#cpb derealization

[merc-h-w]

Villette by Charlotte Brontë (1853)

I sat up appalled, wondering into what region, amongst what strange beings I was waking. At first I knew nothing I looked on: a wall was not a wall—a lamp not a lamp. I should have understood what we call a ghost, as well as I did the commonest object; which is another way of intimating that all my eye rested on struck it as spectral. But the faculties soon settled each in its place; the life-machine presently resumed its wonted and regular working.

Page 215

Brontë, Charlotte. Villette. First Vintage Classics Edition, Vintage Classics, 2009.

[merc-h-w]

"Two Part Prelude" by William Wordsworth (1799)

That spectacle, for many days my brain

Worked with a dim and undetermined sense

Of unknown modes of being; in my thoughts

There was darkness, call it solitude

Or blank desertion; no familiar objects

Of hourly objects, images of trees,

Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;

But huge and mighty forms that do not live

Like living men, moved slowly through my mind

By day, and were the trouble of my dreams.

Broadview Anthology, page 221