of all our past experiences filed away below consciousness--directing every
thought and act. Inconceivably delicate and intricate mind-machinery
directs us, and our idlest fancy arises, _not by chance_ as most people
surmise, but through endless associations of subconscious mental processes,
which can often be laid bare by skilful psycho-analysis.

Our subconscious mind does not let the past jar with the present, for life
would be made bitter by the eternal vivid recollection of incidents best
forgotten. Every set of ideas, as it is done with, is locked up separately
in the dungeons of subconsciousness, and these imprisoned ideas form the
basis of memory. _Nothing is ever forgotten_, though we may never again
"remember" it this side the grave.

In a few cases we can unlock the cell-door and release the prisoner--we
"remember"; in some, we mislay the key for awhile; in many, the wards of
the lock have rusted, and we cannot open the door although we have the
key--we "forget"; finally, our prisoner may pick the lock, and make us
attend to him whether we wish to or not--something "strikes us".

Normally, only one set of ideas (a complex) can hold the stage of
consciousness at any one time. When two sets get on the boards together,
double-consciousness occurs, but even then they cannot try to shout each
other down; one set plays "leading lady", the other set the "chorus belle"
and so life is rendered bearable.

This "dissociation of consciousness" occurs in all of us. A skilled pianist
plays a piece "automatically" while talking to a friend; we often read a
book and think of other things at the same time: our full attention is
devoted to neither action; neither is done perfectly, yet both are done
sufficiently well to escape comment.