“Tell me about it—quietly, just as if you were discussing somebody else.”
Penelope smiled wistfully. “How kind and wise you are! I will try to be calm, but—it is hard for me. I had a dream last night, doctor, and this dream is true. I have evidence that it is true. I did something last night without knowing it, and then I dreamed about it.”
“You did something without knowing it?”
“Yes, I put on a red dress and a black hat that I have not worn for four years, not since my husband died. For four years I have only worn black or white.”
“Do I understand you to say that you put on these things without knowing that you put them on?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know you did?”
“My maid told me so. You see my dream was so extraordinarily vivid—I'll give you the details in a minute—that, as soon as I awakened, I rang for Jeanne and questioned her. 'Jeanne,' I said, 'you know the red dress that I have not worn since my husband died?' She looked at me in a queer way and said: 'Madame is laughing at me. Madame knows quite well that she wore the red dress last night.' Then she recalled everything in detail, how I sent her to a particular shelf where this dress was folded away and got her to freshen up a ribbon and press the skirt where it was wrinkled. Jeanne is also positive that I put on my black hat. Then, she says, I went out; I left the house at five minutes to nine and came back about eleven. There is no doubt about it.”
“And you remember nothing of all this?”
“Nothing. So—so you see,” she faltered, then she leaned impulsively toward the doctor. “As an expert will you please tell me if it is possible for a woman to act like that unless her mind is affected?”