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My
method
of
mechanical
hypnosis
was
the
soul
of
simplicity
.
Sitting
with
folded
legs
on
my
straw-mattress
,
I
gazed
fixedly
at
a
fragment
of
bright
straw
which
I
had
attached
to
the
wall
of
my
cell
near
the
door
where
the
most
light
was
.
I
gazed
at
the
bright
point
,
with
my
eyes
close
to
it
,
and
tilted
upward
till
they
strained
to
see
.
At
the
same
time
I
relaxed
all
the
will
of
me
and
gave
myself
to
the
swaying
dizziness
that
always
eventually
came
to
me
.
And
when
I
felt
myself
sway
out
of
balance
backward
,
I
closed
my
eyes
and
permitted
myself
to
fall
supine
and
unconscious
on
the
mattress
.
And
then
,
for
half-an-hour
,
ten
minutes
,
or
as
long
as
an
hour
or
so
,
I
would
wander
erratically
and
foolishly
through
the
stored
memories
of
my
eternal
recurrence
on
earth
.
But
times
and
places
shifted
too
swiftly
.
I
knew
afterward
,
when
I
awoke
,
that
I
,
Darrell
Standing
,
was
the
linking
personality
that
connected
all
bizarreness
and
grotesqueness
.
But
that
was
all
.
I
could
never
live
out
completely
one
full
experience
,
one
point
of
consciousness
in
time
and
space
.
My
dreams
,
if
dreams
they
may
be
called
,
were
rhymeless
and
reasonless
.
Thus
,
as
a
sample
of
my
rovings
:
in
a
single
interval
of
fifteen
minutes
of
subconsciousness
I
have
crawled
and
bellowed
in
the
slime
of
the
primeval
world
and
sat
beside
Haas
--
further
and
cleaved
the
twentieth
century
air
in
a
gas-driven
monoplane
.
Awake
,
I
remembered
that
I
,
Darrell
Standing
,
in
the
flesh
,
during
the
year
preceding
my
incarceration
in
San
Quentin
,
had
flown
with
Haas
further
over
the
Pacific
at
Santa
Monica
.
Awake
,
I
did
not
remember
the
crawling
and
the
bellowing
in
the
ancient
slime
.
Nevertheless
,
awake
,
I
reasoned
that
somehow
I
had
remembered
that
early
adventure
in
the
slime
,
and
that
it
was
a
verity
of
long-previous
experience
,
when
I
was
not
yet
Darrell
Standing
but
somebody
else
,
or
something
else
that
crawled
and
bellowed
.
One
experience
was
merely
more
remote
than
the
other
.
Both
experiences
were
equally
real
--
or
else
how
did
I
remember
them
?
Oh
,
what
a
fluttering
of
luminous
images
and
actions
!
In
a
few
short
minutes
of
loosed
subconsciousness
I
have
sat
in
the
halls
of
kings
,
above
the
salt
and
below
the
salt
,
been
fool
and
jester
,
man-at-arms
,
clerk
and
monk
;
and
I
have
been
ruler
above
all
at
the
head
of
the
table
--
temporal
power
in
my
own
sword
arm
,
in
the
thickness
of
my
castle
walls
,
and
the
numbers
of
my
fighting
men
;
spiritual
power
likewise
mine
by
token
of
the
fact
that
cowled
priests
and
fat
abbots
sat
beneath
me
and
swigged
my
wine
and
swined
my
meat
.
I
have
worn
the
iron
collar
of
the
serf
about
my
neck
in
cold
climes
;
and
I
have
loved
princesses
of
royal
houses
in
the
tropic-warmed
and
sun-scented
night
,
where
black
slaves
fanned
the
sultry
air
with
fans
of
peacock
plumes
,
while
from
afar
,
across
the
palm
and
fountains
,
drifted
the
roaring
of
lions
and
the
cries
of
jackals
.
I
have
crouched
in
chill
desert
places
warming
my
hands
at
fires
builded
of
camel
's
dung
;
and
I
have
lain
in
the
meagre
shade
of
sun-parched
sage-brush
by
dry
water-holes
and
yearned
dry-tongued
for
water
,
while
about
me
,
dismembered
and
scattered
in
the
alkali
,
were
the
bones
of
men
and
beasts
who
had
yearned
and
died
.
I
have
been
sea-cuny
and
bravo
,
scholar
and
recluse
.
I
have
pored
over
hand-written
pages
of
huge
and
musty
tomes
in
the
scholastic
quietude
and
twilight
of
cliff-perched
monasteries
,
while
beneath
on
the
lesser
slopes
,
peasants
still
toiled
beyond
the
end
of
day
among
the
vines
and
olives
and
drove
in
from
pastures
the
blatting
goats
and
lowing
kine
;
yes
,
and
I
have
led
shouting
rabbles
down
the
wheel-worn
,
chariot-rutted
paves
of
ancient
and
forgotten
cities
;
and
,
solemn-voiced
and
grave
as
death
,
I
have
enunciated
the
law
,
stated
the
gravity
of
the
infraction
,
and
imposed
the
due
death
on
men
,
who
,
like
Darrell
Standing
in
Folsom
Prison
,
had
broken
the
law
.
Aloft
,
at
giddy
mastheads
oscillating
above
the
decks
of
ships
,
I
have
gazed
on
sun-flashed
water
where
coral-growths
iridesced
from
profounds
of
turquoise
deeps
,
and
conned
the
ships
into
the
safety
of
mirrored
lagoons
where
the
anchors
rumbled
down
close
to
palm-fronded
beaches
of
sea-pounded
coral
rock
;
and
I
have
striven
on
forgotten
battlefields
of
the
elder
days
,
when
the
sun
went
down
on
slaughter
that
did
not
cease
and
that
continued
through
the
night-hours
with
the
stars
shining
down
and
with
a
cool
night
wind
blowing
from
distant
peaks
of
snow
that
failed
to
chill
the
sweat
of
battle
;
and
again
,
I
have
been
little
Darrell
Standing
,
bare-footed
in
the
dew-lush
grass
of
spring
on
the
Minnesota
farm
,
chilblained
when
of
frosty
mornings
I
fed
the
cattle
in
their
breath-steaming
stalls
,
sobered
to
fear
and
awe
of
the
splendour
and
terror
of
God
when
I
sat
on
Sundays
under
the
rant
and
preachment
of
the
New
Jerusalem
and
the
agonies
of
hell-fire
.
