A.M.

Restless during night—some bit of magic. Waked about mid-night, silence, and sensed a great breadth, calmness and stability of—what?

Late morning dreamed I was packing trunks to go away, being married. Groom there, but did not see his face. All very matter of fact. Going to a lake district with mountains and tall green trees all about. Groom hung rug that was in my possession, though not belonging to me, so as to keep in good condition till our return.

P.M.

I get into same breadth and stillness of last night and remain poised here a long time, eradicating that which has distressed me for two days.

^[1]

Go off to left and descend onto round knoll of earth—I see the granules of earth plainly, reddish-brown and see a small circular opening, shaped like a crater, this centre filled with something white, suggesting the whiteness of fungus growth below earth’s surface. I regard this (it is level with the earth), then dig around it, try to pull it out. There is no change whatever. I move away and regard it, then ask: Is it a penis? The white spot elongates into a penis, white, about the height of an asparagus shoot. Nothing else happens, though a white angel has appeared and stands quietly, with a broad bladed sword in left hand, point resting on the earth.

Here, feeling the need of rest, as I have not slept well for several nights, composed myself for a nap. Dozed off a moment, then became conscious of inward desire to write. Then came directly toward me, the body streaming horizontally through the heavens directly away from me, a colossal Being, of soft whiteness; a strong sense of whirling mightily yet was he stationery. Our two foreheads touched, I trying to pierce through his. He then seemed to become a large pillar in front of me and slightly to the left, my entire body resting against it when first visualized. I then stood back, regarding the two, for the Being was there once more, the pillar now a solid mass like granite with a wreath around its base, which was square. I then turned to the left, walked past pillar, low coping of some material and colour, and came to an arbour, low, covered with grape vines through which the sun streamed. Back of this a small, white, plastered house, one story. I waited. Noticed space between house and saw entire space back of it, enclosed with a fence and a large piece of land, was an arbour covered with vines through which the sun streamed. Back quite a distance, on the left side, sat A.C. in the brown knicker suit with a book on his knee. I walked down the path which lay in the middle of this garden, and stepped across the unpathed portion lying between him and me. Here there was some confusion, for he seemed to stand, again he remained seated reading Rabelais. But he surely was stand, though the vision was dimmed considerably and myself almost asleep, when to my right, a short distance back of A.C. near the fence, was a goat with long grey hair. Roused myself, looked back toward the house, and saw and old-fashioned bake-oven, which had been white-washed but the face of which was smoked, from the opening, upward. It had a roof sloping backwards, this roof supported by poles at the four corners; no side walk.

Later. Once more I touch foreheads with the Being and shoot straight up, receptive for something to descend. The Being soars up toward me and I start away with him. I then notice betrayal—it is not the Being. I go back to the sky but the spell is broken. Then return to the true Being, get strength and return—higher than before, and seem flattened against the sky to receive something. It seems like something I shall write.