Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1909-12-02
THE RIDDLE OF SLEEP
A Mystery That the Mind of Man
Is Unable to Penetrate.
THE CAVERN OF MORPHEUS.

u Us fuch Black as Far rs truman
Understanding Goes, For We Know
No More About II Than We Do About
Its Twin Mystery. Death.
When all is written, bow little we
know of sleep. 1t is closing Of the
turn. In uneasy slumber. In dreamless
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 1t 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. | forget that | sleep. The
ey has no shorter existence than
mans We hustle about for few
years with ludicrous importance. as
bottleflies 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
phosphofescence that CLOVIS we know
not whence through our shadowy at
oms.
Neither sleep itself nor half it's prom
Uses nor mysteries have been plumbed.
It 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-
cinations: voices In the night are not
all hooking. 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 it's life In sleep. The
brain is mortal and untrustworthy.
photograph and camera for audible
and palpabIe existence. Strike II a
blow in childhood so that 1t ceases it's
labors and awake II by surgery after
forty years and It 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.
it 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. 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 i'm death Is II dead?
Through all the ages II has been our
sphinx. which we have Intercepted in
vain. II joins not in our laughter nor
our tears. We have fancied II with i'm
mobile, brooding features Of utmost
knowledge and wisdom and sorrow. II
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. II is Osiris liv-
ing In us Ii 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 it will speak. And IL
may possibly he that at last. after all
these centuries. we are learning how
TO question IL and in hypnotic trance
and in the fearful law OF suggestion
are discovering somewhat OF it's mys-
terry and how to employ II 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 1t be? Would II modify our be-
liefs or our hopes or our faiths? Would
II dictate one action 10 our passionate
lives? There would be no change In
human nature and no reforms of the
world. 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 unamazed. and our thousand Stun
berous deaths we call restorative sleer
sleep that restores our physical be
ing. building up where we have torn
down. recreating what we destroy.
Black pitch black. indeed-is the
cavern of Morpheus. Faith peoples Il
with varied leeions and builds It's
rhaos info MYRIAD forms Nightly we