An Hypnotic Experience.

It is, I think, a good rule for a young writer to follow, not to relate his dreams; for, as a general thing, there is no sort of literary undertaking so easy, so seductive, and so worthless after it is finished. In my own case, however, the rule must be broken for once. My dream came to me under peculiar circumstances. They were so peculiar, indeed, that I believe they give a psychological interest to the dream. With this excuse I shall describe it.

The conditions under which the dream happened to me were these.-Last Friday I read a very dull book nearly all day,-"grinding" for the Mid-years. At length, in the evening, I could stand it no longer. My mind was tired, my memory overtaxed. With one last attempt to master my author's dullness, I yielded to him and retired from the contest exhausted. To invigorate myself I turned to De Quincey. I chanced to take up the volume on Murder, and tried the story of the murderer Johnson. The first few pages were interesting. The interest developed. Before I had read much farther I was conscious of nothing but the meaning of the printed words before me.

I had reached one of the most exciting parts of the story when my lamp went out. For a moment-so wrapped up had I been in De Quincey-I could not collect my thoughts. Then, as I began to realize where I was, I became conscious of a curious numb feeling about me. When I tried to get up from my chair, I could not. I could not move,-not even an eyelid. My muscles, tense with the excitement of the thrilling narrative I had just read, would not respond to my will. A stronger power than my own seemed to hold them fast, and they remained as rigid as if they had been turned to stone. I suppose I was in some sort of a trance; for while I was confined as securely by my inert body as if I were in a close cage, my mind was as active as ever.

Thus I remained for some time. Then a change came over me. I began to grow less and less conscious of sights and sounds around me; I thought less and less of my strange situation, and cared less and less what would become of me. At last the lethargy mastered my senses completely. I had a sensation of falling through endless space, and then my consciousness passed away.

It was while I was in this condition, that my dream came to me. And this is what it was.-

I was in a strange house. The room I was in (so well as I now remember) was large and pleasant,-a homelike room. As a devotee of Hygeia I noticed the hardwood floor and the rugs. With my weakness for the creature comforts I remember the blazing open fire-place, sending out its wholesome warmth throughout the room. Matters were not so cheerful out-of-doors. It was a wintry night. The wind was roaring in great blasts down the chimney, and the black window panes every now and then grew suddenly white with gusts of driving snow. The house was in the country, I should think, for the only noises to be heard above the weather sounds and the crackling of the fire were the voices of two children who were playing in the room.

But the curious part of the whole affair was with myself. I had no body. I call this circumstance a curious one, but this is rather an after thought; at that time it did not seem at all peculiar. I had all my usual perceptions about me. I saw everything that was in the room, heard what the children were saying, felt the warmth of the fire. What was the need of a body? True I could not move; but, in such pleasant surroundings, I was well content to stay where I was. So, in fact, it was not until I thought of exercising the American prerogative, and putting my feet on the fender, that I found out my corporeal insufficiency. As I say, I was perfectly contented. Although I knew that if I should in any way get nearer the fire, I should probably be drawn by the draught up the chimney, I was more struck with the humor of the situation than with its terrors.

Suddenly, chancing to look over towards one of the windows during an unusually sharp blast of the sleet outside, I saw a face peering through the pane. I could not jump,-for lack of salutatory machinery,-but a thrill went through me It was my own face. It was thrust stealthily forward out of the darkness into the light of the window,-and had a look of meanness and cruelty which I would put my eyes out rather than see again. The remembrance of that distorted likeness gives me, even now, a feeling of terror and shame.

During the moment that I remained staring at this apparition of myself, the thought dawned upon me, with the ready intuition common to dreams, that this was my missing body. But what directed its actions? I knew, at once, that when I lost my body, the baser part of my mind, the passions must have remained with it. These passions, then, were the controlling power in this other side of my dual existence. But they could only act for evil! A great fear of what they would do came over me. I tried to warn the people of the house. I could not move. Then I sought by an effort of the will to make my other self obey me. It only stood there, and leered at me. Then it left the window. Although I could not see it I was exquisitely conscious of what it was doing. It passed around by the side of the house, and gained an entrance. Then I heard it come creeping down the hall. It reached the room where the children and I were. I in the meantime, lay helpless. I struggled to move, but was impotent.

The next moment my body entered through the open door. It advanced toward the children, meaning as I saw to kill them. And it did kill them while I stood by in a gony. I shall not attempt to describe the murder, for the details of it are confused with recollections of what I had just been reading in De Quincey. What I remember most is my own face glancing at me, as the murder went on, with looks of mockery and hate. Then the room suddenly filled with people. I recollect the chill of fear I felt as the instinct of self preservation rushed over my mind. Then with body and soul no longer separate, but united, I know not how, I dashed through the window, and plunging out into the darkness, fied to escape my crime.

The next I remember I was running over a long straight road. The snow was under my feet and beating against me. Behind there were men following, silent and swift, while I could hear myself panting for breath. How the wind held me back! I knew they were gaining, yet I could not run faster. My feet seemed like lead. I only staggered over the ground. Still my pursuers came on. Now they were up with me. They were reaching out their hands-

At this point I awoke. I found my muscles relaxed and trembling, but my dream and trance alike were ended.

JOHN MCGREGOR GOODALE, '85.