There are dreams which may be history or may be allegory. There
is in them nothing grotesque, nothing which could mar the feeling
of authenticity, the sense of the actual occurence of the dream
incident. The faces and figures perceived have the light shade
and expression which seems quite proper to the wonderworld in
which the eye of the inner man has vision; and yet the story may
be read as a parable of spiritual truth like some myth of ancient
scripture. Long ago I had may such dreams, and having lately
become a student of such things, I have felt an interest in recalling
the more curious and memorable of these early vision.

The nebulous mid-region between waking and unconsciousness was the
haunt of many strange figures, reflections perhaps from that true
life led during sleep by the immortal man. Among these figures
two awoke the strangest feelings of interest. One was an old man
with long grey hair and beard, whose grey-blue eyes had an expression
of secret and inscrutable wisdom; I felt an instinctive reverence
for this figure, so expressive of spiritual nobility, and it became
associated in my mind with all aspiration and mystical thought.
The other figure was that of a young girl. These two appeared again
and again in my visions; the old man always as instructor, the
girl always as companion. I have here written down one of these
adventures, leaving it to the reader to judge whether it is purely
symbolical, or whether the incidents related actually took place,
and were out-realized from latency by the power of the Master within.

With the girl as my companion I left an inland valley and walked
towards the sea. It was evening when we reached it and the tide