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in　a　sort　of　perpetual　dream。　The　testimony　of　parents　and　friends　who

watched　me　day　after　day　is　the　only　means　that　I　have　of　knowing　the

actuality　of　those　early；　obscure　years　of　my　childhood。　The　physical

acts　of　going　to　bed　and　waking　in　the　morning　alone　mark　the　transition

from　reality　to　Dreamland。　As　near　as　I　can　tell；　asleep　or　awake　I　only

felt　with　my　body。　I　can　recollect　no　process　which　I　should　now　dignify

with　the　term　of　thought。　It　is　true　that　my　bodily　sensations　were

extremely　acute；　but　beyond　a　crude　connection　with　physical　wants　they

are　not　associated　or　directed。　They　had　little　relation　to　each　other；

to　me　or　the　experience　of　others。　Idea……that　which　gives　identity　and

continuity　to　experience……came　into　my　sleeping　and　waking　existence　at

the　same　moment　with　the　awakening　of　self…consciousness。　Before　that

moment　my　mind　was　in　a　state　of　anarchy　in　which　meaningless　sensations

rioted；　and　if　thought　existed；　it　was　so　vague　and　inconsequent；　it

cannot　be　made　a　part　of　discourse。　Yet　before　my　education　began；　I

dreamed。　I　know　that　I　must　have　dreamed　because　I　recall　no　break　in　my

tactual　experiences。　Things　fell　suddenly；　heavily。　I　felt　my　clothing

afire；　or　I　fell　into　a　tub　of　cold　water。　Once　I　smelt　bananas；　and　the

odour　in　my　nostrils　was　so　vivid　that　in　the　morning；　before　I　was

dressed；　I　went　to　the　sideboard　to　look　for　the　bananas。　There　were　no

bananas；　and　no　odour　of　bananas　anywhere！　My　life　was　in　fact　a　dream

throughout。

The　likeness　between　my　waking　state　and　the　sleeping　one　is　still

marked。　In　both　states　I　see；　but　not　with　my　eyes。　I　hear；　but　not　with

my　ears。　I　speak；　and　am　spoken　to；　without　the　sound　of　a　voice。　I　am

moved　to　pleasure　by　visions　of　ineffable　beauty　which　I　have　never

beheld　in　the　physical　world。　Once　in　a　dream　I　held　in　my　hand　a　pearl。

The　one　I　saw　in　my　dreams　must；　therefore；　have　been　a　creation　of　my

imagination。　It　oulded　crystal。　As　I　gazed

into　its　shimmering　deeps；　my　soul　was　flooded　with　an　ecstasy　of

tenderness；　and　I　was　filled　with　wonder　as　one　who　should　for　the

first　time　look　into　the　cool；　sweet　heart　of　a　rose。　My　pearl　was　dew

and　fire；　the　velvety　green　of　moss；　the　soft　whiteness　of　lilies；　and

the　distilled　hues　and　sweetness　of　a　thousand　roses。　It　seemed　to　me；

浮士德  少年维特的烦恼  山羊岛的蓝色奇迹  冬天里的春天  绞刑架下的报告  山月记  误入桃花源  叙情  四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)  王子猎情记  欢未央  少年天草的秀逗咒语  直面挑战 [rising to the challenge]  爱情不风流(短篇集)  为了告别的聚会  高山上的呼喊-go tell it on the mountain  爱的教育  莫里哀传  心理医生在吗  流星慢舞