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Sometimes, again, I dream of a new flower one never before beheld by mortal eye with some strange, wonderful quality in it, perhaps, that makes it a treasure, like that flower of Milton's invention haemony in Comus, you know.
Some one was watching by me; people seemed to be walking from one bed to another; they came beside me, and spoke of me as NUMBER TWELVE. On the wall, at the foot of my bed it was no dream, for I distinctly read it on a black-marble tablet was inscribed my name, in large letters of gold: PETER SCHLEMIHL.
When I was in Newcastle I availed myself of the opportunity to call upon Mr. Burt, M.P. On questioning him as to whether he had ever seen a ghost, he replied in the negative, but remarked that he had had one experience which had made a deep impression upon his mind, which partook more of the nature of clairvoyance than the apparition of a phantom. "I suppose it was a dream," said Mr. Burt.
They placed their bicycles against some trees, and then found themselves in a little clearing, the most exquisite, leafy nest that one could dream of. The forest here assumed an aspect of secluded sovereign beauty. The springtide had endowed it with youth, the foliage was light and virginal, like delicate green lace flecked with gold by the sun-rays.
A good deal of the dream work consists in the creation of those frequently very witty, but often exaggerated, digressions. These vary from the common presentation in the dream content to dream thoughts which are as varied as are the causes in form and essence which give rise to them.
I have conquered you in cunning, and in a combat you would be killed. Dream no longer of struggling against me in any manner, for from this moment I act as king as master as despot; I shall watch you everywhere, follow you everywhere, and, at the least suspicion, I will throw you to the axe of my executioner.
But not such a poor special providence as men are too apt to dream of now-a-days, which interferes only now and then on some great occasion, or on behalf of some very favoured persons, but a special providence looking after every special act of man, and of the whole universe, from the fall of a sparrow to the fall of an empire.
A slow wave of the white-gloved hand, a few gentle tips of the wand, and then a sweep which seemed to draw out the long, rich opening chord of the Dream Song and set it drifting away among the trees till it lost itself in the rattle and clatter of the Boulevard St Michel. Braith and Bulfinch set down their glasses and listened.
"It seems like the natural thing to say I'm glad to see you back," he said slowly, "but there's a reason why I can't say it at all." "Then don't dream of saying it." Georgiana leaned her head listlessly against the seamy old tree trunk behind her. "It's not that I wanted you to go; you know I was altogether too selfish for that," he went on.
His clear-cut face, white skin and sandy hair shone all together with an oily lustre in the moonlight; there was a hard cold gleam in his eyes. "It would be a pretty little story for the society press," he said, after a pause "How the bewitching Maryllia Vancourt resigned the brilliancy of her social life for a dream of love with an elderly country clergyman! By Heaven! No one would believe it!
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