Awake I know I dream not
As the sense still alive
Tells what is seen is not
A fancy but a reality alive
Of the wonder of the mind
Working wonders of creation
Of a fiction of the mind
In a mind’s reservoir.
Awake I think when I dream
As the pulses of sense weaken
And the images seen past seem
All but phantasmal panorama seen
In a mind’s theater of illusion –
Fantastic beasts, wailing ghosts
Enveloped in the cloud of dreams
Lurking in the stupor of the sense.
Awake, awake, awake I become
When the sense divorces fancies
As the mind calls dreams hokum
And claims a seat of imaginations
Till it clears the clouds of ignorance
Darkening the light of the mind wondrous
Of creating the reality of its sovereign own
With no assistance of chants and spells.
P.S.: Thomas Hobble (1588-1679), an English scientist and philosopher, excoriates in his essay “You and Your Dreams” the knavery of sham magicians and magical folk claiming to deal with supernatural beings to induce naive people to believe in superstitions and the power of magic for the promotion of their trades. Hobble enlightens readers that superstitions arise out of the ignorance of distinguishing imaginations, a second-hand reality, from dreams, a detritus of agitated part of the mind. The gist of his argument is that ghosts and haunted places ensue from an intractable combination of the images of the seen and the second-hand images that become distorted imaginations made look real. In sum, Hobble’s theory of dream interpretation corresponds to the postmortem dream theories of Carl Jung. Hence this poem is my understanding of Hobble’s essay on the aforesaid subject.