caused to massage each other. Another night I was caused to do deep breathing. I used to get into bed with a feeling of wonder as to what form they would take each night. I was always pulled into position in a wonderfully exact, precise manner, first heels together, limbs straightened and arms sometimes straightened into line with my body, sometimes moved into the position described above, side by side on my breast.
All this was done beautifully and as if by some unseen person standing at the foot of my bed.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He seemed to laugh and did not answer.
"But tell me who are you? Is it you, Tony?"
"Oh, Tony, is it?" the shadow answered and he laughed.
"Come over here and touch my hand," I said, "I'll know then whether you're Tony or not."
I felt that he laughed and my right hand was made to touch my left.
Could it be Tony? Could it be possible that he had taken it into his head to give me exercises from a distance? He was always getting ideas into his head that I was tired and needed something to give me strength, and I always knew he was possessed of some wonderful power and I had a beautiful feeling of being "protected" when I stood anywhere near him. Perhaps he, who was always astonishing me, was sending his strength through to me this way.
Someone was there in his astral body. They do this, I believe—occultists of the cleverest type—leave their own bodies and visit people in their astral forms. I had never really believed it, but it seemed like it now.
"Is it you, Tony? Tell me," I said again.
He laughed again.
"Well, tell me who you are, then, if you're not he," I said. "Are you living or dead? Are you living?"
"No."
"Dead?"
"Yes, I died last July."
"Did I ever know you?"
"No."
"Then why did you come to me?"
"Because you were lonely."
"But how did you know where to find me?"
He laughed.
"Oh, I knew."
"Have I ever seen you?"
"You may have."
"What are you like—are you tall?"
"Medium height."
"Fair?"
"No—grizzled."
