New Beginnings? Homer
The heading ‘New Beginnings’ refers to Homer’s position at the beginning of the history of Greek literature. The question mark refers to the ideas adopted and adapted by Homer which are strongly influenced by the ancient Near East. For the purposes of this study, it is assumed that the Iliad and the Odyssey were both written c700 BC by one or more persons who will be referred to as ‘Homer’. It is assumed that, as Milman Parry suggested, they were transmitted orally for some considerable time before eventually reaching written form.338 It is impossible to exaggerate the influence of Homer on later ancient writers, and so the two poems attributed to him can be seen as the beginnings of a new tradition, which was to be imitated and adapted for centuries to come. However, the Homeric poems did not spring into life from the ground, and the influence of the Near East on Homer, which has long been a topic of scholarly discourse, is particularly significant with respect to dreams.339
338 See the collected papers of Milman Parry, A. Parry 1971: especially 328.
339 It may seem surprising that this section focuses only on Homer and not on Hesiod as well, but although he was roughly contemporary to Homer and also highly influential, Hesiod has very little to say about dreams. He describes how Night gave birth to Doom, Fate, Death, Sleep and the tribe of Dreams (Μόρος, Κῆρα, Θάνατος, Ὕπνος, φῦλον Ὀνείρων), and later refers to the ‘awful gods’, Sleep and Death, who live together (Hesiod, Theogony, 211-212; 756-759). However, beyond this, he says very little. This may itself be a point of interest, but as there is only so much space in a single study, it will have to be left for another work. Some writers in later antiquity interpreted Hesiod’s encounter with the Muses as a dream, and West has suggested that it bears some similarity to message dreams, but Hesiod himself does not suggest that the experience is a dream; West 1997: 287.
Homer’s use of dreams largely stands apart from Classical Greek literature of
imagination. Whereas Greek tragedy uses symbolic dreams almost exclusively, nearly all the dreams in the Homeric poems are message dreams (with the important exception of Penelope’s dreams in Odyssey Books 19 and 20). This means that Homeric dreams bear more direct resemblance to dreams in ancient Near Eastern literature of record than to Classical Greek literature of imagination.340 Several of these follow a clear pattern, in which the god comes and stands at the head of the dreamer and delivers a spoken message (those that do not are usually described more briefly) (Homer, Iliad, 2.1-35;
Odyssey, 4.795-809; Odyssey, 6.13-47). Patroclus also stands by Achilles’ head when he visits via a dream (Homer, Iliad, 23.62-92). The detail that the god or person stands by the dreamer’s head is probably a poetic epithet attached to this topos. Kessels has put together a scheme of the pattern Homeric dreams tend to take, though there are exceptions (in formulaic oral-derived poetry, it is not surprising that dream sequences should follow a similar pattern).341
However, whereas message dreams in the ancient Near East appear in literature of record because they are the clearest and most easily comprehensible form of dream, Homer sometimes uses them differently. A religious or secular leader using a prophetic dream to justify his actions needs the dream to be as clear-cut as possible, but the author of a work
340 Highbarger had attempted to draw links between Homer and the ancient Near East, but unfortunately his argument was not convincing. Amory has thoroughly refuted Highbarger’s suggestions, noting that the eastern gate Highbarger equates the Gate of Ivory with has no connection with ivory, and cannot be related to the Gate of Olympus through white clouds, as Homer does not describe clouds as white; Amory 1966: 8-9. More convincingly, West has provided a useful summary of the major message dreams in Homer and examples of Near Eastern precedents for each one; West 1997: 186-188. See also Burkert 1992. Diodorus Siculus quotes Homer’s description of the gates of the Sun and the land of Dreams during his explanation of how Orpheus brought mystic ceremonies and accounts of Hades to Greece from Egypt; Diodorus Siculus, 1.96.6.
341 Kessels 1978: 134-135.
of imagination will often prefer to present dreams in a more complex way (which may be why they often prefer symbolic dreams). We have seen, for example, how Dumuzi was confused by his dream, although everything in the dream had a specific meaning. Most of the message dreams in Homer are reasonably straightforward, but the deceitful dream sent by Zeus to Agamemnon, and Penelope’s dreams, may have partly inspired the later Greek emphasis on the difficulty of correctly interpreting dreams. All the characters in the Homeric poems show a keen awareness that dreams may be false or deceptive, and they only believe Agamemnon’s false dream because he is ‘the best of the Achaeans’
(Homer, Iliad, 2.77-83).342
Message dreams in the Homeric poems are conceptualised as actual visitations from gods or deceased souls; Agamemnon’s dream, for example, is specifically described as a visitation from the personified Dream, sent by Zeus (Homer, Iliad, 2.1-35). Sleep, Death and Dream are all personified in the Iliad. Kessels has noted that although Zeus, when he sends the dream to Agamemnon, addresses a personified figure called Oneiros, who then goes and addresses Agamemnon, there does not seem to be a dream-god in Homer.343
Achilles’ dream-vision of Patroclus is more difficult to categorise. It has sometimes been categorised as a ‘ghost-story’, and it is impossible to say for sure whether the poet envisages Patroclus’ soul actually making the journey to visit Achilles through a dream, or whether this vision is the product of Achilles’ own mind (Homer, Iliad, 23.62-107). The similarity of the story to other stories in which a ghost asks for proper burial, a theme which was to recur throughout antiquity, suggests the former (see
342 On the use of this title in the Homeric poems, see Nagy 1999: especially 26-27.
343 Kessels 1978: 37-38.
Chapter Four p198) (see Homer, Odyssey, 11.50-80; Tertullian, De Anima, 56; Virgil, Aeneid, 6.325-330).344
The influence of Near Eastern dream literature on Homer may illuminate one of the most-discussed passages in the Odyssey, Penelope’s description of the Gates of Sleep (Homer, Odyssey, 19.560-569). The origin and meaning of the Gates of Sleep has been the cause of some debate. Although the possibility that the poet of the Odyssey invented the idea cannot be discounted, the equal possibility that it has an older source must be considered.
The subject has been treated most fully by Amory, but more recent research into Near Eastern dream texts may allow us to offer a solution that was not available to her at the time of writing.345
Several theories concerning the Gates of Sleep take their cue from Eustathius.
According to the ‘allegorical’ theory, the horn gate represents that which is seen through the eyes, which have a horny covering, and the ivory gate represents things spoken through the mouth, through ivory-coloured teeth, so Penelope believes only that which is seen, not that which is only spoken (Eustathius, Commentarios in Homeri Iliadem et
344 See further Johnston 1999: 14. For an overview of this theme in antiquity, see Felton 1999: 10-11.
Oppenheim has noted that the motif of a dead person asking for proper burial through a dream does not appear until Homer’s Iliad; Oppenheim 1956: 204. Although it is tempting to assume that this means that proper burial was less important to people in the ancient Near East, the absence of such stories from Egypt, where burial was certainly important, suggests that another explanation is needed, and this may simply result from a lack of surviving evidence.
345 Prior to Amory’s article, the most significant work on the meaning of the Gates of Sleep was that of Highbarger. Highbarger laid out some useful notes on the links between sleep, dreams and death in
Homeric and Classical Greek literature, but his assumption that dreams are actually ‘ghosts’, or the souls of the dead, cannot be upheld, as it is based solely on the idea that dreams and ghosts ‘live’ in the same place;
although there are links between dreams and the dead, a dream is an experience, not a personified thing;
Highbarger 1940: 4-9. Amory argues that the difficulties with Highbarger’s theory begin when he equates true dreams with ghosts, and continue with his identification of all the gates Homer mentions with the Gates of Horn and Ivory; Amory 1966: 7. Highbarger’s theory concerning the Gates of Sleep, suggesting that the Gate of Ivory is the Gate of Olympus and that true dreams are really ghosts which come through the Gate of Horn, which is the Gate of Hades, has also been explained and thoroughly refuted by Amory, who describes Highbarger’s argument concerning Penelope’s geese-dream as ‘so confused and circular that it is impossible even to summarize it’; Amory 1966: 10-11.
Odysseam, 1877.34-39). Amory notes that, because this explanation was preferred by Servius, it has remained popular (Servius, Grammatici qui feruntur in Vergilii carmina commentarii, 6.893).346 Another interpretation is that horn is true because one can see through horn, while ivory is false, that is, blurred or opaque, because one cannot see through ivory (Eustathius, Commentarios in Homeri Iliadem et Odysseam, 1877.33-35).
Amory argues that this explanation ‘comes closest’ to what ‘Homer intended’, though its apparent simplicity led to scholarly neglect.347 Amory has also rejected Carpenter’s argument that the idea is connected with the end of the Scythian ivory trade, so ivory products now had to be made of horn, all of which is intended to support a date of the end of the seventh century for the Odyssey.348
The most interesting theory in light of more recent work is that concerning word play; that the nature of the Gates is based on puns. This theory also originates from Eustathius (Eustathius, Commentarios in Homeri Iliadem et Odysseam, 1877.26-30).
Amory argued that, though the idea that words can be key to ‘early myth-making’
suggests that this word play is important, ‘it contributes nothing to the problem of the origin of the notion’ – whether word play suggested the idea of the gates, or the idea of the gates ‘prompted’ the word play.349 Amory was forced to conclude that the origin of the motif was impossible to ascertain, though importantly she does note that it may simply be the product of Homer’s imagination.350
346 Amory 1966: 6.
347 Amory 1966: 6.
348 Amory 1966: 12-13.
349 Amory 1966: 5.
350 Amory 1966: 14.
However, more recently, Noegel has argued that the punning hermeneutic found in Near Eastern oneirology can also be seen in Penelope’s dream in the Odyssey.351 (This is also, as Noegel has noted, a common method found in dream books; see below). He is particularly interested in Penelope’s explanation of the significance of the Gates of Horn and ivory (horn, κεράς, produces dreams which are fulfilled, κραίνω, while ivory, ἐλέφας, produces dreams which are harmful, ἐλεφαίρομαι) (Homer, Odyssey, 19.559-569).352 Noegel has noted that Penelope’s dream features an omen within an omen, as the flight of birds could also be considered divinatory.353 It may be that Noegel has gone some way to solving the question of the origin of the Gates of Sleep. The word play suggested the idea of the gates, because word play was, in the cultural imagination, a recognised way of finding meaning in dreams and other semiotic systems. Amory had argued that paronomasia alone was an unlikely explanation, as the words are not obvious pairs.354 She argues for the transparency theory, noting that neither substance is
completely transparent, as all dreams are obscure.355 However, with increased
information from Noegel’s study, we may tentatively suggest that paronomasia is, indeed, the source of the Gates of Dreams.
When Homer does use symbolic dreams, he exploits them for their maximum dramatic potential, particularly in the case of Penelope’s second dream. One of the most difficult things about symbolic dreams for the characters is that it is very hard to tell whether they are significant or not and what they mean. Dodds described Penelope’s dream concerning
351 Noegel argues that this link can also be seen in Agamemnon’s dream in the Iliad; Noegel 2007: 193.
352 See Noegel 2007: 206.
353 Noegel 2007: 199.
354 Amory 1966: 33.
355 Amory 1966: 34.
her geese as a wish-fulfilment dream, but that label is better applied to the second of Penelope’s dreams, for, although she thinks that the dream of the geese is not prophetic, it leads her to her famous description of the Gates of Dreams and is clearly symbolic and prophetic to the reader or audience.356 Her other dream, however, is more ambiguous.
Penelope dreams that Odysseus has returned, looking as he did twenty years ago
(Odyssey, 20.83-90). This dream works on several levels. Odysseus believes that it means that Penelope has somehow sensed that he is near and is pleased (Odyssey, 20.91-94).
Penelope herself is distressed, thinking that the gods are mocking her by making her dream of something that will never happen (Odysseus may never return; he certainly will not look the same as he did when he left). The reader does not know whether this dream is a significant, symbolic dream sent by a god to tell Penelope that Odysseus will soon return, or simply a wish-fulfilment dream of Penelope’s own making, which is made particularly poignant by the detail that, in the dream, Odysseus still looked as young as he did when he left. The poet leaves this up to the audience to decide for themselves.357
In Homer, we see dreams used chiefly as a means of communication between mortal and divine, but Penelope’s dreams are more complicated. It is Penelope’s dreams that are reflected in later works of Greek literature, in which the message dream becomes less and less important and the symbolic dream takes precedence.
356 Dodds 1951: 106.
357 Homer also makes occasional references to non-significant dreams, one of which, the description of Achilles and Hector chasing each other and unable to catch each other, as in a dream, was famously referenced by Virgil (Homer, Iliad, 22.199, Virgil, Aeneid, 12.908-914). Wiedhorn described the reference to a common form of bad dream as the anxiety dream entering Homer’s work ‘through the back door’;
Wiedhorn 1967: 69.
The Tragedy of Dreams
Symbolic dreams, as a literary device, are very different from message dreams. A
message dream contains a message that comes unequivocally from a god or divine figure and which, usually, the dreamer must act upon. The implication is that the dreamer will do well if they act on the dream (though this is not always the case, as Agamemnon discovered).
A symbolic dream, however, is quite different. First, the dreamer cannot be sure whether the dream came from the divine or not, as the great majority of non-divine dreams are symbolic dreams (that is to say, they are made up of a series of images, rather than containing a direct message). This can confuse characters in a work of imaginative literature, as they are uncertain of the provenance or accuracy of the dream. Secondly, although many message dreams provide clear actions which the dreamer can take to avoid misfortune, symbolic dreams usually offer a simple prediction of an unavoidable fate. Most recipients of symbolic dreams will be unable to react in any way to the dream, and those who try are doomed to failure (for example, see below on Croesus). Symbolic dreams are also less personal than message dreams; they provide an impersonal divine sign or omen of an event that is fated to take place, whereas message dreams often offer the dreamer a chance to communicate with a god, divine spirit or dead person.
With this in mind, it is perhaps unsurprising that the Greek tragedians, whose work makes up the bulk of our evidence for literary dreams in Classical Greece, preferred symbolic dreams to message dreams. In epic poetry, there is (usually) a divine machinery driving the plot and messages from the gods are used to tell the heroes what to do or to
accurately predict the eventual outcome of the story. However, in tragedy, the plot more often requires the heroes to misunderstand a message from the gods, and so the clear and usually unmistakeable message dream gives way to the symbolic dream. Symbolic dreams are even more prone to misunderstanding than oracular pronouncements and more likely to lead to a tragic (in the sense of sad) outcome, such as that narrowly averted in Iphigenia in Tauris (see below). Rather than offer tragic characters a chance to
communicate with the gods, or a personal divine message, they provide a sign of inevitable fate that is often unpleasant for the dreamer.
Although Euripides’ plays include a fairly large number of references to dreams, only three out of his nineteen surviving plays feature dreams in a significant role (Hecuba, Iphigenia in Tauris and Rhesus, the last of which may be spurious). Of Sophocles’
surviving plays, only Electra features dreams in a significant role, and the dreams in that play may be inspired by its intertextual relationship with Aeschylus’ Libation Bearers.358 Jocasta’s statement in Oedipus Rex concerning men dreaming of sleeping with their mothers has received much attention in later scholarship, thanks to Freud, but it is the only mention of dreams in the play, and is simply part of Jocasta’s attempts to calm and reassure Oedipus. However, of the seven surviving plays of Aeschylus, dreams play a significant role in four plays; Persians, Agamemnon, Libation Bearers, and Prometheus
358 Devereux argued that Clytemnestra’s dream in Sophocles’ Electra does not perform any necessary dramatic function, but is included only as a reference to Aeschylus’ Libation Bearers, one which Euripides drops; Devereux 1976: 251. Bowman, on the other hand, argues that the oracle of Apollo and the dream of Clytemnestra in Sophocles’ Electra are both used to minimise the importance of Clytemnestra, and so to reduce the moral grey area surrounding her death, and that, although the dream in Sophocles’ Electra mirrors that of Libation Bearers in terms of the dreamer and how it affects her, the content of the dream is more similar to the second dream of Astyages in Herodotus’ Histories; Bowman 1997: 132, 138. Bowman argues that the similarity between the two dreams, in which a plant grows from the parent to overshadow the country which the offspring will usurp from the dreamer, ‘is too striking to be coincidental’; Bowman 1997: 140. Pelling has also linked these two dreams, suggesting that the spreading tree is a particularly clear sign of future domination; Pelling 1996: 69.
Bound, in which dreams play an important role in a narrative within the play, the story of Io.
Comparing the number of surviving plays to the number of plays in which dreams are important, this would seem to suggest that Sophocles was not particularly interested in them, Euripides used them when he felt it necessary, and Aeschylus found them a particularly useful device; however, since these statistics may be the result of an accident of preservation, we cannot say so for sure (though the appearances of two ghosts in Aeschylus, one in Euripides and none in Sophocles suggests a similar level of interest in
Comparing the number of surviving plays to the number of plays in which dreams are important, this would seem to suggest that Sophocles was not particularly interested in them, Euripides used them when he felt it necessary, and Aeschylus found them a particularly useful device; however, since these statistics may be the result of an accident of preservation, we cannot say so for sure (though the appearances of two ghosts in Aeschylus, one in Euripides and none in Sophocles suggests a similar level of interest in