Tempo:
lightest of objects, and all I could do was to note carefully the position of things — which curtains were open and drawn, the time by the clock in the dining-room, and things of that sort, which all proved correct when I checked them afterwards....
"Suddenly this strange power began to play pranks with me. I was being pushed along like a half-filled balloon. 'Steady, steady,' I called to myself.. . I was being pushed out, with a sort of glee, right out of my flat. Out I flew through the front door, and hovered there in the air, a feeling of extraordinary lightness of heart overtaking me. Now I could fly anywhere, anywhere — to New York, visit a friend, if I liked, and it wouldn't take me a moment. But a feeling of caution intervened, of fear that something might happen in this long flight, and sever my link with the sleeping body to which I wanted to return if only to tell of my astounding experience." He willed himself to return to his body, but, he says: "When I felt my body hovering over my old body on the bed, drab disappointment came back to me. 'Not yet,' I said. And again I flew off. When I flew thus swiftly, my consciousness seemed to blot out, and only returned when again I walked or moved at a reasonable speed." He set out to visit a friend at Hastings, and flew off, passing through the front door so swiftly that again his consciousness was blotted out. It returned suddenly as he found himself stepping lightly over an open patch of grass; but it wavered uncertainly and went in and out like a flame. He forgot the purpose of his visit, knew not where he was, but made careful note of his surroundings, which were curious enough, for he was apparently hanging like a bat on to a thick brown beam on a white ceiling, and could hear the ticking of a typewriter somewhere beneath him.
He felt horribly ill, let go of the beam, and presently had the impression that he was being lowered by a dozen
"Suddenly this strange power began to play pranks with me. I was being pushed along like a half-filled balloon. 'Steady, steady,' I called to myself.. . I was being pushed out, with a sort of glee, right out of my flat. Out I flew through the front door, and hovered there in the air, a feeling of extraordinary lightness of heart overtaking me. Now I could fly anywhere, anywhere — to New York, visit a friend, if I liked, and it wouldn't take me a moment. But a feeling of caution intervened, of fear that something might happen in this long flight, and sever my link with the sleeping body to which I wanted to return if only to tell of my astounding experience." He willed himself to return to his body, but, he says: "When I felt my body hovering over my old body on the bed, drab disappointment came back to me. 'Not yet,' I said. And again I flew off. When I flew thus swiftly, my consciousness seemed to blot out, and only returned when again I walked or moved at a reasonable speed." He set out to visit a friend at Hastings, and flew off, passing through the front door so swiftly that again his consciousness was blotted out. It returned suddenly as he found himself stepping lightly over an open patch of grass; but it wavered uncertainly and went in and out like a flame. He forgot the purpose of his visit, knew not where he was, but made careful note of his surroundings, which were curious enough, for he was apparently hanging like a bat on to a thick brown beam on a white ceiling, and could hear the ticking of a typewriter somewhere beneath him.
He felt horribly ill, let go of the beam, and presently had the impression that he was being lowered by a dozen
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