JOHN STRONG awoke with a start. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. He trembled with intensity of emotion.

Fear gripped him. Slowly and feebly he moved his right hand over the bed-covering searching for his pistol. His fingers clutched it. Thank Heaven for that! It was only a dream!

But what a dream! He dare not yet recall it in all its ghastly horror.

But no, it was not all terrible. He was alive. He had been saved—from what? Well he was alive; he had not shot himself, as he had determined to do! Was it just a nightmare he had had? But who was the man who spoke to him and came to his rescue?

Slowly but surely the incidents of the previous day and of the previous weeks passed in array before him. He had become despondent; the obstacles facing him were too much for him to overcome; the whole house of his life seemed to be falling into ruins about him. His home had been disrupted; he had lost his employment and there was no hope of finding any other work that was worthwhile. He was alone and desolate. Of what use was his college education, he had asked himself many times?

With but a few dollars left to his account, the rent of his room overdue, he had decided that sooner or later he would end it all. No one would miss him. What was there in life at any rate? He did not know whether death ended everything, and he had ceased to care. His natural fear of death was being swallowed by his fear of life.

He recalled how he had toyed with his pistol night after night as he lay in bed, something within himself telling him, advising him, pleading with him to wait until to-morrow. And he thought that “to-morrow” had surely come; for he had fully intended to commit suicide that night. But after shooting himself, so he thought, as he lay in bed, and expecting oblivion or peace, he had found himself struggling and gasping—struggling with what? With himself in darkness? What did it all mean?

He had called for help, but had heard no voice. Was there any hope in this black abyss in which he was floundering?

At last, after what seemed an eternity, he felt, rather than saw, a presence, and heard a voice saying, “What can I do for you, John Strong?”

Turning his head while still lying on his back, he saw a man in the prime of life, gazing at him and smiling benignly. The murky darkness would have made him invisible had it not been for a subdued but radiant light which emanated from the place of the man’s heart.

“Where am I? What have I done? Did I shoot myself as I intended? Who are you?” gasped and stuttered John Strong, incoherently.

“All your questions will be answered in due time, John. I am your Friend. Call me that. We shall meet again many times; but now you must return to your sleeping body in a sufficiently agitated condition that you will forever remember the crime which you intended to commit and from which you have been saved.”

All this John now recalled clearly. It was only a dream then! But how vivid, how real! Who was the man whose clear-cut features and healing voice he would never forget; and how and where would they meet again?

Why all the struggling and blackness? He had not shot himself. He must have fallen asleep while contemplating the act. It was a nightmare.

He spent the remaining hours of the night ruminating upon his experience. He found no real answer to the questions which poured through his mind. But he decided, if nothing else happened, if this dream occurrence remained isolated, and if he never again met his Friend, that suicide was an act of cowardice, an error.

During the next few days, with the words, “What can I do for you, John Strong,” ringing in his ears, he realized that there was something in life not merely physical. He rejoiced as he walked the streets that he had someone whom he could call “Friend”; although he was not sure that his Friend was but a figment of his own brain.

He held his head higher now. Furtively, he buried his pistol very deep in the ground, in case——?

There was hope of employment now and he did not care what it might be.

Then the unexpected happened, after a week’s time.

John fell asleep quickly and peacefully on this particular night, for had not his landlady extended the time for his rent payment. The world was becoming friendlier, so he thought. He had found a sympathiser in his dreams and one in the flesh.

Gradually as consciousness returned, John was aware that he was standing in a secluded place in broad daylight, eagerly waiting for someone. Before he had time to note the details of the landscape which spread before him, his Friend appeared, extending his hand in greeting.

“Well, John, you look happier now. What has brought about the change?”

“You changed me,” replied John simply. “But who are you?”

“I am a human being, a man, as you are. I am not an angel, a superman, not even a ‘spirit’—whatever that word may mean—but a man, perhaps a little more advanced along a particular line than the majority. I am at the head of a band of Invisible Helpers. We work during the normal hours of sleep, succoring, rescuing, explaining, soothing, as the case may be, either the newly-arrived dead or those still in the flesh. We do slum work also among the ‘fallen’, the ‘depraved’, using the parlance of the world.”

“I am not one of the so-called ‘dead’,” continued the Friend. “I caught your enquiry in your eyes—although in our band there are both those who have lost their bodies and those whose bodies are sleeping in their beds.”

“Yes; you are right, John. Sleep and death are in a sense twin conditions. When you slip out of your body at sleep, you find yourself over here, on ‘the other side’; it is a temporary state, however. Death is much the same but permanent as far as this life is concerned. When the ‘cord’ has snapped there is no return.”

“You must take much for granted at this time, Strong. You will learn more later. I am not teaching you now; it is not an opportune time; I merely want to lay the foundation for the answers to your pressing questions.”

“Why did you single me out from tens of thousands of others in a similar condition to mine?” asked John. “And why, if you will allow me to ask two questions at a time, did I have to struggle and fight in darkness?”

“Ah! I was waiting for those questions. Incredible as it may sound, I owe you a debt from a far Past. You saved my life in ancient Egypt. Therefore I was drawn or sent to you to pay off this old debt. Nay! Do not start. I tell you that, in a few weeks time, after you have pondered daily on these happenings, the thin shell of despair, ignorance and self-centeredness which has grown around you, will crack; like a bird newly hatched you will emerge into a larger consciousness, a wider life; your horizon will be so far extended that you will not be the same man that you appear to be now. Much of what I am telling you, you will begin to remember, for you have known all this before.

“I had another reason also,” his Friend continued. “For weeks, I had noticed you wandering about on this plane in a brown study during the sleep of your body. I saw that you were contemplating suicide; I recognized in you a future missionary, your special work to be the prevention of suicide! Many of us are alarmed at the increase of suicide in our Western civilization. We need helpers along that line. Who better than you?

“You will not of necessity use the method which I adopted with you; but you will spread the knowledge of the life after death, the reality of this plane and the penalties attached to the taking of one’s own life. For this work you must be trained.

“As for your struggling in darkness on that memorable night, when first you made my acquaintance, I have a confession to make. I induced that condition in you; but it was what you would have had to endure, probably for days, had you really committed suicide.

“That would not have been all, either,” continued the Friend. “You might have wandered about in what is called the ‘gray world’, lost, bewildered, living over and over again your act of suicide, in a continual state of remorse, unable to find release until the time at which your physical life would have ended normally. But Good-bye now for a few weeks.”

Amazed and overcome with emotion at what his Friend had told him, John Strong decided to keep a record of the precious interviews, knowing instinctively that they would not continue indefinitely.

Employment came to him within a week. He would have considered it inadequate a month ago; but now all was changed. His gaze was fixed upon an inner goal. Money, as the end and aim of existence, slipped into the background.

But in spite of that, he began to attract the attention of his employer. There was something subtly different about him, apart from his education. His fellow-workers, timidly at first, came to him for advice. His mission was making him more thorough in every task that he undertook.

After one month’s interval, John Strong and his Friend stood together again.

“John,” said the Friend, “there is nothing supernatural or abnormal in our power to meet in this manner. Everyone has a finer body—in fact several subtler bodies than the physical, and everyone uses them during the waking consciousness. All in sleep find themselves on an inner plane of being, according to their soul unfoldment, using one of those vehicles; but lack of inner development and knowledge of the planes corresponding to their inner bodies, unawareness of the great scheme of our Creator, causes a man either to be unable to move about freely here and take cognizance of his surroundings, or to impress the experiences when they occur on the physical brain at the moment of awakening.

“John, this is our last meeting under these particular circumstances. It will be months, nay perhaps even years, before you are sufficiently developed to be consciously aware that you are working here during sleep with my Band of Helpers or some other Band. But if you will follow the advice which I will give you, you will ere long be with us as a Missionary of Service. You will not always remember what you have done; it is not necessary that you do. The great point is that you will be helping. The too-early memory of work done during sleep might cause you to become proud. Spiritual pride is a great stumbling-block to progress.

“You will be a Server, not only in this inner world with all its varying planes—and which by the way is neither heaven nor hell, but during the waking consciousness in your life in the outer everyday world.

“You will study and train yourself and spread knowledge of the meaning and purpose of life, paying special attention to the would-be suicide.

“How you do this will unfold itself to you in due time. You will naturally gravitate to some society or esoteric school which teaches the fundamental truths of all phases of the inner life. You will choose your own method for your special work.

“Allow me to add a few words of warning before we part. Do not expect all whom you meet to respond to what you might or could tell them. There are reasons. Keep your own counsel as regards your nightly duties. The greatest work is always done in secret. Yours the privilege and the task to work for your weaker brethren in silence and without recognition. Good-bye.”

A hand-clasp and John was awake.

Days and weeks passed by rapidly. John Strong found his school, or it found him; it amounts to the same. A casual remark to a newly-found friend and the door was opened to him.

Having had his outstanding experience with his Friend, John made rapid progress in his studies. He was noted for his earnestness, singleness of purpose and industry. His face shone with an inner glow; he possessed something which was lacking in the average man.

His diary was religiously kept. Looking at some of its earliest pages, we read these words: “Nothing perturbs me now that I have found the great Key to Life, viz. the evolution or gradual unfoldment of the soul by means of repeated births into physical bodies, or Reincarnation as it is called, and the law of Cause and Effect. I do not now expect all persons to be alike or equally developed, for I see that there are, in any civilization, souls in all stages of growth.”

Again later:

“Nightly I consecrate myself to the service of humanity, to my Friend and to the Master, whom some day I hope to see face to face. When I awake in the morning, I have a dim recollection of contacts made with despairing sin-sick men and women. I am told in my studies during the daytime that I cannot expect more than this dim memory at present as the connecting links are not yet formed between my brain and finer bodies.”

Months later John’s diary reads thus:

“I am happy to have been instrumental in cheering a despairing soul who in my presence hinted at suicide as the Way Out. He seemed to realize that I spoke with some knowledge and authority.”

Again:

“My daily work being cast with the despairing and poverty-stricken classes, on relief chiefly, I find that many have suicide in their minds. Often, merely a kind word and a smile will dispel their gloom. During the noon hour many of them gather around me and I tell them in simple language of the meaning and purpose of Life and its great Goal, its realities and illusions, paying special attention to the fact that life is continuous, that we cannot really lose our lives but only our bodies; but that we can complicate our immediate destiny by errors and ignorance and lack of faith.

“I show them in words which ring true, because they are uttered with conviction, that in extreme cases no life is all sorrow and trial. I sometimes long to tell them of the narrow escape which I had; but I refrain. That is my secret for the present.”

One year later we read in John Strong’s diary:

“I think I shall write a book soon on ‘Dreams,’ so-called, a subject so much misunderstood by the average psychologist. And it will be followed probably by another on my experiences among the under-privileged during the daytime. My eyes are being opened to the fact that some of the finest men and women I have ever known are to be found among them.”

A year later:

“My daily meditation on the fundamental truths of life is making me more alert on the physical plane and is causing me to bring through to the brain much of what I am trying to do, along with other experiences during my night life.”

“I am told by my teachers and trainers that the burning desire to serve the weak, the faltering, the suffering and the erring ones, is the prerequisite in the development of what is termed an ‘Invisible Helper.’ I know that I have that intense longing.”

Three years after John’s eventful night we see these words in his diary:

“Joy! At last I have met him, my Friend, in full consciousness during sleep. I know, however, that this accomplishment, which means so much to me, is but the beginning of the end which leads to liberation from the Wheel of Birth and Death.

“Today, I can say with all my heart that I have a faint realization of the ‘Peace which passeth understanding,’ and I recall the little-known but expressive words found in the Uttara Gita, a sacred writing of the Hindus: ‘As a blind man cannot see the sun, though it lighteth the whole world, so those devoid of spiritual knowledge, or the spiritually blind, cannot perceive the Eternal Peace which encompasseth the universe’.”

Here we leave our would-be suicide in the hope that his experience may be helpful to others.

—o—

DEAR Father God, in joy I come To seek Thy wondrous Grace; Enfold me in Thy Loving Arms, Hold me in That Embrace!

I feel Thy Light! I feel Thy Love! I sense a Hidden Flame! It tingles through my every nerve, I know from whence it came!

I AM Thy Light! I AM Thy Love! I AM Thy Flame Divine!! I send It forth to all the earth— Thy LOVE and MINE!!

—Ruby C. Fitts.

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