The Dream is a purposeful dialog between four professors from different disciplines, an essay in Dreiser’s collection, Hey, Rub-a-Dub-Dub: A Book of the Mystery and Wonder and Terror of Life (1920). “That is the great thing. We’re all shadows, I say, shadows, adumbrations, impalpable nothings, rumors, dreams.”
Approach along Broadway from 6th Street George Paul Syphers, Professor of Chemistry; Forbes Mitchell, Professor of Phi- losophy; Abner Barrett, Professor of Physics. Syphers is medium in height, slim, fiery, black-whiskered, barbered to per- fection. He is loquacious and demonstrative. Mitchell is at- tenuated, humped, gray. He is quite old. Barrett is “fifty, blonde, bald, heavy, silent.
SYPHERS
(As they reach the corner.) Well, I turn off here. That was an interesting discussion we had, eh? The fact is, Mitchell, as I told you the other day, I have passed out of my old mate- rialistic point of view to a certain extent not entirely but now I see more order in things than I once did a necessary if mechanistic order. It seems more or less inescapable to me, doesn’t it to you?
MITCHELL
(Doubtfully) Well, yes, I might say only of course
BARRETT
(Dogmatically.) I do not see how any one can doubt law. Everything obeys law of one kind and another.
SYPHERS
Quite so! Quite so! Law, of course. Everything obeys a law or laws of one kind and another. Nevertheless, there are so many confusing contradictions. Laws seem to conflict at times, don’t you think, even in chemical and sidereal space. You don’t deny that, do you?
BARRETT
Still, more knowledge might prove them to be anything but contradictory.
SYPHERS
Well, I admit that, too. Only I was merely suggesting that I see more definite order than I once did. A few years ago I could see nothing but disorder, chaos, the inexplicable clashing of forces. Of late I am not so sure. This matter of ortho- genesis now; it appeals to me very much as demonstrating an intellectual if not a spiritual order, some great controlling force somewhere. I seem to see a definite tendency to order in things. Life has certainly built itself up through the ages in a very intelligent way indeed, don’t you think?
BARRETT
(Loftily.) Ye-es, of course, only there have been many er- rors and conflicts there too sudden stoppage of plans in vari- ous directions.
MITCHELL True, as I was about to point out.
SYPHERS
(Almost unconscious of interruption.) I admit that. I admit that. What I am getting at is this: all life, as we know it, is based on the cell cell origination, cell multiplication, cell arrangement. That is an old story. Now here is something which is my own idea it’s a mere theory, of course that the whole thing may have been originated, somehow, somewhere else, worked out beforehand, as it were, in the brain of some- thing or somebody and is now being orthogenetically or chemi- cally directed from somewhere, being thrown on a screen, as it were, like a moving-picture, and we mere dot pictures, mere cell- built-up pictures, like the movies, only we are telegraphed or telautographed from somewhere else, like those dot pictures
that are now made electrically, built up dot by dot, millions o them coming rapidly by wireless or wire and being thrown on ; screen of some kind ether, the elements you know what ! mean. You have seen the telautograph pictures I mean, o course?
BARRETT
Yes, of course. Very ingenious. Very ingenious. But hov do you prove the origination of the cell in the fashion that yoi want?
MITCHELL
(Aside.) A rather slow movie, I should say, considering th< length of time it has taken to build it up.
SYPHERS
Well, in this way it has its drawbacks, of course; you re- member the experiments of that Irish scientist Burke, don’1 you? He generated what he called a radiobe a single cell ir a plasm culture which he had hermetically sealed and which he kept under the influence of radium. I do not recall the exact facts of the case at the moment, and I do not believe that his deductions have since been accepted, but that is neither here nor there. That idea of his illustrates mine very well. If we could prove that one cell, one radiobe, had been or could be originated or generated by an outside influence of this kind radium, if you wish, in a plasm of that kind we would have to admit that the whole thing might be built up in some such fashion. Why, you could base a new phi- losophy on that, Mitchell. One radiobe generated in a plasm culture under radium or something else, some autogenetic force manifesting itself through a thing like radium, and there you are. After that you would have to grant the possibility of millions and billions of cells coming in that fashion, whole nations constructed of cells, as they have been. MITCHELL
My dear Syphers!
BARRETT
There was some hitch in that experiment, however. The chain wasn’t quite complete.
SYPHERS
I know I know. I grant you that. All I’m insisting on is that if one cell, one radiobe, say, can be generated by a syn- thesis of energy, why not millions? And if millions, why not billions, the whole human family, in short, since we are a syn- thesis of cells this whole visible scene in all its details? I know it sounds wild, but (to Mitchell) I have heard you your- self say that you thought it might be possible that we were all a part of some invisible psychic body, force body, in the mechanism of which we function in some way, just as the cells do in ours.
MITCHELL
(Much flattered.) Yes, I have said as much. SYPHERS
Well, then, why may not my theory be true? BARRETT
May? May? Of course it may. But how are you going to prove it? I myself have suggested that Mitchell’s larger psychic body, as he calls it, may be nothing more than a fetus, a secondary creature being built in the womb of a still larger organism, but what of it? All of us, everything that we see here, may be nothing more than parts of organs that are being constructed in some huge womb. This so-called higher psychic body may not even be complete yet, not ready to be born in its realm. But how do we know? There’s nothing to prove it.
SYPHERS
Just the same, if I had a few hundred thousand dollars I would enlarge my laboratory and pursue this subject. I believe that something may be discovered. I believe that I could prove it in the course of time. Why, snow crystals, tree and flower forms, everything, gives us a hint, sometimes instantaneously.
Why do snow crystals assume almost instantaneously and out of nothing their beautiful forms? The controlling impulse is certainly artistic, isn’t it, and outside of anything we know? (He notes that he is pressing the matter too jar and boring his two friends.) Well, good night. Glad to see you two at the meeting to-night. It was interesting, wasn’t it?
BARRETT Very. (To himself.) He’s a terrible bore.
MITCHELL
Delightful. (To himself.) I’m glad he’s done. (They bow and depart.)
SYPHERS Dolts! Fogies! That’s always the way, dull and cautious.
BARRETT
(As they walk up the street.) An ingenious theory, but dangerously speculative. He ought to read Stromeyer on “Im- pulse.”
MITCHELL
I often wonder about his work and just how sound he is.
SYPHERS reaches his own door and goes up the steps, un- locks it and mounts the inside stairs to his room. He lights the gas in a chamber which is half library and half bedroom.)
SYPHERS
(Seating himself and gazing about dreamily.) A great idea. I’m sure of it. Along this line is coming a scientific revolution. If I had enough radium and stromium, why but they cost so much. (He yawns.) Life is reafly a dream. We are all an emanation, a shadow, a moving picture cast on a screen of ether. I’m sure of it. (He gazes about, yawns again, and begins to undress.)
A TELEGRAPH INSTRUMENT
(At noth Street Station.) Tick tick-tick tick-tick-tick
tick-tick tick tick-tick-tick-tick-tick
TELEGRAPH OPERATOR
There goes that blamed machine again (begins to write) “Professor George Paul Syphers, 621 West usth Street, New York City. Your uncle, Edward Fillmore, died at eleven to- night. By the terms of his will you are the sole heir to the bulk of his fortune, three hundred thousand dollars. Come at once. A. J. Larywind, Counsellor,” (Aside.) I wish someone would leave me three thousand cents. (To a waiting mes- senger.) Here, Patsy. Take this up to ii5th Street.
PATSY LAFERTY
(Cock-eyed, overgrown, contentious.) Sure, it’s just de night to keep busy. It’s goin’ to rain, an’ it’s me late watch. Oh, well, dere’s nuttin’ like bein’ poor an’ honest. (He seizes a black cotton umbrella almost as large as himself and goes out.)
SYPHERS
(Crawling into his bed.) The curious thing is: why should any dominant force outside this seeming life wish to create it the smallness, the pettiness, the suffering? I must write a book about that. Here I am (he suddenly bethinks him of opening a window and gets out. Looking out). It’s going to rain, I do believe. (He returns and stretches himself to rest.) There, it’s thundering already.
PATSY LAFERTY
(Trudging solemnly up Broadway.) It’s funny, dese mokes wot git messages at one in de mornin’. I’ll lay a even bet I don’t git nuttin’, neider. If you’d come wit a million dollars after twelve o’clock dere’s guys wot’d git sore.
SYPHERS
(Dozing, but still continuing his speculations hazily.) I must try to find the psychic impulse which originates and directs the cell. That is the great thing. We’re all shadows, I say, shadows adumbrations impalpable nothings rumors dreams. (He turns on his side.) If our ills become too great we might be able to wake up or drive them away by thinking of this. It may be that that’s what we do when we die wake up. But that’s Christian Science, isn’t it? Bah! (He snores slightly.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(Arriving at the door and closing his umbrella.) A fine night, dis. An’ he won’t be in. Dat’s my luck. (He rings the bell.)
SYPHERS
(Beginning to dream.) Radiobes! Radiobes! Flying radiv obes as big as houses monsters (He stirs. As he does so the ringing of the bell, the rising wind and the thunder and light- ning, which rapidly become violent, identify themselves in some weird way with his thoughts. He is on a large plain now over which a battle is being fought. The flashes of lightning and bellows of thunder gradually identify themselves in his mind with some impending disaster, vague and yet oppressive. He begins to cerebrate in an imaginative, illogical way. A sense of something ominous pervades him, a feeling of great change. Then the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns begins and armed figures running and fighting appear in the distance.)
SYPHERS
(Who once saw military service.) War! And fighting men! (It begins to rain.) That is a machine gun. Now I am in real danger. How did I come here, anyhow? (He moves a hand, thinking he is hurrying to cover.)
PA^TSY LAFERTY
(Standing at the door, ringing the bell and shifting from one foot to the other.) Wot a swell night! Wot a swell night! Now it’s startin’ to pour an’ I’ll have to stand here aw’ile, I guess. Holy Gripes, dem drops is as big as marbles! (He pushes the bell again.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Hearing the whirr of the buzzer in his dreams and taking it for the rush of artillery and men.) Ah, the horror of war I What was I thinking? ah, yes! If one had some method of waking up. (He mingles the dream notions of his waking philosophy with the figures of his dream.) Then there would be no more war, no horrors. It is entirely possible, now that we know this existence of ours is a dream. I may be dreaming now who knows? If so, I could wake up and all my ills would vanish+-or would they? (As the thunder and lightning in- crease.) How horrible this is! ( The dream sky lights up as if with red fire.)
PATSY LAFERTY
T-r-r-r! T-r-r-r-r! T-r-r-r-r-r! Wot’s de matter wit dis bell? W’y don’t de guy answer?
THE PROFESSOR
(Dreaming and looking about him in apprehension.) War! War! How terrible! How did I come here? How does there happen to be war? Those are fighting men over there! They are killing each other! Horrors! But the great thing is to escape. That fire is dreadful. It means death. (He struggles to put himself in motion and grunts in his sleep.) PATSY LAFERTY
(Ringing again.) Well, dis is some sleeper, all right. Or else dere ain’t nobody home. I’ll kick, I will. (He kicks.) Come to! I ain’t supposed to stand here all night. (Kicks and knocks are without result.)
SYPHERS
(Still dreaming heavily.) And here comes a file of soldiers I hear them tramping a great company. Merciful heavens, they see me! (He begins to run. As he does so the file of dream soldiers begin to run also.)
THE FILE OF DREAM SOLDIERS
Halt!
THE PROFESSOR
(Breaking into a heavy sweat.) Great God! I haven’t a place to hide! Oh, Lord, what shall I do? (He turns, and in his dream he imagines a deserted stone hut set in a grove of thick tall trees, which seems to offer shelter. lie runs towards the hut.) As I live, here is a stone hut among thick trees! I’ll hide in it. Perhaps they won’t see me. (He dashes wildly in, slamming a heavy door behind him.)
A SCORE OF DREAM SOLDIERS
(Hurrying after him and knocking with their musket butts on the door.) Knock! Knock! Knock!
PATSY LAFERTY
(At the door.) Knock! Knock! Knock! Gee, wot a night! Dese raindrops look like spits. An’ dat lightning! Dat last one looked like a telegraph pole standin’ straight in de air!
SYPHERS
(Cowering in a corner.) Oh, Lord! My life is worth nothing! Here I lie hiding in an empty stone hut, and those men at the door want my life. What is life? A dream! A dream! but, oh, such a precious dream! I would not want to disappear not yet! No, no! I would not want to wake up. I don’t want to die not yet. Not yet! (/Is he lies there cower- ing, all the coruscations and thunder of a great battle afflict him; cannon, machine guns, human cries, commands. He cowers lower, and yet in spite of the thickness of the walls which seem to protect him he can see through them to the surrounding trees to where the dream soldiers await him tall men in red coacs and towering shakos and beyond them again to the bat- tlefield, red with flame and gore. As he stares, the men in the shakos glare at him.)
FIRST DREAM SOLDIER (Pointing at him and speaking to another.) We’ll easily
get him out of there. Can’t you see him lying there, close by the wall? (To the other soldiers.) Bring a battering ram. (A soldier starts off.) No, bring a cannon. We’ll blow him out. (A second soldier goes.) He thinks we can’t get him, but we can. (Other soldiers draw near. They move in the curious, indefinite way common to figures in dreams. Nothing is clear, and yet there is a sense of impending disaster. The Professor studies the nature of his predicament with a sense of horror.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Lying on the floor, close to the wall.) Ah, if I could only escape! I was thinking a while ago that life was a shadow of something else, an adumbration, a thing built up point by point like the dots of a telautographed picture. Now if that were so I could get out of here. It would be a dream. I could wake. I could cry “Avaunt!” I could stir and it would all disappear and become as nothing. But here! Here (he pauses and stares. A company of dream soldiers on horseback gallop up and swing a cannon into position.)
THE CAPTAIN OF THE DREAM SOLDIERS (Dramatically.) Position! (They unhook the horses And man the guns.) Load! (A shell is put in.) Fire! (It belches flame and smoke. A great hole is torn in the wall of the hut.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(At the door.) Gee, dat las’ crack was a bold! If he kin sleep troo dat he soitenly won’t hear me or maybe he ain’t home. Well, I might as well stand here. I can’t go back in dis. (He decides to make himself comfortable in the door- way.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Imagining he is crying.) Help! Help! Oh, save me! Save me! (He realizes that he emits no sound, and groans.)
FIRST DREAM OFFICER
Once, more, men! Another shell here! (Another is put in.) Fire!
THE CANNON Poof! Boom! (Another great hole is torn in the watt.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(As a second electric crash occurs.) I don’t know wedder I’d better stay here. I don’t wanna get killed. (He walks about uneasily.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Heavily and desperately.) I am lost! I know it. Oh, if my idea were only true! What if all this turmoil and agony were a figment of the mind merely, a cell or dot picture? Here I am in this hut; these soldiers are about to destroy me. If I could just cry “Avaunt! ” “Disappear! ” or if I could know that I am not real, and disappear myself. I wonder if I might not try it? (He jumps to his feet.)
A FLASH OF LIGHTNING Click Sssssss!
A CLAP OF REAL THUNDER
Boom !
THE PROFESSOR
(To the dream soldiers, defiantly.) I defy you! Do your worst! You’re not real! I’m not real! This whole thing is a dream! I’m a dream, or I’m dreaming! I defy you!
FIRST DREAM SOLDIER
(Drawing near with a rifle.) Is that so? You defy me, do you? I’ll show you whether I’m real or not. (He takes de- liberate aim.)
SECOND DREAM SOLDIER Yes, kill him. That’s the way!
THE PROFESSOR
(Lifting his hand.) Wait a moment! Don’t! I I’m not sure!
FIRST DREAM SOLDIER
But I will, just the same. You say I’m not real? I’ll show you whether I am or not! (He fires.) How does that feel? THE PROFESSOR
(Who has twisted himself about until he has one hand under him in a most painful position.) Oh, God, I’m shot! And now I’ll die! This whole scene, real or not real, will pass away and I will never know or will I? And yet once I was a man, and it was good to be alive. Oh! Oh! Oh! (He weeps and sinks down. A power fill clap of thunder half arouses him. The knocking of Patsy Laferty becomes dimly audible, a cross between the clatter of musketry and a knock. He stares at the soldiers, some of whom seem already to be growing thin and wavering.) Dying! Alas! I’m dying! Never will I see this wonderful world any more! (He partially wakes.) Or will I? What’s this I’m not dying, after all! They’re not real! I’m only dreaming. How astonishing! (To the dream soldiers, de- fiantly.) You’re not real, after all. You’re mere shadows, thin air. I’m dying, but you’re not real. This house isn’t real. It couldn’t have holes in it if it were, or at least I couldn’t have seen through it in the first place if it hadn’t. You’re shadows, tissues of nothing, a mere fancy of the brain. Oh, wonderful! FIRST DREAM OFFICER
(Standing by the cannon.) Are we? Well, you’re a fool! Wait! You may be waking into another state, but you’ll be dead to this one. But we won’t. Ha! Ha! We’ll still be here, alive. (To the second dream soldier.) He thinks he’s not real. He thinks we’re not real. v He thinks he’s not going to die, but wake up into something else! Ha! Ha! (They look at each other in a strange, fading, unreal way.) When he passes out of this won’t he be dead to this, though? THE PROFESSOR
(Amazedly.) What is this? Am I dying, or waking up? Which is it? Are there various worlds, one within another?
Are those soldiers really real? Great heavens! How strange 1 I am waking up, and yet this world in which I am is real enough. I died there. I certainly did, or I am dying there. ( The house begins to dissolve like smoke; the trees can be seen through the bodies of the soldiers.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(At the door.) I’ll give dis guy one more spin an’ den I’ll quit. I ain’t gonna stand here all night, rain or no rain. Clump! Clump! Clump! (He kicks with his heel at the same time that he rings.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Bounding out of bed.) Oh, blessed heaven! What is that? I’m not dead, after all! I am really alive! It was a dream, all of it. How glad I am to be awake! (He reaches for his trousers.) But those soldiers! They argued with me about it! They did! They made fun of me! Isn’t that amazing! This dream is a call to me to seek out this mystery. If ever I get money enough to do it that is certainly what I will do. I shall devote all my life to solving this mystery. If only I could find somebody who would endow a laboratory for this purpose. (He pauses and stares, as the bell whirrs.) Yes, yes! I’m coming! (He bustles downstairs, turning up the light as he goes.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(Irritably ‘, as the door is opened.) Syphers?
THE PROFESSOR Yes.
PATSY LAFERTY
Tellygram. Sign here. (He produces about a half inch of pencil and holds up a signature blank. The Professor signs. Absentmindedly he tears open the message, but while doing so turns and closes the door. Patsy Lafferty stares at it discon- solately.)
THE PROFESSOR
(Reading.) A miracle! $300,000! Just what I need for that laboratory! It’s a sign! The dream is a portent, a call! My poor dear, good uncle! What moved him to leave me that? Now I know the dream was an omen. And yet (thinking of a certain maiden he has been courting) should I really do that? Three hundred thousand are three hundred thousand, and where would I ever get that much again? (He hesitates mentally.) We could live beautifully on that. I’m not so sure. Perhaps I could get some one else to furnish that money. (He starts upstairs.) But that poor boy! I forgot to give him a penny, and it’s storming. (Returns and reopens the door, looks up and down the street, and comes back.) Dear, dear, dear! I should have given him a dime, anyhow bring- ing such a fortunate message. But I must think about this laboratory, though, and this money. I must not act too hastily or inadvisedly. Three hundred thousand are three hundred thousand, and (He goes upstairs again solemnly.)
PATSY LAFERTY
(One block south, staring at the sidewalk.) Wot did I say? Wot did I say? Dey never comes across wit nuttin’ after twelve nuttin’. Not if you handed dem a million.
