Our dreams are a second life. I have never been able to penetrate without a shudder those ivory or horned gates which separate us from the invisible world. The first moments of sleep are an image of death; a hazy torpor grips our thoughts and it becomes impossible for us to determine the exact instant when "I" under the another form, continues the task of existence. Little by little a vague underground cavern grows lighter and the pale, gravely immobile shapes that live in limbo detach themselves from the shadows and the night. Then the picture takes form, a new brightness illumines these strange apparitions and gives them movement. The Spirit worl opens before us.

- Gérard de Nerval
"Aurélia"