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wicked ogres. The fall through leafy  branches  and  the  dizzy
heights;  the  snakes  that struck at me as I dodged and leaped
away in chattering flight; the wild dogs that hunted me  across
the  open spaces to the timber--these were terrors concrete and
actual, happenings and not imaginings,  things  of  the  living
flesh and of sweat and blood. Ogres and bugaboos and I had been
happy  bed-fellows, compared with these terrors that made their
bed with me throughout my childhood, and that  still  bed  with
me, now, as I write this, full of years.


CHAPTER II


     I  have  said that in my dreams I never saw a human being.
Of this fact I became aware very early, and felt poignantly the
lack of my own kind. As a very little  child,  even,  I  had  a
feeling,  in  the midst of the horror of my dreaming, that if I
could find but one man, only one human, I should be saved  from
my  dreaming,  that  I should be surrounded no more by haunting
terrors. This thought obsessed me every night of  my  life  for
years--if only I could find that one human and be saved!

     I  must iterate that I had this thought in the midst of my
dreaming, and I take it as an evidence of the merging of my two
personalities, as evidence of a point of  contact  between  the
two  disassociated  parts  of me. My dream personality lived in
the long ago, before ever man, as we know him, came to be;  and
my  other  and  wake-a-day personality projected itself, to the
extent of the knowledge of man's existence, into the  substance
of my dreams.

     Perhaps the psychologists of the book will find fault with
my way  of using the phrase, "disassociation of personality." I
know their use of it, yet am compelled to use it in my own  way
in  default  of  a  better  phrase.  I  take shelter behind the

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