the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第16章

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thought　are　to　be　found　in　great　imaginative　poems　like　Spenser's　〃Faerie
Queene。〃　Lamb　was　impressed　by　the　analogy　between　our　dream…thinking
and　the　work　of　the　imagination。　Speaking　of　the　episode　in　the　cave　of
Mammon；　Lamb　wrote：

〃It　is　not　enough　to　say　that　the　whole　episode　is　a　copy　of　the　mind's
conceptions　in　sleep；　it　is……in　some　sort；　but　what　a　copy！　Let　the　most
romantic　of　us　that　has　been　entertained　all　night　with　the　spectacle　of
some　wild　and　magnificent　vision；　re…bine　it　in　the　morning　and　try
it　by　his　waking　judgment。　That　which　appeared　so　shifting　and　yet　so
coherent；　when　it　came　under　cool　examination；　shall　appear　so
reasonless　and　so　unlinked；　that　we　are　ashamed　to　have　been　so　deluded；
and　to　have　taken；　though　but　in　sleep；　a　monster　for　a　god。　The
transitions　in　this　episode　are　every　whit　as　violent　as　in　the　most
extravagant　dream；　and　yet　the　waking　judgment　ratifies　them。〃

Perhaps　I　feel　more　than　others　the　analogy　between　the　world　of　our
waking　life　and　the　world　of　dreams　because　before　I　was　taught；　I　lived
in　a　sort　of　perpetual　dream。　The　testimony　of　parents　and　friends　who
watched　me　day　after　day　is　the　only　means　that　I　have　of　knowing　the
actuality　of　those　early；　obscure　years　of　my　childhood。　The　physical
acts　of　going　to　bed　and　waking　in　the　morning　alone　mark　the　transition
from　reality　to　Dreamland。　As　near　as　I　can　tell；　asleep　or　awake　I　only
felt　with　my　body。　I　can　recollect　no　process　which　I　should　now　dignify
with　the　term　of　thought。　It　is　true　that　my　bodily　sensations　were
extremely　acute；　but　beyond　a　crude　connection　with　physical　wants　they
are　not　associated　or　directed。　They　had　little　relation　to　each　other；
to　me　or　the　experience　of　others。　Idea……that　which　gives　identity　and
continuity　to　experience……came　into　my　sleeping　and　waking　existence　at
the　same　moment　with　the　awakening　of　self…consciousness。　Before　that
moment　my　mind　was　in　a　state　of　anarchy　in　which　meaningless　sensations
rioted；　and　if　thought　existed；　it　was　so　vague　and　inconsequent；　it
cannot　be　made　a　part　of　discourse。　Yet　before　my　education　began；　I
dreamed。　I　know　that　I　must　have　dreamed　because　I　recall　no　break　in　my
tactual　experiences。　Things　fell　suddenly；　heavily。　I　felt　my　clothing
afire；　or　I　fell　into　a　tub　of　cold　water。　Once　I　smelt　bananas；　and　the
odour　in　my　nostrils　was　so　vivid　that　in　the　morning；　before　I　was
dressed；　I　went　to　the　sideboard　to　look　for　the　bananas。　There　were　no
bananas；　and　no　odour　of　bananas　anywhere！　My　life　was　in　fact　a　dream
throughout。

The　likeness　between　my　waking　state　and　the　sleeping　one　is　still
marked。　In　both　states　I　see；　but　not　with　my　eyes。　I　hear；　but　not　with
my　ears。　I　speak；　and　am　spoken　to；　without　the　sound　of　a　voice。　I　am
moved　to　pleasure　by　visions　of　ineffable　beauty　which　I　have　never
beheld　in　the　physical　world。　Once　in　a　dream　I　held　in　my　hand　a　pearl。
The　one　I　saw　in　my　dreams　must；　therefore；　have　been　a　creation　of　my
imagination。　It　oulded　crystal。　As　I　gazed
into　its　shimmering　deeps；　my　soul　was　flooded　with　an　ecstasy　of
tenderness；　and　I　was　filled　with　wonder　as　one　who　should　for　the
first　time　look　into　the　cool；　sweet　heart　of　a　rose。　My　pearl　was　dew
and　fire；　the　velvety　green　of　moss；　the　soft　whiteness　of　lilies；　and
the　distilled　hues　and　sweetness　of　a　thousand　roses。　It　seemed　to　me；
the　soul　of　beauty　was　dissolved　in　its　crystal　bosom。　This　beauteous
vision　strengthens　my　conviction　that　the　world　which　the　mind　builds　up
out　of　countless　subtle　experiences　and　suggestions　is　fairer　than　the
world　of　the　senses。　The　splendour　of　the　sunset　my　friends　gaze　at
across　the　purpling　hills　is　wonderful。　But　the　sunset　of　the　inner
vision　brings　purer　delight　because　it　is　the　worshipful　blending　of　all
the　beauty　that　we　have　known　and　desired。

I　believe　that　I　am　more　fortunate　in　my　dreams　than　most　people；　for
as　I　think　back　over　my　dreams；　the　pleasant　ones　seem　to　predominate；
although　we　naturally　recall　most　vividly　and　tell　most　eagerly　the
grotesque　and　fantastic　adventures　in　Slumberland。　I　have　friends；
however；　whose　dreams　are　always　troubled　and　disturbed。　They　wake
fatigued　and　bruised；　and　they　tell　me　that　they　would　give　a　kingdom
for　one　dreamless　night。　There　is　one　friend　who　declares　that　she　has
never　had　a　felicitous　dream　in　her　life。　The　grind　and　worry　of　the　day
invade　the　sweet　domain　of　sleep　and　weary　her　with　incessant；
profitless　effort。　I　feel　very　sorry　for　this　friend；　and　perhaps　it　is
hardly　fair　to　insist　upon　the　pleasure　of　dreaming　in　the　presence　of
one　whose　dream…experience　is　so　unhappy。　Still；　it　is　true　that　my
dreams　have　uses　as　many　and　sweet　as　those　of　adversity。　All　my
yearning　for　the　strange；　the　weird；　the　ghostlike　is　gratified　in
dreams。　They　carry　me　out　of　the　accustomed　and　monplace。　In　a　flash；
in　the　winking　of　an　eye　they　snatch　the　burden　from　my　shoulder；　the
trivial　task　from　my　hand　and　the　pain　and　disappointment　from　my　heart；
and　I　behold　the　lovely　face　of　my　dream。　It　dances　round　me　with　merry
measure　and　darts　hither　and　thither　in　happy　abandon。　Sudden；　sweet
fancies　spring　forth　from　every　nook　and　corner；　and　delightful
surprises　meet　me　at　every　turn。　A　happy　dream　is　more　precious　than
gold　and　rubies。

I　like　to　think　that　in　dreams　we　catch　glimpses　of　a　life　larger　than
our　own。　We　see　it　as　a　little　child；　or　as　a　savage　who　visits　a
civilized　nation。　Thoughts　are　imparted　to　us　far　above　our　ordinary
thinking。　Feelings　nobler　and　wiser　than　any　we　have　known　thrill　us
between　heart…beats。　For　one　fleeting　night　a　princelier　nature　captures
us；　and　we　bee　as　great　as　our　aspirations。　I　daresay　we　return　to
the　little　world　of　our　daily　activities　with　as　distorted　a　half…memory
of　what　we　have　seen　as　that　of　the　African　who　visited　England；　and
afterwards　said　he　had　been　in　a　huge　hill　which　carried　him　over　great
waters。　The　prehensiveness　of　our　thought；　whether　we　are　asleep　or
awake；　no　doubt　depends　largely　upon　our　idiosyncrasies；　constitution；
habits；　and　mental　capacity。　But　whatever　may　be　the　nature　of　our
dreams；　the　mental　processes　that　characterize　them　are　analogous　to
those　which　go　on　when　the　mind　is　not　held　to　attention　by　the　will。




A　WAKING　DREAM




XV

A　WAKING　DREAM


I　HAVE　sat　for　hours　in　a　sort　of　reverie；　letting　my　mind　have　its　way
without　inhibition　and　direction；　and　idly　noted　down　the　incessant　beat
of　thought　upon　thought；　image　upon　image。　I　have　observed　that　my
thoughts　make　all　kinds　of　connections；　wind　in　and　out；　trace
concentric　circles；　and　break　up　in　eddies　of　fantasy；　just　as　in
dreams。　One　day　I　had　a　literary　frolic　with　a　certain　set　of　thoughts
which　dropped　in　for　an　afternoon　call。　I　wrote　for　three　or　four　hours
as　they　arrived；　and　the　resulting　record　is　much　like　a　dream。　I　found
that　the　most　disconnected；　dissimilar　thoughts　came　in　arm…in…arm……I
dreamed　a　wide…awake　dream。　The　difference　is　that　in　waking　dreams　I
can　look　back　upon　the　endless　succession　of　thoughts；　while　in　the
dreams　of　sleep　I　can　recall　but　few　ideas　and　images。　I　catch　broken
threads　from　the　warp　and　woof　of　a　pattern　I　cannot　see；　or　glowing
leaves　which　have　floated　on　a　slumber…wind　from　a　tree　that　I　cannot
identify。　In　this　reverie　I　held　the　key　to　the　pany　of　ideas。　I　give
my　record　of　them　to　show　what　analogies　exist　between　thoughts　when
they　are　not　directed　and　the　behaviour　of　real　dream…thinking。

I　had　an　essay　to　write。　I　wanted　my　mind　fresh　and　obedient；　and　all
its　handmaidens　ready　to　hold　up　my　hands　in　the　task。　I　intended　to
discourse　learnedly　upon　my　educational　experiences；　and　I　was　unusually
anxious　to　do　my　best。　I　had　a　working　plan　in　my　head　for　the　essay；
which　was　to　be　grave；　wise；　and　abounding　in　ideas。　Moreover；　it　was　to
have　an　academic　flavour　suggestive　of　sheepskin；　and　the　reader　was　to
be　duly　impressed　with　the　austere　dignity　of　cap　and　gown。　I　shut
myself　up　in　the　study；　resolved　to　beat　out　on　the　keys　of　my
typewriter　this　immortal　chapter　of　my　life…history。　Alexander　was　no
more　con