I have indicated, further back, the analogy of the greater part of these visions with dreams. I will point out finally another resemblance which is, perhaps, not the least interesting. This is, that these visions are often quickly forgotten. We must make the sensitives we observe write down their visions immediately; for, in the greater number of cases, a rapid amnesia mixes up the details and causes them to disappear. These visions, therefore, react upon the memory in the manner of dreams.
F. Certain visions are of a doubtful character. Here are some examples:—Several times a sensitive sees, in the crystal, a long procession of personages clothed in white enter a sort of crypt, which looks like the entrance to a tunnel. The vision presents no incoherence, but appears to have no signification, either as a souvenir evoked unconsciously or as a subconscious symbolical image admitting of interpretation.
And now, I am going to relate a vision, which, doubtless, will particularly interest occultists. I was operating with a sensitive, who was ignorant, I think, of their theories and those of spiritists; who had no notion whatever about larvæ, and the forms given to such in the literature of occult sciences. Now the sensitive, of whom I speak, twice saw the vision of a tree standing out detached from the others in a forest. The earth appeared white, the tree itself was white, and appeared to be covered with white pears hanging from its branches. In his vision the sensitive drew near, and perceived that the pears were in reality white beasts of hideous appearance; they were like heads without bodies, terminating in long tails. These beings were suspended to the branches by their tails. This vision seems to me to be purely imaginary, but I have related it because the curious forms described concord, I believe, with the aspect given to larvæ by occult writers. I cannot positively affirm the sensitive’s absolute ignorance of mystic literature, but I have serious reasons to admit it. Must we simply see herein a morphological association between the different forms of larvæ, of tears embroidered on funereal garb and pears! This explanation would be possible, if the sensitive knew the signification of the word larvæ, and the form lent to these fabulous beings.
I must now cut short the recital of these observations, and confine myself to resuming the conclusion to which I have come:—This is, that sensorial automatisms and especially visual hallucinations have the same characteristic features we note in dreams, the same weakening of the power of control of the will and judgment over the selection of images, over their coherence, their likelihood, and the same rapid amnesia. These are characteristic features, which we observe in every case, where the sentiment of personality is impaired. This is just as noticeable in purely imaginary hallucinations, as in hallucinations which appear to have a real foundation. This fact seems to me of great importance, for it permits us to think, that one of the conditions of the transcendental perception of facts past, present or even future is the disappearance of the voluntary and personal activity of the consciousness. Less fit to act actively, it would be more inclined to be passively impressed by influences, which are at present indeterminable; the transmission to the normal consciousness of the impressions perceived by the impersonal consciousness appears to take place in the same way as in a dream, that is to say by dramatisation,—by a scene which expresses the idea in a concrete and symbolical manner.
There is therefore a rapprochement between these sensory automatisms and dreams and telepathy. Several premonitory dreams have been related to me by people of absolute good faith; I will give two, which were told me by magistrates. The first concerns a man holding a high rank in the magistracy. He had sold, at an advantageous price, the wood on a property he possessed in the neighbouring country, but the bargain was not definitely settled, and was to be concluded in an interview arranged for between the owner and the purchaser. On the eve of the day when the magistrate should have gone to the country, his wife dreamt that she was present at the woodman’s visit. In her dream, the latter offered a price, which was inferior to the price originally agreed upon, and covered his treachery with all sorts of periphrases, trying to prove that the bargain remained excellent for the owner. Finally he turned towards Madame X., who was present at the interview, and said to her, ‘This is fair speaking, is it not, Madame?’ Madame X. related the dream to her husband, telling him also that she thought the bargain would not come off. Her dream was fulfilled literally, and the phrase heard in her dream was uttered by the woodman. I received this account from the magistrate himself, an eminent man and one of the most brilliant intellects I have known.
The second dream is, perhaps, still more curious; it was told me by one of my colleagues, a calm, positive man with not the slightest tendency whatever to mysticism, employing his leisure hours in hunting rather than with metaphysics. He is, moreover, an experienced magistrate, and occupies a distinguished position at a court in the centre of France. At the time he had the dream I am going to relate, he was juge d’instruction in a small town, where there are some important factories. He was closely connected with a large manufacturer, and was accustomed to go and see him nearly every day. He knew the staff of the factory, and notably an overseer, a native of Flanders; this man, after many years of faithful service, wished to return to his birthplace and left his employer, remaining, however, on the best of terms with him.
Some months afterwards my colleague dreamt, he had taken his usual promenade and paid his visit to his friend. In his dream, he saw the overseer and manifested his surprise at seeing him; the overseer replied, ‘Yes, sir, it is I. I could not find any work in my own country, and i’ faith, I came back here.’ My colleague attached no importance to this dream; on the morrow he went, as usual, to see his friend, and in the factory found the overseer whom he had seen in his dream. He exchanged the same conversation he had held with him in his dream.
Facts of this kind are very numerous. Perhaps they are only simple coincidences, but, as with sensory automatisms already described, I cannot help thinking, that coincidence does not explain everything. The concording details are often so numerous, that the probabilities in an extremely large proportion are against pure hazard. Richet, however, has carefully studied the Calculus of Probabilities, and I will not go into the question. I simply give my impression, persuaded as I am that those who study these facts impartially will come to the conclusion, that hazard does not explain everything.
The two dreams which I have taken as examples offer us cases of telepathy, that is to say, the impression perceived in a way which the ordinary senses do not explain. Telepathy has been carefully studied by Myers, Gurney, Podmore, Sidgwick, Ermacora, and discussion on this question can only be pursued, if the work of these savants has been studied. Telepathy appears to me to be established in a definitive manner, but I have no personal example to cite. However, a very great number of cases have been related to me, by persons who have received telepathic impressions. I know of many people who have had veridical hallucinations, either during sleep or when awake. The following are some examples borrowed from my circle of friends or relations:—
One of my great-uncles had married a coloured woman at Martinique. This lady, though highly respectable, was the victim of tenacious prejudice on the part of the white creole families on the island, and my uncle’s marriage aroused the displeasure of his family. He left Saint-Pierre, and came to Bordeaux. His wife’s mind suddenly gave way; she had dangerous attacks of fury, but the union between my great-uncle and his wife was so close, and their reciprocal affection so profound, that my relation would not consent to a separation and have her cared for in an asylum. He fell a victim to his devotion; his wife killed him in an attack of high fever. One of my great-aunts, the dead man’s sister, living at Paris, was awakened in the middle of the night by her brother’s voice calling her. This hallucination coincided with the death of my great-uncle.