CHAPTER VIII.
OF DREAMS, ILLUSIONS, NORMAL AND ABNORMAL HALLUCINATIONS, DELIRIUM, AND
MADNESS--CONCLUSION.
In the preceding chapters, I have shown, as I believe, the genesis of
myth, the fundamental faculty in which it necessarily originates, and
its evolution in man, particularly in the Aryan and Semitic races. We
have seen that the primitive and universal fact consists in the
immediate and spontaneous entification of natural phenomena and of the
ideas themselves; and we have resolved this fact into its elements, from
which all the generating sources of myth issue, that is, from the
immediate effects of the perception. Putting man out of the question, we
ascertained that the same innate necessity was common to the animal
kingdom.
In order to complete the theory, we must consider some other facts and
psychical phenomena, both normal and abnormal, so as to ascertain
whether these are not due to the same cause, as far as respects their
intrinsic forms; namely, the belief in the reality of images seen in
dreams, as well as in those which appear in illusions, in normal
hallucinations of the senses, and in those which are abnormal, in
ecstasy, in delirium, in madness, in idiocy, and dementia. In all these
mental conditions, we ascribe a body and material existence to images
which for various causes appear to be really presented to our senses.
If we are able to show that all such appearances are believed to have a
real existence in virtue of the same law and faculty of perception which
generated myth in its earliest manifestation, we shall have succeeded in
establishing a common genesis for all these various psychical phenomena,
thus affording no contemptible contribution to psychology in general,
and to the science of human thought.
To dream is not merely a normal act of man, but, as it appears from many
witnesses, it is common to all animals. In dreams the ordinary laws of
time and space are strangely modified, and images of all kinds appear,
sometimes confusedly, sometimes in a rational order, often in accordance
with the laws of association, while the voluntary exercise of thought
may be said to be dormant. This is, speaking generally, the condition
and nature of dreams, which we must presently consider adequately with
more subtle and exact analysis.
Before we trace the cause of the apparent reality of these images, and
the laws which govern it, let us consider man in his waking condition,
so as to ascertain at once the likeness and the difference between
these two states. We must first inquire whether the waking is absolutely
distinct from the dreaming state as far as the appearance of the images,
their nature, and mode of action are concerned. It has been observed by
many psychologists and physiologists that in the waking state, when
images do not arise from the immediate presence of objects, or are not
directed by the will to a definite aim, they appear, group themselves,
and disperse by the immediate association of ideas, and the measurements
of time and space are modified just as they are in dreams. These
observations are correct, and the phenomena may be verified by every one
for himself.
In this waking state, which really resembles that of dreams, only the
analogy of form has been perceived; the ideas of the objects present to
the mind have resembled those of images seen in dreams, but they have
continued to be mere ideas, presented to the imagination, whereas in
dreams the things seen have been supposed to have a real existence. In
this respect the analysis is partly true and partly false; it is not, as
we shall see, perfect and exact.
It sometimes happens, owing to special circumstances and conditions of
mind, or to peculiar temperaments, that the ideas of things do not
remain as mere _thoughts_ in the thinker's mind, but that they become so
intense that they are for the moment held to be real, precisely as in a
dream.
I do not here speak of abnormal or pathological conditions, or of
extraordinary phenomena, but of a normal and common condition. If there
is any novelty in the assertion, it is owing to a want of observation
and reflection, and to not attempting to trace the real nature of the
phenomena in which we take part, and which occur every day. The habitual
inaccuracy of observation has led to the use of many proverbs and
aphorisms in the interpretation of things which have been transmitted
from one generation to another, and are now accepted as indubitable
axioms. These are to be found in every branch of knowledge, and we have
an instance in the popular and scientific aphorism that in dreams images
appear to be real, and that in the waking state they always continue to
be mere thoughts and ideas.
This is not the fact, since, putting illusions and hallucinations out of
the question, thoughts and ideas sometimes assume the character and
nature of real objects, just as they do in dreams. This fact constitutes
the link and gradual assimilation of the two states, since in no series
of phenomena _natura facit saltum_.
When, for instance, as often happens, we abandon ourselves to a train of
thought, and our perception of surrounding objects is weakened by
inattention, we become as it were unconscious, and are only intent on
the thoughts and ideas which move us. Since no definite object
constrains the will to rule and guide these thoughts and ideas, that
condition of mind is established which we have shown to be identical in
form with the act of dreaming, for in this case also thoughts and ideas
have their origin in association alone. In this condition a phenomenon
peculiar to dreams may also occur which may be termed the suggestive
impulse; a sound or some sudden sensation produces an immediate
transformation of the image itself, and a new dream arises in conformity
with the nature of the new impression. Every one must, consciously or
unconsciously, have experienced such a phenomenon, and this special
characteristic of dreams may also take place in the waking condition
which I have described. I myself can bear witness to this fact, and will
mention one among several instances: I was once reading inattentively,
seated at my ease in a lounging chair, and my thoughts took quite
another direction, wandering vaguely from one thing to another. All at
once some people entered an adjoining room talking together; I heard
what they said indistinctly, but the word Florence reached my ears, and
I soon imagined myself to be in that city, and going on from one
association to another I continued for some time to see again the
places, monuments, and people I had known there. Yet I was fully awake,
and from time to time I brushed the flies from my face and glanced at
the clock on the chimney-piece, since I had to go out at three o'clock.
It appears from this fact, which will be confirmed by many of my
readers, that some waking states resemble those of dreams in form, and
moreover they are sometimes even alike in substance. Ideas and thoughts
in the conditions just indicated may not only be latent, active,
combined, or transformed by suggestive impulses, but ideas are
represented by images in such vivid relief that, until the observer
recollects himself, they are seen and felt by him with the same sense of
reality as in a dream. This mental transformation is however so
habitual, that the implicit conviction of being really awake, does not
allow us to observe what the actual nature of the phenomenon is, since
there is an immediate transition from an implicit perception of the
image as real to the habitual form of simple thought, without
distinguishing the difference between these two states of consciousness.
Any one who has long practiced himself in the observation of such
distinctions will, however, be able to understand the psychical process
and to estimate its value.
It has often occurred to myself, in circumstances analogous to the
above, when thinking of persons or places at a distance, to see them
imaged before me in such vivid relief that I have been startled as if by
a morbid hallucination. Once, in passing through my chamber, my
attention was so strongly fixed on an absent person that I was not only
vividly conscious of his form, but also of his voice and gestures, so
that I was amazed by the lively image brought before me. I could adduce
other instances from my own experience and that of others to show that
in a waking and altogether normal state we may believe in the reality of
the image as we do in dreams.
This vivid and momentary realization of images is very common in the
lower classes, who often talk to themselves, and use gestures which show
that they are conversing at the moment with imaginary persons, who stand
before them, as if they were really there, in the same manner as in
dreams. Indeed, every one has experienced this phenomenon for himself,
especially when strongly excited by anger, sorrow, or hope. If it were
possible to reflect on the process of thought at the time we should
distinctly understand that we were dreaming while still awake.
The vivid imagination of artists is well known, so that they are able to
see and represent things and persons, either in words, with the pencil,
or the chisel, just as if they were actually present. The image so
vividly realized is a necessary condition of the exercise of their
respective arts. When great poets, such as Dante, Ariosto, Milton, and
Goethe, conceived and idealized their thoughts with every detail of
circumstances, persons, actions, expressions, and movements, no one can
deny that the images were vividly present to their minds, and that while
in the act of composition these were unconsciously regarded as having a
real existence. If these poetic descriptions are presented to the
attentive reader in such a vivid form as to transport him into a real
world, much more must the authors of these marvelous creations have
looked upon them as real at the moment of composition. The impression of
truthfulness is indeed produced by the fact that the writers saw these
things as though they were real. I speak of states of consciousness, not
of reflex observation, of intense moments of sensation and imagination,
which are unnoticed by the man who experiences them in his waking
moments. Such is the reader of a poem, a romance, or history, the
spectator of a picture, who is able for the time to abstract himself
from surrounding objects, and who implicitly believes that he sees those
places and persons, or whatever the book or painter has described or
represented. If suddenly interrupted, he rouses himself, and may be said
to awake to the present reality of things, as if startled from a dream.
Wigan relates that a celebrated portrait painter worked with such
quickness and facility that he painted more than three hundred portraits
in a year. When he was asked the secret of his rapid execution and of
the faithfulness of the likeness, he replied, "When any one proposes to
have his portrait taken, I look at him attentively for half an hour,
while sketching his features on the canvas; I then lay the canvas aside
and pursue the same method with another portrait, and so on. When I wish
to return to the first, I take his person into my mind and place it
before me as distinctly as if he were actually present. I set to work,
looking at the sitter from time to time, since I am able to see him
whenever I look that way." Talma asserted that when he was on the stage,
he was able by mere force of will to transform his audience into
skeletons, which affected him with such emotion as to add force and
energy to his action. Abercromby speaks of a man who had the faculty of
calling up visions with all the vividness of reality whenever he
pleased, by strongly fixing his attention on mental conceptions which
corresponded to them. Yet he was a sane man, in the prime of life,
perfectly intelligent, and versed in practical affairs.
A very slight withdrawal of the attention from surrounding objects is
all that is necessary to enable artists and some other persons to call
up these images with vivid distinctness, since even in the waking state
the image may for the moment appear to be actually before them. Any one
might attain to the same power of verification if the transition from
the real to the merely ideal image were not in the waking state so
instantaneous and easy; whereas in a dream the state of illusion is
uninterrupted, and it is physiologically impossible for the mind to pass
immediately from the image, which is believed to be real, to the simply
representative idea of the thing.
Even in the waking state, the image and representative idea of the thing
naturally tend to become, or to appear to be, actual realities, even in
a strictly normal condition of mind and body. Nor do they only
implicitly tend to become such by the innate impulse of the mind, but
they actually become so in fugitive moments of which man is scarcely
conscious, and they appear to him exactly as they do in dreams. Hence it
follows that there is no hard and fast line between the sleeping and
waking states, so far as the nature of images, their source, action, and
combinations are concerned, when men are distracted in mind, and the
course of their thoughts is not voluntarily directed to some definite
object; so that by a psychological process the phenomena of the waking
state may be partly transformed into those of dreams. The vivid
character of the image, presented to the senses as if actually there, is
common to both phenomena. The way in which we begin to dream shows how,
owing to our physiological conditions, we pass through regular stages
from the waking state into that of sleep.
"Nuovo pensiero dentro a me si mise,
Dal qual piu altri nacquero e diversi;
E tanto di uno in altro vaneggiai
Che gli occhi per vaghezza ricopersi,
E il pensamento in sogno trasmutai."[33]
So Dante writes in the "Purgatorio" with deep and subtle truth. Each man
can verify for himself the exactness of the great poet's description.
I myself can readily study the phenomena of dreams, since I never sleep
without dreaming so vividly that I remember all the circumstances in the
morning. I have used all sorts of artifices in order to trace the
beginning of sleep and dreams, and always with the same result, so that
I am certain of the accuracy of experiments which have been repeated a
hundred times. I have examined other persons who have made the same
observations, all of whom agree with me.
When repose, the herald of sleep and dreams, begins, my thoughts wander
in an irregular and somewhat confused manner. As they are gradually
subjected to the associations to which they successively give rise, they
are transformed into more vivid images, a vividness which is always in
inverse proportion to the attention. This gradually produces the state
which has been described by Maury and others as hypnagogic
hallucination; that is, the images seem to be real, although the subject
is still partly awake, and the voluntary exercise of thought is lost
from time to time in this species of incipient chaos. It is at this
point that images are really most intense, and that every idea assumes a
body and form, every image a reality: finally, when the body and the
brain have reached the physiological conditions of sleep, thoughts which
had been changed into hypnagogic images in the intermediate stage
between sleep and waking, are altogether transformed into the real
images of dreams.
By an effort of will I have often been able to surprise myself in this
intermediate stage, and the same thing has been done by others, and it
always appears that this is the real moment of transition from
wakefulness to dreaming, I have been able to verify the fact that the
first dream is only the continuation of our last waking thoughts, which
have now become dramatic and real I have also observed that this
intermediate stage between waking and dreaming, during which the images
are real and vivid, although we are still conscious of our real
condition, goes on for a long while, sometimes for a whole night, with
brief intervals of sleep. This has occurred to me when I was kept awake,
either when traveling at night, or when I had taken a large draught of
water before lying down (other liquids or food does not produce the
phenomenon) or if I have been looking during the day at objects
illuminated by dazzling sunshine. In all these circumstances the bright
and vivid images appear reduced to an almost microscopic scale, although
very distinct in form and color; in ordinary cases, the images appear
of the ordinary size, but not without a tendency to become smaller.
I believe that there is a physical cause for the reduction and
attenuation of the images in the excessive excitement of the retina, or
central encephalic organ in which images are formed in conscious
concurrence with the cortical part of the hemispheres. Owing to the
excitement caused by wakefulness, by fatigue, by sunshine, or in some
cases by the condition of the nerves of the stomach, the objective
projection on psychical space, partly transmitted by heredity and
gradually formed by associations and local signs,[34] is arrested by the
innate force of the image on the organ, and it appears to be smaller and
in proportion with the relative smallness of the image which is produced
by minute vibrations and by the susceptibility of the cellule. This
intermediate and persistent stage of hypnagogic images serves in every
way to explain the physical genesis of involuntary hallucinations.
As a proof that the image physiologically assumes the form of a real
appearance, I may mention the experience of myself and others. When
suddenly awakened from a vivid dream I have sometimes, even when I was
fully awake, seen for an instant the figures of my dream still moving,
and projected on the wall. This fact shows that even the images of our
waking state have, in the physiological conditions of the brain, a
tendency to take real forms, so that they may be termed normal, or more
properly, inchoate hallucinations, corrected by the conscious efforts of
our waking state and external consciousness. So that it might be said
that dreams are at first the transformation of our waking thoughts into
normal images and hallucinations, and afterwards into those of dreams,
properly so called.
If the hypnagogic phase actually affects the cerebral cellules in
connection with the various senses of which they are the organs, the
phases of sleep and dreams, strictly so called, have more general
conditions. The idea, converted into an image presented to the senses,
may thus be said to have three stages: that of the waking state, which
depends as we have said on the intensity and vividness with which it is
reproduced, aided by a momentary detachment from the real environment;
secondly, the hypnagogic phase, in which there is the physiological
action of the nervous centers, which produce the image, though still
with the implicit consciousness of the waking state; and finally, the
actual dream, in which this implicit consciousness is almost always
wanting, and the psychical exercise of thought is completely transformed
into visions and figures which are believed to be real. This in its turn
depends upon the other two causes, and on the physiological relaxation
of the body, which is to a great extent isolated, so that the effectual
impulses of external nature are greatly attenuated.
In the waking state, the whole body and all its organs of relation and
movement are in tension. The cerebro-spinal axis virtually excites the
whole muscular and peripheral system in such a way that relaxation or
relative repose becomes impossible. But the brain, with all its
dependencies and appendices, is not only the organ of thought, but it
stimulates and directs our whole system, as numerous experiments have
shown. In the waking state both these functions are exercised equally,
as far as the impulses and functions of the body are concerned, and as
long as the psychical and organic characteristics of the waking state
continue. But in sleep the exciting influence of the brain is
diminished, and the brain transmits much less of the normal excitement
and normal tension to the spinal axis with its ramifications in the
afferent and efferent nerves; in the waking state an external impression
is promptly conveyed to the centers, whence it returns in corresponding
movements with the usual connection and rapidity, whether reflex or
deliberate. Since in sleep the relative condition is flaccid and torpid,
this action no longer takes place. For if the brain be affected by
strong impressions, and these are followed by corresponding movements
due to reflex action, as is often the case, even in sleep, the dreamer
is only obscurely conscious of them, and they almost wholly depend on
the spinal axis, and the peripheral ganglia.
As we have said, the function of the brain is duplex; it stimulates and
directs, and it is also sentient and conscious, and this second function
is persistent in dreams. Although the brain is no longer directed by a
power which dictates psychical acts and phenomena, yet its automatic
action is not destroyed, and to this the apparent reality of images
seen is owing, since there is no longer any distraction from the
external world, or, at all events, its impulses are so attenuated as to
be unobserved. In such conditions past images recur with an appearance
of reality owing to the mnemonic and automatic action of the brain; such
a tendency exists in the waking state, and the images are associated and
dissociated in a thousand ways, by means of analogies, resemblances,
former combinations of facts, and series of facts analogous to those of
the waking state, and are modified by suggestive impulses. We have
experimental proof, to which I can add my own irrefragable witness, that
the stimulating influence exerted by the brain in the waking state is
dormant in sleep, and that only its automatic act of representation
remains active, with the occasional exercise of an aroused and conscious
will.
The following strange and unpleasant phenomenon generally occurs to me
once or twice a year. All at once, in the midst of a deep sleep, I
become wide awake; I am fully conscious of myself, of the place where I
am, of my position and the like, and wish to move like a person who is
fully awake. Yet for some time this is impossible; the psychical,
cerebral faculty is perfectly awake, and master of itself, but not the
stimulating faculty, so that the limbs do not respond to the first
impulse of the will. All my efforts are unsuccessful; I only succeed in
escaping from this unpleasant situation by uttering with great
difficulty some inarticulate sound, which acts as a shock, and I thus
obtain the mastery of my body, for the nerves of speech and the muscular
movements of articulation also fail to answer to my will. If this occurs
when I am alone, the struggle is severe, and there is a violent shock to
the whole body before its equilibrium is restored and the motor function
of the brain resumes its office.
It is therefore manifest that the stimulating function of the brain is
dormant in sleep and dreams, but its automatic, psychical function
persists; it sometimes happens that the stimulus of the will is awakened
before the stimulus of motion, and that the brain may be aroused to
consciousness for some moments before it has resumed its normal
functions as a stimulating organ, which were attenuated and relaxed in
sleep. The abnormal condition of paralysis proves and confirms this
fact.
Let us now ascertain the cause of the various psychical and
physiological conditions which aim at and often succeed in presenting to
the mind a mere representative sign as a substantial and real image.
What is the cause of the apparent reality of dreams? The image is
clearly a psychical phenomenon, containing a sensible element of which
we are conscious; the fundamental faculty of the perception is exerted
on it as on a real object, and the immediate results are precisely
identical. The reader will remember that we have shown that a
phenomenon involves the intuitive idea of an active subject, so that the
image also, in accordance with the innate faculty of perception, must
normally appear to the mind as such. When this is not the case, it is
because the normal effect of natural phenomena, to which our attention
is constantly directed, and our mental education and hereditary
influence, have accustomed us to distinguish at once between the mere
idea and the real object, and thus we discern the difference between the
normal action of thought and sense, and illusions, hallucinations, and
dreams. But since these psychical and physiological conditions lose
their force when the habit and actions of our waking state are dormant,
the primitive and innate entification of the image quickly recurs, as we
can plainly see from the previous analysis.
This is so much the case, that some savage peoples even now find it hard
to distinguish real events from those of dreams, and this is owing to a
defect in their memory or to the imperfection of their language. In
fact, all civilized and barbarous peoples in the world have without
exception believed, and still believe, in the reality of images seen in
dreams, and their personification has been the source of an immense
number of myths. Even now, with all our civilization and advanced
science, not only the common people, but many of those in fashionable
and tolerably cultivated society, believe in the reality of dreams and
in their hallucinations, and derive from them fears, hopes, and warnings
for their future life.
I will give one instance in a thousand to prove the innate tendency even
in the act of dreaming to transform the image into a real object. It
appeared to me that I was in a large room filled with acquaintances and
strangers, who discussed an event which had really occurred in the city
a few days before. All at once I raised my eyes to the wall of the room,
and saw a large picture, representing a landscape with distant
mountains, streams, cottages, and animals. As I looked, the picture was
gradually transformed into a real object, and I found myself, together
with the company before mentioned, in the midst of the fields, on the
bank of the river, and within one of the cottages.
In another dream, I appeared to be conversing with an old soldier on the
shores of a lake; after some incoherent talk, he began to describe a
bloody battle in which he had taken part; he had not gone far before the
narrative was changed for an actual occurrence, and I was in the midst
of a real battle, such as the soldier had undertaken to describe.
Another night I dreamed that I was reading a tragic poem, relating
terrible deeds of blood and rapine, and suddenly I seemed to have become
an actor or real spectator of that which I had at first read in a book.
In another strange dream I was going over a difficult pass in a hired
carriage, and I seemed to see before me a friend from whom I had parted
on the previous day, when he got into an omnibus to return to the
country. I soon saw in the distance a large coach-builder's
establishment, a vast enclosure with sheds and carriages, and in the
_piazza_ I saw the manager, a man I knew, who had really some
appointment in a carriage manufactory; the building recalled by
association the familiar appearance of the high chimneys which rose
above the roof, and while thinking of those chimneys with my eyes fixed
on the manager, he appeared to me to be changed into a very high
chimney, still bearing a human face. Finally, not to multiply examples,
I remember a dream in which I was present at a popular disturbance,
where one woman, more furious than the rest, came to blows with her
husband, and called him a dog. Suddenly the scene changed, and I was
transported to a courtyard in which there were poultry, pigs, and a fine
dog of my acquaintance, called Lightning. Again the scene changed, and I
found myself in a country district with some friends, exposed to a
violent storm of thunder and lightning.
We clearly see from these facts that whatever may be presented to the
imagination is transformed into a real object in the dream itself, so
that it might be called a dream within a dream, and in the last instance
the transmutation passes through three images and consecutive objects.
This transmutation not only consists in the transition from our waking
thoughts to the image of our dreams, but it takes place in the act of
dreaming; such is the power of the faculty of perception, in which we
find the first origin of myth in man, and its roots also in the animal
kingdom. Thus the genesis of myth, as far as the entification of the
image is concerned, is the same as that of dreams.
The normal illusions of the senses, which are believed to be real by
primitive men, and by those ignorant of physical laws, have a similar
origin. The objection of such phenomena as a mirage, or the tremulous
effect produced in tropical regions by the refraction and reflection of
light on trees, rocks, and mountains, so well described by Humboldt, is
due to ignorance of the laws of nature, and this is in fact an
entification of the phenomenon, occasioned by the innate tendency to
animation which is proper to the perception. In this it is easy to trace
the genesis both of myth and dreams. The fact of hallucination is more
complex, even in its normal state, that is, in those general conditions
of mind and body in which reason has complete command over us.
Without entering into any analysis of the various forms of hallucination
of which many able psychologists and physicians of the insane have
treated, let us turn to the more ordinary cases in which an image of the
mind is projected on the external world so as to appear real. The roots
of such a phenomenon are strictly organic, and belong to the centers in
which the image is formed, as we have already observed; this image
sometimes stands out in such vivid relief on the psychical space that it
seems to be an external, not, as it usually appears in less vivid form,
an internal intuition. The hallucinations which Nicolai describes
himself to have experienced may be taken as a classical example. When
Andral was returning from an autopsy, he clearly saw the corpse
stretched before him as he entered his room. Goethe, Byron, and many
others, have been affected in the same way. I myself have occasionally
had hallucinations of the kind when in a perfectly healthy condition of
mind and body; one, in particular, of a very vivid character, occurred
when I awoke one morning and seemed to see a tall and venerable priest
entering my chamber. It is needless to multiply examples; similar facts
abound in classic books in English, French, German, and other languages.
Let us rather study the phenomenon and trace its origin.
It is clear on the one side that the images of the hallucinations of
sight or hearing appear to have a real existence, so that they may be
observed and studied with ease; and it is also certain that this image
has no external existence, and is simply a cerebral fact, due to the
organs adapted for perception. Without considering the cause of the
external projection, to which I have already alluded, since perhaps its
physiological and psychical genesis is not yet fully understood, we
must consider the image, so far as it is believed to be real.
In cases of normal hallucination the reason is intact, and the observer
is conscious of the illusion, yet notwithstanding this positive judgment
the image has an appearance of complete reality. The cause of this
illusion is evidently the same as that of the illusions of dreams, and
of the origin of myth; namely, that everywhere and always the mental or
natural phenomenon and its image are respectively entified. In the
normal waking state, habit and other causes on which we have touched
render our ideas of things altogether immaterial, as merely psychical
forms and representative signs, but when the excitement of the organs
increases, so as to present them to the consciousness as objective
images, then, owing to the interruption of the ordinary process, they
are suddenly entified, and appear as an external phenomenon.
Hallucinations are therefore explained by our theory, and it is further
confirmed by the hallucinations of animals, and especially by the
delirium of dogs and other animals affected by hydrophobia, or by
cerebral excitement artificially produced by alcoholic and exhilarating
drugs.
If a man is habitually subject to many and various hallucinations, and
his sane judgment esteems them to be such, they are undoubtedly unusual
phenomena, but they do not in any way injure the rational exercise of
the mind. It is only when he believes the images to be real that the
abnormal state begins, termed delirium if it is of short duration, and
madness if it is permanent. We must examine hallucination under these
new conditions.
In the delirium of fever, or in various forms of disease, the cerebral
excitement is so great that not only the deliberate exercise of reason,
but the power of estimating external objects is lost, and the organs of
the senses are so completely altered, that the perceptions themselves
are exaggerated and confused. In this state hallucination reaches its
highest point, and the patient sees, hears, and feels, directly or
indirectly, strange and terrible things: wild beasts, enemies of all
kind, torments; or again, pleasing and agreeable images. Independently
of the alteration in various sensations produced by the morbid
alteration of the special organs which induce them, the real cause of
this phenomenon consists in the objection of mental sensations and
images. Such an objection of images or sensations, considered in the act
which transforms them into a reality, depends on the same cause as all
other acts of perception; there is always an entification of the
phenomenon, which in this case is a vivid internal image, appearing to
be external and real. |
