scene of the first walking, saying that it
had occurred on her own wedding-anniversary when the child was
twenty-three months old.
One night I heard the same patient talk in her sleep in the slow and
hesitating manner of a child reading phonetically from a printed page.
I soon recognized the words as those of a poem of Tagore's, called "My
Prayer," and remembered that a magazine containing the poem had been
lying on the bed during the day. When she had finished I wakened her,
saying, "Now tell me what you have been dreaming." She answered in
her childish way, "I think I do not dream." She went to sleep
immediately and again repeated the poem, word for word, without a
single mistake. Again I awakened her with the words, "Now tell me what
you have been dreaming." And again she answered, "I think I do not
dream." I said: "But yes; don't you remember you were just saying,
'When the time comes for me to go'?" (the last line of the poem). "Oh,
yes," she said, "I was seeing it, and I think I'll not go to sleep
again. It tires me so to see it."
While she was awake she had no recollection of having seen the poem
and was indeed in her dissociated state quite incapable of
understanding its meaning. Asleep, she saw every word as plainly as if
the page had been before her eyes.
The distorted pictures of dreams are always made of the material which
past experiences have furnished and which have in many cases been
dropped out of consciousness for years only to rise out of their long
oblivion when the conscious mind has been put to sleep.
=Unearthing Old Experiences.= However, psychology does not have to
wait for buried memories to come forth of their own free will. It has
a number of successful ways of summoning them from their hiding-place
and helping them across the line into consciousness. In the hands of
skilled investigators and therapeutists, hypnosis, hypnoidization,
automatic writing, crystal-gazing, abstraction, free association,
word-association, and interpretation of dreams have all been
repeatedly successful in bringing to light memories which apparently
have been for many years completely blotted out of mind. As we become
better acquainted with these technical devices we shall find that
there are four kinds of experiences whose records are carefully stored
away in our minds. Some were always so far from the center of our
attention that we could swear they never had been ours; others,
although once present in con
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