Death of an Oracle and the Oracle that Never Dies

 

The Sibylline Books were the oldest and most respected oracle of the Romans. According to legend, the original set – in Greek hexameter – were sold to an ancient king of Rome by a wise woman, or sibyl, from the region of Troy. They were replaced several times. Under the Empire, they were moved from the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill in Rome to a vault under the temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill. An august college of secular priests, whose members had typically held high state office, were entrusted with pulling verses from the collection –as you might pull Tarot cards from a deck – to perform a reading. 

The Sibylline Books were most often consulted to get a second opinion on an anomalous event, like the flooding of the Tiber or the birth of a two-headed ram, but also to elicit the will of the gods on important undertakings and to receive guidance on what measures the state might need to take to propitiate the powers above.

In 405, the master of Rome was a half-barbarian general named Stilicho who had been fighting a series of savage battles against Alaric and the Goths; Stilicho usually won, but at ruinous price, and without clear resolution. He did not like his ratings from the Sibylline Books, which hinted that he was out of favor with the gods. He did what other men of power have done when they disliked the opinions of diviners and dreamers; he tried to shut them down, in this case by ordering the destruction of the Sybilline Books. Though the Empire was now officially Christian, the culture of Rome was still deeply pagan, and this was widely viewed as an outrageous act of blasphemy that would bring punishment from the old gods. 

Soon news reached Rome that barbarian hordes had crossed the Rhine, heading for Italy. A cabal of disgruntled officers overthrew Stilicho; in 408, he was beheaded.. Two years later the Goths sacked Rome. There were many pagans who muttered, I told you so.

Around the same time that Stilicho was destroying the great oracle at Rome, across the Mediterranean in Cyrene a philosopher of noble blood named Synesius – soon to be made a bishop of the Church – completed a treatise On Dreams that argues, elegantly and persuasively, that dreams are our personal oracle and we should never allow anyone to interfere with it. This oracle is the birthright of every human, regardless of class or condition, and it travels with every dreamer. All that is required to consult it is to lay your head on a pillow – though the results you get will have a lot to do with how you live your life and how you cleanse (or fail to cleanse) your perception.

If we stay at home, the dream oracle stays with us; if we go abroad she accompanies us; she is with us on the field of battle, she is at our side in the city; she labors with us in the fields and barters with us in the market place. The laws of a malicious government cannot stop her. A tyrant cannot prevent us from dreaming, unless he banishes sleep from his kingdom. [The dream oracle] repudiates neither race, nor age, nor condition, nor calling. This zealous prophetess, this wise counselor, is present to everyone, everywhere.[adapted from the 1930 Augustine Fitzgerald translation] 

This is an oracle we can ignore (at our cost) but thankfully it can never be destroyed.

Art: "The Sack of Rome by the Barbarians" by Joseph-Noël Sylvestre (1890)

A short history of soul flight

 

The science of dream travel is ancient: in the evolution of our species, it probably predates speech and may have helped to generate language. Dream travel has a fascinating pedigree.

In many human cultures the most profound insights into the nature of the divine and the fate of the soul after physical death have been attributed to ecstatic journeys beyond the body in waking dream or vision. In most human cultures, the existence of parallel worlds inhabited by gods, daimons, and spirits of the departed has been accepted as simple fact, a fact of extraordinary importance. Visiting these other worlds was a top priority for our ancestors, as it still is wherever there is living spirituality. From the travel reports of the boldest and most successful journeyers between the worlds, mythologies and religions are born. Soul journeying was understood to be the key to orders of reality, hidden from the five physical senses, that are no less “real” than ordinary reality and may be more so.

 For the Jivaro people of South America, everyday life is regarded as “false.” “It is firmly believed the truth about causality is to be found by entering the supernatural world, or what the Jivaro view as the ‘real’ world, for they feel that the events which take place within it are the basis for many of the surface manifestation and mysteries of daily life.”

Among dreaming peoples, the reality of the soul journey and the objective, factual nature of the travelogues brought back are not in doubt. The travel reports will be compared with those of previous explorers.

Shamans ride their drums to the Upper and Lower Worlds to gain access to sources of insight and healing, to commune with the spirits and rescue lost souls. Aboriginal spirit men journey to the Sky World, climbing a magic cord projected from their own energy bodies, at the solar plexus or the tip of the penis.

Before compass and sextant, before charts, the great open-sea navigators guided their shipmates across the oceans by fine attunement to the patterns of waves and wind and stars and by the ability to scout ahead and consult a spiritual pilot through dream travel. Traditional navigators in the Indian Ocean reputedly had the power to travel ahead of their vessels in the form of seabirds or flying fish to set a safe course. 

The ancient Daoist masters were known as the feathered sages because of their reputed power of flight, which sometimes involved shape-shifting into the form of cranes.

In ancient Greece, shaman-philosophers were renowned for their ability to travel outside the body, appear in two or more locations at the same time, and commune with their colleagues. The Pythagoreans taught and practiced soul travel and believed that spiritual masters born centuries apart could communicate by this means.

The ability to project consciousness beyond the physical body, to fold space-time, influence events at a distance, and project a double are all recognized siddhis — or special powers — of advanced spiritual practitioners in Eastern traditions. Vedic literature from India is full of vivid accounts of soul-flight by humans and beings-other-than-human. In the Mahabharata, the dream-soul, or suksma atman, is described as journeying outside the body while its owner sleeps. It knows pleasure and pain, just as in waking life. It travels on “fine roads” through zones that correspond to the senses, the wind, the ether, toward the higher realms of spirit.

Shankaracharya, the ascetic exponent of Advaita Vedanta, practiced soul-flight and the projection of consciousness to another body. Challenged to a debate on sex — a subject of which he was woefully ignorant at the time — he is said to have left his body in a cave under the guard of his followers while he borrowed the body of a dying king, whose courtesans schooled him in all the arts of the Kama Sutra.

Soul travel was well understood in the Sacred Earth traditions of Europe, from the earliest times until the murderous repression associated with the witch craze. One of the most fascinating accounts — less reliant than most on confession extracted under torture — is Carlo Ginzberg’s monograph on the Benandanti, or “good-farers” of the Friuli region, who journeyed to defend the health of the community and the crops.

Soul journeying is also central to Christian spirituality. In II Corinthians, Paul refers to his own soul journey when he speaks of “a man who was caught up into the third heaven, whether in the body or out of the body I know not.” St. Columba, the founder of the great monastery at Iona, regularly traveled outside his body to scout developments at a distance.

St Anthony of Padua was renowned for his ability to travel outside the body and appear in two places at once. There are reports of him preaching in two churches at the same time.

In Jewish tradition, the story of Elijah’s chariot of fire is the model for visionary ascent to higher realms. Among the Kabbalists, soul-flight to the higher planes was held to be the reward for long years of study and solitary meditation. A key element in Kabbalist meditation (hitboded) was the chanting and correct vibration of sacred texts. Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534–72) recited phrases from the Zohar over and over, as Eastern meditators use their mantras. He entered and altered state in which he received visitations from spiritual teachers — notably Elijah — and could travel freely outside the body, to visit “heavenly academies.”

Soul-flight is not an art reserved for yogis, mystics, and shamans. The projection of consciousness by “remote viewing” or “ traveling clairvoyance” has been central to the history of warfare. Go back through the old battle sagas and you will find tales of warrior shamans who shape-shifted to spy out enemy positions. The druid MacRoth, in the Irish epic the Tain, performs this service for his royal patron, flying over the enemy ranks in the shape of a black warbird. Native American sorcerers were employed by both the French and the English to carry out similar scouts during the French and Indian War.

One of the most famous soul journeyers in European history was the Swedish scientist Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772), the son of a Lutheran bishop. He was in his fifties when powerful visitations by the spirits transformed his life; he then embarked on repeated journeys into their realms. He encountered angels who escorted him on guided tours of many kinds of heavens and hells..

It is not surprising that the dream explorer who coined the term lucid dreaming was another soul journeyer. Dr. Frederik can Eeden (1860–1932) was a Dutch writer, physician, and member of the British Society for Psychical Research (SPR). In 1913, he gave a lecture to the SPR in which he reported “lucid dreams” in which the dreamer retains the memory of his waking life, remained conscious, and could carry out “different acts of free volition.” He observed that the phenomenon of multiple consciousness and “double memory” — of both waking and dream events — “leads almost unavoidably to the conception of a dream-body.” He later wrote a novel, The Bride of Dreams, about dream travel outside the body.

Frequent flier Robert Monroe asserted with reason that “a controlled out-of-body experience is the most efficient means we know to gather Knowns to create a Different Overview” — a new definition of reality.

Text adapted from Dreamgates: Exploring the Worlds of Soul, Imagination and Life Beyond Death by Robert Moss. Published by New World Library.

Illustration: "Green Flight" by Robert Moss

Dreams and Doubles – Thorstein and the Fylgja

 

I am back in the Iceland of the sagas. In the Vatnsdal Saga, the chronicle of a Norwegian family that moved to northern Iceland before Christianization, we read about dream visitations and the need to listen to a dream advisory, especially when it comes from a fylgja, or companion spirit. 
     Groa the witch invites Thorstein to a banquet. However, three nights before he is due to leave home, he dreams he receives a visitation from a fylgja, in this case his family's protective spirit. She appears in human form and asks him not to go to the witch's house. He objects that he promised to be at the feast. She responds, "It seems unwise to me, and harm will befall you from this." She appears for three nights in succession, scolding him for not heeding her warning. She touches his eyes as if to tell him he must open them and see clearly. 
     Thorstein must have listened, because on the day of his departure he says he is sick and tells the people who were going to travel with him to go home. At her place, Groa walks backwards around the house chanting spells. A rockfall on the house kills everyone inside. "Ever afterwards the place where Groa lived seemed haunted, and men had no wish to live there from that time on."
    Although fylgja is sometimes translated as "follower" we know from other tales - and from first-hand experience today - that it often travels ahead of its protege, and may be seen by others before a traveler reaches their destination.   

Quotations are from Andrew Warn's traslation of Vatnsdal Saga, chapter 36, in The Sagas of the Icelanders: A Selectuon (New York: Viking, 2000) with one significant change.  Warn turns the Icelandic word fylgja into "fetch". This is not satsfactory,  since in English "fetch" is usually taken to mean a personal double, whose appearance is ominous since it often heralds death. The fylgjur ("those who accompany") are constant companions, most visible and especially active in dreams. A fylgja is a guardian spirit rather than a shadow self, though the term has shiftng meaning in different contexts. in and out of the Old Norse polypsychic houses of selves. The fylgja watches over an individual but may also protect a whole family and be passed down through generatons. The fylgja is often seen in animal form. When it appears as human, it is apparently always female, which leads some to suggest that it be a matriarchal presence.

Photo: Vatnsdalsá River, in the landscape of the Vatnsdal Saga

Hawk reminds me we can fly

 

I am drifting around dawn in the liminal state between sleep and awake, where I recommend that you learn to spend more time because it's a natural launchpad for lucid dream adventures. It's a place where creative connections are made easily. It's a place where you are highly psychic and your psyche - come on, let's call it soul - can be quite mobile. 
     I am drifting around dawn. The image of a feather floats up on my inner screen. I see the pattern and I know it is the feather of a red-tailed hawk, a bird that has played an important role in my life.  Suddenly, I realize the feather is attached to a live bird, to a wing that is quivering in mid-air. I look at the wing, at the back of the bird, at the silver-white belly feathers.I look ino the intense yellow eyes that are looking at me and I feel an invitation. To do what? To lift up, to fly with the hawk.
    Now I am floating over the rooftops of the city and over the green park. I have gone through my window without noticing. I am vaguely aware of the body I have left in bed, but my focus is on the adventure ahead. Extraordinary things have happened when I have flown with the hawk before. This already feels so good.  I, am enjoying going with the wind, the pure freedom of flight. The hawk is no longer separate. I think the hawk and I have become a hybrid. Or I have taken the form of a hawk.
     Frequent flyers beyond the body do it in different ways, Some fly Superman style, arms out, straight as a rocket. Some swim through the air or go doggy-style, or pedal. I often find myself winging it like the birds. So maybe I am a hawk now.
      But I am distracted by mechanical noise. I have not lost track of the physical environment. I am in two places and two states of mind at once. I am floating above the city and at the same time I am aware of my body in bed and the physical life of the night city below me. I search for the source of the noise and see a helicopter, probably going to or from a nearby hospital on an emergency call. I tell myself the noise will go away. Let me stay with the hawk in flight and find out where it wants to take me this time.
      The noise of the chopper blades does fade. But now there is a louder, harsher, churning noise, I think of a military aircraft. This is really pulling me out of my lovely aerial experience. As soon as my attention shifts, I drop back in my dormant body in the bedroom with a soft thud.
      This is a small anecdote, nothing important going on, but little incidents like this remind us that in dreams and dreamlike states, we can fly. This is a talent to be grown and to be mastered. It has been valued in most cultures as far back as we can track even if many in modern society have forgotten.

The Ur-Ground of Literature

 

 The raw sexuality of her call to her lover is wild and shocking: “Plow my vulva!” He plunges into her like a “wild bull”. When they couple, he is the green life of all growing things and she is the Queen of Heaven. He is Dumuzi and she is Inanna.

     But she is called to go down into the dark places, and travels a terrifying path of ordeal and initiation. When she returns, transformed, to the surface world, she finds that her man has forgotten her, playing king of all he surveys. Her angry curse sucks the light out of his day. Now Dumuzi dreams that everything turns against him. Trees are uprooted, his hearth fire is doused, his drinking cup is thrown down, his shepherd’s crook is taken away. A fierce raptor seizes a lamb from his sheepfold, and he knows that something fearsome and unforgiving is coming for him.
     Death is coming for him, and his only hope lies in the love and feminine wisdom of his younger sister, Geshtin-anna. She is a reader, “a tablet-knowing scribe”, who knows the meaning of words and of dreams.
    She helps him to hide, but in the end he cannot escape his own demons. He is overpowered by galla demons and carried down to the realm of Inanna’s dark double, the Queen of the Underworld, into his own cycle of death and rebirth.. Grieving, both Inanna and his constant sister will seek him in the lower world, using drumming, like shamans. And they will make a deal by which Geshtin-anna will take her brother’s place in the Underworld for half the year, giving him time up top with the goddess in her sunnier disposition. But that is a later story in the cycle of Inanna.
    The Dream of Dumuzi is the oldest recorded dream. It was written in Sumer nearly five thousand years ago, scored with marks on baked clay that look like the tracks of a very thoughtful sandpiper. Almost certainly, it was written by a woman. We can’t miss the fact that the first dream interpreter on record is a woman who can read and write, the “tablet-knowing scribe.”
    Geshtin-anna becomes the goddess of dream divination (and of wine).

The Dream of Dumuzi, unclothed in its beauty and terror in a modern translation by Diane Wolkstein, is great writing, and takes us where great writers do not fear to go: into the inner chambers of the heart, into the demon-haunted mind, into the mysteries of death and rebirth. Thanks to its survival, we can say without hesitation that one of the first uses of writing – which was invented in Sumer – was to record dreams, and that one of the great things to emerge from recording dreams, at least five thousand years ago, was literature. Writers have always been dreamers. [1]        

Dumuzi was king of Uruk, not far from Ur, the most famous city of the Sumerians and the one from which Abraham set out to found a new people. So Bert States is doubly correct when he says “dreaming is the Ur-form of all fiction.” [2]
    States suggests that storytelling springs from the same “skill” that allows us to produce dream narrativesand compares the mental state of the creative writer to that of a lucid dreamer: “Just as the lucid dreamer is slightly awake, slightly outside the dream, while being largely inside it, so the waking author is slightly asleep, or slightly inside the fiction while being largely outside it.” [3] Many fiction writers (including me) would attest to the accuracy of this description. It probably applies to creative minds from many fields operating in a flow state of relaxed attention or attentive relaxation. In this state, as Samuel Beckett wrote of Proust, the writer may also be, for the moment, “an extratemporal being” [4] 
    Dreams provided both energy and inspiration for literary creation. As a boy, Aeschylus (born 525 BCE) was sent to watch over ripening grapes in a vineyard. When he dozed off, Dionysus, god of wine and drama, appeared to him and gave him instructions for a new kind of theatre. Prior to this, ancient Greek drama was rather static ritual, with a single actor on stage, and a chorus that did not interact directly with him. Aeschylus was inspired in his dream to introduce a second actor; this was the birth of Western theatre. He went on to write ninety plays, although only seven are extant.

“Poetry is always the result of flooding”, a young poet told Stefania Pandolfo as she journeyed among rural Moroccan villagers for whom dreaming and poetry are vitally important, and always interweaving. A real poem bursts from an emotion that is inundating, overwhelming – until it finds creative release. [5] 
   The most respected poet in the area, one Sheikh Mohammed, was alien to poetry until he dreamed of a flood. The dream came at a time of personal trauma when he was close to despair. Previously a violent man of action, he had managed to blow off his right hand in a gun accident. He dreamed the river was coming down in flood, its front like a mountain, carrying everything it encountered in its path, trees and carrion and debris. Instead of fleeing, he stood there in the dry riverbed, watching and waiting. Then he opened his mouth and swallowed the flood and everything borne along by it. He recounted the dream to his mother and she told him that he had become a poet. This became his life’s calling.[6]
     From the priestess-scribe who wrote Dumuzi’s story to the latest novels by Stephen King and Neil Gaiman, dreams have provided wonderful material for stories and novels, scripts and poems. The dream may provide the rough first sketch of a theme or a plot or a character, with everything still to be worked out and delivered – perhaps with the help of subsequent dreams – over a considerable period of time. The dream may have the structure and detail required for a finished story or poem (but is unlikely to be “finished” in the sense that it will be truly good writing until the raw report has been shaped and polished). The dream may be inserted in a narrative and attributed to one of the characters as Graham Greene did for Querry in A Burnt-Out Case). The dream may be delivered as a story without a frame, as Franz Kafka delivered a nightmare in Metamorphosis while insisting, in the tale, that the man turned into a giant bug was not dreaming.
   The literary dream has been used as a plot device in many ways. It may be used to take the reader into the inner life of a character. It may be used to set up critical narrative tension, for example between a character’s desires and his conscience, a central theme in Dostoyevsky’s use of dreams.
    The dream can be used as an architectural device, to open and frame a story that may be anything but a dream; the medieval Roman de la Rose is a classical example, from an age when dreams were greatly respected. In the classic Chinese novel The Dream of the Red Chamber novel opens with a goddess creating a mountain from 36,501 pieces of stone, one of which - rejected - is a speaking rock whose complaint is heard by two immortals and is gifted with a very mobile life, in different forms, in the mortal world – known to gods and immortals as the Red Dust - and elsewhere.[7]

     Writing and dreaming are closely related in daily practice. Writers who keep journals and record their dreams are giving themselves a warm-up, flexing the creative muscles that will work on the larger project. Writers who may not record their dreams with any regularity nonetheless rise from sleep with their heads full of words – as Dickens related in his letter to Dr. Stone – that are pressing to come out. [8]

A writer’s dream may help to “break up the great fountains of the deep” (a phrase Mark Twain used repeatedly) releasing the power of long-buried memories, or bringing through ideas that have been growing in the preconscious or the deeper unconscious for years or decade. That is how Aslan came to C.S. Lewis, giving him the key to Narnia. As “Jack” Lewis recalled 

The Lion all began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood. The picture had been in my head since I was about sixteen. Then one day, when I was about forty, I said to myself: ‘Let’s try to make a story about it.’
    At first I had little idea how the story would go. But then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it. I think I had been having a good many dreams about lions about that time. Apart from that, I don't know where the Lion came from or why he came. But once he was there He pulled the whole story together, and soon he pulled the six other Narnian stories in after him. [9]] 

     Finally, it is in dreams and flow states that writers come into contact with inner helpers. Robert Louis Stevenson communed with his “Brownies” in states of reverie, and gave them the credit for doing better than half his literary work. Yeats spoke of the “mingling of minds” that can bring assistance, in a creative venture, from intelligences that seem to belong to other times or other dimensions. Milton described the source of his inspiration as   

....my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplored,
And dictates to me slumbering, or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated prose [] 

Milton spoke of “being milked” after his nights of inspiration, as – totally blind by the time he composed his most famous work – he dictated to a scribe.

 

Notes and References

 1. This translation of the Dream of Dumuzi is in Wolkstein, Diane and Samuel Noah Kramer, Inanna, Queen of Heaven: Her Stories and Hymns from Sumer. New York: Harper & Row, 1983, pp 74-84.     Dumuzi (later called Tammuz) is a Mystery god who dies and is reborn, and the cycle of his ever-recurring death and resurrection is also the cycle of the crops in what is now southern Iraq. He dies in the spring at the time Iraqi farmers, in their hot country, harvest their wheat and barley; he is resurrected when they put seeds in the earth. In the Christian calendar, this is Easter time. The Shia ritual mourning for the martyred Imam Hussein at the site of the battle of Karbala – a rite Saddam tried to suppress – takes place at the same time. Life rhymes, and so do the life cycles of gods. See  E.W.Fernea, Guests of the Sheikh. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1969.

2. Bert O. States, Dreaming and Storytelling. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993.1993, p.3. 

3.  Bert O. States, Bert O., “Authorship in Dreams and Fictions” in Dreaming vol.4 no.4 (December, 1994) pp. 239-240

4. Samuel Beckett, Proust. New York: Grove, 1931, p. 56)

5.Stefania Pandolfo,  Impasse of the Angels: Scenes from a Moroccan Space of Memory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997, p.259]

6. ibid p. 265

7. Tsao Hsueh-chin, Dream of the Red Chamber (1754). Trans. and adapted by Chichen Wang. New York: Anchor Books, 1989.

8. Charles Dickens letter to Dr Stone. February 2, 1851; see Warrington Winters, “Dickens and the Psychology of Dreams” in PMLA vol.63 no.3 (September 1948) pp. 984-1006.

9. Lewis, C.S., “It All Began with a Picture”, Junior Radio Times, vol. 68 (July 15, 1960) reprinted in Of Other Worlds. San Diego and New York: Harcourt Brace, 1975, p. 42.

10. Paradise Lost IX. 21-4

Text adapted from The Secret History of Dreaming by Robert Moss. Published by New World Library.

 

 

 

Astral and Mental Bodies

 

After a good middle-of-the night session with Powell’s book The Astral Body, I returned to bed and at once felt in contact with my Higher Self. I felt lightness, clarity and well-being. I was encouraged to shift my attention, and entered the vision space.

    I see brilliant bands of color at the edges of my energy field. Orange and deep blue, then yellow, crimson and green. A purple band towards the outside and a lighter, translucent refulgence around it.
    I have the sense of rising above both my physical and my astral bodies.
    Now I am high up inside an immense bubble or dome of light. I realize with some surprise that the tiny object far below me – as if glimpsed from an airplane – is my physical body, with a second body floating above it. I feel am entirely liberated from the tug of feelings and desires. I am instructed that I am now in my mental body. Its form, when separated from the astral body, is that of a point of light.
    To understand the role of kama (desire) I am allowed to see the effect of descending into the astral body and removing the sphere of light that encloses the whole scene. I’m struck by the urgent, ravening quality of all the things that come through. Would-be human visitors include women filled with sexual desire; some may be thought-forms I have generated, others seem to have independent existence. Many other thought-forms press for attention, as do discarnate entities.
    I resolve to practice continuity of consciousness and pursue this teaching experience.
    I fall into a dream for a few moments. I find myself, very realistically, back in a restaurant I used to frequent in an earlier period of my life.
    For much of the night, I am conscious of learning and studying. I read complex but very clear material on the nature of the subtle bodies that I feel sure I will be able to reproduce. I’m determined to bring as much back through the filters into “brain knowledge” as possible.

- from my journal for December 28, 1995.

I enjoy opening old journals at random and seeing what was I was doing, in one world or another, in earlier phases of life. Here, nearly thirty years ago, I am road-testing Theosophist descriptions of the multiple vehicles of consciousness by traveling beyond my body and the astral plane, in a succession of subtle bodies. Dreaming is not a spectator sport. I drew on similar experiences in Dreamgates, my book for frequent fliers.

"Bilocation at St. Martin de Londres". Journal drawing by Robert Moss

Materializing a dream, embodying a dream lover

 

The literature of India contains many versions of the story of dream lovers who find each other in waking reality, sometimes after a long and difficult quest. In a story in the twelfth century Kathasaritsagara (Ocean of the Stream of Story) King Vikramaditya sees in a dream girl he does not know, in an unknown country, and falls in love with her. As he embraces her, his pleasure is interrupted by the cry of a night watchman. The same night, in a distant land, Princess Malayavati – who had a horror of sex and avoided men – dreamed she had found the perfect lover and was lying with him on the connubial couch when they were interrupted by her chambermaid. After many plot twists, the dream lovers meet, recognize each other, and are united in their physical bodies as they had been in their dream bodies.
      The broader theme, pf materializing a dream, is also central to Indian accounts of dreaming. Roger Caillois observed that “India, which may well be considered the center of asceticism and moral discipline, has invested the dream with other powers again. The recluse, carried away by his meditation, gives a material existence to the images of his dreams, if he can only succeed in sustaining them with sufficient intensity. The dream then becomes lucid, deliberate and creative it becomes, in fact, a consciously willed effort that will be realized provided only that it is pursued sufficiently long and with sufficient vigor.”  [1]
    The biography of the famous poet Tulsidas, who composed an epic devoted to Hanuman the monkey god demonstrates the power and the process of this kind of yogic dreaming, . A tyrant imprisoned the poet in a stone tower. “The poet set himself to dream, to meditate, to dream again, to put to work all the resources of a mind straining to empty himself of all distracting content. Then from the dream arose Hanuman and his army of apes who overran then kingdom, seized the tower, and set the poet free.”

 

1. Roger Caillois, “Logical and Philosophical Problems of the Dream” in G.E. von Grunebaum and Roger Caillois (eds) The Dream and Himan Societies (Berkeley; University of California Pres, 1966)