What If You Slept... - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

What If You Slept...

"What if you slept 
And what if 
In your sleep 
You dreamed 
And what if 
In your dream 
You went to heaven 
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower 
And what if 
When you awoke 
You had that flower in you hand 
Ah, what then?"

           --Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

I'm taking this English Literature class. Never thought I'd see the day, but here I am regardless. Coleridge isn't our particular field of study right now--Blake takes that honor--but the introduction to our next lesson mentioned something about Coleridge and romanticism. Then something about opium and drugs and stuff, but whatever.

The name "Coleridge" had a familiar ring to it, then I remembered: I'd read a poem of his before.

My senior year in high school, Ringwalt would present a poem as a sort of "Bell Ringer" every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to get us thinking analytically about poetry. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I somehow came across this poem through one of those anticipated Bell Ringers.

And I'd forgotten how significant it had been to my novel until now.

I think it's brilliant when authors find a beautifully crafted piece of literature that they can place before each chapter as a precursor of what's yet to come. It ties the author's story to stories from the past and when I read this poem, it took all of my willpower not to break into the Mad Hatter's futterwacken dance. Coleridge's words spoke volumes about my main character's conflict in the book and how she'd have to face them. What her gifts were, the mysticism behind those gifts and the beauty of being able to imagine.

Andrea, my main character, dreams. I mean, we all dream, but she dreams like a manic individual who's life dangles by the frayed threads of a noose. She doesn't take a trip to heaven like Coleridge's speaker, but I guess you can say she pulls an Inferno-minus-the-religion while traversing through dark trials before reaching any form of gratification, mental release.

Along the way Andrea learns a bundle of skills. She learns how to answer Coleridge's pressing question at the end of the poem and she grapples with this ambiguous idea of having the ability to weave the unconscious with waking reality.

If it never becomes my precursor, at least you'll know it should be just by visiting my blog. :)

But until it dons the sacred shelves of bookstores everywhere, what would you think if you were able to pluck a flower from the depths of your dreams?

Side note: Coleridge also says, "Deep thinking is attainable only by a man of deep feeling". How's that for romanticism?