Dreams
Five old friends had been dining together, an author, a doctor, and three wealthy bachelors of independent means.
All available topics of conversation had been exhausted, and that feeling of weariness which heralds the breaking up of such a gathering was already settling upon those present. One of the party, who for five minutes had been silently contemplating the lighted Boulevard, with its noise and bustle, suddenly remarked:
“The days seem long when one has nothing to do from morning till night.”
“And the nights also,” added his neighbour. “I hardly sleep at all, amusements bore me and conversation is always the same. I never come across a new idea, and before talking to anybody I always have to struggle with a violent desire to remain quite silent and not listen to anyone. I don’t know what to do in the evenings.”
“I would give anything,” the third idler said, “for some means of spending even two pleasant hours every day.”
The author, who had just thrown his overcoat over his arm, came towards them and said:
“Anybody who could find a new vice and could pass it on to his fellow-creatures, even though it might shorten life by half, would do a far greater service to humanity than anyone who might discover a means of securing perpetual health and youth.”
The doctor began to laugh, and, biting off the end of his cigar, he said:
“Yes, but it is not found so easily as that. Ever since the beginning of the world the problem has been vigorously attacked. Primitive man instantly attained perfection in that line, but we can scarcely equal him.”
One of the three idlers murmured:
“What a pity!”
A moment later he added:
“If only one could sleep, could sleep well, without feeling too warm or too cold, sleep with that exhaustion which comes from an evening of intense fatigue, sleep without dreaming!”
“Why without dreaming?” inquired his neighbour.
“Because dreams are not always pleasant,” the other replied, “because they are always strange, improbable and incoherent, and while asleep we cannot even enjoy the best ones to the full. You must dream while awake.”
“Who prevents you from doing so?” asked the author.
The doctor threw away his cigar.
“My dear fellow, daydreaming requires the exercise of great willpower, and therefore leaves one very tired. Now one of the most delightful things in the world is a real dream—the mind wandering through pleasant visions—but it must come naturally, not under painful stimulation, and it should be accompanied by complete physical comfort. That kind of dream I can offer you, if you will promise not to abuse it.”
The author shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, yes,” he said, “I know all about that; hashish, opium, green jain, the Paradis Artificiels. I have read Baudelaire’s books and I have even tasted his famous drug, which made me very ill.”
The doctor sat down again.
“No, I mean ether, simply ether; and I might add that you literary men ought to use it sometimes.”
The three rich men came nearer, and one of them asked him to explain its effect.
“Let us come down to facts,” the doctor replied; “I am leaving medicine and morality out of the question; I am only concerned at the moment with pleasure. You are indulging every day in excesses which are shortening your lives. I will bring a new sensation to your notice, possibly only for men of intelligence—that is to say, of considerable intelligence—dangerous, like everything which overexcites us, but none the less exquisite. I should add that a certain amount of preparation is required, that is to say, it is necessary to become accustomed to it, in order to experience to the full the singular effects of ether.
“They are different from the effects of hashish, opium and morphine, and they cease as soon as you stop inhaling it, while the other dream-producers continue their action for hours.
“I will try to analyse as clearly as possible the feelings experienced by the use of ether, but so delicate and fleeting are those sensations that it is not an easy task.
“I first tried this remedy when I was suffering from violent neuralgia, and I have perhaps rather abused it since. I had sharp pains in the head and neck, and my skin became unbearably hot and feverish. I took a large flask of ether, and lying down, I began slowly to inhale it. After a few minutes, I thought I heard a vague murmur, which soon became a kind of drone, and it seemed to me that the inside of my body was getting lighter—as light as air—and dissolving in vapour.
“Then came a sort of stupor, a drowsy feeling of comfort, in spite of the pains which were still present, but were no longer acute. They were pains such as one could endure with resignation, and no longer that terrible excruciating agony against which the whole tortured body protests.
“Soon that curious and delightful feeling of buoyancy spread from my body to my limbs, which in turn became light as a feather, as if the flesh and bones had disappeared and had left only the skin to enable me to feel the pleasure of living and resting in such comfort. I then realised that I was no longer in agony, the pain had vanished, melted away. I heard four voices, as if two conversations were going on at the same time, but I could not understand a single word; sometimes there was a confused jumble of sounds; sometimes I could distinguish words; but it was evident that what I heard was nothing but the intensified drumming in my ears. Far from being asleep, I was very much awake; my ideas, my sensations and my thoughts were marvellously clear and strong, aided by a feeling of exhilaration, a curious intoxication arising from a tenfold increase in my mental powers.
“It was not like the dreams produced by hashish, or the morbid illusions of opium; it was a wonderful clearness of thought, a new way of regarding and appreciating the important things in life, with the absolute certainty that this way was the right one.
“And I suddenly remembered the old Biblical idea. It seemed to me that I had eaten of the Tree of Knowledge and that all mysteries were solved, so powerful and irrefutable was this strange new logic. Arguments, reasons and proofs crowded upon me, only to be upset by still stronger ones. My brain became a battlefield of ideas; I saw myself as a superior being, armed with an invincible intelligence, and I experienced a fierce joy in the discovery of my power.
“All this lasted a very long time, while I continued to inhale the ether in my flask. Suddenly I realised that it was empty, and felt most terribly grieved.”
The four men spoke together:
“Doctor, give me a prescription for a pint of ether!”
But the doctor put on his hat and retorted:
“Certainly not! Go and be poisoned by somebody else!”
And he went out.
Ladies and gentlemen, if you feel inclined to try?—