I often dream of the same town. Sometimes all the inhabitants appear wearing costumes of one colour, sometimes all appear wearing costumes of another colour, sometimes they all appear clad in black. Having dreamed one of these dreams quite recently, I append the following description:I found myself approaching the town from the direction of a desert. It was a glorious evening, and the walls and windows of the houses shone like burnished gold in the ruddy glow of the slanting sunbeams. But what impressed me on this occasion, over and above all, was the silence; it seemed assumed for a purpose and to be part of a plot, in which everyone and everything participated, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was to be the victim of some unpleasant hoax. I cast my eyes in all directions there was not a soul to be seen the desert with its interminable extent of brown soil, dotted here and there with spidery looking trees, discovered no one; neither could I discern the slightest evidence of life in the town.Entering a broad, cobble-paved street, I was proceeding slowly along it, almost afraid to tread on account of the clatter made by my boots, when suddenly, without the faintest warning, I was surrounded by a crowd of people, all in brown clothes, and all wearing an air of the greatest mystery. Catching hold of me gently by the arms, with one finger laid on their lips to enjoin silence, they tiptoed cautiously forward, dragging me with them. In this manner we advanced some hundreds of yards, coming to a sudden standstill in front of a kind of brown bathing machine. One of the crowd then stepped forward, and, bowing to me with mock solemnity, very cautiously approached the wooden box. Pausing for a moment to see that everyone was perfectly still, he laid his hand very slowly on the handle of the door, and, amidst the most profound silence, flung it open. Instantly there jumped out on me the most dreadful of creatures, a ghastly caricature of humanity with livid red eyes, and brown face and body, and, as I fled in terror, the houses, walls and people shrieked with laughter. On and on I tore, the sounds of devilish merriment still ringing in my ears, and the ghoulish horror still in hot pursuit. At last, finding that I could hold out no longer, I was about to resign myself to its clutches, when I awoke. Now, although this dream was decidedly unpleasant, it was the precursor of good fortune. And this I think may be accounted for by the predominance in my dream of brown and gold the brown in the sand of the desert and dress of the people, the gold in the effects of the sunset.