What Dreams May Come

In Short

This novel is a feverish, late-Victorian excursion into the metaphysical. It traces the life of Harold Dartmouth, a blasé English diplomat who finds his cynical existence shattered by the sudden, overwhelming memory of a past life when he encounters a woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to a long-dead ancestor. As he navigates the rigid social expectations of his time, he is drawn into a cycle of psychic distress and tragic longing. The book persists as a curious, intense artifact of its era, capturing the late-19th-century preoccupation with occultism and the "new" psychological novel.

The Story

Harold Dartmouth is a wealthy, indifferent Englishman who drifts through the diplomatic circles of Europe, feeling utterly uninspired until he meets Weir Penrhyn. Weir is a celebrated Welsh beauty whose presence triggers a strange, almost violent awakening in Harold’s mind. He becomes convinced that he has known her before, despite her youth and their lack of a shared history. His confusion deepens when he visits her home and discovers a portrait of her grandmother, Sionèd, which bears an impossible, identical resemblance to Weir.

As Harold’s obsession grows, he experiences terrifying, hallucinatory visions of a vast, gray, and eternal landscape—a realm of dead souls where he and a woman are doomed to wander apart. He begins to believe that he and Weir are the reincarnated spirits of lovers from a previous, tragic existence. This belief creates a profound moral crisis; while he is deeply in love with Weir, he is haunted by the suspicion that their union is cursed by past sins that must be expiated through suffering. He struggles to reconcile his modern, rational life as a diplomat with these intrusive, phantom memories.

The tension between his social obligations and his psychic torment becomes unbearable. He seeks counsel from friends, who dismiss his experiences as madness or "moral senility," yet he remains unable to escape the feeling that his life is merely a stage for an ancient drama. As he attempts to solidify his relationship with Weir, the lines between his reality and his visions collapse. The weight of the past grows heavier, and he finds himself losing his grasp on the present.

The climax arrives when the burden of their shared destiny reaches a breaking point. Harold’s mental state deteriorates, and the "iron hand" of his logical mind snaps under the pressure of his visions. In a final, desperate confrontation with the past—marked by a storm that mirrors his internal chaos—Weir is lost to the dark waters of the sea. Harold, left alone in his final delirium, experiences a moment of transcendent, albeit tragic, clarity. In the face of death and the dissolution of his own sanity, he finds the elusive "song" or creative power he had long sought, believing that he will finally be reunited with his true soulmate in the afterlife. The story concludes with his descent into the darkness, holding onto the vision of his eternal companion.

How It Unfolds

The malaise of the privileged Harold Dartmouth exists as a bored, handsome, and wealthy socialite who finds the world "too small" for his tastes. His life is defined by transient pleasures until he catches sight of the beautiful Weir Penrhyn, which initiates a sudden, involuntary shift in his consciousness.

The spark of recognition The encounter with Weir brings forth a "clamorous Desire" that Harold cannot categorize. He feels as though a second, older consciousness is trying to emerge, leaving him physically and mentally disoriented as he struggles to comprehend his own sudden transformation.

The haunting portrait During a visit to Weir’s home, Harold confronts a painting of her grandmother, Sionèd. The resemblance is so perfect that it acts as a catalyst, pulling Harold into a deeper, more terrifying state of psychic recall that links the living girl to the dead ancestor.

The descent into eternity Harold experiences vivid, waking dreams of a "vast, gray, pathless land" where he wanders as a lost soul. These visions suggest that he and his beloved are trapped in a cycle of suffering, separated by an "unseen hand" across the vast reaches of space and time.

The final rupture As Harold tries to reconcile his love for Weir with his certainty that they are cursed, his reality splinters. The storm that envelops them at the end of the book serves as the final barrier, leading to the tragic loss of Weir and the total collapse of Harold’s sanity.

The People

Harold Dartmouth is the story’s anchor, a man who evolves from a cynical, "blasé" aristocrat into a frantic, visionary soul. He is initially defined by his worldly success and emotional detachment, but his "extraordinary magnetism" becomes a burden when it is hijacked by his repressed, past-life memories. He is a man struggling against the boundaries of his own reality, wanting both the security of a respectable marriage and the intensity of his psychic revelations.

Weir Penrhyn is the catalyst for Harold’s transformation. Described as being "more original" than other women, she possesses a beauty that borders on the ethereal. She is, for much of the book, caught between her own burgeoning love for Harold and the growing, inexplicable terror he radiates. She remains largely a figure of mystery, an object of Harold’s intense projection, until the tragic conclusion forces her to meet the same dark fate as the woman she resembles.

Sir Iltyd Penrhyn, Weir’s father, serves as a grounded, somewhat oblivious counterpoint to the madness unfolding around him. He is a man of the world, typical of his class and generation, who sees Harold as a suitable match for his daughter. His inability to see the encroaching disaster underscores the isolation of Harold’s experience; he is the "old gentleman" who measures life by social propriety, utterly blind to the metaphysical storm that ultimately destroys his family.

In Its Own Voice

The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury.

This description of Constantinople sets the scene for the story's initial, atmosphere-heavy arrival.

I have found you at last, but I wandered so far. There was no nook or corner of Eternity in which I did not search.

This is the voice of the haunting, spectral figure that Harold encounters in his visions, emphasizing the theme of eternal, agonizing separation.

The black waters had greedily embraced her, and in their depths she would find rest at last.

Harold reflects on the tragic resolution of his love, finding a strange beauty and release in the finality of the sea.

What It's Really About

The book is an intense meditation on the concept of the soul’s immortality and the cyclical nature of human suffering. It argues that love is not merely a social arrangement but a primal, cosmic force that can persist through "countless existences." The narrative explores the heavy price of such knowledge; it suggests that to truly "see" beyond the "Social Decalogue" of Victorian morality is to risk madness. It asks whether our individual identities are truly our own, or if we are merely vessels for the unresolved traumas and passions of those who came before us. Ultimately, the book presents life as a "prosaic" surface beneath which lie dark, phosphorescent depths of memory and eternal longing.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy turn-of-the-century gothic literature, occult mysteries, or the psychological complexity of authors like Henry James will find much to engage with here. The prose is lush, often bordering on the operatic, and carries the heavy, sensory weight of its time. It is a book that demands patience, particularly in its long, atmospheric descriptions of cities and its deeply verbose, often tortured internal monologues.

You should be aware that the book contains the period-typical attitudes of its day, including an obsession with the "types" of various nationalities and an elitist perspective on social standing. These elements can feel dated or jarring. Additionally, the plot is often secondary to the emotional and mental state of the protagonist, making it less of a fast-paced thriller and more of a slow, claustrophobic journey into a fever dream. If you are open to a work that prioritizes mood, metaphysical dread, and the intense, often uncomfortable exploration of romantic obsession, you will find this an evocative read. It lingers in the mind, much like the spectral visions that plague Harold, leaving behind a haunting impression of a world where love and madness are inextricably, and perhaps fatally, linked.