"It is no exaggeration to say that I live two distinct lives,--one in
the everyday world and the other in the Land of Nod! Like most people
I generally forget my dreams as soon as I wake up in the morning; but
I know that when I dream I am just as active and as much interested
in everything--trees, books and events--as when I am awake.
"My dreams have strangely changed during the past twelve years.
Before and after my teacher first came to me, they were devoid of
sound, or thought or emotion of any kind, except fear, and only came
in the form of sensations. I would often dream that I ran into a
still, dark room, and that, while I stood there, I felt something
fall heavily without any noise, causing the floor to shake up and
down violently; and each time I woke up with a jump. As I learned
more and more about the objects around me, this strange dream ceased
to haunt me; but I was in a high state of excitement and received
impressions very easily. It is not strange then that I dreamed at
that time of a wolf, which seemed to rush towards me and put his
cruel teeth deep into my body! I could not speak (the fact was, I
could only spell with my fingers), and I tried to scream; but no
sound escaped from my lips. It is very likely that I had heard the
story of Red Riding Hood, and was deeply impressed by it. This dream,
however, passed away in time, and I began to dream of objects outside
of myself.
"I never spelled with my fingers in my sleep; but I have often
spoken, and one night I actually laughed. I was dreaming of a great
frolic with my schoolmates at the Perkins Institution. But, if I
do not use the manual alphabet in my dreams, my friends sometimes
spell to me. Their sentences are always brief and vague. I obtain
information in a very curious manner, which it is difficult to
describe. My mind acts as a sort of mirror, in which faces and
landscapes are reflected, and thoughts, which throng unbidden in my
brain, describe the conversation and the events going on around me.
"I remember a beautiful and striking illustration of the peculiar
mode of communication I have just mentioned. One night I dreamed
that I was in a lovely mansion, all built of leaves and flowers. My
thoughts declared the floor was of green twigs, and the ceiling of
pink and white roses. The walls were of roses, pinks, hyacinths,
and many other flowers, loosely arranged so as to make the whole
structure wavy and graceful. Here and there I saw an opening between
the leaves, which admitted the purest air. I learned that the flowers
were imperishable, and with such a wonderful discovery thrilling my
spirit I awoke.
"I do not think I have seen or heard more than once in my sleep.
Then the sunlight flashed suddenly on my eyes, and I was so dazzled
I could not think or distinguish anything. When I looked up, some
one spelled hastily to me, 'Why, you are looking back upon your
babyhood!' As to the sound I heard, it was like the rushing of a
mighty cataract, and reminded me forcibly of my visit to Niagara
Falls. I remembered as if it were yesterday how I had come very close
to the water and felt the great roar by placing my hand on a soft
pillow. Now, however, I knew I was far away from the place whence
the sound came, and the vibration fell clear, though not loud, upon
my eardrums; so I concluded in my sleep that I really heard. What
happened next I have entirely forgotten; but in the morning I was
deeply impressed by the only instance in which I had dreamed of
hearing, and I wished I could go back to Dreamland, just to hear that
far-off, inspiring sound.
"Occasionally I think I am reading with my fingers, either Braille or
line print, and even translating a little Latin, but always with an
odd feeling that I am touching forbidden fruit. Somehow I feel that
the spirits of sleep are displeased if any thoughts of literature
cross my mind. Still I am free to enjoy everything else--I can wander
among flowers and trees and be with my friends, especially those who
live at a distance from where I happen to be. Sometimes I am with
my mother, and at other times with my sister Mildred. My teacher
scarcely ever appears in my dreams; but I know she would very often
if a cruel fate should tear her away from me. I shall never forget
the morning seven or eight years ago, when I dreamed that my dear
friend, Bishop Brooks, was dying. A few hours later I found that my
dream was a terrible reality. It is probable that I thought of him
at the very moment when he was passing away, and I certainly wept in
the same manner and in the same place while I dreamed, that I did
afterwards!
"I hardly ever dream of anything that has happened the day before,
although I sometimes have several different dreams on the same night;
nor do I dream of the same things often. However, I dream oftenest
of the unpleasant and horrible, no matter how happy and successful
the day may have been. Indeed, I have found it unadvisable to read
terrible stories or tragedies often, or in the evening. They impress
me so painfully, and retain so firm a hold of my imagination that
they sooner or later force themselves into my dreams. About two years
ago I read 'Sixty Years a Queen' the story of the awful massacre
at Cawnpore, which took place during the Indian Mutiny. It filled
me with a horror that haunted me persistently for several days. At
last I managed to banish these disagreeable feelings; but one night
a frightful distortion of the selfsame story appeared before my
mind. I thought I was in a small prison. At first I only noticed a
skeleton hanging up on one of the walls; then I felt a strange, awful
sound, like heavy iron being cast down, and the most heartrending
cries ensued. I was informed that twenty men were being put to death
with the utmost cruelty. I rushed madly from one room to another,
and, as each ruffian came out, I locked the door behind him, in the
hope that some of the victims might thereby be saved. All my efforts
were futile, and I awoke with a sickening horror weighing down on
my heart. I have also fancied that I saw cities on fire, and brave,
innocent men dragged to a fiery martyrdom. One instant I would
stand in speechless bewilderment, as the flames leaped up, dark and
glaring, into a black sky. The next moment I would be in the midst of
the conflagration, trying to save some of the sufferers, and seeing
in dismay how they slipped away beyond my power. At such times I have
thought myself the most wretched person in the world; but in the
morning the bright sunshine and fresh air of our own dear, beautiful
world would chase away those horrible phantoms.
"On the whole, my dreams are consistent with my feelings and
sympathies; but once I thought I was engaged in a great boat-race
between Yale and Harvard. Now, in reality I am always on Harvard's
side in the great games; but at that time I dreamed that I was a
thorough Yale man! Perhaps this inconsistency arose from the fact
that a long time ago I had declared how glad I was of Harvard's
failure to win a certain boat-race, because the Yale men rowed with
the American stroke and the Harvard men had learned the English
stroke. At any rate, sleeping or waking, I love my friends, and never
think they change or grow unkind. From time to time I make friends
in my dreams; but usually I am too busy running around and watching
other people to have any long conversations or 'reveries.'
"I am often led into pretty fantasies, of which I will give an
illustration. Consternation was spread everywhere because the news
had been received of King Winter's determination to establish his
rule permanently in the temperate zones. The stern monarch fulfilled
his threat all too soon; for, although it was mid-summer, yet the
whole ocean was suddenly frozen, and all the boats and steamers
were stuck fast in the ice. Commerce was ruined, and starvation was
unavoidable. The flowers and trees shared in the universal sorrow,
and bravely strove to keep alive through the summer. Finally,
overcome by the intense cold, they dropped their leaves and
blossoms, which they had kept fresh and spotless to the last. Slowly
the flowers fluttered down and lay at King Winter's feet, silently
supplicating him to show mercy, but all in vain. They froze unheeded,
and were changed into pearls, diamonds, and turquoises.
"Another time I took it into my head to climb to the stars. I sprang
up into the air, and was borne upward by a strong impulse. I could
not see or hear; but my mind was my guide as well as my interpreter.
Higher and higher I rose, until I was very close to the stars. Their
intense light prevented me from coming any nearer; so I hung on
invisible wings, fascinated by the rolling spheres and the constant
play of light and shadow, which my thoughts reflected. All at once
I lost my balance, I knew not how, and down, down I rushed through
empty space, till I struck violently against a tree, and my body sank
to the ground. The shock waked me up, and for a moment I thought all
my bones were broken to atoms.
"I have said all that I can remember concerning my dreams; but what
really surprises me is this; sometimes, in the midst of a nightmare,
I am conscious of a desire to wake up, and I make a vigorous effort
to break the spell. Something seems to hold my senses tightly, and it
is only with a spasmodic movement that I can open my eyes. Even then
I feel, or I think I feel, a rapid motion shaking my bed and a sound
of light, swift footsteps. It seems strange to me that I should make
such an effort to wake up, instead of doing it automatically."
This faithful and dramatic sketch is replete with specific as
well as with generic corroborations of the distinctive results of
the present inquiry. The differences between the dream experiences
of Helen Keller before and after education are quite consistent
with comparable results in the cases of other defectives--although
dreams of her uneducated period seem to occur rarely if at all, and
it is not possible to determine how soon after she began to speak,
such speech-communication made its appearance in her dreams. It is
interesting to note that oral speech, when once acquired, speedily
superseded manual talking, and that automatic talking aloud in her
sleep appeared; the finger alphabet became almost obsolete in her
waking life, and likewise in her dreams. Yet the persistence of early
acquired habits is strikingly shown in her occasional unconscious
tendency to talk to herself by forming the letters with one hand
against the palm of the other. These processes she seems to utilize
quite automatically and unconsciously as aids to composition or to
"thinking aloud."
In regard to the source and content of her dreams, the more realistic
episodes reflect their perceptional origin in tactile and motor
experiences; such are the attack of the wolf, the fall from a
height, the reception of information through the palm, reading the
raised print,--while dreams of flying naturally present the same
elaboration of sensory elements as in normally equipped individuals.
The dreams of seeing and hearing probably reflect far more of
conceptual interpretation and imaginative inference than of true
sensation; yet they are in part built up upon a sensory basis,--in
the former case, that of the heat sensations radiating from a
brilliant illumination (witness the flames of the conflagration,
the "intense light" of the stars), in the latter of vibrational or
jarring sensations communicated to the body (as in the torrent of
Niagara). But, on the whole, the direct sensory tone of her dream
life is weak; while for this very reason, possibly, the imaginative
and "transferred" components are unusually dominant. The associative
elaboration of fancies in dream life is rarely capable of simple
analysis, and commonly reveals results, and not the processes or
stages by which the results were reached. Dependent, as Helen Keller
is so largely, upon the communication of others for her knowledge
of what is going on about her, it is natural that this transferred
communication should be important in her dream knowledge. That her
consciousness of the process of such acquisition should be vague
and difficult to express is natural; and the phrases "my thoughts
declared," "my mind acts as a sort of mirror," "I was informed,"
are as satisfactory psychologically as could be expected. It is,
however, in dreams not of external incidents involving vaguely
transferred or directly communicated information, but in the free
roamings of creative imagination, that the dream life of Helen Keller
finds its most suitable _métier_; it is in this direction that this
dream narrative, reflecting, as it does, her rich emotional nature
and enthusiastically sympathetic temperament, presents its most
distinctive and attractive aspect.