It is new indeed for I made it last night in a dream of strange cities and dreams are older than brooding Tyre or the contemplative Sphinx or garden-girdled Babylon.

But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers notoriously false

For I have always been a seeker a dreamer and a ponderer on seeking and dreaming...

Wise men have interpreted dreams and the gods have laughed.

I neither knew nor cared whether my experience was insanity dreaming or magic but was determined to gaze on brilliance and gaiety at any cost.

Outside across the putrid moat and under the dark mute trees I would often lie and dream for hours about what I read in the books and would longingly picture myself amidst gay crowds in the sunny world beyond the endless forests.

When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams.