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William Gerhardie - Resurrection

' Steady, steady,' I called to myself or that other somebody, a kind of mentor who was not myself; but perhaps my unconscious will. For I was being pushed out, with a sort of glee, right out of my flat. ' Come, you have seen enough here' the mentor seemed to imply gaily, 'now let us fly and see the new world.'

Out I flew through the front door and hovered there in the air, a feeling of extraordinary lightness of heart ovetaking me. Now I could fly anywhere, anywhere-to New York, visit a friend, if I liked, and it wouldn't take me a moment. But a feeling of caution intervened, of fear that something might happen in this long flight and sever my link with the sleeping body to which I wanted to return if only to tell of my astounding experience, to testify while in the flesh to my return from the bourne from which no traveller was supposed to have returned before, to testify to this duplicate subtle body of
my continuation, already at hand.

If I died, how would I be able to tell them ? No, I cautioned my monitor, my unconscious will, who in the physical body was the silent and invisible engineer but here, in these uncharted seas, had come up on the bridge-No, not, to-day ; enough for the first time. Let me get back. And that new body of mine, so quick to act on the impulse of a will not quite my own, which took charge of things with competent and good-natured authority like a police inspector at a visit of the Home Secretary, so that it may quite conceivably have been my unconscious will which was that other person, myself and yet not quite myself, whom I was addressing on the subject of my resurrected body's movements which I controlled but at second hand-that new body of mine did not obey me at once. It still impelled itself forward on the impulse of its accustomed master, my unconscious will, till he in turn conveyed to it the wishes of his overlord, my conscious self.

But when the body obeyed and flew back and I felt it hovering over my old body on the bed, drab disappointment came back to me. Not yet, I said. And again I flew off.

When I flew thus swiftly, my consciousness seemed to blot out and only returned when again I walked or moved at a reasonable speed. What was I going to do now ? Proof, I said. I wanted irrefutable proof which would convince me and others when I came back into my body. For though
I had little reason to worry myself about being dead, feeling so plainly alive and more carefree than before, I felt as reasonably certain I would regain my old body as a provincial diner in high spirits intending to join a gay party at the Savoy is reasonably certain that he will not be robbed of his overcoat at the cloakroom, even though the attendant had flatteringly waived the usual precaution of giving him a ticket. Proof ! I said, proof ! Whom could I visit ? And that moment the thought occurred to me : let me visit my friend Max Fisher at Hastings.

My conscious will communicating in that sense with the unconscious and rather bossy agent, my body, after a moment of hesitation, took itself off and flew out through a window. But the thought had no sooner occurred than doubt at something too good to be true set in on its heels, and an instant later back I came. But it can be done ! I reassured myself, I am sure it can ! And again I flew off this time again through the front door, so swiftly that my consciousness was blotted out.