in a sort of perpetual dream。 The testimony of parents and friends who
watched me day after day is the only means that I have of knowing the
actuality of those early; obscure years of my childhood。 The physical
acts of going to bed and waking in the morning alone mark the transition
from reality to Dreamland。 As near as I can tell; asleep or awake I only
felt with my body。 I can recollect no process which I should now dignify
with the term of thought。 It is true that my bodily sensations were
extremely acute; but beyond a crude connection with physical wants they
are not associated or directed。 They had little relation to each other;
to me or the experience of others。 Idea……that which gives identity and
continuity to experience……came into my sleeping and waking existence at
the same moment with the awakening of self…consciousness。 Before that
moment my mind was in a state of anarchy in which meaningless sensations
rioted; and if thought existed; it was so vague and inconsequent; it
cannot be made a part of discourse。 Yet before my education began; I
dreamed。 I know that I must have dreamed because I recall no break in my
tactual experiences。 Things fell suddenly; heavily。 I felt my clothing
afire; or I fell into a tub of cold water。 Once I smelt bananas; and the
odour in my nostrils was so vivid that in the morning; before I was
dressed; I went to the sideboard to look for the bananas。 There were no
bananas; and no odour of bananas anywhere! My life was in fact a dream
throughout。
The likeness between my waking state and the sleeping one is still
marked。 In both states I see; but not with my eyes。 I hear; but not with
my ears。 I speak; and am spoken to; without the sound of a voice。 I am
moved to pleasure by visions of ineffable beauty which I have never
beheld in the physical world。 Once in a dream I held in my hand a pearl。
The one I saw in my dreams must; therefore; have been a creation of my
imagination。 It oulded crystal。 As I gazed
into its shimmering deeps; my soul was flooded with an ecstasy of
tenderness; and I was filled with wonder as one who should for the
first time look into the cool; sweet heart of a rose。 My pearl was dew
and fire; the velvety green of moss; the soft whiteness of lilies; and
the distilled hues and sweetness of a thousand roses。 It seemed to me;
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