Thursday, August 18, 2005

My Night-Fancies.

I confess an occasional night-mare; but I do not, as in early youth, keep a stud of them. Fiendish faces, with the extinguished taper, will come and look at me; but I know them for mockeries, even while I cannot elude their presence, and I fight and grapple with them. For the credit of my imagination, I am almost ashamed to say how tame and prosaic my dreams are grown. They are never romantic, seldom even rural. They are of architecture and of buildings--cities abroad, which I have never seen, and hardly have hope to see.

Lately bushels of dreams, and so many of them seem the same. There's never any plot or point, they're background music, scenery being watched out a train window. Dreams about things that have already happened, things that will to continue to happen, nothing wonderful or calamitous, but predictable and small, inconsequential things I didn't even realize you could dream about, like eating breakfast or watching TV or making up the bed. Boring enough to make you fall asleep, if you weren't already. Is there maybe some late night snack that can be consumed to induce better dreams? I am open to suggestions.