He'd seen cats do that before--stare wide-eyed and entranced, as though
at something wonderful which was hidden from human eyes. Then, still
looking up and to the side, Smokeball trotted over and jumped onto his
lap, but even as he stroked her, she was looking at an invisible
something beside him. At the same time, he had a warm and pleasant
feeling, as of a happy and affectionate presence near him.
"No," he said, slowly and judicially. "That's not just my imagination.
But who--or what--are you?"
"I'm.... Oh, I don't know how to think it so that you'll understand."
The voice inside his head seemed baffled, like a physicist trying to
explain atomic energy to a Hottentot. "I'm not material. If you can
imagine a mind that doesn't need a brain to think with.... Oh, I can't
explain it now! But when I'm talking to you, like this, I'm really
thinking inside your brain, along with your own mind, and you hear the
words without there being any sound. And you just don't know any words
that would express it."
He had never thought much, one way or another, about spiritualism.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25