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Fanfare, v. 1, issue 1, December 1939

Page 5

   Suddenly his intense conversation took a different gist.  "I have a theory that eons ago, before space or matter existed, life then was only mental.  These individual minds were eternal, but their life was devoid of anything but thought.  They unamiously wanted a different life -- they could only grope there in the darkness about that constant thought -- which was difficult because the could not know that life could possibly change or take a different form.  But it obsessed them; they roused their minds to concentrate upon how to bring some change into being.  A monstrous change came after uncountable ages to their sense of time.  They sought to get away from their environment, and did by plucking an imagined evironment from nowhere but their own minds.  There were planets.  There were suns and stellar bodies----each holding forth precious promises of new and novel playgrounds such as never known before.  All done by imagination -- by the power of thought....and the past was all but forgottened, but as all unpleasant things, such as--in a dream, its memory lingered, although vagued by the overwhelming reality of the new conditions and place in time."
   He came to a halt and instinctively shook himself; and I was able to get an idea of what was to come afterwards.
  "I have a mind capable of mental construction--imagination, that is.  I was always subject to dreams, everyone strikingly real to me, whether pleasant or unpleasant.  Because I was able to frame them unconciously and FEEL their reality, they became a half-reality to me; a second and almost as powerful world.  An--And always when dream, I must--must, you hear--imagine that their apparent reality is not in existance--to disbelieve them.  I cannot no longer merely emerge from them as the average person does.--And wear my mind weak.  Everytime that monster stands over me I am able to try only less harder than before to mentally contest its truth and reality.  If only I was given time to recover, this mental exercise would benifit me. . .It's driving me mad. I--, can't help dwelling on what shall happen when the monster kills me.  I am sure that when the time comes auto-suggestion shall kill me. . . .At least then I shall be free.  Or perhaps, if mind is all, I shall will myself into greater and greater horrors."
   The tick-tock of a clock set in the wall over the fireplace rattled out a fierce monotone.  Rain splatered upon the window and lightning jabbed sullen clouds.  Writing paper on the desk. . . . .deep in dust--------And probably the world's greatest writer was impatiently manipulating the fingers on his well-form hand, nervously.
   "I think I shall be at least mentally alive for many nights yet; but eventually, sometime, no matter where I am, I will not be able to resist the horror that my own imagination has made half actual---at least to me.  Because I was not strong enough in the beginning, my mental parasite has grown strong---too strong to defeat.  I shall either die or my soul shall be crushed when the crisis comes."
   I was trying to recollect if I had ever heard of a dream in which one was killed.  I could not.  That collaborated with Merrill.
   I tried to make my laugh sound genuine; but the task was too difficult.  The surrounding silence mocked my attempt to dispell it.
   "Good story; jolly good plot," I said and grinned.
   "You mean you don't believe me?" said he, rising.
   "Certainly not.  Finished the thing yet.  I would appreciate a look at it."
   I suddenly started back as he loomed above me with a horrible, crazy gleam in his eyes.  "There's proof.  Last night the creature in my dreams bit me--and look; There it is for the first time in this so called world of reality.  A duplicate to all the marks in my dreams.  Toothmarks coated with blood that was new last night!" he hissed, his powerful eyes intent upon nvercoming my skeptism.

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Suddenly his intense conversation took a different gist. "I have a theory that eons ago, before space or matter existed, life then was only mental. These individual minds were eternal, but their life was devoid of anything but thought. They unamiously wanted a different life -- they could only grope there in the darkness about that constant thought -- which was difficult because the could not know that life could possibly change or take a different form. But it obsessed them; they roused their minds to concentrate upon how to bring some change into being. A monstrous change came after uncountable ages to their sense of time. They sought to get away from their environment, and did by plucking an imagined evironment from nowhere but their own minds. There were planets. There were suns and stellar bodies----each holding forth precious promises of new and novel playgrounds such as never known before. All done by imagination -- by the power of thought....and the past was all but forgottened, but as all unpleasant things, such as--in a dream, its memory lingered, although vagued by the overwhelming reality of the new conditions and place in time." He came to a halt and instinctively shook himself; and I was able to get an idea of what was to come afterwards. "I have a mind capable of mental construction--imagination, that is. I was always subject to dreams, everyone strikingly real to me, whether pleasant or unpleasant. Because I was able to frame them unconciously and FEEL their reality, they became a half-reality to me; a second and almost as powerful world. An--And always when dream, I must--must, you hear--imagine that their apparent reality is not in existance--to disbelieve them. I cannot no longer merely emerge from them as the average person does.--And wear my mind weak. Everytime that monster stands over me I am able to try only less harder than before to mentally contest its truth and reality. If only I was given time to recover, this mental exercise would benifit me. . .It's driving me mad. I--, can't help dwelling on what shall happen when the monster kills me. I am sure that when the time comes auto-suggestion shall kill me. . . .At least then I shall be free. Or perhaps, if mind is all, I shall will myself into greater and greater horrors." The tick-tock of a clock set in the wall over the fireplace rattled out a fierce monotone. Rain splatered upon the window and lightning jabbed sullen clouds. Writing paper on the desk. . . . .deep in dust--------And probably the world's greatest writer was impatiently manipulating the fingers on his well-form hand, nervously. "I think I shall be at least mentally alive for many nights yet; but eventually, sometime, no matter where I am, I will not be able to resist the horror that my own imagination has made half actual---at least to me. Because I was not strong enough in the beginning, my mental parasite has grown strong---too strong to defeat. I shall either die or my soul shall be crushed when the crisis comes." I was trying to recollect if I had ever heard of a dream in which one was killed. I could not. That collaborated with Merrill. I tried to make my laugh sound genuine; but the task was too difficult. The surrounding silence mocked my attempt to dispell it. "Good story; jolly good plot," I said and grinned. "You mean you don't believe me?" said he, rising. "Certainly not. Finished the thing yet. I would appreciate a look at it." I suddenly started back as he loomed above me with a horrible, crazy gleam in his eyes. "There's proof. Last night the creature in my dreams bit me--and look; There it is for the first time in this so called world of reality. A duplicate to all the marks in my dreams. Toothmarks coated with blood that was new last night!" he hissed, his powerful eyes intent upon nvercoming my skeptism.