Dreamed a little about Sartre, the kind of dream I had about Zaza: sorrowfully I reproached him for no longer seeing me. Dreamed about the snow, which had completely melted, and in the morning there was nothing but grass. I woke up at daylight, a little before seven o’clock, wonderfully rested, and cozy warm in my sheets I watched the sunrise’
(Simon de Beauvoir’s dream, December 24nd 1939. Wartime Diary, p. 204)
Stereotypical dream: it’s strange, because God knows Kanapa inspires me with no lustful or tender thoughts—as with Bost in the barn where I dreamed that in that very barn he was taking me in his arms, I dreamed lying on these seats, just as I was, Kanapa also, and he was caressing my hand—and that later he lay down next to me without his glasses, half undressed and looking at me with the strange face of a crazed man and also full of desire, and this face was beautiful while still his; he moved me but as the youth hostel fellow seemed to want to leave discretely, I motioned him to stay; I didn’t want any emotional demonstrations—that’s the difference with dreams I had about Bost, where I wanted them to be true—in this case I also wondered for a long time in my dream whether it really was a dream and I concluded that it wasn’t. I should mention that upon awakening I didn’t feel the slightest trace of sentimentality for Kanapa, which often follows an erotic or tender dream.’
(Simon de Beauvoir’s dream, December 22nd 1939, Wartime Diary)
At night I dreamed that Majoy Haynes writt mee word, that all the Scots field forces were broken, and driven to the Orkney ilands, and that they had taken foure shipps with rich accomodacions, and that now there remained nothing but to reduce a few scattered castles and strenghes. Heard this morning as if Carr and his Scotch forces were routed by our house.
(Ralph Josselin’s dream on December 7th 1650. In The Diary of Ralph Josselin 1616-1683.
‘A most frightful Dream of a Woman whose features were blended with darkness catching hold of my right eye & attempting to pull it out—I caught hold of here arm fast—a horrid feel—Wordsworth cried out aloud to me hearing [my] scream—heard his cry [&] thought it cruel he did not come / but did not wake till his cry was repeated a third time—the Woman’s name Ebn Ebn Thalud—When I awoke, my right eyelid swelled.’
Samuel Taylor Colleridge’s Dream, November 28th, 1800. In Coleridge’s Notebooks: Germany, London, the Lakes 1798—1804. No. 129
This night I dreamed as formerly that the witnesses were slaine in my sight, with greife to mee, I preserved, I thought it was in England at London Criplegate Mr Sp. There and that he knew I was one of that partie.
(Ralph Josselin’s dream on November 27th 1652. In The Diary of Ralph Josselin 1616-1683)
This night my wife dreamed, that towards a night shee saw 3 lights in the skie over Abbots fields which are North by West, and South a body as the Sun or Moone, the lights blazed and filled the skie with light often, and then the body in the South answered it with flames exceeding terrible; when the lights ceased there arose 3 smokes like pillars out of the earth and ascended. She thought of Rev: 19.3. afterwards the lights with a whilewind and noise filled the whole heaven with sparkes, as if it would have burnt all. The body was then of a darke red. Afterwards it was more light an in that body as it were floweres, from a roote. Shee thought of the roote of Jess, but there were two of them. only twisted into one, and in the circumference inward many strings like roots, the ayre darke, morning came, and the day darke; shee feared and trembled but bore up her heart on Christs mercy.
(Jane Josselin’s dream on November 26th 1654. In The Diary of Ralph Josselin 1616-1683)
I awoke from a dream!–well! and have not others dreamed?–Such a dream!–but she did not overtake me. I wish the dead would rest, however. Ugh! how my blood chilled,–and I could not wake–and–and–heigho!
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than could the substance of ten thousand—-s,
Arm’d all in proof, and led by shallow—-.”
I do not like this dream,–I hate its “foregone conclusion.” And am I to be shaken by shadows? Ay, when they remind us of–no matter–but, if I dream thus again, I will try whether _all_ sleep has the like visions.
Since I rose, I’ve been in considerable bodily pain also; but it is gone, and now, like Lord Ogleby, I am wound up for the day.
(Lord Byron’s dream 23rd November 1813, in The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals. Vol. 2 Published by Guttenberg as ebook)
I dreamt, a night or two since, that I drove myself through the upper regions in a balloon and pair, with the greatest ease and security. Having finished the tour I intended, I made a short turn, and, with one flourish of my whip, descended; my horses prancing and curvetting with an infinite share of spirit, but without the least danger, either to me or my vehicle. The time, we may suppose, is at hand, and seems to be prognosticated by my dream, when these airy excursions will be universal, when judges will fly the circuit, and bishops their visitations; and when the tour of Europe will be performed with much greater speed, and with equal advantage, by all who travel merely for the sake of having it to say that they have made it.
(Dream of a village justice, 15th (circa) November 1783. In letter to Rev. John Newton, 18th November 1783. Published in Selected English Letters XV-XIX Centuries, Published as Guttenberg ebook)
‘I must tell you of a nice dream I had the night after the funeral [of my father]. I was in a shop and there on a board I read a notice:
You are requested
To close the eyes
I recognized the shop at once as the barber’s where I go every day. On the day of the funeral I was kept waiting, and as a result I arrived rather late at the house of mourning. My family was displeased with me at this time because I had arranged for the funeral to be quiet and simple, something they later recognized as quite justified. They also rather resented my being late. So the notice on the board has a double meaning. It means that one should do one’s duty toward the dead in two senses: (a) apology, as if I hadn’t done my duty and my conduct needed to be overlooked; (b) the duty in the literal sense. Thus the dream is an outlet for that tendency toward self-reproach which death invariably leaves among the survivors….’
(Sigmund Freud’s dream, October 25th, 1885. In The Letters of Sigmund Freud, Letter from Sigmund Freud to Wilhelm Fliess, November 2, 1896)
I found my children still very good and very tender, my two little grandchildren still pretty and sweet. This morning I dreamed, and I woke up saying this strange sentence: “There is always a youthful great first part in the drama of life. First part in mine: Aurore.”
(Gustav Flaubert’s dream, 15th October 1868. In ‘Letter to George Sand, 15 October 1868. In The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters. Published as Guttenberg ebook)