dream report as a literary device in medieval hispanic literature

The Dream Report as a Literary Device in Medieval Hispanic LiteratureAuthor(s): Harriet GoldbergSource: Hispania, Vol. 66, No. 1 (Mar., 1983), pp. 21-31Published by: American Association of Teachers of Spanish and PortugueseStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/341204Accessed: 07/10/2008 19:33

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available athttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unlessyou have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and youmay use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use.

Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained athttp://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=aatsp.

Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printedpage of such transmission.

JSTOR is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1995 to build trusted digital archives for scholarship. We work with thescholarly community to preserve their work and the materials they rely upon, and to build a common research platform thatpromotes the discovery and use of these resources. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

American Association of Teachers of Spanish and Portuguese is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserveand extend access to Hispania.

http://www.jstor.org

http://www.jstor.org/stable/341204?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=aatsp

THE DREAM REPORT AS A LITERARY DEVICE IN MEDIEVAL HISPANIC LITERATURE

HARRIET GOLDBERG Villanova University

A LTHOUGH interesting work has been 2done on the topic of the dream in medieval English, French, and Old Norse literature, relatively few Hispanists have dealt with dreams in any period at all.' It is my intention to examine the circumstantial setting of dream narratives in medieval Hispanic texts in order to show that literary dreams served as extensions of reality in a body of literature whose normal contours were limited with respect to portrayals of individualized reality. Landscapes, people, and animals were presented as ideas of themselves and not as individuals.2 For this reason, medieval Hispanic authors tended to put dreams, which were in themselves individualized narratives, in realistic settings to make them credible. Without their association with familiar daily experiences-disrobing, falling asleep, awakening frightened, relating the dream to a friend-, these vividly visual representa- tions might not have been acceptable to a reading public accustomed to a non-visual idealized style. To a great extent dreams were validated in the reporting. While we can identify various literary purposes which dreams served, e.g., a pretext for the inclusion of fantastic material, an explanation for the appearance of the spirits of the dead (who were often gifted with the power of prophecy), we are able to generalize an overall function: incorporating this material into a portrayal of reality.

A brief glance at the wide variety of dream situations enables us to dismiss the notion that dreams were a mere literary convention or topic. We can find no single metaphor for which the act of dreaming might stand. John F. Priest, writing of dreams in classical literature and in the ancient Near East, goes to the heart of the matter: "In either case it is tacitly assumed that the function of the dream is to estab- lish a contact between the noumenal and phenomenal world of sense experience."3 This contact, expressed in human daily experience as a story to be recalled and re- lated, was used by medieval authors according to C. B. Hieatt in several ways:

"The dream... may be an excuse for the inclusion of didactic material or for cut- ting short an episode. But it also seems frequently to be used as a unifying device, tying together seemingly unrelated material by means of the sort of association and transformation typical of dreams" (p. 11). If we think of the Razon de amor and the Denuestos del agua y el vino as a unified poem then the factor which links the two parts of the poem is the kind of association and transformation of which Hieatt writes. The water and the wine of the poet's first thoughts reappear in a later dream scene as the cranky participants in the Denuestos.4

Berceo made extensive use of dream visions for didactic purposes.5 In the Vida de Santo Domingo, the saintly man tells his fellow monks of a dream of future glory. He pledges them to secrecy for fear that the recounting of such a dream might have been a vainglorious act (st. 244). Nev- ertheless, the contents of the dream become the text for a lesson (sts. 245-46). The reader is assured that Santa Oria's dreams are not recounted for personal glory: "Por estas visiones la reclusa Don Oria / Non dio en si entrada a nulla vanagloria" (st. 111); she relates them for the instruction of others. The emperor Darius tells his troops that he had been reluctant to tell his dreams before: "que ninguno non dexies que que- rie baffar" (st. 951).6 Although Berceo tells us that Oria's reluctance to tell her dreams reflected her fear of vainglory, might we not identify also another realistic circumstantial detail, i.e. a shyness about revealing a dream to another? Antonio Vilanova mentions another kind of didac- ticism in which the lesson is an inherent part of the dream content. Writing about the numerous visions in which a departed spirit appears to the sleeper, he suggests that they serve "para plantear el problema de la inmortalidad y de la otra vida" (p. 126).7

On a structural level, dreams were em- ployed to make transitions from one scene to another or to connect episodes distant in time within a long narrative. They

21

Harriet Goldberg

bridged the present moment in which the dreamer told his dream, remembering the past when he dreamt, and frequently revealed the future in the form of predic- tions. In Amadis de Gaula, two moments are linked when Amadis awakens frightened and anxious to share his dream with the learned hermit at whose feet he has been sleeping. The hermit acknowledges his distress but tells him that they have no time for the telling of dreams. Much later, on the Peia Pobre, Amadis recalls the dream and recounts it to the hermit asking for an interpretation. Incidentally, he omits the names of the women in the dream (Mabilia and the donzella de Denamarcha), a reflec- tion of a human tendency to censor dream reports.8 The reader's pleasure is twofold: he remembers the initial mention of the dream with its puzzling details and then he enjoys the cleverness of the interpretation. His satisfaction with the neat resolution of an enigma is accompanied by relief when he learns that Amadis will regain his happiness.

Another example of a dream used to create and maintain suspense in a long narrative is the Emperor's dream in the Gran conquista de Ultramar where the Swan Knight interprets an enigmatic dream to a skeptical Emperor: "Cuando esto hobo dicho el caballero del Cisne, plugo al Emperador mucho, pero no se asegur6 en su corazon que este sueno sin peligro de Galieno fuese."9 Since the reader is con- vinced that the Swan Knight is right, he is anxious that the Emperor believe him. Herman Braet, writing about premonitory dreams in the French epic, describes the tension experienced by the audience as a climate of anguish (p. 103). The audience is in a privileged position because of previously-gained knowledge or through their own certainty that some kinds of dreams are meaningful. Depending upon the skill of the author, the audience may find itself being partisan. The listener/reader wants the dreamer to believe the truth as he sees it.

Sometimes the author led the reader through the dream account twice, once during the experience and then again in a word-for-word repetition to a friend. To make the repetition a normal part of a con- versation, the hermit in the Caballero Zifar begins his account to his guest: "Yo vos lo

dire."'? Although this kind of repetition might seem to be a clumsy device, it is quite possible that the author who used it was displaying a psychological insight into the real-life urgency some people feel about telling their dreams to others. Corvalan's dream (which he had misinterpreted) was repeated to his mother, Queen Halabra, and she explained to him what it truly meant (Ultramar, ed. Gayangos, 224-25). In the ballad of Dofia Alda, the dream's misinterpretation recalls the dream itself.1

Without denying the structural useful- ness of dream accounts, and while recognizing their value in introducing didactic material, it is my contention that it was in order to accomplish these ends that these tales were incorporated into dreams. The dreams were then situated in a real life context. It is in the act of relating the dream to the reader or to another character that the act of seeing becomes an event and therefore a part of the narrative. Since there is no question that the dreamer is relating an event which he had experienced, the contents of the dream gain the authenticity of an eye-witness account. In this regard Hieatt writes that dream poetry is "an account of what the poet sees [her italics] rather than what he hears or thinks" (p. 18). The Marques de Santillana, in the Infierno de los enamorados, assures the reader that the account of his dream voyage will be accurate and unembellished: "E recontar su manera es auto maravi- lloso; que yo non pinto nin gloso silogis- mos de [poetas] mas syguiendo lifias rretas fablare non ynfintoso."'2 He thus reveals the self-conscious nature of literary dream accounts of which A. C. Spearing writes when he points out that medieval authors found it necessary to justify the use of imaginative material which because of its fantastic nature, was not a part of the "self-justifying world of natural objects" (p. 5). Thus medieval authors used dreams to make credible their accounts of the un- real, presenting them as the testimony of someone who was relating without affecta- tion ('non ynfintoso') what he had really seen albeit in a dream. In this sense the dream report was a travel narrative in which the author repeated: "I was there. I saw." while giving the details of his interior voyage.

Judging from the frequency with which

22 Hispania 66 (March 1983)

Dreams in Medieval Hispanic Literature

medieval authors made use of dream episodes, we can assume that they expected their audiences to share certain common expectations in regard to these experiences. We can conjecture a popular familiarity with Scriptural dreams (Cruden's Con- cordance gives fifty-eight entries) through popular sermons. We may also assume that clerics used classical dream lore in sermons although the material was undoubtedly fil- tered through patristic and scholastic sources. In fact the dream vision gained authority from its connection with the past. As Hieatt points out: "The dream vision had a double authority: the assertion of the poet that he really saw all this in a dream and the support of the writers and theologians both classical and Christian who had proclaimed the possibility of such a revelation" (p. 103). The texts examined for this study indicate that they gained extra authority from having been placed in everyday settings.

The erudite Marques de Santillana shows his knowledge of classical sources when he has Queen Leonor of Portugal say that she has read dream accounts in Valerius Maxi- mus, in Macrobius and in Guido (possibly Guido Guinicelli according to Duran's n. 401, p. 264). In the debate between the Brain and the Heart (El sueio) he refers to Valerius's account of Haterius Rufus's dream in which the dreamer dies just as his dream had foretold (p. 180). The Arch- priest of Talavera relied on the Decretals of Gratian and on Saint Augustine for support of his ideas about dream fulfillment,'3 and Fray Lope de Barrientos gave a rea- soned explanation of the causes of sleep and of dreams, citing Solomon (a possible reference to works like Holcot's Super Sapientam Salomonis [see n. 1 above]), Plato, Aristotle, the Commentator (most probably Averroes), Cicero, Valerius, St. Augustine, Albertus Magnus, and St. Thomas.'4 We would also expect an awareness of Islamic dream lore in the Iberian peninsula. In fact, although knowledge of Artemidorus probably came through Macrobius, there were numerous Arabic translations of the Oneirocritica. Fritz Meier notes the existence in pre-Islamic poetry of the topos of poetic or religious inspiration in dreams.15 Of course, the importance of the dream in Islam is evident when it is remembered that the Koran was

revealed to the Prophet in a dream. A caution is necessary, however. This

familiarity did not indicate an unqualified belief in the reliability of dream messages. Of eleven proverbs cited by Luis Martinez- Kleiser, six warn specifically against believ- ing in dreams.'6 In a popular lyric, a young girl admits ruefully to her mother that her dream of happiness might be false because "los suefios suenos son."'7 In a ballad Count Grimaltos tells his wife that although we are not supposed to believe in dreams, his had been a very real one.'8 This expressed uncertainty about the reliability of dream messages is in itself a part of the realistic context in which dream narratives are often set.

In pursuit of this context, we come upon another uncertainty experienced by the dreamer. He wonders if he is awake or asleep: "Non se sy uelaua nin se sy dormia," writes Micer Francisco Imperial.19 This same confusion was often manifested at the moment of awakening as well as at the moment of dropping off to sleep. Mod- ern psychologists recognize waking dreams as a parallel phenomenon to sleeping ones and make therapeutic use of them ac- knowledging that these experiences are also a link between the phenomena of which Priest wrote (see n. 2 above).20 In addition to these psychic uncertainties, there are a number of other verisimilar circumstances which commonly surround the reporting of dreams: the time and place of the sleep experience is given (including the preparations for sleep); the dreamer's emotional state and his physical condition are described. The author mentions either his restless inability to fall asleep or his almost drugged surrender to sleep. As a way of making important the contents of the dream, the sleep is termed either deep, sweet or magically prolonged. The dreamer awakens either startled, puzzled or frightened. Finally, he is eager to tell his dream to a companion who may or may not interpret it for him.

Before dealing with circumstantial settings, we must begin with a significant part of a dream report, i.e. the choice of a term to describe the experience. When a medieval Hispanic author begins a dream report with certain expressions-"un suefiol' priso dulce tan bien se adurmio" (Poema de mio Cid, v. 405); "uinole en uision quel

23

Harriet Goldberg

parauan delante una muger . .. et diziele Sant Siluestre" (Primera cr6nica general, 195); "el monje San Pelayo de susol' fue venido (Poema de Fernan Gonzalez, st. 402)-, he is signalling an externally stimulated dream (see n. 14 above). On the other hand, when he begins a report with certain other dream formulae-"comenz6 a soniar un muy extranio suenio" (Ultramar, p. 91) and "Soiava que entravan" (Amadis, Place ed. I, 18)-, he is indicating his intention to present an enigmatic dream in need of explanation, i.e. an internally stimulated one. Martine Dulaey finds a similar distinction in the language of dream reporting in classical and early Christian sources. Classical authors tended to use uisus est mihi ('was seen by me') plus the infinitive of the verb applied to the actions of the dream figure for externally stimulated dreams and uideo or uideor ('I see') plus the direct object for the internally provoked ones. The distinction persists in early Christian sources with uisus est in somnis ('was seen in dreams') plus infinitive and uideo or uideor with direct object.2' St. Augustine differentiated among three kinds of dreams: ostensio in which the images were divinely shown to the dreamer; phantasma in which the image was constructed in the imagination without correspondence to reality; and phantasia, an image conserved in the dreamer's memory (pp. 89-93). Fray Lope de Barrientos distinguishes between true visions and fantasmas, making reference to the hymn in which the phantasms of the night are to be banished (Phantasmata noctis deci- dant). He defines fantasmas as "operaciones de la fantasia" (p. 64). The anony- mous author of Ultramar differentiates between sueio and vision cierta. A dreamer's wife admonishes him: "Ca esto non entendades que es sueno mas visi6n cierta que vos Dios quiso mostrar" (BAE, 44, p. 73). The consistent choice of terminol- ogy serves to reveal to the audience the kind of dream experience the author chooses to present. Thus dream reports were begun in such a way that they reflected contemporary insight into the nature of dreaming, an insight shared by the medieval author and his readership.

Among the Hispanic texts under study here, we note a pattern in the Catalan dream reports; they are all presented as

externally inspired dreams, beginning with "li aparech" or "le vench la visi6 segient." Oddly enough in Lo Somni, Tirant and Curial all the dreams are clearly literary inventions without a pretense of reality. It occurs to me that the difference is not regional but rather diachronic.22 A. C. Spearing notes the relative infrequency of twentieth-century dream reports in which the dreamer is visited by an authority figure. He notes the socially conditioned nature of these literary dream accounts saying that they reflect the authoritarian culture pattern of medieval society, a pattern that might have waned gradually.23

Dreams of angelic visitations, structured to arouse anticipation of future events in the reader, are accompanied by the reas- suring thought that the suspense will be relieved when the prophecy is fulfilled. Sometimes the prophetic dream creates an additional mystery when the dream figure actually appears in waking reality as in the case of the child in the Caballero Zifar.24 This sort of appearance was a commonplace of battle prophecies (see King Ra- miro, Primera cronica general, 360; Fer- ndn Gonzdlez, 407 a).25

In contrast to the classical and early Christian tradition, most medieval Hispan- ic dream reports stated that the dreamer had dreamt a dream or had begun to dream. Enigmatic in nature, they appear to have been the internally stimulated kind provoked either by the events of the day or by the worries of the sleeper (ex parte anime).26 We can generalize from the manner in which a dream report begins. If it starts with "uinole una vision," it was externally inspired and falls into Augustine's category of phantasma or ostensio. Those which begin with "e comenzo a sofiar un sueio" were internally inspired and belong to Augustine's phantasia. These dreams and their interpretations serve a structural purpose different from prophetic dreams. Often they link two distant moments in a long narrative, after an interruption of other events as in Amadis (II, 395 and later 412-13). The ingenuity of their interpretations delights the reader just as the resolution of a riddle or an enigma does. Many readers would have been familiar with the experience of a puzzling dream, perhaps even more than with dreams of angelic visitations.



Continuing our investigation of the con- textual setting of literary dream accounts, we turn our attention to the mention of the sleeper's location when he either falls asleep or begins to dream. Usually he is just where we expect him to be-reclining in his bed,27 but in three celebrated dreams he has just stretched out in a lovely meadow-Paris in the Cor6nica troyana, the pilgrim, Berceo, in the Milagros de Nuestra Seiora, and the poet-lover in the Razon de amor.28 Fernian Gonzalez dozes during a prayer vigi' in front of an altar (st. 407) and Aycarte de Montemerle and his two companions fall asleep standing up, leaning against the wall of the Holy Sepulcher after spending the night in prayer: "e vela- ron toda la noche hasta los gallos primeros. E entonces hobieron tan grand suefio, que se adormescieron, pero no estaban echa- dos, mas arrimados a una pared, ni dor- mieron suenio asosegado, mas como quien se traspone" (Ultramar, BAE, 44, p. 112). The dream account which follows is veri- fied by such details and by the reader's having been informed that the event is taking place on Holy Saturday. Of special significance is the hour, since morning dreams were thought to be spiritually reliable because the body had had sufficient time to complete the digestive process thereby freeing itself for the reception of spiritual messages. Lope de Barrientos writes that a reliable dream can be identified because "viene cerca de la maniana, despues de celebrada la digestion, cuando los vapores della estan ya delgados e sotiles en tal manera que no empachan tanto a las potencias de facer sus operaciones."29 Another dream account documented in this fashion is the early morning dream of a hermit who spends the night tossing and turning until in the morning a dream comes to him: "Despues de la primera, la hora pasada, / En el mes de enero la noche primera / Quatro;ientos veynt entrante la era."30

Authors situated a dream experience in time and in space and often informed the reader about the dreamer's condition, both physical and emotional. Obviously when he is preparing for sleep, he is described as tired.3' In keeping with an awareness of a wider range of real-life situations, almost as often he was said to have been anxious, upset, preoccupied, and unable to sleep.32

The contents of the enigmatic dream is anticipated by the dreamer's inability to stop thinking about the events of the day or of his problems, a clearly human phenomenon recognizable to the audience. Amadis was so distressed about the loss of Oriana's love that he could not sleep: "Estonces comi6, pero muy poco, que no podia partir aquella grande angustia en que estaua: y cuando fue hora de dormir, el buen hombre se echo sobre su manto y Amadis a sus pies, que en todo lo mas de la noche no hizo, con la grand cuyta, sino reboluerse y dar grandes sospiros; y ya cansado y vencido del suefio adormeciose y en aquel dormir sofaua .. ." (ed. Place, ii, 395). The reader recognizes the realistic circumstances and at the same time receives the signal that the dream, enigmatic in nature, will deal with the dreamer's concerns. It is at this moment, after an anxious night, that the dreamer reports that he cannot tell where his waking state ended and his sleeping/dreaming state began.33

The next realistic circumstance is the de- scription of the nature or quality of the sleep experience-profound, sweet, restless, disturbed. Familiar to the individual reader would be the impression that certain dreams take place during particularly deep sweet sleep periods. Equally familiar would be the memory of dreams experienced during troubled restless sleep. Either of these sensations were on the same level, mere corrobatory touches to make credible a dream account, but on another level, they were used by medieval authors to convey the idea of magic or enchantment. Paris, describing a dream of divine origin, says that he never before experienced such a deep and enraptured sleep (Troyana, 97). Dofa Alda's ominous dream takes place during a sleep that lasts three days and nights (Moniino, Anvers, 1550, p. 182). In fact, in a Judeo-Spanish version her sleep is called evil.34

Perhaps the most frequently remembered moment in the act of dreaming is the awakening. The verb espertar/desper- tar is the most usual, but we also find recordar/acodarse and even entrar en su memoria to describe the return to waking reality. Fearful awakenings are common. At times the dreamer cries out "dando voces"35 and at times he is in need of com- fort. Lope de Barrientos writes: "Otro si,

25

Harriet Goldberg

en el suefio verdadero, el que la suefia que- da muy penoso e espantado de tal suenio; de lo cual no acaesce cosa en sueio menti- roso" (Tractado de suenos, p. 57).

Other awakenings are joyful and the dreamer is portrayed in a state of exalta- tion. Ruy Diaz crossed himself and com- mended his soul to God (Poema de Mio Cid, 410-12). Santo Domingo was affected spiritually by his dream: "desperte e signe- me con mi mano alCada / tenia, Dios lo sabe, la voluntad cambiada."36 Santa Oria was upset because she had not wanted her dream to end, a common sensation after a pleasant dream.37 Guelfa and the abbess, within their dream, try to awaken and cannot.38 They are strangely troubled upon awakening and do not mention the dream to each other.

In contrast to this unusual reticence, another detail common to many dream reports is the urgent need to relate the dream to a companion. Countess Ida apologizes for awakening her new husband with her shouting, explaining that she just had a nightmare. He comforts her with an optimistic dream interpretation (Ultramar, BAE, 44, pp. 91-92). Her dream is of a familiar kind: a pregnant woman dreams about the child in her womb.39 The domes- tic scene in which a companion comforts a frightened dreamer by explaining the meaning of the experience, or by merely listening to the account, must have inclined the reader to accept the content of the dream and its interpretation because of its familiarity in everyday life.40

The more formal courtly kind of dream reporting in which a ruler seeks the meaning of his dreams was familiar to the reader. Accounts of this sort are frequently modeled on the Scriptural dreams of the Pharaoh, explained so cleverly by Joseph. In fact, in the aljamiado version of the poem that deals with Joseph's dream interpretations, no circumstantial details are given.4' Could it be that the situation car- ried its own authority because of its Scriptural origin? In Amadis, King Perion consults with the wise men of his court after a dream which frightened him (ed. Place, i, 28). Upon his return home, he relates his dream to his court. He hears several explanations and finally Ungan el Picardo offers him the true interpretation, warning him that the dream prophecy

ought not be used to avoid his destiny. It is only intended to prepare him to accept God's will: "Las cosas ordenadas y permitidas de Dios . . . no las puede ninguno estoruar ni saber en que pararan" (I, 27). The literary dynamics are complex. The reader wants everything to turn out well for King Perion, but he is puzzled as to how it will be all right for the good king to lose his two sons. It is this enigmatic situation which maintains his interest and his curiosity. Another fascinating aspect of dream interpretation in literary texts is their misinterpretation. Upon hearing Dona Alda's dream and its subsequent misinterpretation the audience finds itself in the omniscient and privileged position of which Herman Braet writes.42 The listener feels extra compassion for the poor woman, knowing that her husband has really been killed in battle. The Christian reader of the Gran Conquista de Ultramar would rejoice when Queen Halabra cor- rects the false dream explanation of her son Corvalan (Ultramar, 224). We are struck by the lines of Howard Nemerov, a twentieth-century poet-"As with a dream interpreted by one still sleeping, / the interpretation is only the next room of the dream"43-when we follow Enrique de Villena's narration of his dream which he explains as he goes along.44 Does his explanation stem from afterthoughts or from his insights during the dream itself? Double dreams, (i.e. the dreamer dreams that he has awakened but continues to dream a second episode) are almost like dreams that carry within themselves their own interpretation. Fernan Gonzalez is frightened and thinks he is awake after the image of the monk Pelayo has taken leave of him. Thinking about the strange appearance, he hears San Millan's voice in what is only the second part of the dream: "Estando en el suenno que sonnara pensando / oyo vna gran[d] voz que le estava llamando" (st. 411). The first part of the dream contains the prophecy and in the second part the dreamer receives some specific instructions. Another example of this kind of double dream is found in the Caballero Zifar where the hermit is told in the first part of the dream what his guest's fate will be. In the second, he is told to awaken his guest and tell him of the dream.45 Constantine's double



dream was separated by several hours so that it offers an interesting variant of serial dreams which are usually contiguous in time (Primera cronica general, i, 182).

A phenomenon reported by dreamers in these literary accounts is the carrying over of the dream experience into waking reality. Beatriz and the Swan Knight see a great brightness fill the room after her dream (Ultramar, BAE, 44, p. 53). Both Ruy Diaz (Primera cronica general, 634) and Alexander (Libro de Alexandre, 1158) perceive a mysterious odor in the room after a dream. Curial awakens thankful that his servant has saved him from killing someone in his dream (I, 108), and Hecuba wakens not sure she has left her dream peril behind: "non cuydava que era del fuego escapada" (Libro de Alexandre, 349). To make her feigned dream more credible, Plazerdemivida adds a corrobora- tive detail: she claims to be mystified upon finding concrete physical evidence of the final event of her supposed dream upon awakening (Tirante, ii, 399-400). Here, too, it is evident that contemporary readers would be aware of the limits of waking reality and dream state at the end of a dream as well as at its beginning.

The final realistic circumstance con- nected with dream reporting concerns the relating of a patently spurious dream. It is clear that Plazerdemivida teasingly uses the vehicle of a dream account to share public- ly the salacious content of the scene she has really witnessed, even admitting that within the dream she spied by watching through a doorway (Tirante, ii, 395). Also in Tirante, the Empress invents the dream appearance of her recently deceased son to explain her taking young Hypolite into her bed for an extended period (III, 257-60). In a different spirit, the baker in the Poema de Jose invents a dream to test Joseph's powers (pp. 107-08). In the Disciplina Clericalis, Ex. XIX, false dreams are used to trick companions. Clearly the dream account in the popular tradition was re- garded some of the time as a way of fooling others or of presenting imaginary material in a credible manner, just as it was in the erudite literary tradition.

E HAVE SEEN in this survey of the presentation of dream reports in the

realistic context of everyday life a fairly

consistent pattern of usage. Medieval His- panic authors tended to use these tales in much the same way that they used travel narratives. The moment of falling asleep was the departure, and the awakening was the return from the interior voyage. In both kinds of accounts authors were able to include fantastic material. In common with returned travelers, a dreamer looked around for someone with whom he might share the experience. We have identified at least two literary impulses in our pano- ramic survey: (1) By testifying that the nar- rator had really seen what he described, the author was free to use visually oriented descriptive techniques, thereby freeing himself from the constraints of the more usual style of idea-based portrayals of the period. (2) He could make the fanciful, symbolic and allegorical images he had chosen to present for didactic or creative purposes credible and real. This extension of the real world, placed as it was in the mundane everyday context of preparations for sleep, falling asleep, awakening, and relating the tale to another endowed the whole account with a believability firmly rooted in the audience's experiences. We have also seen that the dream itself gained credibility from the authority of the past because both author and reader shared a common awareness of dream lore.

Perhaps, credibility is the key word in this study. Hispanists are accustomed to read of the strong vein of realism which runs through our literature. A medieval author must have felt a strong need for authenticity or credibility whenever he found it necessary to write of an individual event and not of an idealized perception of the event. Dream reports convey this believability more forcefully when set in realistic circumstances.

NOTES

'Edward Charles Ehrensperger examined Middle English romances, chronicles, political pieces, satires, didactic religious works and translations in his dis- sertation "Dreams in Middle English Literature" (Harvard, 1981). See Constance B. Hieatt, The Real- ism of Dream Visions. The Poetic Exploitation of the Dream-Experience in Chaucer and His Contem- poraries (The Hague: Mouton, 1967) and Anthony Colin Spearing, Medieval Dream Poetry (Cambridge: Univ. Press, 1976). Herman Braet deals with the prophetic dream in the French epic (Le Songe dans

27

Harriet Goldberg

la chanson de geste au XIIe siecle [Ghent: Romanica Gaudensia, 1975]). W. G. van Emden ("Charle- magne's Dreams in the 'Chanson de Roland'," French Studies, 28 [1974], 257-71) deals with the impossibility of interpreting literary dreams which the poet himself did not intend to interpret fully. See also Georgia D. Kelchner, Dreams in Old Norse Literature and their Affinities in Folklore (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1935). Robert A. Pratt has traced Chaucer's

use of Robert Holcot's Super Sapientam Salomonis for dream lore ("Some Latin Sources of the Nonnes Preest on Dreams," Speculum, 52 [1977], 538-70). Currie Kerr Thompson deplores the lack of attention to dreams in Hispanic criticism citing also Joseph Schraibman's regrets with respect to this lack ("The Use and Function of Dreaming in Four Novels by Emilia Pardo Bazan," Hispania, 59 [1976], 856-62). Patricia Boehne (Dream and Fantasy in 14th and 15th- Century Catalan Prose [Barcelona: Hispam, 1975]) has written a study whose shortcomings are pointed out by Marilyn Olsen (Hispania, 61 [1978], 386). An- tonio Vilanova in the course of a characteristic search for sources wrote of the spread of dream literature throughout the peninsula ("La genesis de 'Lo somni' de Bernat Metge," Boletin de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona [1958-59], 123-56). Some useful material can be found in Maria Rosa Lida de Malkiel's Appendix to the translation of Howard Rollin Patch, El otro mundo en la literatura medieval, trans. Jorge Hernandez Campos (Mexico: Fondo de Cultura Economica, 1956). Writing of a later period Julian Palley has done some interesting work on dreams: "La estructura onirica d, El enamorado y la muerte," Hispan6fila, 55 (1975), 39-46; "'Si fue mi maestro un suefo': Segismundo's Dream," KRQ, 23 (1976), 149-62; "Becquer's "Dis- embodied Soul'," HR, 47 (1979), 185-92.

2See my articles, "Moslem and Spanish Christian Literary Portraiture," HR, 45 (1977), 311-26 and "The Literary Portrait of the Child in Castilian Lit- erature," KRQ, 27 (1980), 11-27.

3 "Myth and Dream in Hebrew Scripture," in Myths, Dreams and Religion, Joseph Campbell (New York: Dutton, 1970), pp. 48-67. Priest deals with the message dream from Sumer in the third mil- lenium to Grecian civilization: "The pattern consists of an introduction which tells about the dreamer, the locality and other circumstances. . . . The actual content of the dream message follows and the whole episode ends with a section referring to the reaction of the dreaming person or perhaps some reference to the actual fulfillment of the dream" (p. 61).

4In a paper read at the 1979 MLA meeting in San Francisco, I argued that a poet-scribe had made a creative connection between the two poems, seeing them as a unified dream report. The poet gives his location, the date, the hour, his physical and emotional condition before his dream begins. The scenes in the poem shift in dream-like fashion. Margaret Antwerp, in an article dealing with the relationship of the Raz6n de amor and the popular lyric, calls attention to a popular song: "Y sofaba yo, mi madre, / dos horas antes del dia / que me florecia la rosa: / ell vino so ell agua frida" ("Raz6n de amor and the Popular Tradition," RPh, xxxii [1978-79], 1-17) which suggests a relationship between dreams and the water and the wine.

5See Anthony T. Perry, Art and Meaning in Ber-

ceo's "Vida de Santa Oria" (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1968), pp. 53-55 for a discussion of the dream vision as exemplum, In Curial e Guelfa, Curial's dream is an exemplum on the subject of ingratitude (ed. R. Aramon i Serra, 3 vols. [Barcelona: Barcino, 1930], i, 105-08). The dream needs no interpretation. The companion, Melchior, simply shakes his head and says: "Mala cosa es ingratitut; ans vos dich que es tan grant pecat, que a tart o nulls temps n'aconseguix hom remissii" (i, 108).

6Vida de Santo Domingo, Teresa Labarta de Chaves, ed. (Madrid: Castalia, 1972), 226-52, and the Libro de Alexandre, Raymond S. Willis, ed. (1934; rpt. New York: Kraus, 1965), st. 951.

7Macrobius wrote: "Cicero . . . fearful of the un- warranted censure that was heaped upon Plato, pre- ferred to have his account given by a man roused from sleep rather than by one returned from the dead (Commentary on the Dream of Scipio, trans. William Harris Stahl [New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1952], p. 81).

'Amadis de Gaula, Edwin B. Place, ed., 4 vols. (Madrid: CSIC, 1962, 1965, 1969, 1971). He dreamt (II, 395) but the interpretation was given later (II, 412-13). Frank Pierce (Amadis de Gaula [Boston: TWAS, 1976], pp. 111-40 devotes a chapter to the dreams in Amadis.

9Gran conquista de Ultramar, ed. Pascual de Gayangos, BAE, vol. 44 (Madrid: Atlas, 1958), p. 55.

'"El libro del caballero Zifar, ed. Charles Philip Wagner (Ann Arbor: Univ. Mich. Press, 1923), p. 121. Fernan Gonzalez repeats his dream and even the circumstances to his troops (Poema de Ferndn Gon- zalez, ed. Alonso Zamora Vicente [Madrid: Clas. Cast., 1963]) beginning with his reason for visting the monastery (sts. 422-25).

" Cancionero de romances (Anvers, 1550), ed. Antonio Rodriguez Mofiino (Madrid: Castalia, 1967), p. 182.

'Poesias completas, I, Serranillas, cantares y de- cires. Sonetos fechos al itdlico modo, ed. Manuel Duran (Madrid: Castalia, 1975), p. 203.

'3Alfonso Martinez de Toledo, Arcipreste de Tala- vera, ed. Joaquin Gonzalez Muela (Madrid: Cas- talia, 1970), p. 213.

"4Tratado de suenos in Anales Salmantinos, ed. Fr. Luis G. A. Getino, Vida y obra de Fr. Lope de Barrientos, i (Salamanca, 1927), 1-85. Getino gives the title as Tratado del dormir but in the Dedicatoria Fray Lope says he is writing a Tratado de suenos, relating them to his concern with prophecy. For the common classical sources see Cicero, De Re Publica, trans. Clinton Walker Keyes (London: Loeb, 1966), pp. 261-83; Cicero, De Divinatione, trans. William Armistead Falconer (London: Loeb, 1923), pp. 214- 539; for Macrobius see n. 7 above; Artemidorus, The Interpretation of Dreams. Oneirocritica by A rte- midorus, trans. Robert J. White (Park Ridge, N.J.: Noyes Press, 1975). For a summary of medieval scientific thought see Lynn Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science During the First Thirteen Centuries of Our Era, 8 vols. (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1923), particularly ii and inI. See also St. Gregory the Great, Dialogues, trans. Odo John Zimmerman (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1959), p. 261, and St. Augustine, The Care to be Taken for the Dead in Treatises on Marriage and Other Subjects, trans. John A. Lacy (New York:



Fathers of the Church, 1955), pp. 349-84. See also Valerius Maximus, Factorum et Dictorum Memora- bilium. Libri Novem (Leipzig: Teubner, 1888), I, vii, 34-43. It is reasonable to assume popular familiarity with the classifications of Macrobius. Meaningful dreams were: enigmatic (somnium), prophetic (visio), oracular (oraculum). Dreams without meaning were apparitions which come in the moments between wakefulness and sleep (visum) and nightmares (insomnium) (Commentary, pp. 87-88). They would have thought about dreams according to their causes: dreams caused by food or other physical stimuli (ex parte corporibus), dreams caused by the dreamer's own thoughts, emotions or the events of the day (ex parte anime), and dreams which originated with either divine or demonic spirits.

'Fritz Meier, "Some Aspects of Inspiration by Demons in Islam," in The Dream and Human So- cieties, ed. G. E. von Grinebaum and Roger Caillois (Berkeley: Univ. Calif. Press, 1966), pp. 421-29.

'6Refranero general ideol6gico espaiol (Madrid, 1953). See also numbers 59.242-59.252. Of interest here are 59.243 "De los suefios, cree los menos"; 59.244 "De los suenos ni creas malos ni buenos"; 59.245 "No creas en suefios que no son verdaderos"; 59.246 "Creer en suefnos, es de hombres necios"; 59.247 "Creer en suefios, vanisimo agiiero"; 59.251 "Si uno hubiera de hacer todo lo que suefa, debe- rianle atar."

'7Jose Maria Alin, El cancionero espaiol de tipo tradicional (Madrid: Taurus, 1968), No. 537, p. 597. The lines are: "Sofiaba yo que tenia / alegre mi cora- 6cn / mas a la fe, madre mia / que los suefios suefos son." For other expressions of skepticism see St. Jerome, "Apology Against the Books of Rufinus," i, 31 in Dogmatic and Polemical Works, trans. John N. Hritzu (Washington: Fathers of the Church, 1965), pp. 102-04. Petrarch, in a letter revealed a cautious attitude about two dreams in which he seemed to have received telepathic messages. He wrote: "In both cases I seemed to see what I hoped or feared and fate merely coincided with my visions" (Letters from Petrarch, trans. Morris Bishop [Bloom- ington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1966], Bk. v, 7, 60-61). See also Fernan Perez de Guzman's warning in "De suenyos" Cancionero castellano del siglo XV, ed. R. Foulche-Delbosc, 2 vols., NBAE (Madrid: Bailly- Bailliere, 1912), I, 585.

'"Ferdinand J. Wolf and Conrad Hoffman, Prima- vera y flor de romances, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1856; 2nd ed., Marcelino Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia de poetas liricos castellanos, viII, Ed. Nac. xxiv [San- tander, 1945]), No. 175, p. 387.

'Cancionero de Baena, ed. Jose Maria Azaceta, 3 vols. (Madrid: CSIC, 1966), II, 413, No. 226. The expression is a commonplace in dream accounts re- flecting a common sensation manifested by a person in the dream who asks the dreamer if he is asleep or awake (see Ruy Paes in Baena, No. 289, p. 599 and the story of the Cid's dream in the Primera cr6nica general, ed. Ram6n Menendez Pidal [Madrid: Gredos, 1955], p. 633).

20See Ira Progoff, "Waking Dreams and Living Myth," in Myths Dreams and Religion, pp. 176-95.

21Le Reve dans la vie et la pensee de Saint Augustin (Paris: Etudes Augustiniennes, 1973), pp. 18-20. In the Comedieta de Ponza, the Queen of Portugal says: "Non se si la nombre fantasma o vision"

(p. 264) and in El sueio, the Heart uses the term fantasia (p. 181). Anthony Perry points out that Berceo uses sueno and visi6n interchangeably (Santa Oria, pp. 68-69).

22I cite the 1511 Castilian translation (Joannot Martorell, Marti Joan de Galba, Tirante el Blanco, ed. Martin de Riquer, 5 vols. [Madrid: Clas., 1974]). See Bernat Metge, Lo somni, ed. Antonio Vilanova Andreu (Barcelona: Escuela de Filologia de Barce- lona, 1946) and n. 5 above for Curial. Examples of Castilian appearance dreams are: "Paros me delantre un ombre reuestido / ... tiengo que era angel del cielo decendido" (Libro de Alexandre, ed. Raymond S. Willis [1934; rpt. New York: Kraus, 1965], 1153 ac); "el monje San Pelayo de susol' fue venido" (Ferndn Gonzdlez, 402 b); "Adurmi6se el rey don Ramiro, et pareci6le estonces en suennos ell apostol Sant Yague" (Primera cr6nica general, p. 360); "Apareci6le una noche en suefios la virgen sancta Maria" (Alfonso Martinez de Toledo, Vidas de San Ildefonso y San Isidoro, ed. Jose Madoz y Moleres [Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1962], p. 7).

23Medieval Dream-Poetry, p. 11. 24Zifar, p. 273. 2"In the Libro de Alexandre the order of events is

reversed. The dream figure appears first in waking reality and then Alexander, recognizing him, obeys a post-dream command (1153-58). A similar post-dream command and recognition scene is enacted in Tirant- lo-Blanc (Tirante el Blanco, ed. Riquer, i, 25). Other dreamers are given various orders: Paris will judge the contest (Troyana, p. 97); Ruy Diaz will set out on his mission (Poema de mio Cid, ed. Colin C. Smith [Oxford: Clarendon, 1972], v. 407), Santa Oria will rise up to meet the Virgin (st. 120); King Tabor will fight well aided by the dream-child (Zifar, p. 273). The author is commanded to write (Enrique de Villena, Tratado de lepra in "Tres tratados," RH, XLI [1918], 198-214); Aylecarte de Montemerle and the other knights are to go to the Pope to ask him to preach in support of the Crusades (Ultramar, 112); the hermit in Zifar is given a message for his house guest (p. 121); Elias, the prophet, is urged to action (Primavera y flor de romances, No. 98, p. 245); Constantine must trace out the walls of his new city (Primera cr6nica general, 195).

26Since so many dreams are enigmatic we can cite Frank Pierce's comment about the dreams in Amadis: "The dream ... is presented with psychological insight and truth to experience, while like other sec- tions of the contents of the story, it is also a structural device" (p. 140).

2Among those in bed were: Alexander (1149 a); King Tabor (Zifar, 273); Ida and Eustacio (Ultramar, 91-92); Rodrigo and La Cava (Primavera, No. 5a, pp. 88-89); King John (Primavera, No. 98, p. 245); the hermit (Disputa del alma y el cuerpo in Antigua poesia espaiola lirica y narrativa, ed. Manuel Alvar [Mexico: Porrua, 1970]); Constantine (Pri- mera crdnica general, i, 195); Curial (i, 105); Gielfa and the abbess-they shared the same bed and the same dream (Curial, III, 221); Roboan (Zifar, p. 474); Ruy Diaz (Primera crdnica general, p. 633); Marques de Santillana (Poesias completas, p. 175); Corvalan (Ultramar, p. 224); the King of England (Tirante, I, 25); Ruy Paes (Baena, No. 289, p. 599); Bernat Metge, overcome with fatigue tries to resist sleep by pacing until he can resist no more and he

29


throws himself on his bed (Lo somni, p. 1). Similarly overcome with fatigue is Dona Leonor de Portugal: "El dulce reposo buscaua de grado / y yo retrahime fazia mi manida / en la qual, sobrada del suenyo y vencida" she falls asleep (Santillana, Poesias completas, p. 264).

2"Paris, tired after chasing a deer through the woods, stopped "e acosteme por rreposar e descansar en vn prado que era alli cubierto de muchas arbo- ledas" (La cor6nica troyana. A Medieval Spanish Translation of Guido de Colonna's "Historiae Destructionis Troiae," ed. Frank Pelletier Norris, ii, UNCSRRL, No. 90 [Chapel Hill: Univ. of North Carolina Press, 1970], Bk. vi, p. 97). The pilgrim in the Milagros arrives at a meadow. Tired he takes off his clothes and stretches out in the shade of a beautiful tree (ed. A. G. Solalinde [Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1964], sts. 2-45). In the Raz6n de amor, the dreamer has just eaten, and he stretches out in the noonday shade in a lovely meadow (ed. Ram6n Menendez Pidal, RH, xIii [1905], 602-18).

29Tratado de los suenos, p. 57. See also Charles Speroni, "Dante's Prophetic Morning-Dreams," Studies in Philology, 45 (1948), 50-59.

30Giving the date made the hermit's dream a part of waking reality (Disputa del alma e el cuerpo, p. 137). Two of Santa Oria's dreams are dated (sts. 115 and 188), and for astrological reasons Imperial gives the time: "En dos setecientos e mas doss e tres, / passando el aurora, viniendo el dia, / viernes pri- mero del tergero mess," (Baena, No. 226, p. 413).

3Corvalan has been carousing, overeating and drinking. He retires at a late hour (Ultramar, 224); Eustacio and Ida have just been married (Ultramar, 91-92); Paris is hot and tired (Troyana, p. 97); Guelfa and the abbess are tired (III, 221); Oria is tired and half the night had already passed (st. 117); Sto. Do- mingo was tired (st. 226); Metge was overcome with fatigue (p. 1).

32Fernan Gonzalez is saddened by the death of Pelayo and is worried about the forthcoming battle with Almanzor (sts. 390-401); Tabor is thinking about how to retain control over his realm (Zifar, p. 273); Ramiro is upset over his military losses (Primera cr6nica general, 360); Gielfa and the abbess are worried about a battle and the fate of Curial and of Guelfa's brother (iII, 221); the poet is thinking about love (Raz6n de amor, vv. 10-37); Ruy Diaz is worried about King Bficar (Primera cronica general, p. 633); Amunna, Oria's mother is worried about her daughter (st. 168); Corvalan is worried about the outcome of his battle with the Christians (Ultramar, 224); Perion is agitated about his love for Helisena (Amadis, i, 18); the Archpriest of Talavera falls asleep thinking about how women will react to his book (p. 280); the English King is worried about the siege of his realm (Tirante, i, 25); King Evolat is thinking about how to defend his land from the Egyptians and how to achieve lasting happiness (of which Joseph of Arimithea had spoken) (Spanish Grail Eragments, El libro de Josep Abarimatia, La estoria de Merlin, Lancarote, ed. Karl Pietsch, 2 vols. [Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1924], i, 28); Amadis is upset over the loss of Oriana (Ii, 395).

3This uncertainty after a long night of sleepless- ness could be said to refer to Macrobius's classifica- tion of meaningless dreams that come between wakefulness and sleep (see n. 14 above). Ruy Diaz told

his vassals that St. Peter had come to him while he was "velando non durmiendo" (Primera cr6nica general, 634). Tabor was unsure about the reality of his dream and sent for the lads of the court to find out if any of them had been in his bedchamber (Zifar, 273). Fortune tells Rodrigo (the last Visigoth) to awaken if he is sleeping (Primavera, 5a, pp. 88-89); the Archpriest wakes up frightened and unsure if his experience had been "verdad o suenio o vanidad" (Talavera, p. 281); the dreamer thinks he is awake but the dream continues: "fuy yo despertado a desora, ca senti entrar vna vieja tosiendo y muy de vieja hedat" (Villena, Tratado de lepra, p. 194). In the pretend dream of Plazerdemivida, she makes it credible by saying: "no s6 si dormia o velava" (II, 397).

"Samuel G. Armistead and Joseph H. Silverman, The Judeo-Spanish Ballad Chapbooks of Yacob Abraham Yond (Berkeley: Univ. Calif. Press, 1971), pp. 68-73. Curial's sleep was deep: "Axi fort com si fos litargich" (i, 105); Roboan's sleep in which the devil has a part is so deep that he slept until the sun came out the next day (Zifar, p. 474); Enrique de Villena's sleep was happy (Lepra, p. 198); Ruy Diaz had a sweet dream; "Un suefiol priso dulce tan bien se adurmi6 (Poema de mio Cid, v. 405).

"3Fernan Gonzalez awoke with "derecho pavor" (st. 410 a); Hecuba was "espantada" (Alexandre, 349 a); Ida suffered "tan grande miedo" (Ultramar, 92); Rey Rodrigo awoke "muy congojado" (Primavera, 89); Count Grimaltos "recordara con pavor" (Primavera, 393); Roboan awakened "como ome mucho espantado" (Zifar, 474). The hermit's first account gives a neutral awakening but when he recounts it to his house guest he says: "e en esto desperte muy espantado" (Zifar, 121). Although Ruy Paes had denied being asleep he wrote: "Despert6 con grant gemido" (Baena, p. 599); the pretend dreamers in the Disciplina Cleri- calis story which is repeated in an exemplum make their report believable: "El uno de los burgueses como sofioliento e espantado desperto" (Clemente Sanchez de Vercial, El libro de los exenplos a.b.c., ed. John Esten Keller [Madrid: CSIC, 1961], No. 98, pp. 93- 94). The Archpriest of Talavera exaggerates typically: "Congoxado de tormento, sudando, despert6 e pense que en poder de crueles sefioras me avia fallado" (p. 281), and the Duke's dream was so terrifying that when he awakened shouting his wife had to soothe him with kisses (Ultramar, 73).

'6Vida de Santo Domingo, ed. Labarta de Chaves, st. 244.

"Santa Oria, ed. Perry, sts. 109-10. "Curial e Guelfa, ed. Aramon i Serra, p. 230. 39Dofa Lucia, San Ildefonso's mother was visited

during her pregnancy (Talavera, Vidas, p. 7); Bea- triz's angelic visitation left behind the aroma of all the herbs and spices of the world when she was told about her baby (Ultramar, 53); Dofia Sancha dreamt that her progeny would recapture C6rdoba (Cr6nica de 1344 in Ram6n Menendez Pidal, La leyenda de los Infantes de Lara, 3rd ed. [Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1971], p. 295); Hecuba dreams that her baby will kill his father (Alexandre, 352). See Braet who writes: "On peut se demander dans quelle mesure cette creance est venue authentifier le grand nombre de pr6sages qui concernent l'enfant a naitre: bien souvent la femme recevait un songe prophetique au moment de la conception" (p. 46).

40Aside from the previously mentioned shared

30


dream accounts of Hecuba and Priam (Alexandre, 349 cd); Ida and Eustacio (Ultramar, 92); Count Grimaltos and his wife (Primavera, No. 175, pp. 386-93); the Swan Knight and his wife (Ultramar, 73), we find Amunna, Oria's mother unwilling to share her dream with her husband, choosing instead her confessor: "No ech6 este sueno la duenna en olvido / Ni lo que li dixiera Garcia su marido / re- contogelo todo a Munno su querido" (Sta. Oria, 170).

41 Poema de Jose. A Transcription and Comparison of the Extant Manuscripts, ed. William Weisiger Johnson (University, Mississippi: Romance Mono-

graphs, 1974). 42Braet calls attention to the dreamer's conviction

of the truthfulness of his dream as a sign of its credibility (p. 39). The reader shares this certainty and therefore is in an especially informed state because he often understands the dream better than does the dreamer (p. 103).

43The Next Room of the Dream: Poems and Two Plays (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 1963), p. 3.

4 Tratado de lepra, p. 198. 45Zifar, pp. 121-23.

EMERGENCY STAFFING IN YOUR DEPARTMENT?

For emergency staffing, call (806) 742-3100 or write the AATSP Placement Bureau, Texas Tech University, Box 4649, Lubbock, TX 79409.

NEW DIRECTOR OF THE HISPANIC AND LUSO-BRAZILIAN WORLD DEPARTMENT

Please send any appropriate items for The Hispanic World to Professor George R. McMurray who is now in charge of this Department. Address all correspondence relating to this section to: Professor George R. McMurray, Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, Colorado 80523.

The new Coordinator of Chapter Activities for the AATSP is Joyce A. Haggerty, a Pro- fessor at Framingham State College, Framingham, Massachusetts. Joyce has long been active in the affairs of the Massachusetts Bay Chapter and she has had much experience in creating a stimulating environment for chapter activity. Please write her for advice con- cerning chapter problems. Her address is:

27Fairmount Street Winchester, MA 01890

Members of the AATSP are eligible for three tuition scholarships (worth about $250 each) for the 1983 Summer Session of the University of Navarra. Please send a letter of applica- tion and a complete Curriculum Vitae no later than I May 1983 to:

Prof. Dr. Jesus Cafiedo, Director Instituto de Lengua y Cultura Espanolas Universidad de Navarra Pamplona, Espana

Ruth L. Bennett, former Coordinator of Chapter Activities for the AATSP, is retaining her post as Coordinator of the Association's Career Education Service. The CES is de- voted to helping students of AATSP members develop career opportunities inside and outside of the foreign language education field. Write Mrs. Bennett with questions or ideas pertaining to career opportunities for students of Spanish and Portuguese. Her address is:

70-07 170th Street Flushing, NY 11365

31

dream report as a literary device in medieval hispanic literature

Documents