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?

Sonnet 39 - Sir Philip Sidney

39

"Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
   With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
    Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head:
And if these things, as being thine by right,
    Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me
    Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see."

                                                --Sir Philip Sidney

There's something about this sonnet by Sidney that's really appealing to me. It could be the theme of sleep as the place to escape from the realities of the world. It could be the fact that Sidney's speaker, Astrophil, so unconventionally expresses his sorrows for his courtly love, Stella, without the use of overdone paradoxes, outdated Petrarchan devices. There's just something there, something real in Sidney's desperate hope for peace, for a safe haven in sleep that simply won't let the reader be unless they feel that desperation and they feel that yearning for an unscathed slumber.

Then again, sleep's always fascinated me to begin with, especially the possibilities of what goes on when we're dead to the world for a good eight hours or so.

I'm Megan Butler, an English major at the University of Alabama who's aspiring to create the greatest story imaginable for your reading pleasure if you like a) young adult fiction b) well, sleep and dreams and the like and c) READING. We all have stories spinning around in our minds somewhere, it just takes a journey to reach those stories and revive them for others to see. With the ultimate destination involving publication, a daunting journey indeed, this blog is meant for you to experience that journey with me and to feel what I feel, to learn what I learn as I wake my story up from its protective sleep and shove it out of its comfort zone, into the real world.

Thanks for reading!