Dreams
Now and again I have had horrible dreams, but not enough of them to
make me lose my delight in dreams. To begin with, I like the idea of
dreaming, of going to bed and lying still and then, by some queer magic,
wandering into another kind of existence. As a child I could never understand why grown-ups took dreaming so calmly when they could make
such a fuss about any holiday. This still puzzles me. I am mystified by
people who say they never dream and appear to have no interest in the
subject. It is much more astonishing than if they said they never went
out for a walk. Most people -- or at least most Western Europeans -- do
not seem to accept dreaming as part of their lives. They appear to see it
as an irritating little habit, like sneezing or yawning. I have never understood this. My dream life does not seem as important as my waking life,
if only because there is far less of it, but to me it is important. As if there
were at least two extra continents added to the world, and lightning
excursions running to them at any moment between midnight and breakfast.
Then again, the dream life, though queer and bewildering and unsatisfactory
in many respects, has its own advantages. The dead are there, smiling and
talking. The past is there, sometimes all broken and confused but
occasionally as fresh as a daisy. And perhaps, as Mr. Dunne tells us, the
future is there too, winking at us. This dream life is often overshadowed
by huge mysterious anxieties, with luggage that cannot be packed and
trains that refuse to be caught: and both persons and scenes there are not
as dependable and solid as they are in waking life, so that Brown and Smith
merge into one person while Robinson splits into two. and there are thick
woods outside the bathroom door and the dining room is somehow part
of a theatre balcony: and there are moments of desolation or terror in the
dream world that are worse than anything we have known under the sun.
Yet this other life has its interests, its gaieties, its satisfactions, and, at
certain rare intervals, a serene glow or a sudden ecstasy, like glimpses
of another form of existence altogether, that we cannot match with open
eyes. Daft or wise, terrible or exquisite, it is a further helping of experience,
a bonus after dark. another slice of life cut differently, for which, it seems
to me, we are never sufficiently grateful. Only a dream ! Why only ? It
was there, and you had it. "If there were dreams to sell," Beddoes inquires,
"what would you buy ?" I cannot say offhand, but certainly rather more
than I could afford. |
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1. |
The writer's bad dreams |
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(A) |
occur frequently. |
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(B) |
occur occasionally. |
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(C) |
spoil his delight in dreams. |
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(D) |
puzzle him. |
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2. |
What is the writer's attitude to dreams ? |
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(A) |
He dislikes them. |
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(B) |
He likes them. |
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(C) |
He finds them irritating. |
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(D) |
He considers them unimportant. |
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3. |
What does the writer feel about people who say they do not dream ? |
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(A) |
He believes them without feeling strongly about it. |
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(B) |
He disbelieves them with no strong feelings about it. |
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(C) |
He is puzzled by what they claim. |
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(D) |
He is amazed that such people exist. |
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4. |
According to the writer, most Western Europeans |
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(A) |
do not dream. |
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(B) |
prefer sneezing or yawning to dreaming. |
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(C) |
seem to regard dreaming as an irritating habit. |
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(D) |
accept dreams as an essential part of life. |
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5. |
To the writer dreaming |
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(A) |
is unimportant. |
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(B) |
is like sneezing and yawning, but more pleasurable. |
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(C) |
opens up a whole new world of experience for him. |
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(D) |
overshadows his waking life. |
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6. |
The "lightning excursions" refer to the
writer's |
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(A) |
travels to other continents. |
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(B) |
short trips into dreamland. |
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(C) |
holiday trips. |
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(D) |
catnaps. |
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7. |
According to the writer, an ecstatic dream
occurs |
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(A) |
often. |
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(B) |
once in a lifetime. |
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(C) |
at rare intervals. |
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(D) |
every time one dreams. |
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8. |
We may have a dream experience "that we
cannot match with open eyes". This means that the dream experience |
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(A) |
is an unbelievable one. |
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(B) |
cannot be seen. |
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(C) |
is not like any experience in real life. |
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(D) |
cannot be understood when we are awake. |
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9. |
The writer's answer to the question at the
end of the extract shows that he |
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(A) |
would love to be able to dream more. |
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(B) |
would like to have fewer dreams. |
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(C) |
cannot afford to dream any more. |
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(D) |
does not mind whether he dreams more often or less. |
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10. |
Which statement about dreams is not
made by the writer ? |
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(A) |
Dreams can be bewildering at times. |
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(B) |
Dreams can bring us back into the past. |
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(C) |
Dreams can reveal mysterious anxieties. |
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(D) |
Dreams are more important than our waking life. |
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