Dream 04 "The Silver King" (Mary Pickford, 1900)

Mary Pickford was still Gladys Smith, just seven years old, when she dreamed she was on stage at the Princess Theatre. At first, there was nothing unusual about that night’s performance. She remembered all of her lines; the audience laughed and drew quiet in all the right places. She was happy and proud.

But then came the scene at the end of the first act, the scene when Denver discovers that he may have killed Ware, and from her spot standing in the wings, Gladys could see that the corpse on stage wasn’t Ware at all – it was her father. She knew it was him – knew it even though she hadn’t seen his face in years – and she was panicked.  He lay there, limp, and she wanted to rush out into the bright lights and save him, to somehow breathe the life back into him. But she couldn’t move. She stood there, bolted in place, and watched him, dead in front of all those people.

But when she wiped away her tears, she realized that his eyes were open; he was looking right at her and he was smiling. With her heart bursting in her chest, she rushed out to him, out onto the stage, to the roar of a thunderous applause.

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Learn about Mary Pickford here. 

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Dream 13 "The Fall of Rob Ford" (Rob Ford, 2012)

Rob Ford dreamed that he walked straight off a cliff.

He was late for a press conference, lost in a park somewhere out by the bluffs. He rushed down one path and then another, frantic, exhausted. It was a sticky summer afternoon. Too hot. Too bright. Suffocating. Below him, the lake flashed dizzying blues and silvers.

He was still a few meters from the edge of the cliff when he realized he was headed towards it. He could see it clearly. But he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t quite gather the thought together in his mind: that he needed to veer away. So instead he walked straight at it and then out over the edge, a mayor falling limply through open space.

He landed on the beach with a heavy, sandy thud. It shocked him awake.

He found himself on the floor, beside his bed, safe in Etobicoke. He lay there for a moment catching his breath, his chest heaving, his pajamas soaked with sweat. Then he hauled himself back up under the covers and drifted off to sleep, blessed with happier dreams of football and open roads and spending time with his family at the cottage in July.

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Dream 03 "The Death of Giovanni Fusillo" (Giovanni Fusillo, 1960)

He’d been in the tunnel too long. The water was already up to his knees and the smoke was getting thicker. It stung his eyes. It burned his throat with each gasp of hot, thick air. The others had gone quiet. He’d lost sight of them in the haze. And he was tired, had to rest against the wall for a moment, had to let himself close his eyes.

He dreamed that he was an old man, sitting on a porch. It was summer, and hot, under an enormous white sun. He took his hat off to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It felt good, this heat, and there were children playing in the road. He liked that. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them, shouting and laughing somewhere nearby. It was nice to sit there in the sun and let his eyes close listening to those happy sounds. He was tired and old and he could feel the strength leaving him, gently easing out of him, and he let himself relax.

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Learn about Giovanni Fusillo here. 

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Dream 02 "The Adultorous Fox" (William Hincks, 1853)

In his dream, William Hincks was at a party. He was in a wonderful mood. His most recent paper on the follies of Darwinism and the superiority of quinarian taxonomy had just been published; he was the toast of the faculty. He drank and danced and laughed.

But at midnight, a fox walked into the room. He was impeccably dressed: his suit cut in the latest fashion, his shoes polished, his gloves crisp and white. He surveyed the room and, catching sight of the professor, approached him.

Hincks was annoyed. He didn’t know this fox; didn’t want his triumphant night disturbed. But there was no escape, the fox caught him by the elbow. “I must speak with you, professor. You see, I have fallen in love with your wife. We’ve been seeing each other socially for several months now. And I understand that under the circumstances, the only honourable course of action is for you to challenge me to a duel. I’ve prepared myself, sir, for whatever may come.”

And with that, the fox drew his sword.

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Learn about William Hincks here. 

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Dream 01 "Metropolitan York" (John Graves Simcoe, 1793)

John Graves Simcoe dreamed that his small town had become a sprawling metropolis. He wandered through the city, amazed. The cobblestones of Yonge Street stretched off into the distance – straight as an arrow – as far as he could see. The shops bustled. Carriages rumbled by in an endless, noisy parade. On nearly every corner, a golden church spire reached up into the heavens so high the peak touched cloud. Between them, giant balloons drifted into the city, baskets brimming with fruit and fish and cloth and exotic beasts from the far-flung capitals of the world. And there were so many people. He wanted to meet each one, to shake their hands and learn their names, but they were already growing faint and dim, slipping away. He found himself awake, in a tent on the tree-lined shore of Lake Ontario, listening to the sound of his men as they built Fort York.

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Learn about John Graves Simcoe here. 

Explore more Toronto Dreams Project postcards here.