Stories of the Occult
An excerpt from the beginning of the first story:
Dual Personality
CHAPTER I
“Here am I?”
“Did you speak?” she asked as she turned and found me looking at her. “Yes, where am I?” I repeated faintly.
These were the first words I had ever spoken, according to my recollection at that time.
“You are in a hospital,” she answered kindly. “You've been very sick for the last three weeks. You must keep quiet and not try to talk,” she cautioned me as I made an effort to continue. “Come, take this, it will give you strength.”
She gave me my medicine. Hearing footsteps at the door she tiptoed over and faced the doctor. Putting up a warning finger, she whispered:
“Our patient is awake. He asked me where he was.” The doctor came up to me and felt my pulse, watching my features closely, meanwhile. “What was his temperature?” he asked the nurse.
“Ninety-nine this morning, quarter after six.
“The fever is broken,” the doctor replied in answer to a question by the nurse. “The danger is not by any means over yet, so watch him carefully and report to me the least sign for the worse. I think with careful nursing he'll come all right.”
From this time on I gradually improved in strength, although I was several times on the point of relapse. In two weeks' time I was able to sit up and take little walks.
A few days after those few words addressed to the nurse on my return to consciousness, I was startled on my inability to answer a question which I addressed to myself:
“Who and what am I? Whence do I come?” To say that I was startled, is putting it mildly. Think as I would—and I racked my brains for an answer—I could no more remember anything concerning my past history than the new-born child. Time and again I was asked my name, who my friends, where my home. Sometimes these questions were sprung unaware, when I was least on my guard. To all of which I gave one invariable answer:
“I do not remember.”
At first they thought I was trying to hide my identity, but after numerous repeated efforts on their part—efforts which finally irritated me—they felt certain that such was not the fact, and that I was one of those strange cases of “Multiple, or Dual Personalities" which are such a puzzle to both, Psychologists and the Medical profession.
“What do you make of him?” the nurse asked the doctor one day.
“Frankly, I do not know,” he answered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, as though trying to find a solution to the riddle in his hirsute appendage. “He may come all right, he may not. The fever and that severe bruise on the head have no doubt left their influence. We must wait until he gets stronger.”
As I improved in strength, so my spirits improved. Once in a while I became subject to melancholy spells during which times I became moody and silent. These spells were usually of short duration. Time and again I asked myself the question:
“Who am I and whence do I come?”
The nurse and I had many pleasant conversations. To me they were a delightful pastime; to her they were a means of sounding me.
We discussed numerous topics; history, geography, literature, my past occupation. All these things I remembered, but how I acquired this knowledge I could not recollect.
“It is so strange,” she said one day, “that you remember all these things and yet do not recollect how or where you acquired them.”
I assured her I would only be too happy to be able to answer the question as to my identity, and that I would make a bee line for home the moment I was discharged from the hospital.
Came a time when I was almost fit to be discharged. The doctor thought in a week or ten days I'd be able to take care of myself. Before discharging me they decided to call in Doctor Quackenboss, a noted hypnotist and specialist in nervous and mental diseases, with the intention of placing me under hypnotic influence—that is, experimenting on my subjective mind, whatever that was, so far as I understood its meaning at that time. I have since discovered what he meant by the “Subjective Mind,” as I will relate to you in unfolding my history. I understand the workings of my mind thoroughly, both objectively and subjectively; better than any psychologist, both of the old school or the new, can tell me.
Three times this noted professor in occultism had me soundly asleep and completely under his influence. So the nurse informed me, and I believed she was right, as I remembered nothing on waking. But it would not work. He might as well have tried his powers on a chipmonk, for all the information he got out of me. The nearest the professor could approach to any...
"1008034634"
Dual Personality
CHAPTER I
“Here am I?”
“Did you speak?” she asked as she turned and found me looking at her. “Yes, where am I?” I repeated faintly.
These were the first words I had ever spoken, according to my recollection at that time.
“You are in a hospital,” she answered kindly. “You've been very sick for the last three weeks. You must keep quiet and not try to talk,” she cautioned me as I made an effort to continue. “Come, take this, it will give you strength.”
She gave me my medicine. Hearing footsteps at the door she tiptoed over and faced the doctor. Putting up a warning finger, she whispered:
“Our patient is awake. He asked me where he was.” The doctor came up to me and felt my pulse, watching my features closely, meanwhile. “What was his temperature?” he asked the nurse.
“Ninety-nine this morning, quarter after six.
“The fever is broken,” the doctor replied in answer to a question by the nurse. “The danger is not by any means over yet, so watch him carefully and report to me the least sign for the worse. I think with careful nursing he'll come all right.”
From this time on I gradually improved in strength, although I was several times on the point of relapse. In two weeks' time I was able to sit up and take little walks.
A few days after those few words addressed to the nurse on my return to consciousness, I was startled on my inability to answer a question which I addressed to myself:
“Who and what am I? Whence do I come?” To say that I was startled, is putting it mildly. Think as I would—and I racked my brains for an answer—I could no more remember anything concerning my past history than the new-born child. Time and again I was asked my name, who my friends, where my home. Sometimes these questions were sprung unaware, when I was least on my guard. To all of which I gave one invariable answer:
“I do not remember.”
At first they thought I was trying to hide my identity, but after numerous repeated efforts on their part—efforts which finally irritated me—they felt certain that such was not the fact, and that I was one of those strange cases of “Multiple, or Dual Personalities" which are such a puzzle to both, Psychologists and the Medical profession.
“What do you make of him?” the nurse asked the doctor one day.
“Frankly, I do not know,” he answered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, as though trying to find a solution to the riddle in his hirsute appendage. “He may come all right, he may not. The fever and that severe bruise on the head have no doubt left their influence. We must wait until he gets stronger.”
As I improved in strength, so my spirits improved. Once in a while I became subject to melancholy spells during which times I became moody and silent. These spells were usually of short duration. Time and again I asked myself the question:
“Who am I and whence do I come?”
The nurse and I had many pleasant conversations. To me they were a delightful pastime; to her they were a means of sounding me.
We discussed numerous topics; history, geography, literature, my past occupation. All these things I remembered, but how I acquired this knowledge I could not recollect.
“It is so strange,” she said one day, “that you remember all these things and yet do not recollect how or where you acquired them.”
I assured her I would only be too happy to be able to answer the question as to my identity, and that I would make a bee line for home the moment I was discharged from the hospital.
Came a time when I was almost fit to be discharged. The doctor thought in a week or ten days I'd be able to take care of myself. Before discharging me they decided to call in Doctor Quackenboss, a noted hypnotist and specialist in nervous and mental diseases, with the intention of placing me under hypnotic influence—that is, experimenting on my subjective mind, whatever that was, so far as I understood its meaning at that time. I have since discovered what he meant by the “Subjective Mind,” as I will relate to you in unfolding my history. I understand the workings of my mind thoroughly, both objectively and subjectively; better than any psychologist, both of the old school or the new, can tell me.
Three times this noted professor in occultism had me soundly asleep and completely under his influence. So the nurse informed me, and I believed she was right, as I remembered nothing on waking. But it would not work. He might as well have tried his powers on a chipmonk, for all the information he got out of me. The nearest the professor could approach to any...
Stories of the Occult
An excerpt from the beginning of the first story:
Dual Personality
CHAPTER I
“Here am I?”
“Did you speak?” she asked as she turned and found me looking at her. “Yes, where am I?” I repeated faintly.
These were the first words I had ever spoken, according to my recollection at that time.
“You are in a hospital,” she answered kindly. “You've been very sick for the last three weeks. You must keep quiet and not try to talk,” she cautioned me as I made an effort to continue. “Come, take this, it will give you strength.”
She gave me my medicine. Hearing footsteps at the door she tiptoed over and faced the doctor. Putting up a warning finger, she whispered:
“Our patient is awake. He asked me where he was.” The doctor came up to me and felt my pulse, watching my features closely, meanwhile. “What was his temperature?” he asked the nurse.
“Ninety-nine this morning, quarter after six.
“The fever is broken,” the doctor replied in answer to a question by the nurse. “The danger is not by any means over yet, so watch him carefully and report to me the least sign for the worse. I think with careful nursing he'll come all right.”
From this time on I gradually improved in strength, although I was several times on the point of relapse. In two weeks' time I was able to sit up and take little walks.
A few days after those few words addressed to the nurse on my return to consciousness, I was startled on my inability to answer a question which I addressed to myself:
“Who and what am I? Whence do I come?” To say that I was startled, is putting it mildly. Think as I would—and I racked my brains for an answer—I could no more remember anything concerning my past history than the new-born child. Time and again I was asked my name, who my friends, where my home. Sometimes these questions were sprung unaware, when I was least on my guard. To all of which I gave one invariable answer:
“I do not remember.”
At first they thought I was trying to hide my identity, but after numerous repeated efforts on their part—efforts which finally irritated me—they felt certain that such was not the fact, and that I was one of those strange cases of “Multiple, or Dual Personalities" which are such a puzzle to both, Psychologists and the Medical profession.
“What do you make of him?” the nurse asked the doctor one day.
“Frankly, I do not know,” he answered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, as though trying to find a solution to the riddle in his hirsute appendage. “He may come all right, he may not. The fever and that severe bruise on the head have no doubt left their influence. We must wait until he gets stronger.”
As I improved in strength, so my spirits improved. Once in a while I became subject to melancholy spells during which times I became moody and silent. These spells were usually of short duration. Time and again I asked myself the question:
“Who am I and whence do I come?”
The nurse and I had many pleasant conversations. To me they were a delightful pastime; to her they were a means of sounding me.
We discussed numerous topics; history, geography, literature, my past occupation. All these things I remembered, but how I acquired this knowledge I could not recollect.
“It is so strange,” she said one day, “that you remember all these things and yet do not recollect how or where you acquired them.”
I assured her I would only be too happy to be able to answer the question as to my identity, and that I would make a bee line for home the moment I was discharged from the hospital.
Came a time when I was almost fit to be discharged. The doctor thought in a week or ten days I'd be able to take care of myself. Before discharging me they decided to call in Doctor Quackenboss, a noted hypnotist and specialist in nervous and mental diseases, with the intention of placing me under hypnotic influence—that is, experimenting on my subjective mind, whatever that was, so far as I understood its meaning at that time. I have since discovered what he meant by the “Subjective Mind,” as I will relate to you in unfolding my history. I understand the workings of my mind thoroughly, both objectively and subjectively; better than any psychologist, both of the old school or the new, can tell me.
Three times this noted professor in occultism had me soundly asleep and completely under his influence. So the nurse informed me, and I believed she was right, as I remembered nothing on waking. But it would not work. He might as well have tried his powers on a chipmonk, for all the information he got out of me. The nearest the professor could approach to any...
Dual Personality
CHAPTER I
“Here am I?”
“Did you speak?” she asked as she turned and found me looking at her. “Yes, where am I?” I repeated faintly.
These were the first words I had ever spoken, according to my recollection at that time.
“You are in a hospital,” she answered kindly. “You've been very sick for the last three weeks. You must keep quiet and not try to talk,” she cautioned me as I made an effort to continue. “Come, take this, it will give you strength.”
She gave me my medicine. Hearing footsteps at the door she tiptoed over and faced the doctor. Putting up a warning finger, she whispered:
“Our patient is awake. He asked me where he was.” The doctor came up to me and felt my pulse, watching my features closely, meanwhile. “What was his temperature?” he asked the nurse.
“Ninety-nine this morning, quarter after six.
“The fever is broken,” the doctor replied in answer to a question by the nurse. “The danger is not by any means over yet, so watch him carefully and report to me the least sign for the worse. I think with careful nursing he'll come all right.”
From this time on I gradually improved in strength, although I was several times on the point of relapse. In two weeks' time I was able to sit up and take little walks.
A few days after those few words addressed to the nurse on my return to consciousness, I was startled on my inability to answer a question which I addressed to myself:
“Who and what am I? Whence do I come?” To say that I was startled, is putting it mildly. Think as I would—and I racked my brains for an answer—I could no more remember anything concerning my past history than the new-born child. Time and again I was asked my name, who my friends, where my home. Sometimes these questions were sprung unaware, when I was least on my guard. To all of which I gave one invariable answer:
“I do not remember.”
At first they thought I was trying to hide my identity, but after numerous repeated efforts on their part—efforts which finally irritated me—they felt certain that such was not the fact, and that I was one of those strange cases of “Multiple, or Dual Personalities" which are such a puzzle to both, Psychologists and the Medical profession.
“What do you make of him?” the nurse asked the doctor one day.
“Frankly, I do not know,” he answered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, as though trying to find a solution to the riddle in his hirsute appendage. “He may come all right, he may not. The fever and that severe bruise on the head have no doubt left their influence. We must wait until he gets stronger.”
As I improved in strength, so my spirits improved. Once in a while I became subject to melancholy spells during which times I became moody and silent. These spells were usually of short duration. Time and again I asked myself the question:
“Who am I and whence do I come?”
The nurse and I had many pleasant conversations. To me they were a delightful pastime; to her they were a means of sounding me.
We discussed numerous topics; history, geography, literature, my past occupation. All these things I remembered, but how I acquired this knowledge I could not recollect.
“It is so strange,” she said one day, “that you remember all these things and yet do not recollect how or where you acquired them.”
I assured her I would only be too happy to be able to answer the question as to my identity, and that I would make a bee line for home the moment I was discharged from the hospital.
Came a time when I was almost fit to be discharged. The doctor thought in a week or ten days I'd be able to take care of myself. Before discharging me they decided to call in Doctor Quackenboss, a noted hypnotist and specialist in nervous and mental diseases, with the intention of placing me under hypnotic influence—that is, experimenting on my subjective mind, whatever that was, so far as I understood its meaning at that time. I have since discovered what he meant by the “Subjective Mind,” as I will relate to you in unfolding my history. I understand the workings of my mind thoroughly, both objectively and subjectively; better than any psychologist, both of the old school or the new, can tell me.
Three times this noted professor in occultism had me soundly asleep and completely under his influence. So the nurse informed me, and I believed she was right, as I remembered nothing on waking. But it would not work. He might as well have tried his powers on a chipmonk, for all the information he got out of me. The nearest the professor could approach to any...
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Stories of the Occult
Stories of the Occult
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940015740318 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | OGB |
| Publication date: | 11/18/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 352 KB |
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