“As I slept through the night
Under sea-purple blankets,
Stretched out, drunk,
I was dreaming I stretched out
Mid-run on a fast course,
On the very tips of my toes.
I was enjoying myself with the girls
But some boys younger
Than Luaios were mocking me,
Teasing me harshly,
Because of those pretty girls.
Then, they all ran away from my dream
When I reached out to kiss them.
They left me alone and poor me,
I only wanted to sleep again.”
“But it is not completely illogical to imagine that some of the fantasies that arise during sleep are to blame for deeds that are related to them.
For just as when we are about to do something or in the middle of some action or have just finished it, we are deeply engaged with those deeds and we also carry them out in a dream–and this is because the inspiration that comes from the events of the day has made space for it–so too the stimulus that arises in sleep may be the initial cause of daytime deeds, because the possibility of doing these things found its own space at night.
This is why dreams can be both indications of things and the causes of them as well.”
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
“Just as someone is annoying when they disturb a person from a happy dream, since he interrupts a pleasure, which, even if counterfeit, has something of a real effect, so your letter has caused me pain. It pulled me back from a needed reverie and I would have gone further if allowed.
It was pleasing me to think about the immortality of our souls, ok, really, to believe in it. I was opening myself to the arguments of great thinkers who promise as much as approve of this most welcome matter. I was surrendering myself to a great hope. I was feeling tired of myself, already sick of the broken pieces of my age and ready to cross over into that endless expanse of time and the embrace of every era. Then, suddenly, I was shaken up by your letter and I lost so beautiful a dream. Maybe I will seek it and find it again, if I get rid of you.
Quomodo molestus est iucundum somnium videnti qui excitat, aufert enim voluptatem, etiam si falsam, effectum tamen verae habentem; sic epistula tua mihi fecit iniuriam. Revocavit enim me cogitationi aptae traditum et iturum, si licuisset, ulterius. Iuvabat de aeternitate animarum quaerere, immo mehercules credere. Praebebam enim me facilem opinionibus magnorum virorum rem gratissimam promittentium magis quam probantium. Dabam me spei tantae. Iam eram fastidio mihi, iam reliquias aetatis infractae contemnebam in immensum illud tempus et in possessionem omnis aevi transiturus; cum subito experrectus sum epistula tua accepta et tam bellum somnium perdidi. Quod repetam, si te dimisero, et redimam.
“However many strange bodies appear in dreams and frighten a person signal an excess of uncustomary food, a secretion, bile, and a dangerous sickness. An emetic is required followed by the increase over five days of extremely light food–not too much of it or too sharp, nor too dry or hot, along with the kinds of exercises that are natural except for walking after dinner. This really asks for warm baths and relaxation and you need to guard against the sun and the cold.
Whenever someone imagines they are eating or drinking customary food or drink while sleeping, it means a lack of food and depression in the soul. Really strong meats are a sign of excess; when they are weaker, there’s less. Just as eating is good, so too is dreaming about it! So, in the case of excess, it is useful to reduce the quantity of food, since excessive consumption is indicated. The dreaming of bread made with cheese and honey means the same thing. There’s no sign of harm in dreaming of water. But drinking other things is a bad sign.
When someone dreams about everyday objects, it signals a dream of the soul. A dream of running away in fear shows that the blood is fixed by dryness. It is advantageous then to cool and moisten the body.”
Euripides. Iphigenia Among the Taurians. 1259-1280.
When displaced Themis, Earth’s daughter,
From the sacred seat of oracles,
Earth begat nightly sleep-apparitions
Which showed the mass of men, asleep in darkened beds,
What has been and what’s later destined to be.
And so Earth, sore about her daughter,
Robbed Phoebus of oracular authority.
The fleet-footed lord rushed to Olympus
And reached his youthful arm ‘round Zeus’s throne:
Would Zeus lift the chthonian goddess’s wrath
from the Pythian temple? Zeus laughed:
His son had come in a hurry, eager
For gold piled on gold in worship of him.
Nonetheless Zeus shook his locks: he put an end
To the night-time voices, and he deprived mortals
Of truthful night-time visions. He had restored
Loxias’s old authority.
“As I slept through the night
Under sea-purple blankets,
Stretched out, drunk,
I was dreaming I stretched out
Mid-run on a fast course,
On the very tips of my toes.
I was enjoying myself with the girls
But some boys younger
Than Luaios were mocking me,
Teasing me harshly,
Because of those pretty girls.
Then, they all ran away from my dream
When I reached out to kiss them.
They left me alone and poor me,
I only wanted to sleep again.”
“Once, in the middle of the night,
At that time when the bear
Is already turning round the Plowman’s hand,
And all mortal peoples lie
Overcome by exhaustion,
Love stationed himself outside
The bolts of my doors and was knocking.
I said, “who’s knocking at my door?
You’ve broken up my dreams!”
And Love said, “Open up!
I am just a baby, don’t be afraid.
I am getting damp as I wander
Through this moonless night.”
I felt pity when I heard this
And immediately grabbed my lamp.
I opened the door and saw
Baby there, wearing a quiver
With arrows and a bow.
I sat him down near my hearth
And I warmed his hands with mine
And pressed the gold water from his hair.
Once he shrugged off his shivers,
He said, “Come on, let’s try this bow,
Whether its string has been ruined from getting wet.
He drew and shot true,
In the middle of my heart, like a mosquito.
He jumped up and laughed out with a smile,
“Friend, celebrate with me!
My bow is unharmed,
Although your heart will hurt for a while!
“But it is not completely illogical to imagine that some of the fantasies that arise during sleep are to blame for deeds that are related to them.
For just as when we are about to do something or in the middle of some action or have just finished it, we are deeply engaged with those deeds and we also carry them out in a dream–and this is because the inspiration that comes from the events of the day has made space for it–so too the stimulus that arises in sleep may be the initial cause of daytime deeds, because the possibility of doing these things found its own space at night.
This is why dreams can be both indications of things and the causes of them as well.”
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
