夢從想來 Dreams Rise from Thought
三藏道：「徒弟，我剛才伏在案上打盹，做了一個怪夢。」行者跳將起來道：「師父，夢從想中來。你未曾上山，先怕怪物；又愁雷音路遠，不能得到；思念長安，不知何日回程：所以心多夢多。似老孫一點真心，專要西方見佛，更無一個夢兒到我。」三藏道：「徒弟，我這一夢，不是思鄉之夢。才然合眼，見一陣狂風過處，禪房門外有一朝皇帝，自言是烏雞國王。渾身水濕，滿眼垂淚。」這等這等，如此如此，將那夢中話一一的說與行者。三藏道：「徒弟，我刚才伏在案上打盹，做了一个怪梦。」行者跳将起来道：「师父，梦从想中来。你未曾上山，先怕怪物；又愁雷音路远，不能得到；思念长安，不知何日回程：所以心多梦多。似老孙一点真心，专要西方见佛，更无一个梦儿到我。」三藏道：「徒弟，我这一梦，不是思乡之梦。才然合眼，见一阵狂风过处，禅房门外有一朝皇帝，自言是乌鸡国王。浑身水湿，满眼垂泪。」这等这等，如此如此，将那梦中话一一的说与行者。
逐句解 Line by line
Tripitaka said, “Disciple, just now, dozing over the desk, I had a strange dream.”
He leads with the fact and holds back the content, which is how anyone tells a bad dream. 打盹 is to nod off.
Pilgrim sprang up and said, “Master, dreams come out of one’s thoughts.
Wukong is up in one bound and diagnosing before he has heard a word of it. 夢從想中來 — dreams come out of what you have been thinking about — is a perfectly respectable position, and in this one instance completely wrong. 跳將起來 has 將 as the directional jiāng; 想中 takes the locative zhōng.
You have not yet gone up the mountain, and already you fear monsters;
First item on the charge sheet: you are frightened of the mountain before you reach it. 未曾 is "not yet."
you fret, too, that the road to Thunderclap is long and cannot be reached;
Second: you think we will never get there. 雷音 is Thunderclap, the Buddha's monastery in the west and the whole point of the journey; 得到 has 得 as dé, to reach; 不能 keeps 不 as bù.
you long for Chang’an, not knowing what day you will turn homeward: and so, the more the heart frets, the more it dreams.
Third, and the one with real teeth: you are homesick. 長安 cháng ān is the Tang capital they set out from, with 長 as cháng. The diagnosis closes on a tidy formula — 心多夢多, the busier the heart the busier the dreams.
As for old Sun’s single true heart, set wholly on seeing the Buddha in the West — not one dream ever comes to me.”
The boast, and it is a real claim about himself rather than swagger: a mind with one object does not dream at all. 一點真心 is a single point of true heart; 夢兒 ends in the light er; 似 is sì, "as for"; 佛 is always fó; 更 is gèng, "not one, even."
Tripitaka said, “Disciple, this dream of mine is no dream of homesickness.
Tripitaka refuses the diagnosis flatly, which he rarely does. 思鄉 is homesickness.
No sooner had I closed my eyes than, as a gust of wild wind swept past, beyond the Chan-chamber door there stood an emperor of some court, who called himself the king of the Black-Rooster Kingdom.
And the retelling begins with the wind, exactly where the chapter began. 一朝皇帝 is "an emperor of some court," 朝 read cháo; 過處 is "as it passed."
Drenched from head to foot, his eyes brimming with tears.”
Four characters and four more, and the ghost is standing in the room again: soaked through, eyes streaming. 渾身 is the whole body; 垂淚 is shedding tears.
Thus and thus, so and so — he told Pilgrim, one by one, all the words of the dream.
The storyteller's shorthand for a retelling the reader has just sat through: 這等這等 and 如此如此 — thus and thus, so and so. 一一 is "one by one," both characters staying yī because the doubling has set as a word. 將那夢中話 has 將 as jiāng, taking up the words to hand them on, with the pointing 那 and the locative 中.
Wukong meets the vision with brisk rationalist psychology: dreams come out of the dreamer's own preoccupations. He then lists Tripitaka's, accurately — fear of the monsters ahead, worry that Thunderclap is unreachable, longing for Chang'an — and concludes that the busier the heart, the busier the dreams. It is a naturalistic account offered, for once, about a dream that is entirely supernatural and entirely true.
His boast that his own single-pointed heart never dreams is not idle. It sets his spiritual singleness against his master's anxious, crowded mind, which is one of the oppositions the pilgrimage exists to resolve. Tripitaka simply denies the diagnosis and tells the story, and the narrator folds the retelling away in the old formula — thus and thus, so and so — trusting the reader to remember what was said an hour ago.