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- Джек Лондон
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- До Адама
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- Стр. 3/53
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My
parents
were
frightened
.
“
The
child
is
ill
,
”
said
my
mother
.
“
He
is
hysterical
,
”
said
my
father
.
I
never
told
them
,
and
they
never
knew
.
Already
had
I
developed
reticence
concerning
this
quality
of
mine
,
this
semi
-
disassociation
of
personality
as
I
think
I
am
justified
in
calling
it
.
I
saw
the
snake
-
charmer
,
and
no
more
of
the
circus
did
I
see
that
night
.
I
was
taken
home
,
nervous
and
overwrought
,
sick
with
the
invasion
of
my
real
life
by
that
other
life
of
my
dreams
.
I
have
mentioned
my
reticence
.
Only
once
did
I
confide
the
strangeness
of
it
all
to
another
.
He
was
a
boy
—
my
chum
;
and
we
were
eight
years
old
.
From
my
dreams
I
reconstructed
for
him
pictures
of
that
vanished
world
in
which
I
do
believe
I
once
lived
.
I
told
him
of
the
terrors
of
that
early
time
,
of
Lop
-
Ear
and
the
pranks
we
played
,
of
the
gibbering
councils
,
and
of
the
Fire
People
and
their
squatting
places
.
He
laughed
at
me
,
and
jeered
,
and
told
me
tales
of
ghosts
and
of
the
dead
that
walk
at
night
.
But
mostly
did
he
laugh
at
my
feeble
fancy
.
I
told
him
more
,
and
he
laughed
the
harder
.
I
swore
in
all
earnestness
that
these
things
were
so
,
and
he
began
to
look
upon
me
queerly
.
Also
,
he
gave
amazing
garblings
of
my
tales
to
our
playmates
,
until
all
began
to
look
upon
me
queerly
.
It
was
a
bitter
experience
,
but
I
learned
my
lesson
.
I
was
different
from
my
kind
.
I
was
abnormal
with
something
they
could
not
understand
,
and
the
telling
of
which
would
cause
only
misunderstanding
.
When
the
stories
of
ghosts
and
goblins
went
around
,
I
kept
quiet
.
I
smiled
grimly
to
myself
.
I
thought
of
my
nights
of
fear
,
and
knew
that
mine
were
the
real
things
—
real
as
life
itself
,
not
attenuated
vapors
and
surmised
shadows
.
For
me
no
terrors
resided
in
the
thought
of
bugaboos
and
wicked
ogres
The
fall
through
leafy
branches
and
the
dizzy
heights
;
the
snakes
that
struck
at
me
as
I
dodged
and
leaped
away
in
chattering
flight
;
the
wild
dogs
that
hunted
me
across
the
open
spaces
to
the
timber
—
these
were
terrors
concrete
and
actual
,
happenings
and
not
imaginings
,
things
of
the
living
flesh
and
of
sweat
and
blood
.
Ogres
and
bugaboos
and
I
had
been
happy
bed
-
fellows
,
compared
with
these
terrors
that
made
their
bed
with
me
throughout
my
childhood
,
and
that
still
bed
with
me
,
now
,
as
I
write
this
,
full
of
years
.
I
have
said
that
in
my
dreams
I
never
saw
a
human
being
.
Of
this
fact
I
became
aware
very
early
,
and
felt
poignantly
the
lack
of
my
own
kind
.
As
a
very
little
child
,
even
,
I
had
a
feeling
,
in
the
midst
of
the
horror
of
my
dreaming
,
that
if
I
could
find
but
one
man
,
only
one
human
,
I
should
be
saved
from
my
dreaming
,
that
I
should
be
surrounded
no
more
by
haunting
terrors
.
This
thought
obsessed
me
every
night
of
my
life
for
years
—
if
only
I
could
find
that
one
human
and
be
saved
!
I
must
iterate
that
I
had
this
thought
in
the
midst
of
my
dreaming
,
and
I
take
it
as
an
evidence
of
the
merging
of
my
two
personalities
,
as
evidence
of
a
point
of
contact
between
the
two
disassociated
parts
of
me
.
My
dream
personality
lived
in
the
long
ago
,
before
ever
man
,
as
we
know
him
,
came
to
be
;
and
my
other
and
wake
-
a
-
day
personality
projected
itself
,
to
the
extent
of
the
knowledge
of
man
’
s
existence
,
into
the
substance
of
my
dreams
.
