It is a common remark that if one tells his dreams their number will increase but this increase is probably only apparent. With attention the products of the dream-self become more accessible until one who is practiced in introspection can raise the number of his remembered dreams from one in two or three nights to five, ten, or even fourteen in a single night. Even at this maximum of remembrance one feels that but a fraction of the mind's nocturnal activity is recalled. Images emerge in consciousness and fall back into obscurity before the waking thought can grasp them. Or it may be more accurate to say that upon awakening consciousness rises from level to level. It sometimes happens that when first awake I recall several dreams which vanish utterly as a sudden shifting of consciousness occurs. Then, upon this new level, a new set of dreams appears. There is reason to believe that in thinking again of a dream which has once been recalled it is not the original dream experience which comes to mind but the copy made in the waking consciousness when it first emerged. On the other hand visions recognized as dreams belonging to a long past time occasionally float into the mind giving rise to the suspicion that they have not before reached the waking consciousness. It is possible that all dreams are recorded in the depths of the mind, themselves influencing and merging with later dreams. The number of my dreams recalled and written out during three years closely approaches five thousand and without doubt the total number far exceeds this. I am inclined to the belief that constantly, by day as well as by night, we are dreaming; that unnoticed and independent trains of thought are carried on. At times when resting if I fall into an abstracted state--not of set purpose--I find myself in the midst of a stream of thought appearing, for the moment, perfectly natural, familiar and intelligible, as if I knew the beginning and end of the matter. But only for a moment will consciousness remain at this lower level. There is a sudden return to the normal plane, the passage fades from memory and I wonder what on earth it was all about. These phases of subconscious activity differ from dreams proper in the absence of visual images. The ideas are embodied in words, heard with the mind one might say. The source may be the same as that of the night visions but it is evident that during the day the incessant stimulation of the eye from without leaves no opportunity for the emergence of the secondary visual images pertaining to subconscious ideas, which, we are told by Dr. Morton Prince, furnish the perceptual elements of the dream. The other senses are sometimes represented. Often we are performing, or trying to perform, some action. But dreams are predominantly visual. Goethe has said, "I believe men only dream that they may not cease to see."