Probably this was owing to the reactionary mental relief I experienced
after all my doubts and jealousies--you know, "joie fait peur"
sometimes. It might also have resulted from the stronger impression
which my last interview with her had made upon my mind, coupled with all
the sweet hopes and darling imaginings that had sprung suddenly into
existence, when her rose-red lips told me in liquid accents that she
loved me. How deliciously the words had sounded! I seemed to hear them
now once more; and, that kiss of ecstasy--I almost felt it again in all
its passionate intensity!
But, the physiology of dreams, and their origin and connection with our
day life, are subjects that have never been clearly explained,
frequently investigated though they have been by intellects that have
groped to the bottom of almost every phenomenal possibility in the
finite world. We have not yet succeeded in piercing through the thick
veil that hides from our gaze the unseen, ideal, and spiritual cosmos
that surrounds, with its ghostly atmosphere, the more material universe
in which we move and breathe and have our being. We are oblivious, in
most cases, of that thought-peopled, encircling essence; although, it
influences our motives and actions, perhaps, in a greater degree than we
may be willing to allow.
I shall not attempt to solve the workings of the varied phantasmagoria
that flitted across the horizon of my brain that night, curious as they
were; nor, will I try to track out how, and in what way, they retraced
the events of the past, and prognosticated the possibilities of the
future. The task in either direction would be as hopeless as it is
uninteresting; consequently, I will abandon it to the attention of more
inquiring psychological minds than my own, hurrying on to tell what it
was that I dreamt.
My vision was a threefold one--a series of dreams within dreams.
First, I thought that I was on a wide, whitened Alpine plain. It was
night. In front of me, towered on high the rugged peaks of the
Matterhorn, imposing in their grandeur; further on, in the illimitable
distance, I could descry the rounded, snowcapp'd head of Mont Blanc,
rearing itself heavenward, where the pale, treacherous moon kept her
silent watch, and from whence the glistening stars twinkled down through
an ocean of space, touching frosted particles of matter with
scintillations of light, and making them glitter like diamonds--world-
old, transparent jewels, set in the cold, ice-blue crown of the eternal
glacier.
I could thus see myself, gazing through my dream eyes on my _eidolon_,
as if it were only a reflection in a mirror. _It_ was walking here on
this wide Alpine plain, all alone; and I recognised also that I had the
power to analyse and appreciate the motives by which it was led hither,
the desires by which it was actuated--the strange thing, being, that I
felt, within myself, all the thoughts and ideas that must have occurred
to _my other self_.
At the same time, however, I seemed to be, as it were, but an inactive
spectator of all that happened; looking on the visionary events of my
dream as if I had no share or part in them. I appeared to possess,
while they occurred, a sort of dual existence, of which I was perfectly
cognisant, then and afterwards.
I knew that I--my other self--wished to reach the heights of the
Matterhorn before and above me: the region of perpetual snow. I
sympathised with that wish; and yet, I could look on at all my efforts
to accomplish it, as if I were uninterested in their success, whilst I
still felt, within myself, all the agony and suspense that must have
filled the mind of my wraith, I could see myself making repeated
exertions to reach the heights; constantly climbing, never getting any
higher. I appeared to patrol a narrow circle, whose circumference I was
unable to cross. Round and round I went, continually striving to get
upwards and onwards:--still, always finding myself in the same identical
spot, as if I had not advanced an inch. I grew tired, weary, exhausted.
I felt sick at heart and in body. A nameless, indefinable horror
seized upon me.
Then, all of a sudden, Min appeared.
She stood on the peaks above me; her figure presented in strong relief
against the dead, neutral tint of the ice-wall behind her. I could see
her face plainly--the look of entreaty in her eyes and the beckoning
motion of her hands. She was calling to me, and urging me to join her;
and--I _could_ not!
A wide crevasse yawned before me, preventing any forward movement. It
yawned deep down in front of my feet, fathoms below fathoms, piercing
down, seemingly, to the centre of the earth. Looking over its edge I
could mark how the vaulted arc of heaven and the starry firmament were
reflected in its bottomless abyss; while, its breadth, seemed
immeasurable. I saw that I could not cross it by the path I had
hitherto pursued; and yet, whenever I turned aside, and tried to reach
the mountain top by some other way, the horrible crevasse curved its
course likewise, still confronting me. It was always before me, to
arrest my progress. I could not evade it, I could not overleap it; and
yet, there stood Min calling to me, and beckoning to me--and, I could
not join her. It was maddening!
The moonlight faded. The twinkling stars went in one by one. There was
a subdued darkness for a moment; and then, day appeared to break.