#dream-land

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Poe - art by Greg Hildebrandt (1986)

[littledreamling]

You can’t read Edgar Allan Poe’s A Dream Within A Dream or Dream-Land and tell me that Morpheus had no hand in shaping Poe’s visions and poems

[radiant-absolute-radiance]

There should be a Kirby game named “Dream Team” because that would be the ultimate pun

[il-penseroso-blog]

Dream-Land

By a route obscure and lonely,   

Haunted by ill angels only, 

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,   

On a black throne reigns upright, 

I have reached these lands but newly   

From an ultimate dim Thule— 

From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, 

       Out of SPACE—Out of TIME. 

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,   

And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,   

With forms that no man can discover   

For the tears that drip all over;   

Mountains toppling evermore   

Into seas without a shore;   

Seas that restlessly aspire,   

Surging, unto skies of fire;   

Lakes that endlessly outspread   

Their lone waters—lone and dead,—   

Their still waters—still and chilly   

With the snows of the lolling lily. 

By the lakes that thus outspread 

Their lone waters, lone and dead,— 

Their sad waters, sad and chilly 

With the snows of the lolling lily,— 

By the mountains—near the river   

Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—   

By the grey woods,—by the swamp   

Where the toad and the newt encamp,—   

By the dismal tarns and pools 

   Where dwell the Ghouls,—   

By each spot the most unholy—   

In each nook most melancholy,—   

There the traveller meets, aghast,   

Sheeted Memories of the Past—   

Shrouded forms that start and sigh   

As they pass the wanderer by—   

White-robed forms of friends long given,   

In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven. 

For the heart whose woes are legion   

’T is a peaceful, soothing region—   

For the spirit that walks in shadow   

’T is—oh, ’t is an Eldorado! 

But the traveller, travelling through it,   

May not—dare not openly view it;   

Never its mysteries are exposed   

To the weak human eye unclosed;   

So wills its King, who hath forbid   

The uplifting of the fring'd lid;   

And thus the sad Soul that here passes   

Beholds it but through darkened glasses. 

By a route obscure and lonely,   

Haunted by ill angels only, 

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, 

On a black throne reigns upright,   

I have wandered home but newly   

From this ultimate dim Thule.

-Edgar Allan Poe

[possesseth-by-fire]

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only,

Dream-Land by Edgar Allan Poe

Context:

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have reached these lands but newly

From an ultimate dim Thule —

From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,

Out of SPACE — out of TIME.

[domina-est-in-crimen]

Dream-Land

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule— From a wild clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE— out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the tears that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters— lone and dead,— Their still waters— still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,— Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily,— By the mountains— near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,— By the grey woods,— by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp— By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,—

By each spot the most unholy— In each nook most melancholy— There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past— Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by— White—robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth— and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion 'Tis a peaceful, soothing region— For the spirit that walks in shadow 'Tis— oh, 'tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not— dare not openly view it! Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule.

Edgar Allan Poe 1809 – 1849

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Dream-land  (1883), a grim engraving by S.J. Ferris, after a painting by C.D. Weldon.

This  vintage image features a girl dreaming of her dolls coming to life.