I then became anxious above all things to achieve a dream in which I should fly over the sea. The dream came at last, and I found myself on the shore looking at the waters of the Atlantic Beginning at first with short uncertain flights over the sea, I soon found that I need not fear. Flying in the air or gliding on the water was equally safe and easy, and so I started, and with a flight like that of a seagull, I flew away with boldness across the Atlantic waves.

The motions of aeroplanes have of late years suggested similar dreams, in which I take the pilot's place, and steer a small aeroplane through the looping flights of the practised airman. Mechanical difficulties are rare in dreams of flying, and if anything untoward does happen (and even in my dreams I do not understand an engine) I have only to desert my plane and to take refuge in my natural way of flight.

A dream that I recorded many years ago gave me a second formula which has been of use to me ever since. By giving confidence in my power to fly it has not only been the source of great pleasure by making difficult experiments in flying easy, but it has given a greatly increased sense of security from all bad dreams. Fear may come into a dream, but this need not trouble us if, by a bird's flight, the dreamer can quickly be carried into safety; for confidence in one's power of flight will then be all that is needed. In my dream I was present at a party given in the rooms of the Royal Society in Burlington House-Lord Kelvin, Lord Rayleigh, Sir William Ramsay, my brother-in-law, Sir Arthur Rucker, and many others whom I knew, were there. They were standing together in a little group, and my brother-in-law asked me to explain to them my method of flying. I could not explain how it was done, only that it seemed to me much easier to fly than to walk. At his suggestion I made some experimental flights - circling round the ceiling, rising and falling, and showing them also the gliding or floating movement near the ground.

They all discussed it critically as though they were rather "on the defensive" about the proceeding, looking upon it, I think, as a new and doubtful experiment, rather savouring of a conjuring trick. Then Lord Kelvin came forward and, speaking with that gracious manner that his friends so well remember, said that he felt the power of human flight to be less surprising, less baffling than the others seemed to think it. "The law of gravitation had probably been in this case temporarily suspended." - "Clearly this law does not for the moment affect you when you fly," he said to me. The others who were present agreed to this, and said that this was probably the solution of the puzzle. An assistant was standing behind the group of men, and in order to show them that flying is not really difficult, I took his hand, and begging him to have confidence in me and to trust to my guidance, I succeeded in making him fly a few inches from the ground.

Since then, when I fly, if people notice the flight at all, which is very seldom, Lord Kelvin's explanation always seems to satisfy them. His reply also gave me the second formula that I can make use of in a dream in case of need, and, like the original formula, it is always successful.

I have sometimes fancied in the middle of a flight that I am losing my power to fly; I have begun then to drift downwards in the air, and have failed to rise again easily. At such moments the "word of power" comes into my mind, and I repeat to myself, "You know that the law of gravitation has no power over you here. If the law is suspended, you can fly at will. Have confidence in yourself, and you need not fear." Confidence is the one essential for successful flight, and confidence being thus restored, I find that I can fly again with ease.

It seems to be a matter of common experience that partial failure of power in a dream generally occurs when the dreamer is emerging from the deepest levels of sleep and is approaching the waking level. In very deep sleep all sense and remembrance of our tired body and relaxed limbs disappear, and we are therefore able to carry on every dream movement with ease. It is only when we come nearer to the moment of awakening that consciousness of our physical condition begins to interfere with the dream imagination and that a sense of effort comes in.

This question of effort or inhibition of movement in dreams is fully discussed in various books. Mr. Havelock Ellis gives a very interesting description of it and of its probable causes. He says: "When in dreams we become conscious of difficult movement, it has frequently, and perhaps usually, happened that the motor channels are not entirely closed, the sensory channels unusually open, and very frequently, though not necessarily, this is associated with the approach of awakening. . . . The question of movement in dreams, of the presence or absence of effort and inhibition, is explicable by reference to the depth of sleep and the particular groups of centres involved. The full normal sleep movements are purely ideatory, and no difficulty arises in executing any movement, for the reason that there is no movement at all, or even any attempt at movement. Movement or attempt at movement tends to occur when the motor and sensory centres are in a partially aroused state; it is a phenomenon which belongs to the period immediately before awakening."1

People who suffer from nightmares describe their total inability to move in the presence of some imminent danger as being the most painful feature of such dreams. I have not actually experienced this kind of dream, but it has often happened in the course of a long flight that I have found my powers of flying gradually lessening and to some extent failing me.

1 Havelock Ellis, "The World of Dreams".

Formerly this loss of power used to herald my awaking from the dream, but now I either use the "formula" which gives confidence and restores the power to fly or the memory of previous experiences comes to my aid, and I recollect at such moments that by ascending to a slight elevation of any kind, to a hill or the upper story of a building, a fresh start can be made, and I can fly again from this height with renewed vigour. In such a case I do not have to awake; the dream simply takes on a fresh lease of life, and the dream journey or adventures are continued without interruption. The following is an example of such a dream:

November, 1914.