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Fantasia, v. 1, issue 3, July 1941
Page 13
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FANTASIA BEDTIME STORY By GEORGE COWIE The memory of my old grandfather and his nightly stories is one of my most fixed childhood recollections. When nights were cold and the wind whooped eerily around our house, I would sit at Grandpop's feet before the crackling hearth and be transported into a world of gossamer beauty as the old patriarch wove tales of strange lands, ghostly castles, fairy princesses and sundry devices to fill my heart with unforgettable thrills. One night, I cannot remember just when, Grandpop's tales began to deviate from the routine of fairy misdemeanors and spook-infested mansions. He looked at me that night as I lounged at his feet, speaking with a trace of sadness in his low voice. "Johnny, I think I'll tell you of my wandering. Would you like to hear of my wanderings?" "Yes," I replied, without the slightest conception of what he meant. I simply wanted Grandpop to go on weaving his fantastic tales. It was nice to sit and listen. It has been so long now since Grandpop told his stories that I cannot remember all the details of his wanderings. Only scattered flakes of his low-pitched voice return to memory. The night in early December when wintry blasts swirled dirty flurries of snow against the house...while the flickering flames in the grate cast dancing shadows over the floor... "You're too young to really comprehend the meaning of my "wanderings", Johnny, and even if I tried to explain it to you, it would be beyond your scope of reasoning. I would never have told anyone of my wanderings -- not even you, Johnny -- but now I'm in danger, and I have to reveal my secret to someone, just in case..." I snuggled closer to his legs. This story sounded very exciting. "Only know this, Johnny: that I have been blessed with powers never dreamed of by other men. While my mortal frame remains seated in this chair, I can project my mind into dim vistas of interstellar space...But this is so much gibberish to you, eh?" I nodded. "I don't understand you, Grandpop, but go on with your story." "It has been glorious, Johnny, simply glorious. Imagine sitting here in the glow and warmth of the fire, a moment of concentration, a moment of sharp giddiness, and then the blackness of outer space around you like thick velvet. A marvelous sensation, swooping and rolling through immensity like a wraith. So I have transported myself into the glory of distant stars, and reveled as I played among the shimmering planets of that far-off region. My soul-entity passed slowly the burning masses of matter, giant globes hanging in vastness; I swirled past dead suns, cindery black, pulsing with faint blue radiance; I raced the courses of comets and meteors in their spatial flights; I hovered over strange, unknown planets in distant reaches of the universe, exploring, searching, satisfying my wild curiosity...Johnny, you're awake aren't you?" "Yes, Grandpop, but when are you going to tell me the story? Right now I can't understand you." So Grandpop no longer talked of abstract, peculiar things like "astral bodies". His nightly tales now became very specific. He described some of the sights he had "seen" in his wanderings throughout the universe. The Black Planet -- in a constel-
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FANTASIA BEDTIME STORY By GEORGE COWIE The memory of my old grandfather and his nightly stories is one of my most fixed childhood recollections. When nights were cold and the wind whooped eerily around our house, I would sit at Grandpop's feet before the crackling hearth and be transported into a world of gossamer beauty as the old patriarch wove tales of strange lands, ghostly castles, fairy princesses and sundry devices to fill my heart with unforgettable thrills. One night, I cannot remember just when, Grandpop's tales began to deviate from the routine of fairy misdemeanors and spook-infested mansions. He looked at me that night as I lounged at his feet, speaking with a trace of sadness in his low voice. "Johnny, I think I'll tell you of my wandering. Would you like to hear of my wanderings?" "Yes," I replied, without the slightest conception of what he meant. I simply wanted Grandpop to go on weaving his fantastic tales. It was nice to sit and listen. It has been so long now since Grandpop told his stories that I cannot remember all the details of his wanderings. Only scattered flakes of his low-pitched voice return to memory. The night in early December when wintry blasts swirled dirty flurries of snow against the house...while the flickering flames in the grate cast dancing shadows over the floor... "You're too young to really comprehend the meaning of my "wanderings", Johnny, and even if I tried to explain it to you, it would be beyond your scope of reasoning. I would never have told anyone of my wanderings -- not even you, Johnny -- but now I'm in danger, and I have to reveal my secret to someone, just in case..." I snuggled closer to his legs. This story sounded very exciting. "Only know this, Johnny: that I have been blessed with powers never dreamed of by other men. While my mortal frame remains seated in this chair, I can project my mind into dim vistas of interstellar space...But this is so much gibberish to you, eh?" I nodded. "I don't understand you, Grandpop, but go on with your story." "It has been glorious, Johnny, simply glorious. Imagine sitting here in the glow and warmth of the fire, a moment of concentration, a moment of sharp giddiness, and then the blackness of outer space around you like thick velvet. A marvelous sensation, swooping and rolling through immensity like a wraith. So I have transported myself into the glory of distant stars, and reveled as I played among the shimmering planets of that far-off region. My soul-entity passed slowly the burning masses of matter, giant globes hanging in vastness; I swirled past dead suns, cindery black, pulsing with faint blue radiance; I raced the courses of comets and meteors in their spatial flights; I hovered over strange, unknown planets in distant reaches of the universe, exploring, searching, satisfying my wild curiosity...Johnny, you're awake aren't you?" "Yes, Grandpop, but when are you going to tell me the story? Right now I can't understand you." So Grandpop no longer talked of abstract, peculiar things like "astral bodies". His nightly tales now became very specific. He described some of the sights he had "seen" in his wanderings throughout the universe. The Black Planet -- in a constel-
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