feel. The sensation of my body was there, though probably diminished,
but the power of movement was checked, though only slightly. And all
the time I lay in that state, my mind was perfectly lucid and
continually active. I thought about many things and the power of thought
was very great, in that I could keep my attention fixed hour after hour
on the same train of thought, go backwards and forwards along it, change
and modify its gradations, just as if I were dealing with some material
and plastic formation. Since that time I have become acquainted with a
doctrine that teaches that thoughts are in the nature of things--that a
definite thought is a formation in some tenuous medium of matter, just
as a cathedral is a structure in gross matter. This is certainly the
kind of impression I gained then.

It was now in the light of contrast that I could reflect on the rusty
and clumsy way in which I had previously done my thinking, and I
remembered with a faint amusement that there had been a time when I
considered that I had a very clear and logical mind. Logical! What did
we, as mere mortals full of personal desire, know of logic? The
reflection seemed infinitely humorous. My thoughts had about them a new
quality of stability. They formed themselves into clear images, which
had a remarkable permanence. Their power and influence was greatly
increased. If, for example, I thought out a bungalow situated on the
cliff, I built up, piece by piece in my mind, the complete picture; and
once built up it remained there so that I could see it as a whole, and
almost, so to speak, walk round it and view it from different angles. I
could lay aside this thought-creation just as I might lay aside a model
in clay, and later on bring it back into my mind, as fresh and clear as
ever. The enjoyment of thinking under such conditions is impossible to
describe. It was like the joy of a man, blind from childhood, suddenly
receiving his sight.

As ordinary mortals, we are all familiar with the apparently real scenes
that occur in dreams. In our dreams we see buildings and walk round
them. We see flights of steps and climb them. We apparently touch and
taste food. We meet friends and strangers and converse with them. At
times we seem to gaze over landscapes covered with woods and meadows.

It seemed to me that the magic of dreams had in some way become attached
to thought. For as Immortals we did not dream as mortals do. In place
of dreaming, we cre