“What big, round eyes.”
I look around me, as I lay in my hammock on my little porch. Directly in
front of me is Saucy, a grown-up young lady, as genial and ingenuous as
ever.
“Now you are really awake, I will tell you what you have been doing
while you were asleep. When I found you here and began slowly swinging
you, you sang out: ‘Give me a butterfly’s wing.’”
When I fanned you, you groaned, “Lost, lost, oh, the ice.”
“Then Charley came.” (I see him, laughing behind a vine); “then talked
gibberish to you, to see if you were asleep. You commenced making signs
with your hands. Then slept soundly for a long time.
“Getting restless you held to the hammock sides, as if you felt to be
falling.
“A branch of wistaria brushing your cheek, you grasped and began eating
it. So I laid a banana on your hand, which you threw off as if it were a
snake and bit you. Bernard (the dog) licked your hand, when you fainted
clear away. To restore you, we shook the hammock. You then made your
feet go as in dancing, ending as in prayer.
“Then you opened your eyes and looked straight ahead for a long time.
Charley got a glass of water and sprinkled your face. Dropping the glass
on the stand, you spoke in absorbed fashion, ‘Meteor,’ then awoke.”
* * * * *
A dream! Only a dream! It was more—it was a grand inspiration. I will
write it all down.
The beautiful coach, with sail wings, the sea and ice tour. The city of
Arc, city of Zion! The marvels of perpetual amusements, science and
spiritism—of God(?).
Going down the earth’s center—the awed terror. Seeing into the planets—I
did, too, I know I did.