a train approached, and he was afraid of being run over. In his sleep, the
patient communicates the details and sees everything clearly. After a short
interval of complete rest, he begins to breathe heavily, his pulse quickens,
then he cries out in fright and excitement and dread, "Now it's coming, now
the auto's coming, it's turning over, we're under it, there it's riding over
us!" Gradually he quiets down again, and after a quarter of an hour, awakes.
He says he now feels something lifted from his chest, that he has slept
well, and feels better. He recalls everything. The train came out of the
tunnel with gleaming lights; this scene took place in the evening. The
automobile scene was reproduced precisely as he had taken part in it, no
detail escaped him; his breathing is unobstructed now, and he has no more
heart palpitations.

On the day appointed for the seance I was unexpectedly obliged to go away.
When I wished to resume the treatment, January 9, the patient wrote me that
his condition was strikingly improved, the heart palpitations and feelings
of anxiety had not reappeared. His pleasure in life and work had returned
once more, his night's rest left nothing to be desired, his appetite was
excellent, therefore he thought that further treatment was not necessary for
the present. To a later inquiry, February 12, 1910, a year afterwards, I
obtained this answer: "Without exaggeration I am able to write you that in
my whole life I have never felt so well as now. There has been no question
of any nervous attacks or feelings of dread. My weight, which had gone down
to fifty-eight kilos during my nervous sickness, has gone up to seventy
kilos."

When Frank shuts himself up with his patients in a room, from which all
outer noises are excluded as much as possible, by means of double windows
and doors, although he--by means of electric light signals visible to him
alone--keeps in touch with the servant outside, he has the patient recline