People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not a placid ecstasy and ease of heart that are like honey on the tongue. They also know that the real glory of dreams lies in their atmosphere of unlimited freedom. It is not the freedom of the dictator who enforces his own will on the world but the freedom of the artist who has no will who is free of will. The pleasure of the true dreamer does not lie in the substance of the dream but in this that there things happen without any interference from his side and altogether outside his control. Great landscapes create themselves long splendid views rich and delicate colours roads houses which he has never seen or heard of...

It is when one begins to lose the consciousness of freedom and when the idea of necessity enters the world at all when there is any hurry or strain anywhere a letter to be written or a train to catch when you have got to work to make the horses of the dream gallop or to make the rifles go off that the dream is declining and turning into the nightmare which belongs to the poorest and most vulgar class of dreams.