The last week of June, 1894, was an important one in my life. An event
then occurred which undoubtedly changed my career completely. It was
the direct cause of my mental collapse six years later, and of the
distressing and, in some instances, strange and delightful experiences
on which this book is based. The event was the illness of an older
brother, who, late in June, 1894, was stricken with what was thought to
be epilepsy. Few diseases can so disorganize a household and distress
its members. My brother had enjoyed perfect health up to the time he
was stricken; and, as there had never been a suggestion of epilepsy, or
any like disease, in either branch of the family, the affliction came
as a bolt from a clear sky. Everything possible was done to effect a
cure, but without avail. On July 4th, 1900, he died, after a six years'
illness, two years of which were spent at home, one year in a trip
around the world in a sailing vessel, and most of the remainder on a
farm near Hartford. The doctors finally decided that a tumor at the
base of the brain had caused his malady and his death.

As I was in college when my brother was first stricken, I had more time
at my disposal than the other members of the family, and for that
reason spent much of it with him. Though his attacks during the first
year occurred only at night, the fear that they might occur during the
day, in public, affected my nerves from the beginning.

Now, if a brother who had enjoyed perfect health all his life could be
stricken with epilepsy, what was to prevent my being similarly
afflicted? This was the thought that soon got possession of my mind.
The more I considered it and him, the more nervous I became; and the
more nervous, the more convinced that my own breakdown was only a
matter of time. Doomed to what I then considered a living death, I