Telepathy and the Subliminal Self

by R. Osgood Mason

Our individual, X., is one in whom this ability to receive impressions in this manner exists.

To illustrate: Suppose first that X. is asleep, is taking his after-dinner nap, and that children playing in his grounds have set fire to some straw in close proximity to buildings near by. No one notices the danger. X. is asleep, but his subliminal self is on the alert—like the second self of the somnambulist or subject in the hypnotic trance—it sees that unless checked there will be a destructive conflagration. It impresses upon X. a dream of fire so vivid that he wakes in alarm, discovers the mischief and averts the danger. Or suppose X. to be awake and sitting in his office in a distant part of the house, quite unconscious of anything unusual. All at once he becomes restless, unable to pursue his work; he is impelled to leave his desk, to go out, to walk in the direction of the fire, and thus become aware of the danger. Or again, that X. is an automatic writer—that paper and pencil are at hand and he receives a sudden impulse to write. He has no knowledge of what he is writing, but upon examination he finds it a warning to look after the threatening fire; or still again, that he hears a voice distinctly saying, “Look out for fire;” or sees a distinct picture of the place and circumstances of the fire; all these are possible methods by which the subliminal self might communicate to X., the ordinary personality, the danger which was threatening.

Automatism, therefore, does not necessarily take the form of written messages, but may take any form by which the subliminal self can best transmit its message to the primary self—or in the same way from one person to another, whether by words written or spoken automatically—by voices heard, by action influenced, as when X. is influenced to leave his office and walk, or the mischievous Léontine unties the apron of Léonie, or by vision or vivid mental picture, as when Peter sees a “sheet let down by the four corners,” from which he learns an important lesson.

The messages received automatically may not all be true; they may be trivial and even false; on the other hand, they may not only be true and important but they may convey information quite out of the power of the primary self to acquire by any ordinary use of the senses. Nor need we be greatly surprised at this; it is a normal function of the subliminal self; with some persons that function is active, with others it is dormant, but in all, at some moment in life, circumstances may arise which shall awaken that function into activity.

A remarkable example of messages received by automatic writing is that furnished by Mr. W. T. Stead, occurring in his own experience. Mr. Stead is a well-known author, journalist, and the editor of the London edition of the Review of Reviews, in which magazine his experiences have, on various occasions, been published.

As he regards the matter, there is an invisible intelligence which controls his hand, but the persons with whom he is in communication are alive and visible—for instance his own son on various occasions, also persons in his employ, writers upon his magazine, casual acquaintances, and even strangers.

None of these persons participate in any active or conscious way in the communications. Mr. F. W. H. Myers has often conversed with Mr. Stead and with several of his involuntary correspondents in relation to the phenomena, and the facts are so simple and open, and the persons connected with them so intelligent and evidently sincere and truthful, that no doubt can be entertained as to the reality of the incidents, however they may be interpreted.

One of the most remarkable of these involuntary correspondents is known as Miss A., a lady employed by him in literary work of an important character. She testifies in regard to the matter: “I, the subject of Mr. Stead’s automatic writing, known as ‘A.,’ testify to the correctness of the statements made in this report. I would like to add what I think more wonderful than many things Mr. Stead has cited, namely, the correctness with which, on several occasions, he has given the names of persons whom he has never seen nor heard of before. I remember on one occasion a person calling upon me with a very uncommon name. The next day I saw Mr. Stead and he read to me what his hand had written of the visit of that person, giving the name absolutely correctly. Mr. Stead has never seen that person, and until then had no knowledge of his existence.”

The following is a description of a journey made by Miss A., automatically written by Mr. Stead, he at the time not having the slightest knowledge where she was, what she was doing, or that she intended making any such journey. The slight inaccuracies are noted:—

“I went to the Waterloo station by the twelve o’clock train, and got to Hampton Court about one. When we got out we went to a hotel and had dinner. It cost nearly three shillings. After dinner I went to the picture-galleries. I was very much pleased with the paintings of many of the ceilings. I was interested in most of the portraits of Lely. After seeing the galleries I went into the grounds. How beautiful they are! I saw a great vine, that lovely English garden, the avenue of elms, the canal, the great water sheet, the three views, the fountain, the gold fishes, and then lost myself in the maze. I got home about nine o’clock. It cost me altogether about six shillings.” On communicating this to Miss A. she found that everything was correct with two exceptions. She went down by the two o’clock train instead of the twelve, and got to Hampton Court about three. The dinner cost her two and elevenpence, which was nearly three shillings, and the total was six and threepence. The places were visited in the order mentioned.