Dream World — Inside the Classic

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In Category - Other Worlds
Gaughan, Jack, 1930-1985 [Illustrator], Lafferty, R. A., 1914-2002 Project Gutenberg 2016 Not confirmed
Science fiction; Short stories; Dreams -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 5,494
Reading time 24 min
Text sections 1

Dream World — Inside the Classic can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 5,494 words, 24 min estimated reading time, and 1 detected text section.

The text analysis averages about 16.2 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Science fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

R. A. Lafferty's 'Dream World' opens with a man whose excessive breakfast orders draw suspicious stares, while two women discuss a shared nightmare of grotesque transformation. The story's voice shifts between mundane detail and surreal dread, using repetition and hyperbole to blur the line between waking and dreaming.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.3/5

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  • Description quality20 pts
  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
  • EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

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Read the Text

What was the matter with people who called four pancakes a tall stack? And what was odd about ordering a quarter of a pound of butter? It was better than having twenty of those little pats each on its coaster.

"Agnes, we all of us had eyes that bugged out. And we stank! We were bloated, and all the time it rained a dirty green rain that smelled like a four letter word. Good grief, girl! We had hair all over us where we weren't warts. And we talked like cracked crows. We had crawlers. I itch just from thinking about it. And the dirty parts of the dream I won't even tell you. I've never felt so blue in my life. I just don't know how I'll make the day through."

"Teresa, doll, how could a dream upset you so much?"

There isn't a thing wrong with ordering three eggs sunny-side up, and three over easy, and three poached ever so soft, and six of them scrambled. What law says a man should have all of his eggs fixed alike? Nor is there anything wrong with ordering five cups of coffee. That way the girl doesn't have to keep running over with refills.

Bascomb Swicegood liked to have bacon and waffles after the egg interlude and the earlier courses. But he was nearly at the end of his breakfast when he jumped up.

He was surprised at the violence of his own voice.

"What did who say, Mr. Swicegood?"

"The girl that was just here, that just left with the other girl."

"That was Teresa, and the other girl was Agnes. Or else that was Agnes and the other girl was Teresa. It depends on which girl you mean. I don't know what either of them said."

Bascomb ran out into the street.

"Girl, the girl who said it rained dirty green all the time, what's your name?"

"My name is Teresa. You've met me four times. Every morning you look like you never saw me before."

"I'm Agnes," said Agnes.

"What did you mean it rained dirty green all the time? Tell me all about it."

"I will not, Mr. Swicegood. I was just telling a dream I had to Agnes. It isn't any of your business."

"Well, I have to hear all of it. Tell me everything you dreamed."

"I will not. It was a dirty dream. It isn't any of your business. If you weren't a friend of my Uncle Ed Kelly, I'd call a policeman for your bothering me."

"Did you have things like live rats in your stomach to digest for you? Did they--"

"Oh! How did you know? Get away from me. I _will_ call a policeman. Mr. McCarty, this man is annoying me."

"The devil he is, Miss Ananias. Old Bascomb just doesn't have it in him any more. There's no more harm in him than a lamp post."

"Did the lamp posts have hair on them, Miss Teresa? Did they pant and swell and smell green--"

"Oh! You couldn't know! You awful man!"

"I'm Agnes," said Agnes; but Teresa dragged Agnes away with her.

"What is the lamp-post jag, Bascomb?" asked Officer Mossback McCarty.

"Ah--I know what it is like to be in hell, Mossback. I dreamed of it last night."

"And well you should, a man who neglects his Easter duty year after year. But the lamp-post jag? If it concerns anything on my beat, I have to know about it."

"It seems that I had the same depressing dream as the young lady, identical in every detail."

Not knowing what dreams are (and we do not know) we should not find it strange that two people might have the same dream. There may not be enough of them to go around, and most dreams are forgotten in the morning.

Bascomb Swicegood had forgotten his dismal dream. He could not account for his state of depression until he heard Teresa Ananias telling pieces of her own dream to Agnes Schoenapfel. Even then it came back to him slowly at first, but afterwards with a rush.

The oddity wasn't that two people should have the same dream, but that they should discover the coincidence, what with the thousands of people running around and most of the dreams forgotten.

Yet, if it were a coincidence, it was a multiplex one. On the night when it was first made manifest it must have been dreamed by quite a number of people in one medium-large city. There was a small piece in an afternoon paper. One doctor had five different worried patients who had had dreams of rats in their stomachs, and hair growing on the insides of their mouths. This was the first publication of the shared-dream phenomenon.

R. A. Lafferty's 'Dream World' begins not with a dream but with a man eating breakfast. Bascomb Swicegood orders four kinds of juice, four orders of sausage, a dozen pancakes, a quarter-pound of butter, and nine eggs prepared three ways. The narrator notes the suspicious stares he attracts, as if his appetite were a crime. This mundane yet exaggerated opening immediately establishes a voice that treats ordinary actions as bizarre and slightly menacing.

Intercut with Bascomb's meal, two women—Agnes and Teresa—discuss a nightmare. Teresa describes herself as 'built like a sack' and 'a green-brown color,' her mother transformed into a 'wart-hoggish animal.' The dream world she recounts is one of filth, stench, and misery. Lafferty juxtaposes the triviality of breakfast choices with the visceral horror of the dream, creating a tension that drives the story forward.

A Voice of Hyperbolic Observation

Lafferty's narrator adopts a tone of exaggerated innocence. Bascomb's internal monologue is filled with rhetorical questions: 'What law says a man should have all of his eggs fixed alike?' The narrator reports stares and judgments as if they are unreasonable, yet the reader senses that Bascomb's behavior is indeed excessive. This technique creates a comic but uneasy atmosphere. The voice is chatty, almost conspiratorial, as it recounts the details of the breakfast. The repetition of 'four' and 'three' and 'six' builds a rhythm that mimics obsessive counting. The narrator never condemns Bascomb, but the accumulation of detail makes the reader complicit in the judgment. This voice is consistent throughout the excerpt, treating the dream as just another peculiar event to be reported with the same deadpan precision as the menu.

The Dream as a Shared, Physical Horror

Teresa's dream is described in visceral, repulsive terms. She speaks of 'hair like a latrine mop,' 'bloated' bodies, 'warts,' and a 'dirty green rain that smelled like a four letter word.' The language is deliberately crude and sensory. The dream is not a vague anxiety but a concrete transformation into something animalistic and foul. The repetition of 'we' and 'us' suggests the dream is shared, though only Teresa recounts it. Agnes's responses—'it was only a dream'—are dismissive, but the intensity of Teresa's description makes the dream feel more real than the breakfast scene. Lafferty uses the women's dialogue to contrast the mundane setting of a restaurant with the grotesque imagery of the dream. The dream's details are specific and consistent: a world of 'crawlers,' 'stink,' and 'misery.' This specificity grounds the horror in physical sensation.

Pacing Through Juxtaposition and Repetition

The story's pacing is controlled by the alternation between Bascomb's breakfast and the women's conversation. Each new order of food is interrupted by a fragment of Teresa's nightmare. The breakfast scenes are slow, detailed, and repetitive, while the dream dialogue is urgent and fragmented. This creates a rhythm of acceleration: the breakfast details become more absurd (five cups of coffee, bacon and waffles after eggs), while the dream descriptions become more frantic. The narrator's calm reporting of Bascomb's actions contrasts with Teresa's agitated speech. The effect is a mounting unease. The reader is pulled between the trivial and the horrific, never sure which is more real. The repetition of phrases like 'it was only a dream' becomes a refrain that fails to reassure. The pacing suggests that the dream is encroaching on waking life, a technique that builds tension without overt action.

Readers should pay attention to how Lafferty uses the breakfast sequence as a counterpoint to the dream. The excessive ordering may be a symptom of the dream's lingering effect, or it may be a separate absurdity. The story's brevity (under 5,500 words) means every detail counts. Notice how the narrator's voice remains flat even as the content becomes grotesque. This detachment is key to the story's unsettling tone. The dream is never explained, only described, leaving the reader to decide whether it is a shared hallucination, a glimpse of another reality, or a metaphor for something unspoken.

Reading about those two women sharing their nightmare made me think of my own recurring dream about my grandmother's kitchen turning fluid. It reminded me of the quiet dread I felt once with The Long, Silvery Day — Inside the Classic, where the light itself seemed to hesitate, and time felt momentarily undone.

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