Design Sensible: Northern Lights and other psychic stories by E. D'Espérance 9

Northern Lights and other psychic stories
by E. D'Espérance.

Author of Shadowland

London
George Redway
1899

Psychic Stories

Strange Excursions

Of late years many clever and learned scientists have gone out of their way to demonstrate a fact which William Shakespeare, some three centuries agone, considered beyond dispute.

One of these learned gentlemen - for whom by the way the writer has a great respect - has occupied many years of his life in the conduction of some hundreds of experiments, the results of which, he says, go to prove beyond doubt "that exteriorization of sensibility is a condition possible of accomplishment by hypnotic suggestion, and otherwise."

To many intelligent readers this statement does not convey much meaning, since he has coined the word "exteriorization."

The writer, however, had the advantage of being present at one of the experiments, and was favoured with an oral explanation, as well as an illustration, of the meaning og the mysterious word, which might have suggested something very different from what was actually intended.

Mons. de Rochas, by this experiments, tries to prove the facts that man is a twofold being, possessing a material body and a spiritual body; that the material body is entirely dependent on the spiritual body for its existence, but that the spiritual body - even during the life of the material body, by which its movements are hampered and confined - can, under certain circumstances. take a holiday as it were, and go off on its own accord, or wander about in search of adventures.

Mons. de Rochas illustrates this theory by sending his subject into a hypnotic sleep, and then he finds, by sticking pins into, or pinching, the air, within a certain distance of the sleeper, that the subject flinches or cries out, as though the pricks or pinches were made upon his person; while if the experiment is made on the patient's body itself he gives no sign of sensibility.

It is difficult to see how this proves the theory of the independent action of the spiritual body, but in some roundabout way Mons. de Rochas thinks it will.

There is a saying that "All roads lead to Rome," and though it would seem that Mons. de Rochas has chosen a very circuitous one, it may be just as safe as the shortest, and possibly some objects of interest may be found on it to beguile the time, till he reaches his destination.

That human being possess a material body and spiritual body, was told to man ages and ages ago, but it is the fashion of the hour to be sceptical of all things which have not been tested and proven by our own wisdom and intelligence, in which we place implicit confidence. Faith is nowadays no longer the mode. Men prefer to believe themselves capable of drawing correct inferences and conclusions from their own experiments or arguments, rather than accept the simple statements without palpable demonstration of a long ago dead chronicler.

It is not the writer's province to say they are wrong. Reason, the chiefest glory of man, should be exercised as freely as his limbs; but, in spite of his reasoning powers, man is amazingly shortsighted, and allows much of the proof that he craves for to pass by unnoticed. Nature lays the keys to her secrets under his very eyes, but he does not see them, and busies himself with what he terms "scientific experiments," to prove a fact which more simple and less learned folk have never doubted.

Without any pretence of proving a theory, or bringing an argument for or against the deductions made by these learned gentlemen, I will relate some incidents, selected from a large number of equal value and interest. Circumstances having proved the truth of these particular cases to be incontrovertible, they are chosen in preference to others, and from them the reader may judge whether the independent action of the spiritual body of still living persons is, or is not, proven.

A gentleman residing in Sweden, much interested in the dairy industry, had for many years been experimenting with milk and its products, with the view of rendering them free from the germs of fermentation. In these experiments he was assisted by a member of the household, E. E., a lady who carried out his instructions when he, Mr. F., was, for business or other reasons, unable to superintend the work himself.

In 1893 Mr. F. was asked by the principal of a large, well-known dairy firm in Holland, for assistance and advice concerning some difficulty they were in. As this difficulty was one which had occasioned Mr. F. a good deal of work at different times, and which had been to a great extent overcome, he promised his help, but was prevented by business from undertaking the journey. He proposed that, as E. E. was fully competent to give the required instruction, she should go instead. Letters were exchanged, and the matter settled; but the journey was postponed for a week or two, in order that some experiments then on hand might be completed.

It was considered that the results of the microscopical and chemical trials would be useful in illustrating the why and wherefore of the necessity of certain measures to be taken in dealing with the said difficulty.

Mr. F. being away for a few days, his assistant went on with her work of preparing samples for the microscope as well as for the analysts. In her relation she says: -

"I had several days, with the help of Herr E., worked with the aid of a powerful microscope, without obtaining the conclusion we had expected, viz., that the changes in the different preparations were caused by the development of one particular kind of bacteria.

"Several more day' work in the laboratory, and with the help of the town analyst, was also without any satisfactory result. These failures caused me to suspect that the samples had not been prepared carefully enough, or had not been prepared carefully enough, or had not been kept at the temperature which Mr. F. had ordered, but, as I had been compelled to entrust some part of the work to the people at a dairy, I could not be absolutely sure that all the instructions had been faithfully carried out.

"I decided, therefore, that in order to be sure the work was done properly it must be done at a dairy. For this purpose I wrote to Herr Lamberg - a friend of Mr. F. - who owned a well fitted-up dairy at Bonared, and obtained permission from him to make any use I liked of his dairy, and to consider both it and the assistants at my disposal. I accordingly resolved to go there on the following morning, the 27th October 1893.

"Bonared lies some fifty miles from Gothernburg as the bird flies, but human beings are not supplied with the same means of locomotion, and must needs go a considerably longer way round by train, by steamer, and then by horses and carriage, so that the journey takes some five or six hours to accomplish.

"I had need to be early astir, so made all my preparations before going to bed, and age orders to be awakened early in the morning, in order to catch the first train.

"The fear of not being called in time kept me awake a good while, but at last I slept, and whilst asleep it seemed to me that I must have set out on my journey, and gone to Bonared. Arrived there, I found nothing had been prepared for my coming, nor were the arrangements such that I could do my work without some alterations. It was necessary that I should have access to have machine-room, as well as liberty to use ice, for the purpose of lowering the temperature of the chamber where my samples must be prepared. This the dairy manager refused point black, saying that his master had the key of the one, and had given orders that the other must not be touched.

"Irritated and annoyed at the delay thus caused, I make up my mind to seek Herr Lamberg, and get the required permission. Herr Lambergs's residence in Skene is fully five miles from Bonared, but I found myself there at once, dressed in my dairy-maid's costume, and with a milk cylinder and thermometer in my hands. How I came there I do not know, neither do I know how I reached Bonared.

"At Skene I asked for Herr Lamberg, but was told I could not see him, as he had not yet left his bedroom.

"I made my way to his room, where at the door I met his wife. I explained to her that it was necessary for me to see her husband without delay, and told her why, but she refused, saying her husband was still asleep, and she would not have him disturbed.

"It seemed to me that Mrs. Lamberg, for some reason or other, was determined I should not speak with him. This new hindrance vexed me, and i made up my mind that I would not be prevented from accomplishing the object of my journey.

"I went into the room, when Mrs. Lamberg again remonstrated angrily at my action. I saw Mr Lamberg lying in bed, and lifting up his head stared at me with a sort of horrified expression. At this I began to think I had better wait in another room, and sighing over the tiresomeness of the delay, I turned and was passing out, when - the opening of a door aroused me from what had apparently been a profound slumber. It was the servant entering with my morning coffee, and bringing with her a telegram from Mr. F., saying that, as he would be returning home the same day, the journey to Bonared could be put off.

"It was really with difficulty I could persuade myself that my visit to the dairy, and the home of Herr Lamberg, had no other foundation than the baseless fabric of a vision. I felt as physically tired as though I had actually taken a wearisome journey, and was glad to be able to indulge in another hour's sleep, instead of hurrying to catch a train. This happened on the morning of October 27, 1893, and when Mr. F. returned later in the day, I report non-success of our experiment, and told him how my anxiety to get the work done had haunted my sleep the previous night."

The rest of the incident is related by Mr. F., who published the story in a German magazine; he says; -

"A few day days later, from 31st October till 2nd November, Herr August Lamberg visited Gothenburg, and called to see me. In the course of conversation he inquired if E. E. was at home, and if she had been recently in his neighbourhood. He was told that she was at home, and had not been away for some time. Whereupon he remarked -

"It may sound strange to you; in fact, I cannot understand it myself, but I am absolutely certain E. E. was in my house in Skene last Friday. How can she have been at the same time in Gothenburg?"

"'I cannot pretend to understand it. I can only state what I am convinced is a fact."

"On being asked for further particulars, Herr Lamberg said -

"'Last Friday (the 27th October 1893), early in the morning, my wife suddenly awakened me saying, "E. E. is here in the room." When I had fully roused myself, she told me that E. E. had been in the room, but while she (my wife) was awakening me, she told me, she had gone out of sight My wife explained that she had been lying awake, when the door opened and E. E. came in and stood looking at us. She had a large thermometer in her hand. My wife did not understand what E. E. wanted, but judged from form the fact of her having a thermometer in her hand that it had something to do with temperature. I of course got up immediately, but found no trace of E. E. in the house. On making further inquiries, my wife said E. E. was wearing a pale print dress, with short sleeves and a white apron. She carried something in one hand which she did not notice particularly, and in the other she held a thermometer.'"

Mrs. Lamberg expressed herself willing, if need be, to declare on oath before the Notary Public that she had seen E. E. at the time and under the circumstances stated. This, however, was not insisted upon, but a document was drawn up which was signed in the presence of three witnesses, testifying to the fact that about four o'clock of the morning of the 27th October 1893, E. E. stood in her chamber in Skene, and that she - Mrs. L. - was fully awake at the time, and recognised her without difficulty.

Mrs. L. added afterwards that E. E.'s appearance did not surprise her as it might otherwise have done, because she was aware of the fact that E. E. intended carrying out some experiments in her husband's dairy at Bonared, but she did not know exactly when.

The witnesses to the document ate three of the most respectable persons in Skene, to whom Mrs. Lamberg had told the story the same day it happened.

In further corroboration of the previous statement, and to preclude the possibility of suspicion that it was E. E. herself, in proper person, who was seen by Mrs. Lamberg, a young lady, the foster-daughter of Mr F., made the following statement: -

"On the evening of 26th October 1893, E. E. decided to go to Bonared to make some experiments. and after having discussed several different matters, and given me some instructions to be carried out, she retired as usual. To my certain knowledge she was in her room next morning, 27th October 1893, from three hours after the time she is said to have been seen in Skene. at seven o'clock she drank a cup of coffee."

In conclusion this story, an additional note is appended as follows: -

"What is here related are simply the bare facts of the strange incident. I do not offer any explanation. I leave that to others."

Neither does the present writer attempt to explain, tough it would seem in this case that the plea of coincidence does not cover the ground.

It might be urged that if in sleep the spirit can visit other scenes and other places, it would be glad to leave such mundane affairs to the care of its material colleague, and seek spheres more in keeping with its spiritual nature.

Who knows? Perhaps it does, but it may be that on its return it can only communicate such details to the material brain as that earthly organ can grasp and understand; that the brain, confined to earth, can understand only such matters as pertain to earth.

But speculation on this subject would open up a vast unexplored land, and I leave the reader to penetrate it for himself.

The next story is not of so commonplace a character, but one likely to become historical.

In the year 1894, a circumstance occurred in the north of Sweden, which, for a very long time, occupied the thoughts of the greater part of the inhabitants of the whole country, and exercised the minds of the cleverest judges and juries for several months. The occurrence in question was the death of a man called Johansson, and the peculiar circumstances that attended it.

Johansson had lived the commonplace life of an ordinary business man, of whose existence probably very few of his own little circle were aware. He was accustomed to buy and sell timber, to act as agent for the peasants round about in the disposal of the woods and forests which they owned, to arrange sales, make contracts with the owners of sawmills for the delivery of certain quantities of timber, and was considered a capable man of business.

A good deal of money passed through his hands at different times, as, for instance, when he received payment for the timber floated down the rivers in the spring to the various sawmills. It was on one of these occasions, when he was going north by train with bundles of bank notes in a leathern case, that he was found by the guard of the train lying on the seat of the carriage, to all appearance fast asleep. The guard did not disturb him till the train stopped at the station where Johansson was to alight, and then, when trying to arouse him, he was horror-struck to discover that is was no ordinary slumber, but the sleep of death.

There was no sign of any disturbance; there was no other passenger in the compartment; and the guard had passed and repassed him several times during the journey, and had seen nothing to excite suspicion or even interest.

But the man was dead! There was no evidence whatever to show how he had come by his death, and the most convenient assumption was that he dad died of "heart-stroke." The newspaper accordingly reported the sudden death of Johansson in the train as the result of heart disease, and the man's friends, and the public generally, accepted the newspaper statement without question.

The money which he should have had was not found on the body, but that did not for the moment excite comment, because so far as any one knew he might have paid it away before setting out on the journey, or possibly had not lifted it as had been stated.

In the meantime, however, the man's body was conveyed to his house, and a more careful examination brought to light the fact that death had been caused by blows on the head, from some heavy blunt instrument; that, in fact, there was no doubt whatever that he had been murdered.

Further inquiries elicited the fact that he had neither banked nor pair away the money he had with him, but carried bank notes to the value of several thousands of crowns on his person, or in a leathern case slung round his shoulders by a strap. This case was empty, and the fact of o money being found gave grounds for the inference that the unfortunate man gad been murdered for the money which he carried.

Crimes of so violent a nature are so rare in Sweden, that the discovery caused great excitement and consternation throughout the country. As to who had done the deed there was no evidence whatever to show. No clue of any kind was found to guide the detectives in their search, and as day after day passed and no elucidation was forthcoming, people began to consider it a mystery that there was no hope of solving; when a strange rumour came from the town of Gefle which, in a sense, electrified all concerned in the inquiry, affording unlimited "copy"for the newspapers, as well as subjects for discussion and speculation to their readers.

The death of Johansson took place on the 18th of January, in the morning, and the rumours was that about the same hour of the same day a woman lying in her bed a Gefle - some three hundred or four hundred miles south of the scene of the murder - had a vision in which she saw the murder enacted, and which she related to her husband and others on awakening. The story of the vision I give here verbatim, as published in the local newspaper of Gefle, Norlandspsten, whence it was copied into almost every newspaper in the land.

Mrs. Holm, who is said to be connected with the Salvation Army, and is the wife of a respectable citizen of Gefle - a town on the north-east coast of Sweden - early on the morning of the 18th of January dreamed that she found herself somewhere north of Sundsvall, where Mr. Johansson resided. Of what she was doing there, of wanted to do , she had no clear idea, but she seemed to be bound for some place still further "upwards," that is to say, further north, and for this end in view she found herself at a railway station. There was no one else there. As she stood on the platform, waiting for the train, she noticed a large building in course of erection beside the station. The train drew up at the platform, and she stepped into a secondclass carriage in which she found herself was entered at the end, and divided into compartments, not after the style of the more elegant Pullman cars with a side corridor running the length of the carriage, but the compartments communicated with each other by doors in the middle of the walls which divided them, so that the guard or passengers could walk through the carriages from one end to the other, the seats on each side of the doors affording room for two persons.

The doors between the compartments had the upper panes of glass, so that any one sitting in one compartment, could if so inclined, keep his eyes on his neighbours next door.

She seated herself in one of the compartments. There were many people with the train, some of whom got out at the next station. She felt ashamed of being seen, because she was ill-dressed and barefooted, and when the train moved on, she got up from her seat and walked through the carriage, trying to find a compartment where she might be alone. Passing into the one next to where she had been sitting, she saw that it was occupied by two men. One, the shortest of them, was young, clean-shaven, blond, and poorly clad, and had a heavy, sullen face - evidently a peasant. The other was a tall, well-built man, well dressed in furlined pelisse,wore a "pincenez," had closecut whiskers and beard, and a dark moustache brushed upwards in the prevailing fashion.

She smiled to herself, the contrast between the friends being so great, the one so fine a gentleman, and the other so simple a peasant. Both looked at her in distinct annoyance at her intrusion, and as it seemed to her with a sort of watchfulness. She passed therefore to the door of the next compartment and looked through the glass. It was the end compartment, and the back seat was the full width of the carriage without a door to divide it. A man was lying asleep on this seat. At first the thought it was her husband and wondered how he could have come there, but noticed immediately that the man's hair and beard were darker in colour, and that she had been mistaken.

She entered the compartment and, unnoticed by the sleeping man, seated herself in the corner farthest from him, hiding her naked feet under her skirts.

Immediately afterwards the door again opened, and a tall broad-shouldered man entered. He was dressed in a winter cap and brownish overcoat, had round rather full cheeks, and full beard and moustache. Without taking the slightest notice of her, he took from his pocket a piece of lead, about two inches in length and tied in one corner of a red spotted handkerchief; glanced at the sleeper, who lay on his right side with his right arm under his head; and then dealt him a blow with the leaden weight just above the left ear.

The man seemed only to stretch himself a little. Behind him against the wall, she saw a leathern case or bag, but whether it lay loose, or was attached to his body by a strap, she could not see.

The murderer then tried to snatch the bag, but the partially-stunned man raised himself somewhat and grasped the bag with his left hand, whereupon the murderer dealt him another harder blow with the loaded kerchief, and his victim drew a deep breath, stretched himself out on the seat, and all was over.

The murderer, who was still seemingly unconscious of her presence, then opened the bag, and took from it several packets of bank note, some large and square, others smaller and oblong. Taking a knife from his pocket, he opened his overcoat and made a slit in the lining, cutting from left to right. Then between the lining and the outer cloth he thrust the packets of notes, and laid the bag back into its place behind the dead man.

With a terrified scream Mrs. Holm awoke. It was then between four and five o'clock in the morning of January 18.

Her husband, aroused by her cry, inquired the cause of her alarm and she related the vision to him, at the same time expressing her conviction that their son, whom they were expecting home from a journey, had been murdered in the train. And it was only after being assured that her son could not possibly be in the pat of the country of which she had dreamed, that she could be calmed. Although her nerves became gradually quietened, she stated her conviction that, if not her son, then some one else had been murdered in a train, and she eagerly scanned the newspapers to see if thy held any verification of her dream.

It was not until four days later that the report of Johansson's death from heart-stroke in the train to Boden appeared in the newspaper. On of Mrs. Holm's sons was engaged in the printing office of the same paper, and after reading the notice she went to him, and asked if it was quite certain that Johansson had died a natural death. She spoke again of her vision, but her son assured her had the man died from violence it would have been known, and he bade her not bother her head further about her dream.

Before the next issue of the newspaper, however, news had come of the discovery that Johansson had been murderer and robbed. Together with these later particulars the newspaper printed the story of the singular dream which, although known some days earlier, had not been considered of any value; the editor even then simply commenting upon it as a curious coincidence.

The publication of this dream brought Mrs. Holm into - for her - unenviable notoriety. Interviewed by newspaper reporters, journalists, detectives, and others, out of sheer curiosity, she found herself in anything but an agreeable position. Nothing new however was elicited, no further clue was found, and so the matter, after being a nine days' wonder, gradually ceased to be of absorbing interest; and the discovery of the murderer of the ill-fated Johansson was apparently no nearer.

***

At different times during the previous two of three years, several robberies had taken place in different parts of the north of Sweden. Despite their utmost efforts, the police had not been able to discover the guilty parties, or to bring a charge against any single person, although they were morally convinced that a man called Westermak-Rosén was concerned in most of them, either alone or in conjunction with a gang of thieves, of which it was suspected he was the leader.

But with all their skill the detectives failed to discover any proof against him. Several times he had been charged with certain crimes, but in all cases an alibi was proven, and the man - sorely against the inclination of the magistrates - was perforce released triumphant and insolent, vowing revenge on his detractors and accusers.

This Westermak-Rosén was said to be a well-educated, accomplished man, but a thorough scoundrel, cunning and wily as a fox, and a good actor; able to assume at will the character most suited to the design he wished to carry out. All this was known to the emissaries of the law, yet he, knowing the law as well as the best of them, contrived to baffle them completely. They could never catch him red handed, and although at times the evidence was so strong that his conviction seemed certain, yet there was always a sufficient proof that he, at the time of the perpetration of the crime, was engaged in some very ordinary business a hundred miles away, there being no lack of people to testify to the fact.

It was generally supposed that the man had a "double,"and that they worked to each other's hands, the "double"being very much in evidence in some particular place, while Westermark-Rosén, in another character, committed the depredation.

However he managed, he did in cleverly; but the cleverest can at some time overreach himself, and so it happened that he was taken before the magistrates charged with some lesser theft from which he failed to free himself. During the inquiry the detectives, ever on the alert in regard to the murder of Johansson, tried to prove that the accused man had been in the neighbourhood, if not on the train, when the murder took place; but the usual alibi was pleaded, and several persons were called who swore that he was in another part of Sweden at the time.

The inquiry created much discussion, and public demanded that Westermark-Rosén should be kept in confinement till the murderer had been discovered, the impression of his guilt being stronger than the evidence of his innocence. Several months had elapsed since the murder of Johansson, when it was decided to bring Mrs.. Holm to the court, and unknown to her, into the presence of Wetermark-Rosén and his accomplice in the theft with which he stood charged.

Such is briefly the story of WEtermak-Rosén, and his position at the time. I now resume the story as told by the newspapers.

Mrs. Holm was conducted north to the court to give her evidence respecting her remarkable dream. When on the railway, the train stopped at the station of Bastutrask - the station before Jörn; and looking out of the carriage window, she cried -

"It was here that in my dream I got into the train, but the house they were then building where is it?"

"There is the house they were erecting at the time," replied Herr Styrlander, who was escorting her (pointing to a large building near the station), "but it was finished and ready some time ago.

The railway carriage she could not recognise. The interior arrangements, she said, were in the very same carriage in which the murder was committed. This she could not understand. The guard was called and questioned, and he stated that after the murder the carriage had been altered and entirely refitted, the old doorways and dividing walls being removed, and a corridor running the length of one side of the carriage being made instead. At the time of the murder it was just as Mrs. Holm described as having seen in the her dream.

On Tuesday morning, immediately before the opening of the court, Mrs. Holm, accompanied by another lady, was brought into the anteroom of the hall of justice. There were a number of persons waiting to be called, and several in attendance to watch the result. Walking round the room with an officer of the court, Mrs. Holm stopped suddenly near two men who were quietly seated. The one had an overcoat lying across his knees, the lining turned outwards.

"Here must be the murderer's coat," she exclaimed.

The man started up with an oath, letting fall the coat. Looking him full in the face, she added, "And this is the man I saw murder Johansson in the train."

It was Westermark-Rosén, who was hadcuffed, and the man beside him was a prison warder.

Laer, when being questioned in the court, the judge asked, "Do you recognise in the prisoner, Westeramrk-Rosén, the person you dreamed you saw murder Johansson?" She answered unhesitatingly, "Yes."

"Do you recognise the overcoat he wore?"

To this she also replied without hesitation, "Yes, I feel sure, if you examine it, it will be found to have a slit in the lining at the right-hand side where he hid the bank-notes."

Thereupon the coat was carefully examined, and in the lining, on the side indicated by the witness, was found a neatly sewn seam that had once been a cut across, and had been carefully repaired.

Westermark-Rosén had turned deadly pale, and for the first time during this long inquiry seemed to lose control over himself. He was greatly agitated, his eyes wandering searchingly about him, as if looking for some means of escape. He carefully avoided looking at Mrs. Holm, although ordered to do so. It was fully fifteen minutes before he recovered his usual cool, somewhat insolent deportment. When he spoke it was with an evident effort, but he remarked nonchalantly, "There is nothing remarkable in such a dream; in these enlightened times such things can be explained."

In the meantime the man Viklund, Westermark-Rosén's accomplice in the robbery for which they were being tried, was quietly brought into court, and placed where Mrs. Holm could not fail to see him. Her attention was in nowise drawn to him, but the moment her glance fell on him she seemed to recognise him, and then, pointing to him, said, " That is the young man who sat in the compartment next to where Johansson was murdered."

Viklund replied to this only by a broad grin.

W. Rosen, who usually talked to, questioned, scoffed, sneered at, and cross-questioned the witnesses, in order to bewilder and make them contradict themselves, and who only that day had been removed from the court in consequence of this unseemly behaviour, was, during the examination of Mrs. Holm, absolutely silent, and nervously ill at ease.

The result of Mrs. Holm's evidence caused a profound sensation, which was not lessened by the nervousness displayed by the prisoner; but although judge, jury, and, in fact, all in crowded court, as well as the general public, expressed their undoubted conviction that Westermark-Rosén was guilty of the murder of Johansson, still the law does not take dreams into account as legal evidence, and therefore he could only be sentenced for some other lesser crimes for which he stood arraigned.

The judge, in summing up the case, said he regretted he could "do no more than this."

A sentence of three years' imprisonment was passed, which was the extreme limit of the law for such offences as were proved against him.

This sentence was looked upon by the general public as a sort of remand to give time for further developments, but up to the present no more light has been thrown on he matter.

Westermark-Rosén has since been released from prison, and the murder as well as the dream bid fair to remain what they have been up to the present - a mystery.

***

I will now very briefly relate my own experience of excursions taken in the dream state. Once, when staying at Mr. Sjöstedt's in Christiania, I was, as I thought awakened by clanging of bells. I was very tired and wanted to sleep, but could no do so. I appeared to me that I got up and vent out to see why they were making such a terrible noise. How I passed from my room I do not know, but once outside I felt that the slightest touch of the ground was sufficient to carry me several hundred feet; so I amused myself in practising this method of flying. Just then it seemed that Mr. S. joined me, and I taught him how to fly. I then went to the church, returned to my room, and went to sleep. In the morning , when at breakfast, Mr. S. said, "I had a very curious dream. I thought I was out with you, and that you taught me to fly." We then discussed our various dreams and found that they coincided; so I went over to the church to see how far the rest of the dream might be true. I found the church in every respect the same inside as that which I had visited. I saw the belfry and the ringers; and the old man - the caretaker - I particularly recognised as he was dusting the seats.

Some time after this I was visiting some friends in Berlin, and on the Saturday night, after I had retired, I dreamed I was out in the streets, that it was raining, and that I had little more on than my night dress. Not knowing the city, I was afraid I might not find my way home. Just then a woman rushed out of an opening and fled past me, screaming "Murder! Police!" She was closely followed by a man, with a knife in his hand, who, I seemed to know, was following her to prevent her giving information of a murder of another woman which he had just then committed. I felt frightened and hurried home, and having awakened between one and two in the morning, I felt so certain that I had been out and experienced what I have described, that I got up to examine my dress and shoes, and to look for the wet splashes of rain, but all bore evidence of the fact that I had not left my room since retiring a few hours previously. Next day, being Sunday, I heard of nothing to corroborate my dream, but on the Monday when the morning papers came there was a full report of the murder.

After this I tried various experiments in order to further explain what I have related. I wrote to a friend saying, Ï tried to visit you last night and it seems to me I succeeded, but all is not clear; there is a vague impression of something particular as to some flowers." My fiend replied, "I was sitting writing until one o'clock in the morning, and alongside of me was little rose tree with two roses in bloom. Just before retiring, I lifted it from the table and put it in its place on the flower stand. In the morning, about seven, I found the roses were cut off and lying beside the stem on the top of the mould."

Sometime after this, when in Helsingfors, the foregoing incidents were discussed, and I was asked if I would try an experiment whereby my friends there might be satisfied of the possibility of waht I had related.

"It would be very interesting. for instance, now that you are going to Petersburg, could you not try to pay us a visit from there?"

"I do not know," I replied dubiously; "I don't think trying has much to do with it. On those occasions I was asleep and helpless, so far as the exercise of my will was concerned."

"But you can try." urged my hostess. "On foes not know one's powers till one tried. It if has been done once involuntarily you may succeed again. Anyway, promise to try."

"I can promise so much," I said, "but I feel sure it is of no use. I don't even know how to go about it. I can only think hard."

"Well, 'think hard' on Wednesday night, and we will be here waiting for you in this room. We will sit here from ten to eleven o'clock and think about you coming. If we cannot see you, you can perhaps make some little sign that we may know you are here; for instance, move the candlestick which will be on the table; or if you cannot do that, rattle the glass collar on the top of it church we will be sure to hear."

I agreed to make the attempt, bu remarked that it was possible I should not be able to dispose of my time, as I did not know what programme my friends in Petersburg might have arranged for me.

"True," they said; "then we will say either Wednesday or Thursday night, between ten and eleven. We will be here both evenings; that will give you a better chance."

Next day found me in St. Petersburg, and I confess I forgot all about my arrangement till, on retiring to be on the Wednesday night, I hear the clock strike twelve. I felt rather guilty, but consoled myself with the reflection that the whole evening had I remembered, it would have been impossible to be alone without exciting remark.

The next evening I went to my room earlier. It was a few minutes after ten. I stood before my toilette table, perplexed and wondering what I should do. I was not sleepy, nor likely to fall asleep immediately, even if I hurried over my hair-brushing and undressing operations. The time too was slipping away. I wondered how much the time varied between Petersburg and Helsingfors, if it were earlier of later there, but I could not reckon it out. In fact, I could no, somehow, keep hold of my thoughts; they would go flying about first here, then there, and I was beginning to feel a little flurried and anxious.

Pulling myself together as it were, I said to my reflection in the mirror before me, "This won't do, you've made a promise and you've got to keep it if you can. You had better set yourself to work to think hard, as you arranged; and remember those good people in Helsingfors are depending on the performance of your part of the agreement."

Thus admonished I turned from the glass and sat down before the writing-table, on which a green-shared reading lamp was burning, and placing my elbows on the table, and my face in my hands, I wondered how I was to begin.

"I will imagine I am going there," I said to myself. So I began in my fancy to leave my room and pass down the stairs into the street, then along to the Finnish Railway, and by train to Helsingfors. On my arrival there I walked through the hard-frozen, snow-covered streets, noting a few passers- by, the houses, the church, the lighted lamps, and thought to myself, "how dismal and still the town is at this hour of night." I entered the boulevard where my friends' house was situated, noting the snow-covered trees and bushes in the park. Then it struck me that it was after ten o'clock, and the entrance gates would be locked, so that I could not get into the house. I reached the gates, they were unfastened, and as I pushed them open I smiled to myself and thought, "What a funny idea it is, I do be sitting here staring at a green lamp shade, yet imaginary peregrinations as if they were actually taking place." But even these reflections made me to some extent loose hold, as it were, on my intention to follow out the fancied journey, and I resolutely shut my eyes to the lamp shade and other surroundings, forcing myself in thought to ascend the many stairs leading to the various étages. I even counted the steps as I ascended - a habit I have had since childhood when going up or down stairs. As I reached the third étage, the recollection of a pair of galoshes I had once seen standing there, like the feet of sentinel who had been spirited away leaving his foot gear behind him, made me laugh as I had laughed at the time.

I passed on up the other flights of stairs and placed my hand on the door handle. It turned and I went in, making my way through the entreé into the drawing-room, which was in darkness. I knew the arrangement of the furniture, and by its means groped my way to the door of the room I had occupied, and where it was decided I should come. I turned the door handle softly and looked in - surprised to note the room was in utter darkness. I was little started at my feeling of surprise, which brought me again back to the consciousness of sitting at the writing-table in a house on Newski Prospect, Petersburg, but with an effort I put this to one side, for I felt a growing interest in my fancied excursion, and was afraid of losing any part of the impressions that were so real to me.

I stood looking into the dark room, wondering why it was dark, and why I could not have imagined it lighted up instead, and whether any one were in the room.

As I stood peering into the darkness I began to be conscious that there were persons in the room, and also to note that a faint light on one side indicated where the windows were. By degrees I could distinguish some dark shapes or shadows dimly defined against the white walls of the room. I counted these shadows; there were ten. I knew they must be persons, but I had not expected to fund more than six - the members of the family. I could not recognize any of them; it was too dark. Turning towards the window, I saw another shadow, more clearly outlined against the faintly lighted white curtains, and something in its shape made me think of Captain T. I watched it curiously for a moment and thought, "If it is the captain he will have on his uniform." I moved over to where the form sat against the window curtain, and put out my hand to touch the shoulder and sleeve of his coat. It was nor an uniform, therefore I decided that the form was not that of the captain.

Standing now with my back to what little light there was, it seemed to me that I could distinguish the different contours of the other figures, and I said to myself, "If I had not been mistaken in respect to the captain, I should have said the figure to the right was that of General T., and the one a little to the left his wife; but it's all nonsense, any way. I am not really seeing anything, I am sitting in my dressing-grown by a table, my hair hanging loose over my shoulders, fabricanting a dream. I had much better go to bed."

Even while admonishing myself, I seemed to be standing beside the figure I had thought to be the captain, when suddenly I saw another shadow or figure I had not previously noticed, crouched on the floor between the sofa and the supposed captain. I wondered a little at this, and wondered, too, at my own invention of surprises, but all the same I decided that the crouching figure must be Ebba, the youngest of the family, as I remembered her habit of sitting on a low stool or on the carpet if interested in any conversation that might be going on; and I smiled to myself at the freaks fancy could play, bringing out little forgotten circumstances as though they were being re-acted before one's eyes.

I had a feeling that there was something I ought to do or say, and I puzzled myself in vain to think what it was. I glanced round the darkened room for a clue that might suggest to my mind what this forgotten something could be; but I gave it up - I could not remember.

Something, a sound of a door opening, or a bell ringing, startle me, and my imaginings vanished.

I felt a little amused at my attempt to "think hard," but at the same time dissatisfied with myself, thinking that if I had gone to bed and had fallen asleep it was possible the imaginings might have taken a more tangible form; but now it was past eleven o'clock and I was feeling curiously weak and tired.

A few day later I returned to Helsingfors.

"You did not come on Wednesday night," remarked my friends, as we sat at dinner that first evening.

"No, I was unable to leave the company till too late," I replied, thinking to myself that I would not confess I hd forgotten. "Were you there waiting?"

"Yes, we were all there, and on Thursday also - did you not try?"

"Yes; I tried, but, you see, I did not in the least know how to go about it, and then I did not get to my room till ten o'clock, and so could not get to sleep in time, so had no hope of succeeding. I did try to fix my thoughts on you all, and tried to imagine I was in the room and saw you all sitting there; but of course I knew it was all imagination, for I really do not think one can do anything like that of one's own will, although I could imagine I saw you all sitting so solemnly in the darkness waiting."

"Yes, we thought you could manage better if we had no light burning."

Oh! that was curious. Do you know, when I tried to fancy myself here, I was a little surprised to find the room quite dark, and it seemed to me that there were ten of you - no, eleven," I corrected as I remembered the crouching figure I had not seen when I had counted the shadowy forms.

"There were only ten of us."

I began to feel a little creepy sensation tingling to my finger-tips.

"Did the captain sit near the far window with his back to i?"

"Yes."

"And the general to the right of the table near the stove?"

"Yes."

"And Mrs. T at his left?"

"Yes."

"And three persons on the sofa opposite the door?"

"Yes."

We looked at each other in growing astonishment.

"The captain did not wear his uniform?"

"Yes, he did."

"Then it's all nonsense; the other things are only coincidences, for if I were really here, the figure I took to be the captain did not wear a uniform. And Ebba - did she not sit on the floor or a low stool between the sofa and the captain?"

"No!" said Ebba, "I sat on the sofa between my sister and Miss H."

"Mistake number tow! I fancied some one sat like that, and naturally thought of Ebba."

"No one sat like that."

So the subject was dismissed and the conversation drifted into other channels. Later, when the captain joined us, he broached the matter again, and I related my attempt to think myself into their midst, mentioning the small discrepancies and coincidences, the uniform, Ebba's position &c.

"But I did not wear my uniform," exclaimed the captain; "I was wet with snow and changed for a house jacket when I came in. I sat near the window with my back to it and not near nay one else. While sitting there, I distinctly felt a had touch my shoulder. You remember I said so," turning to the others. "It quite startled me; it touched me first on the shoulder and stroked downwards to my wrist."

I had not said a word about my imagined examination of the captain's coat sleeve.

"Yes!" exclaimed the others. "We remember your saying some one was touching you."

"It was to be heard plainly enough," rejoined the captain. "I told B., who was sitting nearest, to listen and he would hear the rustle, so he came and knelt down beside me to hear if it came a second time."

"Then it was Barrister B. who was crouching on the floor, whom you mistook for Ebba!"

The matter was beginning to assume a new aspect, and I had a strange, startled feeling, that was not altogether pleasant.

"Then why didn't you touch the candlestick?"

Now I remember what had puzzled me, what I had forgotten and tried to recall, as I stood hesitating and wondering in the dark room.

"I had forgotten. I tried to remember, and looked for something that might recall what I had to do , but it was so dark. I do not think I even say a candlestick; if I had I'm sure I should have recollected."

"We should have left it standing on the table," remarked Countess W.; "then you would have seen it, but some one said that if the table moved it might be thrown down and broken. So we put it in the niche of the stove. It could not easily be seen there in the darkness, but that we did not think about."

Now curiously enough the chain was complete, and my notes of my imaginary visit confirmed -

1st. The room was in darkness

2nd. There were the persons in the room.

3rd. Three of them sat in the position I had seen - viz., the general, his wife, and the captain.

4th. The captain did not wear his uniform.

5th. My touch on his coat sleeve had been heard, felt, and commented on.

6th. The crouching figure was a fact, and my mistake as to there being eleven persons in the room was accounted for by the fact of the barrister changing his place unnoticed by me.

7th. The incident of the candlestick being removed from the table was sufficient reason for my non-recollection of the action I had agreed upon.

Now the question arise: "Is it possible that all these things were mere coincidences?"If any one were to ask me, I should say unhesitatingly "No!"

At the same time I do not attempt to put forward any theory to explain them, though I firmly believe that we mortals are endowed with unsuspected and un-understood powers, which, if studied and cultivated, would open up a vast field for research.

***

Read other stories here.

Pages - Titles

9 - Introductory

24 - Northern Lights

55 - Benno, the vagabond

96 - The warning spirit

108 - Hans Hauptmann’s warning

120 - Pepi

139 - The mill stream

168 - Harald Arnhult

188 - Together