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Do you believe that I was dead? I am as living as you.

999 Zola

Black Books

  1. I. 1927.

Funeral. -I A vivid feeling the night after, as if he waved to me, standing at the foot of my bed. I decided to follow him (in thought).

He led me out of the house, into the garden, on the street and into his house.

There into his study, where there was a large bookcase behind the table.

I had no idea what books he had there. He pointed to the first of three bound red volumes on the second highest shelf.

Then the vision stopped. The next morning I went (in reality DJ immediately to his wife and asked her to take me to the study.

I got up on a stool, there the three red books were and took the first down: the title was Zola:

The Legacy of the Dead. ( Contents irrelevant?)

Around the following night I dreamt: I see H. S. healthy and happy, as if rejuvenated, smiling and he has a new suit.

A few days later: H. S. and I are in Luxor, Tropical hotel.

I sit on a sofa at a small white marble table. He seats himself next to me and makes an angry accusation against me:

Do you believe that I was dead? I am as living as you. A faint carrion smell is noticeable.

He approaches me threateningly and I draw my knife which I brandish in front of his face, to stop him. Seep.

End of Jan. 1927.

George Porter in Chicago X suicide. Unfit for life. Projected the anima in women. ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 240-241

Hermann Sigg was buried in Kusnacht on January 13.

The service was conducted by Adolf Keller (Neue Zurcher Zeitung, January 14). ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 240-241, fn 262

A German translation of an early Zo la novel, Le voeu d’une morte (1867), subsequently translated into English by Count C. S. de Soissons as A Dead Woman’s Wish (London: Greening and Co., 1902).

In Memories, Jung provided the following account of this episode: “One night I lay awake thinking of the sudden death of a friend whose funeral had taken place the day before. I was deeply concerned.

Suddenly I felt that he was in the room. It seemed to me that he stood at the foot of my bed and was asking me to go with him.

I did not have the feeling of an apparition; rather, it was an inner visual image of him, which I explained to myself as a fantasy.

But in all honesty I had to ask myself, ‘Do I have any proof that this is a fantasy? Suppose it is not a fantasy, suppose my friend is really here and I decided he was only a fantasy-would that not be abominable of me?’

Yet I had equally little proof that he stood before me as an apparition.

Then I said to myself, ‘Proof is neither here nor there! Instead of explaining him away as a fantasy, I might just as well give him the benefit of the doubt and for experiment’s sake credit him with reality.’

The moment I had that thought, he went to the door and beckoned me to follow him. So I was going to have to play along with him!

That was something I hadn’t bargained for. I had to repeat my argument to myself once more.

Only then did I follow him in my imagination. / He led me out of the house, into the garden, out to the road, and finally to his house, (In reality it was several hundred yards away from mine.)

I went in, and he conducted me into his study.

He climbed on a stool and showed me the second of five books with red bindings which stood on the second shelf from the top.

Then the vision broke off. I was not acquainted with his library and did not know what books he owned.

Certainly I could never have made out from below the titles of the books he had pointed out to me on the second shelf from the top.

/ This experience seemed to me so curious that next morning I went to his widow and asked whether I could look up something in my friend’s library.

Sure enough, there was a stool standing under the bookcase I had seen in my vision, and even before I came closer I could see the five books with red bindings.

I stepped up on the stool so as to be able to read the titles. They were translations of the novels of Emile Zola.

The title of the second volume read: ‘The Legacy of the Dead.’ The contents seemed to me of no interest.

Only the title was extremely significant in connection with this experience” (pp. 343- 44). ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 240-241, fn 263

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