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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 7, Summer 1944
Page 23
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the season. If I can believe the store-keeper, the bass fishing is good. Need a drink. Lucky I brought a case of bourbon. May 17---Drank myself asleep last night and felt terrible all day. Dreams are becoming more gruesome. I really can't explain them. I haven't touched those books Bullit gave me. And I've left the story alone. First I dreamed of floating through the air, far above the ground, a disembodied spirit. But the Universe was not mine--I was fettered and trapped; moved utterly by forces from without. Later came that odd second sight: seeing through the eyes of some tiny creature. The recurrence of this particular dream is arousing a hideous fear and suspicion. There must be a definite reason for these dreams, and I think I know what it is.... My theory is fantastic. I must forget it and take a walk. Sunlight is fading, but I have plenty of time. A bit of fresh air may revive me. I've been thinking about Doctor Bullit. Why has he been so interested in Mesmerism and telepathy? Among his books I have seen, too, a few pamphlets on hypnotism. I suppose he and Clara are keeping company now. Curse them both! When I get well, I'll go back and tell them off. May 18---Had a terrible night. Didn't walk far yesterday evening, because dark came too quickly. A strange phenomenon--I was never afraid of the dark before. Childish nonsense. The cool mountain air refreshed me somewhat, but a few hours later I felt as bad as ever. Went to bed about midnight. Rolled and tossed for ages. Took some sleeping tablets and eventually fell into a half-coma. Dreamed again, and this time the vision was shocking indeed. I hesitate to write all of it.... My original suspicion is strengthened, and I am afraid that my days are numbered-- I dreamed again of seeing through the eyes of another; and where before I had simply been aware of my predicament, this time i actually beheld objects that were horribly familiar. When I opened my eyes in that unfamiliar dream-world, within that small body, I had a glimpse of a shiny operating room in Bullit's hospital, and I saw his round, fat face leering down at me. Then I thought I saw him laugh. And God help me!--beyond him stood Clara, dark and lovely as ever. I saw him move toward her. That image is seared upon my brain forever. Clara in Bullit's arms, returning his fervent kisses and caresses.... And it seemed that I crouched on a low table, within a body that was small and dark and hideous.... I awoke screaming and clawing the air. I haven't slept since. I'm afraid that what I dreamed may possess a shadow of reality! The wonders of the mind are as yet unexplored, and time and space seem to mean very little.... If what I fear is happening, I may not live very long. I cannot go to sleep now; must not. The morning of another day has come, and I feel weary and giddy and estranged from my surroundings: the small room, camp-chairs, and narrow cot. More whiskey...but even that will not dim the horror or let me forget. Must go out and breathe fresh air. I wish Anderson were here--he might be able to help. I hope the hasn't gone to Seattle. Thoughts are chaotic; mind wanders incessantly. One thing is certain--if ever I get on my feet again, I shall kill that fiend...kill him no matter what the price. He promised to burn that thing...he snatched my dearest possession, and now I think he has yoked me with a singular and hideous curse that I despair of escaping. But I shall have revenge. Damn his black heart.... ---------- Sanders dropped the last sheet of manuscript and fumbled in his jacket for his pipe. A sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he -- 23 --
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the season. If I can believe the store-keeper, the bass fishing is good. Need a drink. Lucky I brought a case of bourbon. May 17---Drank myself asleep last night and felt terrible all day. Dreams are becoming more gruesome. I really can't explain them. I haven't touched those books Bullit gave me. And I've left the story alone. First I dreamed of floating through the air, far above the ground, a disembodied spirit. But the Universe was not mine--I was fettered and trapped; moved utterly by forces from without. Later came that odd second sight: seeing through the eyes of some tiny creature. The recurrence of this particular dream is arousing a hideous fear and suspicion. There must be a definite reason for these dreams, and I think I know what it is.... My theory is fantastic. I must forget it and take a walk. Sunlight is fading, but I have plenty of time. A bit of fresh air may revive me. I've been thinking about Doctor Bullit. Why has he been so interested in Mesmerism and telepathy? Among his books I have seen, too, a few pamphlets on hypnotism. I suppose he and Clara are keeping company now. Curse them both! When I get well, I'll go back and tell them off. May 18---Had a terrible night. Didn't walk far yesterday evening, because dark came too quickly. A strange phenomenon--I was never afraid of the dark before. Childish nonsense. The cool mountain air refreshed me somewhat, but a few hours later I felt as bad as ever. Went to bed about midnight. Rolled and tossed for ages. Took some sleeping tablets and eventually fell into a half-coma. Dreamed again, and this time the vision was shocking indeed. I hesitate to write all of it.... My original suspicion is strengthened, and I am afraid that my days are numbered-- I dreamed again of seeing through the eyes of another; and where before I had simply been aware of my predicament, this time i actually beheld objects that were horribly familiar. When I opened my eyes in that unfamiliar dream-world, within that small body, I had a glimpse of a shiny operating room in Bullit's hospital, and I saw his round, fat face leering down at me. Then I thought I saw him laugh. And God help me!--beyond him stood Clara, dark and lovely as ever. I saw him move toward her. That image is seared upon my brain forever. Clara in Bullit's arms, returning his fervent kisses and caresses.... And it seemed that I crouched on a low table, within a body that was small and dark and hideous.... I awoke screaming and clawing the air. I haven't slept since. I'm afraid that what I dreamed may possess a shadow of reality! The wonders of the mind are as yet unexplored, and time and space seem to mean very little.... If what I fear is happening, I may not live very long. I cannot go to sleep now; must not. The morning of another day has come, and I feel weary and giddy and estranged from my surroundings: the small room, camp-chairs, and narrow cot. More whiskey...but even that will not dim the horror or let me forget. Must go out and breathe fresh air. I wish Anderson were here--he might be able to help. I hope the hasn't gone to Seattle. Thoughts are chaotic; mind wanders incessantly. One thing is certain--if ever I get on my feet again, I shall kill that fiend...kill him no matter what the price. He promised to burn that thing...he snatched my dearest possession, and now I think he has yoked me with a singular and hideous curse that I despair of escaping. But I shall have revenge. Damn his black heart.... ---------- Sanders dropped the last sheet of manuscript and fumbled in his jacket for his pipe. A sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he -- 23 --
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