The naive judgment of a person on awakening assumes that the dream - if indeed it does not originate in another world - at any rate has taken the dreamer into another world. The old physiologist, Burdach,8 to whom we are indebted for a careful and discriminating description of the phenomena of dreams, expressed this conviction in an often-quoted passage, p. 474: " The waking life never repeats itself with its trials and joys, its pleasures and pains, hut, on the contrary, the dream aims to relieve us of these. Even when our whole mind is filled with one subject, when profound sorrow has torn our hearts or when a task has claimed the whole power of our mentality, the dream either gives us something entirely strange, or it takes for its combinations only a few elements from reality, or it only enters into the strain of our mood and symbolises reality."

L, Striimpell66 expresses himself to the same effect in his Nature and Origin of Dreams (p. 16), a study which is everywhere justly held in high respect: "He who dreams turns his back upon the world of waking consciousness" (p. 17). "In the dream the memory of the orderly content of the waking consciousness and its normal behaviour is as good as entirely lost" (p. 19). "The almost complete isolation of the mind in the dream from the regular normal content and course of the waking state . . ."

But the overwhelming majority of the authors have assumed a contrary view of the relation of the dream to waking life. Thus Haffnor32 (p. 19): "First of all the dream is the continuation of the waking state. Our dreams always unite themselves with those ideas which have shortly before been in our consciousness. Careful examination will nearly always find a thread by which the dream has connected itself with the experience of the previous day." Weygandt75 (p. 6). flatly contradicts the above cited statement of Burdach: "For it may often be observed, apparently in the great majority of dreams, that they lead us directly back into everyday life, instead of releasing us from it." Maury48 (p. 50), says in a concise formula: " Nous revons de ce que nous avons vu, dit, desire ou fait." Jessen,36 in his Psychology, published in 1855 (p. 530), is somewhat more explicit: "The content of dreams is more or less determined by the individual personality, by age, sex, station in life, education, habits, and by events and experiences of the whole past life."

The ancients had the same idea about the dependence of the dream content upon life. I cite Radestock64 (p. 139): "When Xerxes, before his march against Greece, was dissuaded from this resolution by good counsel, but was again and again incited by dreams to undertake it, one of the old rational dream-interpreters of the Persians, Artabanus, told him very appropriately that dream pictures mostly contain that of which one has been thiinking while awake."

In the didactic poem of Lucretius, De Rerum Natura (IV, v. 959), occurs this passage: -

"Et quo quisque fere studio devinctus adhaeret, aut quibus in rebus multum sumus unte morati atque in ea rations fuit contents magis mens, in sommis eadem plerumque videmur obire; causidici casuas agere et componere leges, induperatores pugnare ac proelia obire," &.c, etc.

Cicero (De Divinatione., II) says quite similarly, as does also Maury much later: -

"Maximeque reliquiae earum rerum moventur in animis et agitantur, de quibus vigilantes aut cogitavimus aut egimus."

The contradiction expressed in these two views as to the relation between dream life and waking life seems indeed insoluble. It will therefore not be out of place to mention the description of F. W. Hildcbrandt35 (1875), who believes that the peculiarities of the dream can generally bo described only by calling them a "series of contrasts which apparently shade off into contradictions" (p. 8). "The first of these contrasts is formed on the one hand by the strict isolation or seclusion of the dream from true and actual life, and on the other hand by the continuous encroachment of the one upon the other, and the constant dependency of one upon the other. The dream is something absolutely separated from the reality experienced during the waking state; one may call it an existence hermetically sealed up and separated from real life by an unsurmountable chasm. It frees us from reality, extinguishes normal recollection of reality, and places us in another world and in a totally different life, which at bottom has nothing in common with reality. . . ." Hildebrandt then asserts that in falling asleep our whole being, with all its forms of existence, disappears "as through an invisible trap door." In the dream one is perhaps making a voyage to St. Helena in order to offer the imprisoned Napoleon something exquisite in the way of Moselle wine. One is most amicably received by the ex-emperor, and feels almost sorry when the interesting illusion is destroyed on awakening. But lot us now compare the situation of the dream with reality. The dreamer has never been a wine merchant, and has no desire to become one. He has never made a sea voyage, and St. Helena is the last place he would take as destination for such a voyage. The dreamer entertains no sympathetic feeling for Napoleon, but on the contrary a strong patriotic hatred. And finally the dreamer was not yet among the living when Napoleon died on the island; so that it was beyond the reach of possibility for him to have had any personal relations with Napoleon. The dream experience thus appears as something strange, inserted between two perfectly harmonising and succeeding periods.

"Nevertheless," continues Hildebrandt, "the opposite is seemingly just as true and correct. I believe that hand in hand with this seclusion and isolation there can still exist the most intimate relation and connection. We may justly say that no matter what the dream offers, it finds its material in reality and in the psychic life arrayed around this reality. However strange the dream may seem, it can never detach itself from reality, and its most sublime as well as its most farcical structures must always borrow their elementary material either from what we have seen with our eyes in the outer world, or from what has previously found a place somewhere in our waking thoughts; in other words, it must be taken from what we had already experienced either objectively or subjectively."