TEXT:  
   
   
   
  ExOblivione
   
  byH. P.Lovecraft
   
   
   
   
   
   
  1920
   
  When the last days were uponme, and the ugly trifles of existence began to
  driveme to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall
  ceaselesslyupon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of
  sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life,
  andwandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.
  Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed
  endlesslyand languorously under strange stars.
  Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under
  theearth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescentarbours ,
  andundying roses.
  And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins,
  andended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little
  gateof bronze.
  Many times I walked through that valley, and longer and longer would I pause in
  thespectral half-light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely,
  andthe grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, some times disclosing
  themould-stained stones of buried temples. Andalway the goal of my fancies was
  themighty vine-grown wall with the little gate of bronze therein.
  After a while, as the days of waking became less and less bearable from their
  greynessand sameness, I would often drift in opiate peace through the valley
  andthe shadowy groves, and wonder how I might seize them for my eternal
  dwelling-place, so that I need no more crawl back to a dull worldstript of
  interestand newcolours . And as I looked upon the little gate in the mighty
  wall, I felt that beyond it lay a dream-country from which, once it was entered,
  therewould be no return.
  So each night in sleep I strove to find the hidden latch of the gate in the
  iviedantique wall, though it was exceedingly well hidden. And I would tell
  myselfthat the realm beyond the wall was not more lasting merely, but more
  lovelyand radiant as well.
  Then one night in the dream-city ofZakarion I found a yellowed papyrus filled
  withthe thoughts of dream-sages who dwelt of old in that city, and who were too
  wiseever to be born in the waking world. Therein were written many things
  concerningthe world of dream, and among them was lore of agolden valleyand a
  sacredgrove with temples, and a high wall pierced by a little bronze gate. When
  I saw this lore, I knew that it touched on the scenes I had haunted, and I
  
  thereforeread long in the yellowed papyrus.
  Some of the dream-sages wrote gorgeously of the wonders beyond theirrepassable
  gate, but others told of horror and disappointment. I knew not which to believe,
  yetlonged more and more to cross for ever into the unknown land; for doubt and
  secrecyare the lure of lures, and no new horror can be more terrible than the
  dailytorture of the commonplace. So when I learned of the drug which would
  unlockthe gate and drive me through, I resolved to take it when next I awaked.
  Last night I swallowed the drug and floated dreamily into thegolden valleyand
  theshadowy groves; and when I came this time to the antique wall, I saw that
  thesmall gate of bronze was ajar. From beyond came a glow that weirdly lit the
  gianttwisted trees and the tops of the buried temples, and I drifted on
  songfully, expectant of the glories of the land from whence I should never
  return.
  But as the gate swung wider and the sorcery of the drug and the dream pushed me
  through, I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for in that new
  realmwas neither land nor sea, but only the white void ofunpeopled and
  illimitablespace. So, happier than I had ever dared hope to be, I dissolved
  againinto that native infinity of crystal oblivion from which the daemon Life
  hadcalled me for one brief and desolate hour.
   
   
   
   
  © 1998-1999 William Johns
  Last modified:12/18/199918:43:21
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Call of Cthulhu/EXTRAS/Novel/Ex Oblivione - H. P. Lovecraft.pdf