already and find myself none
the worse. l forget that l sleep. The
fly has no shorter existence than
mans. We hustle about for n few
years with ludicrous Importance, as
bottlefieS 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. soma unfathomed mystery
whose presence we feel. but cannot
verify: some permeative thought in
sistently moving in our hearts, some
phosphoreScence that Clows We know
not whence through our shadowy at
omS.
Neither sleep itself nor half its prom
ises nor mysteries have been plumbed.
II is the mother of superSttions and
of miracles. In dreams we may search
the surface powers of the freed soul.
Visions in the night are not all hallu-
cinations: voices in the night are not
all mocking. There is a prophet dwells
within the mind-not of the mind, but
deeper throned in obscurity
The brain cannot know of this holy
presence nor Of its life in sleep. The
brain is mortal and untrustworthy. a
phenoCraph and camera for audible
and palpable existence. Strike it
blow in childhood so that 1t ceases its
1abors and awake it by surgery after
forty years and 1t will repeat the in
fantfle action or word it last recorded
and will take up its task on the in
Stant. 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,
it h:.s recorded, though the brain has
slept. And in hypnotic or psychic
trance. when that wonderful ruler is
released from the prison of the body. it
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 in delirium is
it delirious. and in death is it dead?
Through all the ages it has been our
sphinx. which we have interrogated in
vain. 1t joins not in our laughter nor
our tears. We have fancied it with i'm.
mobile, brooding features of utmost
knowledge and wisdom and sorrow. 1t
has asked us but one question. nor
from the day Of Oedipus unto today
have we answered rightly, so that we
die Of our ignorance. 1t Is Osiris liv-
ing in US 1t is the unknown Ged to
whom we erect our affairs, the fire in
the tabernacle. the presence behind the
veil. Not in normal wakefulness at
beast will it answer our queries, but in
sleep sometimes it will speak. And it
may possibly be that at last. after all
these centuries, we are learning how
TO question it 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 sw1on 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 supersttious 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
fly. though our finite minds should
fathom the infnitude. of what benefit
would ii be: Would it modify our be-
liefs or our hopes or our faiths? Would
Il dictate one action TO our passionate
lives? There would be no change in
human nature and no reforms of the
werld We are the children Of our IA
theirs. and our children will tread the
prehistoric paths. Dreams are our life.
whether we wake or sleep. We browse
through existence. awaking and dying
and being reborn daily. ever torpescent
and unamaZcd. and our thousand slum-
berous deaths we call restorative sleep
sleep that restores our physical be-
fnC. building up where we have torn
down. recreating what we destroy.
Black-pitch black. indeed-is the
cavern of Morpheus. Faith peoples it
with varied leGions and builds its
chaos into myriad forms. Nightly we
enter IL and drain the Lethean air and
forget. and daily we return with re-
joicings. babbling Of dreams that were
not dreamed. and finally we enter for
the last time and drain somewhat
xnora daapIy tho aecorao ~ arstasv