A DREAM.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Volume 59, Issue 263, 9 December 1930, Page 10

A DREAM.

H. LATHAM.

(To the Editor.) Sir, — I bad an unusual dream in the small hours of a recent morning, and if it di'd nothing else it illustrated how the thougbts and incidents of the day form the foundation of "the stutf dreams are made out of." A few days before 1 bad an argument wit.b a glider-mad friend who hoped to see the day when he could rocket to the moon ; slump talk is a mere commonplace and the cahles informed us Berlin was in the hands of a'receiver. I dreamt I was touring Europe in an umpteen thousand pound Rolls Royce ancl ran across the Mayor of Berlin. who asked me to call and 'have an hour's chat with hira. I presented myself at his office and the town clerk informed me His Worshin had just gone out. I could see hhn another timo. I then returned to the street and fouucl someone had converted my Rolls -Royce to his own use — it had vanished. 1 complained to the town clerk, who gave me a slow, knowing wink ancl said he would put it into the hands of the police. This left me with tane on my hands ancl curiosity led me to mspect the new rocket plane which was the talk of the town. There was not anyone in attendance when I reached the aerodrome. A spirit of revenge surged up in me and I resolved that since they had converted my Rolls so would I convert their rocket ancl 1 liopped into her, let off a eouple of double bangers and set my course for the Plauet Mars. Wheu outside the earth's atmospliere 1 found it would take a little over six months to reach my destinatiou, but as the rocket was provisioned for a longer term this was uot a source of worrv. v anxiety arose from having no knowledge of navigation or astronomy but 1 made a lucky shot at where Mars would be on its orbit in six months' time and came out 'vigiit. Just before landing I was a little uneiisy as to whether 1 would get a caunibalistic welcome, or what would be worse for a retiring man, an Amy Johnson one but I was not even a curiosity, for the Martians had perfect. ed (a few million years ago) an alltalkie, natural colour, thought reading, stereoscopic- movie machine which brought any part of the universe to them as a close-up picture. They had been watcliing tlie antics of, and trying to signal, us earthians for countless centuries. I was staggered and amazed at the dignity, grandeur and beauty of their buildings and towns. Their canals lcnocked the best of the grand one of Yenice into a cocked hat, and there were no slums nor poverty Leliind them. The majesty of their churches put our grcatest gems of arehitecture deep into the sliade — every home was a miniature palace and every person a cultured patrician — pliysically perfect. I paid my respects to the 543 -year-old Patriarch, who had not a line of care 011 his face. He expressed pleasure at seeing me on that particular day of rejoicing to celehrate a new labour-saving device which would release a considerable amount of lahour from mere food production and divert it to the further beautifying of dieir towns, their homes and their lives. The old ( ?) gentleman asked me to he his guest at the pictures. The star item of the progranime was entitled, "A Sad C'omic — The Lamentable Fools." It showed a country (which I at once recognised as my home planet) of nnhounded fertility and variety of the fruits of the soil, the sea and the air, with harns and sheds and wareliouses bursting «vjth produce. It also showed an equally r-n-bounded industrial productive powcr. This wonderful fertility and this wonderful power would give every inhabitant on the planet an abunaance of food and hring a majestically high standai'd of comfort, culture and ?efinement to every home. But these comical people had adopted a restricted means of exchauge which deprived the vast majority of tliein of these good things. Then the picture showed earth towns with their mean puhlic buildings, their slums, squalid homes and miserable streets — and in these towns were an aggregate of teeming millions of underfed, underclothed, _ despicably housed men, women and children, vast numbers unemployed — all with the where - shall - I-get-my-next-meal -from lines cut deep into their faces. And yet there Avas at hand all the means, all the material, the labour and everything capahle of converting these towns, public buildings, squalid homes, miserable streets and despairing people into what I saw on Mars. Everyone was crying out for deliverance and better conditions. But the god gold they worshipped said "thou shalt not" and they bowed their necks to its heel. Prime Ministers next came on to the screen telling the people to be optimistic, to produce more of what they already had more tlian their god gold would let them use, and advismg iarmers to sell tlieir wool at 70 per cent helcnv cost of production. There were also unprime Ministers telling the people to be optimistic, sayuig bottom had been reached ancl the eorner turned, and each time they made these statements prices would still further slump, trade returns shrink and unemployment ancl starvation increase. No wonder the Martians looked 011 the earth picture as a "sad comic" and cu the people as "lamentable fools." Then Berlin appeared on the screen and 1 spied the Mayor tryiug to renew the ticket 011 my umpteen thousand pound Rolls Royce which lie had pawned to help his city's finances and also a big plac-ard was displayed m the Reichstag offering a half million reward for the return of the rocket. As I found it was impossible for an earthian to sustain life for many hours in the Martian atmospliere I tooli a sorrowful farewell of my delightful host, jumped into the old bus, touched oft a few more double bangers, headed for 111 y home planet and awoxe. vSuch was my dream — make of it what you will. — I am, etc.,

A

Greenmeadows, Dec. 3. 1U3U.