The Three Dreams

Introduction

I am no dreamer. By which I mean that, unlike the majority of people, I am utterly unconscious of receiving any im pression whatever on my mind between the moment of ' going to sleep ' and awaking. When I open my eyes in the morning I have no hazy idea of something having happened, or of someone having said something that I cannot recall, which A is apparently the case with most people, to judge by their subsequent remarks. No mysterious, rambling, confused, utterly impossible and preposterously ridiculous visions of men and things, facts and fancies, past and future, ever assail me. My mind is the blankest of blanks during the seven or eight hours of sweet unconsciousness. From a child my repose has been dreamless. Whether this kind of sleep is preferable to that experienced by most persons, I leave them to decide.

At all events I am saved that particular disturber of repose which people call nightmare. I have said that I am no dreamer ; and in spite of what follows I hold to the statement. During my life, I have been

INTRODUCTION.

3 visited at night, ten or twelve times, by what you, gentle reader, would probably call dreams, but what I contend to be prophetic revelations. I am no psy chologist or physiologist, and do not pretend to be able to explain this fact. The explanation, if there be any, I leave to scientists and metaphysicians. But, I repeat, that the only kind of nocturnal vision I ever behold is a revelation of some future event hereafter to be fulfilled. What I see, I see, I do not dream. According to what I have heard and read about sleeping thoughts, there is always some incongruity, some mystery surrounding the clearer parts ; which, though it does not surprise the sleeper at the time, is after wards spoken of as extraordinary, or ridiculous, and quite unaccountable. My revelations are perfectly straight forward and comprehensible, both while sleeping and on awaking.

People tell me that, though they know that they have been dreaming up to the last moment before awaking, they often try in vain to recall any idea whatever of the subject of their sleeping thoughts. When I have had a revelation, every detail is as plain to me awake as it was when asleep. I forget nothing ; nothing is confused ; nothing seems impossible ; every person and thing and place I see as distinctly and as correctly as I see, or as it is de scribed to me, afterwards, when the pro phetic vision has been accomplished.

INTRODUCTION.

5 My first visitation was when I was a lad about sixteen. When I awoke, I had an uncomfortable sense that I had not been aloue during the night, but that some unseen agency had been at work in the room. I said nothing to anyone till late in the day, having an inexplicable reluctance to speak of what I had seen. At last I told my mother, first asking her to explain the nature of a dream. I told her that I saw Thomas Jordan, our page boy, on the banks of a small river, accompanied by another boy, whose face I could recall, but had not previously seen. They were fishing. Thomas was walk ing slowly along backwards, pulling his line as he went. Suddenly his foot caught in something and he fell into the river with a cry. The other boy ran forw-ard and stood helplessly on the bank for a moment, then ran away calling loudly for help.

I saw Thomas's strug gles become fainter, till he sank for the second time, rose again, and again sank just as some men in a field came in answer to the boy's shouts. One of them jumped in, and brought Thomas to the bank, but only to find that he was dead. My mother laughed at my solemn way of telling my 'dream,' and soon forgot the circumstance, until it was forcibly brought back to her remembrance a fortnight later. It was Thomas Jordan's monthly holi-

INTRODUCTION.

7 day, and he left, as usual, about ten o'clock in the morning. When the time for his return came, he did not put in an appearance. While speaking about it the next morning at breakfast, I saw my mother turn rather pale and look at me ; and I felt that my face had also lost its colour. An hour or two later, the servant came to my mother, looking scared, and said that a strange boy wished to speak to her. She went out, and I could not help following. I recognised the boy of my ' dream ' instantly, and from him we heard the sad account of Thomas's death the previous day, which agreed accurately in all its details with what I had 'seen.' I was much upset at first, and de cidedly terrified ; but, as months, nay, years, passed by, and no more revelations came to me, I ceased to expect any. But three years later, I had another vision, which was also fulfilled to the letter; and, by the time I was five-and twenty, I had become accustomed to them.

At last I saw a friend of mine thrown in the hunting field, breaking his leg. I told him of this, and begged him not to go, on a certain day upon which he had decided to follow the hounds. He consented, well-knowing my prophetic propensity ; and that vision is the only one which has remained unaccomplished. I had warned people once or twice

INTRODUCTION.

9 before this, but they naturally pooh poohed the very idea ; and suffered in consequence. The following account of the revelations which have had the most important effect upon my life, may be of interest to metaphysicians and psychologists, even if they are unable to give any explanation sufficiently satisfactory either to them selves or to others. THE FIRST DREAM THE FIRST DREAM

Chapter I

About six years ago, my parents being dead, I took up my residence in rooms in one of the south-western suburbs of London. I was an only child, and therefore had no near relative to share a house with me; and being left with a good income, it was unnecessary for me to work. However, much disliking idleness, I obtained a post in London, which, whilst it necessitated my presence in town nearly every day, yet left me with plenty of spare time on my hands. A man can always find something to do, and my good father had strongly impressed upon my mind the dangers besetting a young man with no occupation but that very unprofitable one of killing time. My work sometimes occupied me half the day, sometimes only an hour or two, and, as a rule I was at liberty to choose my own time within certain limits.

For two years past, I had not been afflicted with any prophetic visions. I say afflicted, although I had had sufficient experience of these visitations to become accustomed to them, and to feel no after effects of terror. But I disliked them excessively for several reasons. In the first place it was uncomfortable to know myself to be different from my fellowmen ; secondly, my companions, when they learnt in what the difference lay, looked at me askance, and, while affecting to laugh at, and disbelieve in my peculiarity, really considered me something of a necromancist and spirit ualist. This was galling to me. because I am a strong disbeliever in so-called spiritualism. Thirdly, believing that these revelations were given to me for some purpose, I felt bound to do my utmost to warn those of whom I 'dreamt' of what was about to happen to them ; that is, if it were anything serious.

This conscientiousness led me into several disagreeable positions. Some times the recipient of my warning laughed me to scorn, and threatened me with the lunacy commissioners : or else I was utterly unable to discover the person I wished to find, and remained in ignorance, until some chance brought to me the knowledge of the fulfilment of my prophecy, when it was too late ; and I felt that I had in some way or other failed in my duty. I had been domiciled in my new quarters about six months, when the first of the three visions, which were to play such an important part in my life, appeared to me. One night, in the month of October, I retired as usual to rest, and slept for several hours undisturbed. When I awoke the dawn w7as just breaking, and I was pleased to find I had another two or three hours to rest.

I soon lost consciousness again ; or rather, I should say, I was soon asleep, for with sleep this time came a so-called dream. I was in an omnibus ; and just as it was starting, a young lady entered, and sat down opposite to me. She was tall, and remarkably fair, almost too much so for beauty. Her hair was a pale flaxen, her eyes were light grey, and her face was almost colourless. She was dressed in a long greenish cloak, which I thought was an unbecoming colour. In her hand she held a small pocket sketch-book with a pencil attached, and a purse ; nothing else. When we reached Trafalgar Square, she left the vehicle. Immediately the scene changed. I saw a suburban road, more countrified than my own residence, at the entrance to which were two large pillars, as though intended for huge gates, but which had evidently never been put to any use in that direction.

Along this road I saw two men walking slowly, whose conver sation I could overhear. Notice, that in the first instance I was present, that is, I was seated in the omnibus opposite to the girl, and was conscious of being there and of her being able to see me. Now I appeared to see, as if from a distance. Had I been B there, listening to the conversation, the men must have discovered me ; but I was not present, I only saw and heard. One of the men was a remarkably handsome, dashing young fellow of about my own age, with that rare but beautiful combination of fair hair and dark eyes and eyebrows. He was tall, and well-made, and his clothes had an aristocratic air about them which betrayed the west-end tailor. His companion, though appar ently a groom, belied that supposition by the easy familiarity and earnestness of his manner during the conversation.

His face I did not particularly notice, so much was I struck by the expression on that of the taller man. In spite of its beauty, there was brutality, worldliness and selfishness written in every feature. In his eyes burned a fierce light as of some invincible determination ; his mouth wras set firm and resolute, with a look of cruelty, as though nothing on earth should hinder him from carrying out his design. As he spoke, this expression deepened. ' She will come,' he said, 'never fear.' ' Suppose she refuses to get in,' sug gested the other man. ' We can't force her and make a scene at the station.' ' She will get in,' was the reply, in a tone of assurance. ' And once in she won't get out in a hurry. I tell you, that once I have her in my possession, I have her in my power.' ' How ? ' asked his companion. ' Because I have her father in my power.

She will marry me without any hesitation when she knows what I have to tell her. I can make her fall on her knees to me, I tell you ; I can break her proud spirit, and by heaven ! I will.' ' And what will you do when you get her to your house ? ' ' I shall give my sister (with a stress upon the words), in charge of my housekeeper for the night,' ' And what am I to do ? ' asked the man. 'You are my groom,' replied the first, ' unless you are needed in any other capacity,' he added, wdth a cruel laugh. ' But I have no fear.' At these words the scene vanished and I awoke. Hitherto the fulfilment of my pro phetic visions had never taken place until some two or three weeks after their appearance, so that I had plenty of time, if necessary, to seek out and warn the individuals of whom I ' dreamt.' But now I was much perplexed.

The people I had just seen were utter strangers to me. There was evidently to be some foul play, and the object of it was a lady. What lady ? And where was she ? Why had I been in two scenes ? Surely there must be some connection between them. In that case, how was I to discover and warn the lady of what was in store for her ? I felt that it would be quite useless for me to attempt anything like a search. I must wait. That morning I went as usual up to town, and it may be imagined that I was not careless in my scrutiny of my fellow-passengers. I never entered an omnibus unless the weather were very bad, but rode on the top. But it will be remembered that I had been inside the vehicle when I saw the lady, and that it was not raining, for she had no umbrella. Two or three days afterwards, I happened to catch my foot in the carpet on the staircase in my lodgings, and fell, hitting my ankle sharply against the bannisters.

It was nothing serious, but an ugly lump arose, which was very painful ; and the following day, having little to do at my office, I remained quietly at home. The next day, the swelling having con siderably lessened, I set out to my work. As my foot was still somewhat painful, I thought it would be prudent to take a seat inside the omnibus, instead of climbing the steep narrow staircase to the top ; and accordingly I did so. The vehicle started and left the station yard, and, wdien we reached Victoria Street, stopped for some more passengers. I had not become so accustomed to my nocturnal visitations and the subsequent events as not to feel a sudden tightening at my heart, and a bounding of my pulse, when a tall, very fair girl, in a green cloak, took her seat opposite to me. It was undoubtedly the lady of my 'dream.' I recognised her instantly.

I have said before that I never forgot any details of my visions; nor did my memory fail me in any particular in this case. The young lady was tall, exceedingly fair, and dressed in a green cloak of which I saw, wdiat I had noticed before, tbat one button was missing. In her hand she held a small black sketch-book and pencil, and a purse. I suppose I must have shown some of my feelings in my face, for I could not for a moment take my eyes off her ; and when she looked at me, she flushed slightly, and turned away. I forcibly withdrew my gaze from her, and looked out of the window. What was I to do ? If I lost sight of her now, I should probably never see her again. If I followed and spoke to her, she would certainly think me mad. Besides, where w7as she going ? I could not speak to her in the omnibus ; that was out of the question.

All the way along Victoria and Parliament Streets I pondered the subject, and racked my brains for some elucidation of the diffi culty ; but in vain. When we reached Trafalgar Square I was suddenly called to make up my mind how to act, by hearing the girl request the conductor to stop ; and when the omnibus came to a standstill, she got out. Without considering my next step, I followed her example. The vehicle rattled on again, and I looked after the retreating form of the lady. She was going towards the National Gallery. ' Perhaps she is going to sketch there,' I thought. ' Let's see. It's Friday, a students' day. Well, I will go too, and take my chance of being able to speak to her.' I therefore followed and reached her just as she was mounting the steps. She entered by a small door on the right.

I did so too. ' Ticket, sir, please,' said the man, standing by the door. ' Ticket ? ' I repeated, bewildered. ' If you are not a student you must go in by the next door,' returned the man, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. I hastened to the place indicated, paid my sixpence, hurried through the turn stile, and was proceeding to mount the steps, to the rooms whither I supposed the lady had gone, when I was again accosted by another official. ' Umbrellas this way, sir.' Impatient of the delay, I quickly gave in my umbrella, and w7as going off when I was recalled to take my number. All this did not take long, but it was sufficient time for the lady to have disappeared from view. I hurried up the stairs, and went through room after room, eagerly scanning the groups of students scattered about.

But nowhere did I see the object of my search. Anathe matising my umbrella and its custodian I scoured every corner of the Gallery ; but in vain. I began to w7onder whether I had not fallen asleep in the omnibus and been deceived by another vision. Suddenly it occurred to me that there were some other rooms somewhere that I had not visited; but I did not know where they were. I descended to the entrance hall to inquire and was directed to a staircase leading down to the water colour rooms. Thither I went, and soon had my diligence rewarded, by seeing a tall figure, in green, gazing at some crazy lookingpictures by Blake. There was no one else in this room, though the easels standing about, looked as though some one had been there, and might return shortly. I affected to be studying the pictures round the room (though I did not see one ! ) until I reached her.

I stood for a moment by her side. The pictures she was looking at were characteristic of that extraordinary artist. The girl smiled a,s she gazed, and suddenly discovering that she w7as not alone, raised her head and looked at me. Now was my time, and, proper or not, I accosted her. ' Queer pictures, aren't they ? ' I said. She looked somewhat surprised, but answered quietly and simply : ' Yes, very. This one about David is perfectly incomprehensible.' ' I don't suppose, he could have ex plained it himself,' I replied. ' He was mad, you know.' 'Was he? Oh, no, I don't tbink so. Only very eccentric. There is something very bold and artistic about his drawings.' But I did not want to talk about Blake and his vagaries, so I hurriedly changed the subject. ' I wonder if you will think me mad, if I ask you a question,' I said.

She looked very much astonished, but, before she could reply, I continued : ' Are you acquainted with a tall fair man with light hair and dark eyes ? ' She started and flushed quickly. ' Why do you ask ? ' she demanded. ' What possible ' ' You must forgive my seeming rude ness,' I interrupted, ' but although I am unknown to you, I have seen you before, and I believe that I may be useful to you. Tell me, do you know this man ? ' ' I know a man of that description, but surely there are more than one,' she answered. ' The combination of fair hair and dark eyes is rare,' I said, ' especially in a man. But, before I say any more, I must tell you that I saw you and him a few nights ago in a dream.' She stared at me with a scared face, evidently thinking she had a living mad man by her side, and glanced hurriedly round the room as if meditating escape. ' Do not be afraid,' I said, gently, ' I am not mad ; but what I dream ahvays comes true,' I added, simply ; ' and I saw the man I spoke of the other night, and heard him talking about a girl wrhom he in tended to marry.

I saw you first in an omnibus, so ' ' Stop,' said the girl, sharply, ' if you are foolish enough to believe in dreams, I am not.' ' It was not an ordinary dream,' I blurted out. ' It was a vision. If you will listen, I wdll tell you all.' ' I will not listen,' she replied. ' You must be mad ! Good morning.' And she hurried away without another word. Just at that moment, two more ladies entered the room, and when I w7ent out I could see my new acquaintance nowdiere. I concluded that she had gone upstairs, and I quickly did the same, hoping to overtake her. But when I reached the entrance I reflected that it was no more than I expected. How could I imagine that a perfect stranger would believe such a preposterous story ? Of course she thought I was mad, as a great many others had done before her.

I was sorry. For I felt an interest in her, and was grieved to think of what was in store for her. Her manner, half frightened, half angry, when she replied to my first question, con vinced me that the relations between her and the ' man of that description' were unpleasant. I should have liked to have told her more. But it was only natural that a young girl should be afraid to c remain alone in a room with a man whom she believed to be mad. I sighed, and went into the street, pondering upon the strange destiny that made me so different from other people. Hailing another omnibus I continued my interrupted journey to my office, glad that such a painful task should have been accomplished.

Chapter II

Hitherto, after having unburdened my conscience by discharging the disagreeable and often humiliating duty of warning those persons for whose disasters I should have felt partly responsible had I not done so, I had always been able to put the matter on one side, and consider myself answerable for nothing that after wards occurred. The duty, that I believed to be mine, once performed, I thought no more about the subject. On leaving the National Gallery I imagined that it would be equally easy to do so on this occasion. But I was mistaken. The whole day long the image of the fair girl was before my eyes ; the sound of her voice in my ears. Hoping to efface the impression by work and change of scene, I remained longer than usual at my office, and afterwards paid a visit to the theatre, in the company of a friend.

But it was to no purpose. When I returned to my lodgings the same image and voice pervaded the rooms ; and when in bed I could not sleep. The idea suddenly occurred to me, that as the first part of my dream had been fulfilled sooner than usual, so also might the second be. Perhaps at this very moment the poor girl might be in the power of that cruel looking man. The thought was torture. Why had not I made her listen to me and take my warning ? I had been too hasty, I had plunged too quickly into the subject. I should have broached it more circum spectly, more gently. I had made a bungle of the whole affair ! Of course she thought I was out of my mind and took fright accordingly. Again and again I went over the scene, and still I did not see how I could have acted differently, considering the publicity of the place, and the shortness of the time.

In vain I urged upon myself the fact that I had done all in my power ; I was haunted by the feeling that I might have clone more. After a restless night, the following morning, still full of compunction and un easiness, I started as usual for town, and my foot not yet being well, I hailed an omnibus at Victoria Station, and seated myself inside. This time I took little notice of my fellow passengers, of whom there were several, till the conductor turned wdth the request : ' Fares for Charing Cross, please.' As the money was passed from one person to another, I heard a woman's voice say : ' Trafalgar Square.' The words naturally attracted my attention immedi ately. I looked towards the speaker, who sat in the far corner of the vehicle. Her face struck me instantly, and my heart gave a bound, whether of pain or pleasure I could not say.

The lady was very handsome, with per fectly white hair and light brown eyes. The latter had a heavy, dazed look about them, as though she had passed a sleep less night, and her beautiful mouth had a sad and anxious expression. In spite of her white hair she did not look old, but rather as if the lines about her forehead and eyes had been caused by sorrow and trouble. She took no notice of anyone, but gazed out of the window, with her thoughts far away. Notwithstanding the white hair and darker eyes, the moment I looked at her I saw a marked resem blance to my acquaintance of the previous day. The coincidences of the likeness and the name of the place where she wished to stop, together with the unusual quick ness with which part of my dream had been fulfilled, convinced me that the two ladies were in some way nearly connected with each other.

Something seemed to tell me that the second event of my vision had already taken place. It was not so much the uneasiness I had felt the previous night, or the expression of sad weariness on the lady's face, as the fact of my recognising in my present companion such a strong resemblance to the object of my thoughts. Why should I happen to be travelling in the same vehicle as this lady ? Why should she happen to travel with me the very day after her daughter (for I had already made up my mind as to the relationship) had done so ? My curiosity was roused and I determined to leave the omnibus when the lady did, and, if possible, find out whether my convictions had any foundation in truth. As I expected, the lady descended in Trafalgar Square, and walked quickly towards the National Gallery. When she arrived at the main entrance she ac costed the man at the door, and, as I stood a few yards off, I heard her ask if a tall, fair, young lady, dressed in green, had been there yesterday. 'Don't know, I'm sure, mum,' said the man. ' There was many young ladies 'ere some fair, some dark.' ' But this one was very fair and very tall,' replied the lady. ' She was a student — ' • Oh, a student,' he interrupted, taking a few steps forward, and beckoning to an other man in official dress. ' This man was at the students' entrance yesterday,' he went on, 'perhaps he can tell you.' And he turned away to answTer another questioner.

The lady again described the girl, and the man looked at her earnestly. ' I did not notice the lady }*ou mention come in,' he said, ' there was such a lot of them ; but I believe I saw her go out If I may make so bold, was she your daughter, ma'am ? ' ' Yes,' was the reply. ' I thought so,' continued the man. ' She was very much like you. I remember her now. She had a small book in her hand, and I rec'lect her specially because she came up hurriedly to where I stood, and looked scared like, and tried to pass through the wrong way.' ' What time was it ? ' asked the mother, anxiously. ' About half-past eleven, I think. I remember wondering what made her go away so early if she was a student. They mostly stays till lunch time.' ' Did you notice which way she went ? ' asked the lady. ' No mum, not I. Too much to do inside to seller people when they gets outside.' The lady thanked the man and slowly turned away and descended the steps. 1 followed hesitatingly.

She stopped and looked uncertain what to do next. Fear ing lest I should lose my opportunity if I waited too long, I went up to her, and lifting my hat, said, ' Excuse me, but I fear you are in trouble. I heard you making inquiries about someone whom I believe I saw and spoke to yesterday.' ' You ! ' she said surprised. ' Do you know my daughter ? ' ' No, I cannot say I know her, for I do not even know her name, but I believe from your description and from the like ness between you that I spoke to her yesterday.' The lady looked earnestly at me, as though taking count of me to see whether she might trust me or not. Apparently her scrutinisation reassured her, for she continued : ' I am very anxious about her, for she has not been home since she left yester day morning. If you know anything about her, I beg you will tell me at once.' ' If you will trust me,' I said, earnestly, I think I may be able to help you, or at all events to give you some information. ' But,' I continued, ' will you not come inside, or somewhere where we can be undisturbed, for — ' The lady looked somewhat surprised and said rather impatiently : ' What do you mean ?