Observations placeholder

Flammarion, C., Carroll, L,
Death and its mystery: before death, proofs of the existence of the soul

I do not know, dear Master, whether or not I have mentioned to you an instance of telepathy which I experienced in January, 1901.

We were already living in Paris when, at the end of January, we were called to Strasbourg my husband and I, for the funeral of my poor invalid mother. Our son was not able to go also, because of the laws of exception of that place. I was much affected, as can be imagined, by the swarm of memories and by the weather (the air was full of whirling snow), so that I had very agitated dreams at night.

One night, especially, I was overcome with sharp distress and dreamed that I saw my youngest son caught between two rows of planks which had fallen on him, unable to free himself and calling me, “Mama!"

I spoke of it to my sister, while I was still very much oppressed by this nightmare. But neither she nor I dreamed of attaching any importance to it. A few days later, on our return to Paris, the servant who received us said: “Monsieur Julien is much better, he is at his work.”

“What, has he been ill?"

"Why, yes, he had to stay in the house several days, for he hurt his leg. Didn't he write you ?"

On my son’s return we questioned him, and he told me that he had had an accident, for a pile of boards had fallen on him; but it had been nothing serious, and it would have been useless to frighten us.

”But I knew it," I said "I dreamed about it all one night; and the curious thing is that the place did not at all resemble your wood-yard. You were in the midst of planks, unable to get up, in a great unfamiliar yard, and the sun was shining brightly.

"That's correct," replied my son; "the sun was shining on that day and it did not happen in my place but in a neighbour's yard, which is just as you have described it without having ever seen it. But I have no recollection of having called you."

Had my son called me at night in his sleep? It is not impossible, for he was accustomed to dream out loud.

I must add that this is the one and only time that such a thing has happened to me.

Valerie Dobelmann,

12 rue Linne, Paris. (Letter 2320.)