The perpetual arising of phantasms, both in sense and imagination, is that which we commonly call discourse of the mind, and is common to men with other living creatures. For he that thinketh, compareth the phantasms that pass, that is, taketh notice of their likeness or unlikeness to one another. And as he that observes readily the likenesses of things of different natures, or that are very remote from one another, is said to have a good fancy; so he is said to have a good judgment, that finds out the unlikenesses or differences of things that are like one another. Now this observation of differences is not perception made by a common organ of sense, distinct from sense or perception properly so called, but is memory of the differences of particular phantasms remaining for some time; as the distinction between hot and lucid, is nothing else but the memory both of a heating, and of an enlightening object. [Sidenote: Dreams, whence they proceed.] 9. The phantasms of men that sleep, are _dreams_. Concerning which we are taught by experience these five things. First, that for the most part there is neither order nor coherence in them. Secondly, that we dream of nothing but what is compounded and made up of the phantasms of sense past. Thirdly, that sometimes they proceed, as in those that are drowsy, from the interruption of their phantasms by little and little, broken and altered through sleepiness; and sometimes also they begin in the midst of sleep. Fourthly, that they are clearer than the imaginations of waking men, except such as are made by sense itself, to which they are equal in clearness. Fifthly, that when we dream, we admire neither the places nor the looks of the things that appear to us. Now from what hath been said, it is not hard to show what may be the causes of these phenomena. For as for the first, seeing all order and coherence proceeds from frequent looking back to the end, that is, from consultation; it must needs be, that seeing in sleep we lose all thought of the end, our phantasms succeed one another, not in that order which tends to any end, but as it happeneth, and in such manner, as objects present themselves to our eyes when we look indifferently upon all things before us, and see them, not because we would see them, but because we do not shut our eyes; for then they appear to us without any order at all. The second proceeds from this, that in the silence of sense there is no new motion from the objects, and therefore no new phantasm, unless we call that new, which is compounded of old ones, as a chimera, a golden mountain, and the like. As for the third, why a dream is sometimes as it were the continuation of sense, made up of broken phantasms, as in men distempered with sickness, the reason is manifestly this, that in some of the organs sense remains, and in others it faileth. But how some phantasms may be revived, when all the exterior organs are benumbed with sleep, is not so easily shown. Nevertheless