7. The word "parafaramus" was pronounced close to his ear. He heard nothing, but on a repetition of the attempt the word "maman" was followed only by a dream of the humming of bees. The sound of "chandelle" and of "haridelle" awoke him while pronouncing the words "c'est elle," but without any recollection of the idea attached to the expression.

8. A drop of water falling on the brow suggested a dream of Italy, great thirst and a draught of Orvieto.

p. A light surrounded by a red paper was repeatedly passed before his eyes. He dreamed of a storm of lightning, which reproduced a violent tempest which he had encountered between Morlaux and Havre.

The following dream of Maury's has become celebrated. He was ill and his mother sat beside his bed. As he slept he dreamed of the Reign of Terror. He took part in hideous scenes of carnage and was finally summoned before the Tribunal. There he saw Robespierre, Marat, Fouquet and all the sorry characters of that brutal epoch. He was compelled to give an account of himself and after many incidents which he did not remember afterwards, he was sentenced to death. Accompanied by an enormous crowd he was led to the place of execution. He mounted the scaffold, was tied to the board by the executioner. The board tipped, the knife fell, he felt his head severed from its body; He awakened in terror to find that the top piece of the bed had fallen down and had actually struck his cervical vertebrae in the same manner as the knife of the guillotine.

Johann Muller believes that ocular spectra play a prominent part in the formation of dreams. Changes of blood pressure in the retina produce the apparent mists of light, rays and patches of light known to dreams; these only manifest clearly when the eyes are closed and when the more powerful external stimuli are cut off. These spectra only come into consciousness in the sleepy condition, or what Maury calls "hallucinations hypnogiques," and which he regards as the chaos out of which the dream cosmos is evolved. Although these sensations undoubtedly are responsible for a number of picturesque dreams, bright and beautiful lights, etc., they do not fully account for the visions of celestial radiance whose effect has been permanent from a psychic standpoint.

Subjective auditory sensations are less frequent causes of dream illusions than those of visual sensation, yet sound is invariably exaggerated when it is noticed at all by the dreamer. Schemer mentions a lover who was accorded the privilege of whispering his own name into the ear of his sleeping mistress. Whereupon the obdurate dame fell into the habit of dreaming of her admirer, who eventually won his suit.

Radestock cites the instance, taken from Narnier, that while Napoleon the Great was sleeping in a carriage he was awakened by an explosion which revived the memory of crossing the Tagliamento and the bombardment of Austerlitz. Whereupon the Emperor started up shouting: "We are undermined!"

Less illustrious examples are quoted of the noise of thunder that takes us in our dream into the thick of battle, and of the sound of the crowing of a cock that a dream may distort into human shrieks of terror.

The sensations of smell and taste produce less positive effects than do the other senses in the production of dream illusions. Radestock says that the odors of flowers in a room lead to visual images of hothouses, perfumers' shops, etc., but he adds that these lower sensations do not make themselves recognized as such by the slumberer's mind. On the contrary, they make a picture or visual image, and the dreamer does not imagine himself smelling or tasting, but derives associated ideas therefrom.

Havelock Ellis mentions that Meunier found that tuberoses caused agreeable dreams in one instance and unpleasant dreams in another; essence of geranium invariably created happy dreams followed by a pleasant emotional tone throughout the day.

Professor W. S. Munroe, of the Westfield Normal School, is also quoted by Havelock Ellis as having experimented upon his pupils. A crushed clove was placed on the tongues of certain pupils for ten successive nights before going to bed. Of the two hundred and fifty-four dreams that followed, seventeen were taste dreams, eight were dreams of odors and three dreams actually involved cloves.

Innumerable instances of the translation of sensory stimuli into the "stuff that dreams are made of," form a distinct class of vision, not to be confounded with the higher psychic or inspirational variety that baffles science. Frequently the different classes overlap one another in a way that puzzles those students who would make hard and fast classifications without considering the gradual rising of the sleeping self from the unknowable depths of the human soul, past the threshold of sleeping consciousness into the broad waking of material day.