in the observation of such
distinctions will, however, be able to understand the psychical process
and to estimate its value.

It has often occurred to myself, in circumstances analogous to the
above, when thinking of persons or places at a distance, to see them
imaged before me in such vivid relief that I have been startled as if by
a morbid hallucination. Once, in passing through my chamber, my
attention was so strongly fixed on an absent person that I was not only
vividly conscious of his form, but also of his voice and gestures, so
that I was amazed by the lively image brought before me. I could adduce
other instances from my own experience and that of others to show that
in a waking and altogether normal state we may believe in the reality of
the image as we do in dreams.

This vivid and momentary realization of images is very common in the
lower classes, who often talk to themselves, and use gestures which show
that they are conversing at the moment with imaginary persons, who stand
before them, as if they were really there, in the same manner as in
dreams. Indeed, every one has experienced this phenomenon for himself,
especially when strongly excited by anger, sorrow, or hope. If it were
possible to reflect on the process of thought at the time we should
distinctly understand that we were dreaming while still awake.

The vivid imagination of artists is well known, so that they are able to
see and represent things and persons, either in words, with the pencil,
or the chisel, just as if they were actually present. The image so
vividly realized is a necessary condition of the exercise of their
respective arts. When great poets, such as Dante, Ariosto, Milton, and
Goethe, conceived and idealized their thoughts with every detail of
circumstances, persons, actions, expressions, and movements, no one can
deny that the images were vividly present to their minds, and that while
in the act of composition these were unconsciously regarded as having a
real existence. If these poetic descriptions are presented to the
attentive reader in such a vivid form as to transport him into a real
world, much more must the authors of these marvellous creations have
looked upon them as real at the moment of composition. The impression of
truthfulness is indeed produced by the fact that the writers saw these
things as though they were real. I speak of states of consciousness, not
of reflex observation, of intense moments of sensation and