"I know who you are but you don't know who I am," the answer would come.
"Yes, but who are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"But you must. Why don't you go away?"
"I can't," would come the reply.
A cad's game.
"I am pushed from behind. I have to come—I can't go."
I would sigh and moan.
It was terribly painful. My chest would swell till I could hardly bear my clothes, and when I walked, my feet would be so heavy I could hardly lift them. These were not spirits, I felt sure.
Whether they heard or not and could really have left me in peace, whether it was true that they were pushed from behind I don't know but it was cruelty itself.
Never was I left to myself—I could not read for I could not get my attention. I felt the second—sometimes third—mind in mine.
That they were various entities who troubled me in this way I felt sure for I felt the different temperaments merging themselves in mine. One there was—and this I am sure was Patrick—who made me feel buoyant and happy. A strong feeling of the joy of life came over me. I always knew when he was there. Others would make me feel hard and spiteful and besides that, there were spiteful voices that jibed at me.
Sometimes "the influence" would overtake me as I walked home and I would feel conscious of a strange being there who would not allow me any privacy, however much I implored. Many a time I sank down into a chair and cried in despair at freeing myself from this terrible molestation.
What could it be? Why did no one know? How could I get help?
There was a little Catholic Church not far away. I went in there one day and knelt and looked at the little red light which had always comforted me before. I watched the people come and go in the quiet of the little church. I let my eyes dwell on the golden light flooding in through the stained-glass windows, and let myself sink into a feeling of calm and prayer that it might go with me always, and that the voices would cease.
But they did not cease.
Not only voices but the feeling of another's consciousness in mine and some by no means friends. They seemed to catch me up or if they accompanied me, they would keep quiet while I and my friends talked but as soon as I was alone again they would go on. Many a time I found my ankle turn while they pushed themselves in this way into my consciousness.
