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Updated: May 15, 2025
To his dreamer's heart it seemed that there should be search, that there should be a sign, so that it should be sure that the moment had come, that the Other had been found. With some men this delusion lasts very late. With some women it endures forever. For these there may be, after all, another world somewhere in the recurrent quotient which runs indefinitely out into the stars.
If the sheer truth must come out, however, he knew precious little about that world, especially the polite part of it in which thrived those femininities so dear to the heart of an isolated and imaginative girl. Still, as he, too, lived in Arcadia, there was no great effort involved when he undertook to blow a dreamer's flute.
Then, after an uneasy movement, he said, in a stronger and irritable voice, which seemed to come from another region of consciousness: "It would have been better to have burned the paper. One can't get away from the thing. It it disturbs me " "What paper?" said Lankester, close to the dreamer's ear. "The Herald," said Marsham, impatiently. "Where is it?" "In that cabinet by the fire."
But memory and imagination never mislead us into mistaking their suggestions for realities: while in dreams, the dreamer's fancy alone is active; the bodily faculties are not in action. In trance, however, the subject may appear to be, to all intents and purposes, awake. Yet this state, unlike the others, is abnormal.
As to John Bunyan, the story of the beginnings of grace in the dreamer's soul is familiar to us all, but it will do us no harm to hear it from his own lips once again.
The winter that followed was one of the happiest of The Dreamer's life a lull in a tempest, a dream of peace within a dream of storm and stress. He was soon able to return the twenty dollars to Mr. Kennedy. The newspapers kept him busy and while the returns were so far small, he was hopeful. He felt that he had made a beginning, and that the future promised well.
In the North as well as the South the name of Edgar Poe was now on many lips and serious attention began to be paid to the opinion of the Southern Literary Messenger. Between his literary work, his home and his social life in Richmond, it would seem that every need of The Dreamer's being was now satisfied and the days of his life were moving in perfect harmony.
Then, he heard a movement at his shoulder, and, turning, saw the boy Samson with the moonlight in his eyes, and, besides the moonlight, that sparkle which is the essence of the dreamer's vision. Once more, their glances met and flashed a countersign.
"The ages seem to hang like ghosts in the atmosphere," she told her companion, in a hushed undertone. He assented, and the dreamer's look which had haunted his eyes for twenty-five years crept back into its place. "Who knows what unseen world surrounds us?" he said quietly.
At first I had lent myself to the old dreamer's whim with a keen perception of the humor of the thing; but by and by I found that I was talking and thinking of Miss Mehetabel's son as though he were a veritable personage. Mr. Jafifrey spoke of the child with such an air of conviction! as if Andy were playing among his toys in the next room, or making mud-pies down in the yard.
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