DREAMING AND POETIC INVENTION. 731 
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The first point to which the questions addressed themselves was the 
amount and quality of nocturnal dreaming. With respect to amount of 
dream experience, the large majority—viz.: twenty out of twenty-eight 
—informed me that they dreamt frequently. Six, including two names 
high up in English and American fiction, dreamt ¢ constantly,” or 
““every night.” On the other hand, more than one distinguished novelist 
had to confess that, so far as he knew, most of his nights when he was in 
health were passed without dreams; and one lady writer assured me that 
she never knew what it was to dream. 
As to quality, the dreams of the majority were characterized as distinct 
and vivid. Only five described their dreaming as indistinct. In other 
respects the character of the dream-experience differed in a curious way. 
Thus, while some spoke of it as simple in construction and amazingly 
trivial and commonplace, others described it as connected and elaborate. 
On the whole, dreaming of a significant or pointed character, whether 
from a logical or esthetic point of view, seems to be decidedly a rarity 
among our producers of fiction. Again, there are odd differences in 
respect to the connection between dreams and waking experience. One 
well-known writer says that her dreams are but a continuation of the 
events of the day. In the case of the majority, however, the connection 
seems to be very loose, if discoverable at all. More than one distinctly 
state that they never dream of the occurrences of the day. One of my 
correspondents, a constant dreamer, makes the remarkable confession that 
‘hough he has lain motionless on his back for eighteen years, he habitually 
dreams of himself as on his feet, and has only once dreamt of lying on his 
invalid couch. 
On another point investigated—viz. : composition of the dream, and 
more particularly the place occupied by the visual or scenic and the audi- 
tory or linguistic element respectively—differences also betray themselves. 
In most cases the dreamer both sees scenes, persons, ete., and hears the 
persons speak ; yet this manner of dreaming is not constant. There seems 
bo be, in certain instances, a suppression of the auditory element. Thus 
one writer says: ‘There are often intervals of dumb show ” ; another goes 
further and says: “I never hear the figures speak, yet always understand 
what they say.” In one or two cases, again, there appears to be a lack of 
sensuous vividness and directness altogether. Thus one lady writes: I 
aeither seem to see things nor to hear words during dreams. I am some- 
now conscious that things are so and that people say so. Its a bald nar- 
rative in the present tense.” On the other hand, some writers make the 
language element, as lecturing, speech, or reading, a prominent feature. 
This seems to be illustrated by the case of a well-known American novel- 
ist, who, while describing his dreams as distinct and fantastic, adds that 
in respect of their composition they are marked by “much dramatization 
and logic.” The dramatic aspect becomes marked in the case of one lady