The average person would hardly consider ordinary day-dreams, in which practically every one indulges more or less, as matters of any special significance. It happens, however, that they have often a pronounced influence, for good or for ill, upon our everyday acts, our character, our success, our happiness, our mental and physical health. This being the case, they cannot be dismissed lightly, as warranting no consideration.

Practically every one understands what is meant by day-dreams. They are, to define them, states of half-dreaming, half-thinking, intermediate between the sleeping and the waking state, in which one allows his thoughts to flow as they will, without any conscious check. They are little mental excursions away from the world of reality to a world where wishes have come true. They are common to every one; to some they are but occasional visitors, others entertain them constantly. Often they come uninvited; they lure us away from the work we have in hand, subtly yet easily; and it is often with an effort that we shake them off, and get back to the world's work. Some invite them, are addicted to them as much as is the drug addict to his 'narcotic, and to these reveries are like a narcotic; they produce a temporary pleasure, followed by a despondency, and the more they are employed, the more do they enslave; further, the more fantastic must they become to produce the same satisfaction. Usually they go forward; they picture the future in a rosy light; sometimes they paint an unhappy one. They may go backward, dealing with pleasant experiences of the past; sometimes, however, they deal with "what might have been," with what we would like to forget, and so are unhappy.

Day-dreams are, of course, wish fulfilments. They indicate what we' are striving for, what we would like to possess, what we consider necessary that our cup of joy may he full. To want more than we have or can attain, no matter how fortunate we may be, is, however, natural. Wishes are common to the beggar as well as the king; they are every man's inheritance, through a long line of ancestors, and to which every one clings tenaciously until the game of life is played to an end.

The babe prior to its birth has no consciousness, no desires. Secure in its mother's womb, it is kept warm; it has no necessity for breathing, for seeing, for hearing; it is fed, the acts of eating and digestion being unnecessary, by the mother, - in short, it is more comfortable than it will ever be again. Once it comes into the world it has difficulties to face; desire assumes control of it. It now must eat, digest, eliminate, see, hear, breathe; heat and cold trouble it; sounds and lights disturb it, and many other things upset its Comfort. Fortunately, its desires are quickly gratified, anticipated even by the fond parents. As it grows older desire grows also, and the desires are not always requisite desires but plainly such as are selfish, which promote comfort. The child cries to be rocked to sleep when this is not necessary; it seeks nourishment when it has obtained sufficient for its needs. Later on, while some of these desires may be given up, others take their places. The child wants a horse, the moon, almost everything it sees. If it cannot have the real want it will often be appeased by a substitute; for example, it will be satisfied with a stick or a rocking horse in lieu of a real horse. Still later, in adult life, the wants become greater, more varied, more complex, their ease of attainment more difficult, and substitutes are no longer satisfactory. The chief wants are those which satisfy hunger, the love of action, the love of man for woman and woman for man. In hunger we employ the term in a broad sense; it covers hunger for food and drink, for riches, for automobiles, yachts, - all material things that promote comfort. The love of action means love of work, if not work for others, then work which we like, work that will satisfy our desire for occupation, for glory, for leadership. The love of man for woman and woman for man needs no explanation.

But, it would appear, some force is always working against one's happiness, as if to prevent him from gratifying the craving for comfort which is instinctive in him. The opposition appears early. Though the child could once eat in a manner that suited it, though it could disregard the laws of society relative to nature's wants, though it could dress and undress without scruple, it soon learns that, for some reason, it must repress these activities; they are no longer tolerated, but frowned upon. It learns also that there are things it cannot have; that it cannot do. It must submit to the parents' wishes. Even when older, after he leaves the family, he finds forces that act as a check towards satisfying the desire to go the easiest way, to gratify the pleasurable instincts. The laws of State say there are things he must not do under pain of fine or imprisonment; the Church likewise makes known its exactions; the community in which he lives forces him to live up to the standards required by that community; his family exerts pressure upon him; the Nation makes exactions upon him, - he must pay taxes which he does not like; in time of war the Nation appeals to his patriotism, and at other times strives to bend him to do its will; if he cannot be cajoled or shamed he will be forced to bend. The individual himself is at war with himself. There are desires he consciously or unconsciously wishes gratified, but he must repress them; they are not such as ' would be proper for one of his social standing, his standing in the church, his better self. Further, his body gets disordered and robs him of comfort. His finances, his health, his natural or artificial sloth strive to prevent him from obtaining the wishes dear to his heart. In short, man is a bundle of desires. No matter how fortunate his birth, his circumstances, he always wants something, and it seems as if one thing or other acts as an obstacle to the realization of the want.