"This was a strange and solemn vision; one to remember and to love for
its beautiful interpretation of the prophecy that used to awe and sadden
me, but never can again. I dreamed that the last day of the world had
come. I stood on a shadowy house-top in a shadowy city, and all around
me far as eye could reach thronged myriads of people, till the earth
seemed white with human faces. All were mute and motionless, as if fixed
in a trance of expectation, for none knew how the end would come. Utter
silence filled the world, and across the sky a vast curtain of the
blackest cloud was falling, blotting out face after face and leaving the
world a blank. In that universal gloom and stillness, far above me in
the heavens I saw the pale outlines of a word stretching from horizon to
horizon. Letter after letter came out full and clear, till all across
the sky, burning with a ruddy glory stronger than the sun, shone the
great word Amen. As the last letter reached its bright perfection, a
long waft of wind broke over me like a universal sigh of hope from human
hearts. For far away on the horizon's edge all saw a line of light that
widened as they looked, and through that rift, between the dark earth
and the darker sky, rolled in a softly flowing sea. Wave after wave came
on, so wide, so cool, so still. None trembled at their approach, none
shrunk from their embrace, but all turned toward that ocean with a
mighty rush, all faces glowed in its splendor, and million after million
vanished with longing eyes fixed on the arch of light through which the
ebbing sea would float them when its work was done. I felt no fear, only
the deepest awe, for I seemed such an infinitesimal atom of the
countless host that I forgot myself. Nearer and nearer came the flood,
till its breath blew on my cheeks, and I, too, leaned to meet it,
longing to be taken. A great wave rolled up before me, and through its
soft glimmer I saw a beautiful, benignant face regarding me. Then I knew
that each and all had seen the same, and losing fear in love were glad
to go. The joyful yearning woke me as the wave seemed to break at my
feet, and ebbing leave me still alive."
"And that is all? Only a dream, a foreboding fancy, Sylvia?"
"When I woke my hair was damp on my forehead, my breath quite still, my
heart so cold I felt as if death had indeed been near me and left its
chill behind. So strong was the impression of the dream, so perfect was
the similitude between the sensations I had experienced then, and more
than once awake, that I felt that something was seriously wrong with
me."
"You had been ill then?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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