Night Of An Immortal

: The Blue Germ

I passed a most remarkable night. On reaching home I went to bed as

usual. My mind was busy, but what busied it was not the events of the

day.



I lay in the darkness in a state of absolute contentment. My eyes were

closed. My body was motionless, and felt warm and comfortable. I was

quite aware of the position of my limbs in space and I could hear the

sound of passing vehicles outside. I was not asleep and yet at the same

time I was not awake. I knew I was not properly awake because, when I

tried to move, there seemed to be a resistance to the impulse, which

prevented it from reaching the muscles. As I have already said, I could

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 created immense thought-forms, working as it were on a

new plane of matter whose resources were inexhaustible.



That night I built my ideal bungalow and when I had finished it I

constructed my ideal garden. And then I made a sea and a coast-line, and

when it was finished it was so real to me that I actually seemed to go

into its rooms, sit on the verandah, breathe in its sea-airs and listen

to the surf below its cliff. I remember that one of its rooms did not

please me entirely, and that I seemed to pull it down--in thought--and

reconstruct it according to my wish. This took time, for brick by brick

I thought the new room into existence. One law that governed that state

was easy to grasp, for whatever you did not think out clearly assumed a

blurred unsatisfactory form. It became clear to me as early as that

first night of immortality that the more familiar a man was with matter

on the earth and its ways and possibilities, the more easily could he

make his constructions on that plan of thought.



The whole of that night I lay in this state of creative joy and I know

that my body remained motionless. It seemed that only a film divided me

from the use of my limbs, but that film was definite. At eight o'clock

on that morning, I became aware of a vague feeling of strain. It was a

very slight sensation, but its effect was to make the thoughts that

occupied my consciousness to become less definite. I had to make an

effort to keep them distinct. The strain slowly became greater. It had

begun with a sense of distance, but it seemed to get nearer, and I

experienced a feeling that I can only compare to as that which a man has

when he is losing his balance and about to fall.



The strain ended suddenly. I found myself moving my limbs. I opened my

eyes and looked round. The graphic, visible quality of my thoughts had

now vanished. I was awake.





I have given the above account of the night of an Immortal, because it

has seemed to me right that some record should be left of the effect of

the germ on the mind. I would explain the inherent power of thought as

being due to the freedom from the ordinary desires of mortals, which

waste and dissipate the energies of the mind ... but of that I cannot be

certain.