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In
fact
,
that
was
what
I
became
--
a
sort
of
string-like
organism
that
persisted
in
living
.
Morrell
and
Oppenheimer
were
sorry
for
me
,
and
rapped
me
sympathy
and
advice
.
Oppenheimer
told
me
he
had
gone
through
it
,
and
worse
,
and
still
lived
.
"
Do
n't
let
them
beat
you
out
,
"
he
spelled
with
his
knuckles
.
"
Do
n't
let
them
kill
you
,
for
that
would
suit
them
.
And
do
n't
squeal
on
the
plant
.
"
"
But
there
is
n't
any
plant
,
"
I
rapped
back
with
the
edge
of
the
sole
of
my
shoe
against
the
grating
--
I
was
in
the
jacket
at
the
time
and
so
could
talk
only
with
my
feet
.
"
I
do
n't
know
anything
about
the
damned
dynamite
.
"
"
That
's
right
,
"
Oppenheimer
praised
.
"
He
's
the
stuff
,
ai
n't
he
,
Ed
?
"
Which
goes
to
show
what
chance
I
had
of
convincing
Warden
Atherton
of
my
ignorance
of
the
dynamite
.
His
very
persistence
in
the
quest
convinced
a
man
like
Jake
Oppenheimer
,
who
could
only
admire
me
for
the
fortitude
with
which
I
kept
a
close
mouth
.
During
this
first
period
of
the
jacket-inquisition
I
managed
to
sleep
a
great
deal
.
My
dreams
were
remarkable
.
Of
course
they
were
vivid
and
real
,
as
most
dreams
are
.
What
made
them
remarkable
was
their
coherence
and
continuity
.
Often
I
addressed
bodies
of
scientists
on
abstruse
subjects
,
reading
aloud
to
them
carefully
prepared
papers
on
my
own
researches
or
on
my
own
deductions
from
the
researches
and
experiments
of
others
.
When
I
awakened
my
voice
would
seem
still
ringing
in
my
ears
,
while
my
eyes
still
could
see
typed
on
the
white
paper
whole
sentences
and
paragraphs
that
I
could
read
again
and
marvel
at
ere
the
vision
faded
.
In
passing
,
I
call
attention
to
the
fact
that
at
the
time
I
noted
that
the
process
of
reasoning
employed
in
these
dream
speeches
was
invariably
deductive
.
Then
there
was
a
great
farming
section
,
extending
north
and
south
for
hundreds
of
miles
in
some
part
of
the
temperate
regions
,
with
a
climate
and
flora
and
fauna
largely
resembling
those
of
California
.
Not
once
,
nor
twice
,
but
thousands
of
different
times
I
journeyed
through
this
dream-region
.
The
point
I
desire
to
call
attention
to
was
that
it
was
always
the
same
region
.
No
essential
feature
of
it
ever
differed
in
the
different
dreams
.
Thus
it
was
always
an
eight-hour
drive
behind
mountain
horses
from
the
alfalfa
meadows
(
where
I
kept
many
Jersey
cows
)
to
the
straggly
village
beside
the
big
dry
creek
,
where
I
caught
the
little
narrow-gauge
train
.
Every
land-mark
in
that
eight-hour
drive
in
the
mountain
buckboard
,
every
tree
,
every
mountain
,
every
ford
and
bridge
,
every
ridge
and
eroded
hillside
was
ever
the
same
.
In
this
coherent
,
rational
farm-region
of
my
strait-jacket
dreams
the
minor
details
,
according
to
season
and
to
the
labour
of
men
,
did
change
.
