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    Dreams
    Dreams
    Dreams
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Dreams

    By Olive Schreiner

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    About this ebook

    Dreams is a collection of beautifully written short stories based on author's dreams and life on a farm in South Africa. In Dreams depicts Olive Schreiner her fascinating looks on the world.
    Olive Schreiner (1855 –1920) was a South African author, anti-war campaigner and intellectual.
    Since the late 20th century, scholars have also credited Schreiner as an advocate for the Afrikaners, and other South African groups who were excluded from political power for decades, such as indigenous Blacks, Jews and Indians. Although she showed interest in socialism, pacifism, vegetarianism and feminism amongst other topics, her views escaped restrictive categorizations. Her published works and other surviving writings promote implicit values such as moderation, friendship, and understanding amongst all peoples, and avoid the pitfalls of political radicalism.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMusaicum Books
    Release dateDec 17, 2020
    ISBN4064066395186
    Dreams
    Author

    Olive Schreiner

    Olive Schreiner (1855-1920) was a South African political activist and writer. Born to a family of Wesleyan missionaries, Schreiner was educated by her mother. Forced to move frequently due to her father’s inability to maintain a job, Schreiner became familiar with the landscape of South Africa and the cultural and political tensions holding together its diverse population. In 1881, she travelled to England in order to pursue her dream of becoming a medical professional, but her chronic asthma and limited finances prevented her from completing her training. In 1883, she published her debut novel, The Story of an African Farm, under a pseudonym, launching a career as one of South Africa’s leading writers. Throughout her life, she advocated for political equality for South Africa’s marginalized groups, including Afrikaners, indigenous Africans, Jews, and Indians. Combining a deep understanding of Christian morality with an active interest in socialism and the women’s suffrage movement, Schreiner is recognized as a pioneering feminist and political activist who wrote unflinchingly on such subjects as the Boer War, British imperialism, and intersectionality.

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      Book preview

      Dreams - Olive Schreiner

      Olive Schreiner

      Dreams

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

      musaicumbooks@okpublishing.info

      2020 OK Publishing

      EAN 4064066395186

      Table of Contents

      I. THE LOST JOY.

      All day, where the sunlight played on the sea-shore, Life sat.

      II. THE HUNTER.

      III. THE GARDENS OF PLEASURE.

      IV. IN A FAR-OFF WORLD.

      V. THREE DREAMS IN A DESERT.

      Under a Mimosa-Tree.

      VI. A DREAM OF WILD BEES.

      VII. IN A RUINED CHAPEL.

      I cannot forgive—I love.

      VIII. LIFE’S GIFTS.

      IX. THE ARTIST’S SECRET.

      X. I THOUGHT I STOOD.

      XI. THE SUNLIGHT LAY ACROSS MY BED.

      I. THE LOST JOY.

      Table of Contents

      All day, where the sunlight played on the sea-shore, Life sat.

      Table of Contents

      All day the soft wind played with her hair, and the young, young face looked out across the water. She was waiting—she was waiting; but she could not tell for what.

      All day the waves ran up and up on the sand, and ran back again, and the pink shells rolled. Life sat waiting; all day, with the sunlight in her eyes, she sat there, till, grown weary, she laid her head upon her knee and fell asleep, waiting still.

      Then a keel grated on the sand, and then a step was on the shore—Life awoke and heard it. A hand was laid upon her, and a great shudder passed through her. She looked up, and saw over her the strange, wide eyes of Love—and Life now knew for whom she had sat there waiting.

      And Love drew Life up to him.

      And of that meeting was born a thing rare and beautiful—Joy, First-Joy was it called. The sunlight when it shines upon the merry water is not so glad; the rosebuds, when they turn back their lips for the sun’s first kiss, are not so ruddy. Its tiny pulses beat quick. It was so warm, so soft! It never spoke, but it laughed and played in the sunshine: and Love and Life rejoiced exceedingly. Neither whispered it to the other, but deep in its own heart each said, It shall be ours for ever.

      Then there came a time—was it after weeks? was it after months? (Love and Life do not measure time)—when the thing was not as it had been.

      Still it played; still it laughed; still it stained its mouth with purple berries; but sometimes the little hands hung weary, and the little eyes looked out heavily across the water.

      And Life and Love dared not look into each other’s eyes, dared not say, What ails our darling? Each heart whispered to itself, It is nothing, it is nothing, tomorrow it will laugh out clear. But tomorrow and tomorrow came. They journeyed on, and the child played beside them, but heavily, more heavily.

      One day Life and Love lay down to sleep; and when they awoke, it was gone: only, near them, on the grass, sat a little stranger, with wide-open eyes, very soft and sad. Neither noticed it; but they walked apart, weeping bitterly, Oh, our Joy! our lost Joy! shall we see you no more for ever?

      The little soft and sad-eyed stranger slipped a hand into one hand of each, and drew them closer, and Life and Love walked on with it between them. And when Life looked down in anguish, she saw her tears reflected in its soft eyes. And when Love, mad with pain, cried out, I am weary, I am weary! I can journey no further. The light is all behind, the dark is all before, a little rosy finger pointed where the sunlight lay upon the hill-sides. Always its large eyes were sad and thoughtful: always the little brave mouth was smiling quietly.

      When on the sharp stones Life cut her feet, he wiped the blood upon his garments, and kissed the wounded feet with his little lips. When in the desert Love lay down faint (for Love itself grows faint), he ran over the hot sand with his little naked feet, and even there in the desert found water in the holes in the rocks to moisten Love’s lips with. He was no burden—he never weighted them; he only helped them forward on their journey.

      When they came to the dark ravine where the icicles hang from the rocks—for Love and Life must pass through strange drear places—there, where all is cold, and the snow lies thick, he took their freezing hands and held them against his beating little heart, and warmed them—and softly he drew them on and on.

      And when they came beyond, into the land of sunshine and flowers, strangely the great eyes lit up, and dimples broke out upon the face. Brightly laughing, it ran over the soft grass; gathered honey from the hollow tree; and brought it them on the palm of its hand; carried them water in the leaves of the lily, and gathered flowers and wreathed them round their heads, softly laughing all the while. He touched them as their Joy had touched them, but his fingers clung more tenderly.

      So they wandered on, through the dark lands and the light, always with that little brave smiling one between them. Sometimes they remembered that first radiant Joy, and whispered to themselves, Oh! could we but find him also!

      At last they came to where Reflection sits; that strange old woman who has always one elbow on her knee, and her chin in her hand, and who steals light out of the past to shed it on the future.

      And Life and Love cried out, "O wise one! tell us: when first we met, a lovely radiant thing belonged to us—gladness without a tear, sunshine without a shade. Oh! how did we sin that we lost it? Where shall we go

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