H.P. Lovecraft. The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath
The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written Autumn? 1926-22 Jan 1927
Published in Beyond the Wall of Sleep, Sauk City, WI: Arkham House, 1943,
p. 76-134
Three times Randolph Carter dreamed of the marvelous city, and three times
was he snatched away while still he paused on the high terrace above it.
All golden and lovely it blazed in the sunset, with walls, temples,
colonnades and arched bridges of veined marble, silver-basined fountains
of prismatic spray in broad squares and perfumed gardens, and wide streets
marching between delicate trees and blossom-laden urns and ivory statues
in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red
roofs and old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles. It
was a fever of the gods, a fanfare of supernal trumpets and a clash of
immortal cymbals. Mystery hung about it as clouds about a fabulous
unvisited mountain; and as Carter stood breathless and expectant on that
balustraded parapet there swept up to him the poignancy and suspense of
almost-vanished memory, the pain of lost things and the maddening need to
place again what once had been an awesome and momentous place.
He knew that for him its meaning must once have been supreme; though in
what cycle or incarnation he had known it, or whether in dream or in
waking, he could not tell. Vaguely it called up glimpses of a far
forgotten first youth, when wonder and pleasure lay in all the mystery of
days, and dawn and dusk alike strode forth prophetic to the eager sound of
lutes and song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising
marvels. But each night as he stood on that high marble terrace with the
curious urns and carven rail and looked off over that hushed sunset city
of beauty and unearthly immanence he felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous
gods; for in no wise could he leave that lofty spot, or descend the wide
marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to where those streets of elder
witchery lay outspread and beckoning.
When for the third time he awakened with those flights still undescended
and those hushed sunset streets still untraversed, he prayed long and
earnestly to the hidden gods of dream that brood capricious above the
clouds on unknown Kadath, in the cold waste where no man treads. But the
gods made no answer and shewed no relenting, nor did they give any
favouring sign when he prayed to them in dream, and invoked them
sacrificially through the bearded priests of Nasht and Kaman-Thah, whose
cavern-temple with its pillar of flame lies not far from the gates of the
waking world. It seemed, however, that his prayers must have been
adversely heard, for after even the first of them he ceased wholly to
behold the marvellous city; as if his three glimpses from afar had been
mere accidents or oversights, and against some hidden plan or wish of the
gods.
At length, sick with longing for those glittering sunset streets and
cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs, nor able sleeping or
waking to drive them from his mind, Carter resolved to go with bold
entreaty whither no man had gone before, and dare the icy deserts through
the dark to where unknown Kadath, veiled in cloud and crowned with
unimagined stars, holds secret and nocturnal the onyx castle of the Great
Ones.
In light slumber he descended the seventy steps to the cavern of flame and
talked of this design to the bearded priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah. And the
priests shook their pshent-bearing heads and vowed it would be the death
of his soul. They pointed out that the Great Ones had shown already their
wish, and that it is not agreeable to them to be harassed by insistent
pleas. They reminded him, too, that not only had no man ever been to
Kadath, but no man had ever suspected in what part of space it may lie;
whether it be in the dreamlands around our own world, or in those
surrounding some unguessed companion of Fomalhaut or Aldebaran. If in our
dreamland, it might conceivably be reached, but only three human souls
since time began had ever crossed and recrossed the black impious gulfs to
other dreamlands, and of that three, two had come back quite mad. There
were, in such voyages, incalculable local dangers; as well as that
shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered
universe, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost
confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity - the
boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and
who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst
the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous
whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance
slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, the blind,
voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose soul and messenger is the
crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.
Of these things was Carter warned by the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah in
the cavern of flame, but still he resolved to find the gods on unknown
Kadath in the cold waste, wherever that might be, and to win from them the
sight and remembrance and shelter of the marvellous sunset city. He knew
that his journey would be strange and long, and that the Great Ones would
be against it; but being old in the land of dream he counted on many
useful memories and devices to aid him. So asking a formal blessing of the
priests and thinking shrewdly on his course, he boldly descended the seven
hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and set out through the
Enchanted Wood.
In the tunnels of that twisted wood, whose low prodigious oaks twine
groping boughs and shine dim with the phosphorescence of strange fungi,
dwell the furtive and secretive Zoogs; who know many obscure secrets of
the dream world and a few of the waking world, since the wood at two
places touches the lands of men, though it would be disastrous to say
where. Certain unexplained rumours, events, and vanishments occur among
men where the Zoogs have access, and it is well that they cannot travel
far outside the world of dreams. But over the nearer parts of the dream
world they pass freely, flitting small and brown and unseen and bearing
back piquant tales to beguile the hours around their hearths in the forest
they love. Most of them live in burrows, but some inhabit the trunks of
the great trees; and although they live mostly on fungi it is muttered
that they have also a slight taste for meat, either physical or spiritual,
for certainly many dreamers have entered that wood who have not come out.
Carter, however, had no fear; for he was an old dreamer and had learnt
their fluttering language and made many a treaty with them; having found
through their help the splendid city of Celephais in Ooth-Nargai beyond
the Tanarian Hills, where reigns half the year the great King Kuranes, a
man he had known by another name in life. Kuranes was the one soul who had
been to the star-gulls and returned free from madness.
Threading now the low phosphorescent aisles between those gigantic trunks,
Carter made fluttering sounds in the manner of the Zoogs, and listened now
and then for responses. He remembered one particular village of the
creatures was in the centre of the wood, where a circle of great mossy
stones in what was once a cleaning tells of older and more terrible
dwellers long forgotten, and toward this spot he hastened. He traced his
way by the grotesque fungi, which always seem better nourished as one
approaches the dread circle where elder beings danced and sacrificed.
Finally the great light of those thicker fungi revealed a sinister green
and grey vastness pushing up through the roof of the forest and out of
sight. This was the nearest of the great ring of stones, and Carter knew
he was close to the Zoog village. Renewing his fluttering sound, he waited
patiently; and was at last rewarded by an impression of many eyes watching
him. It was the Zoogs, for one sees their weird eyes long before one can