Welcome to the Feelgood Lodge
By Anna Kingsford
Complain to management about the weird
goings-on and they tell you it’s room service
From Dreams and Dream Stories
I seemed in my vision to be on a long and wearisome journey, and to have arrived
consisted of a bedroom and parlor, communicating, and furnished in an antique
manner, everything in the rooms appearing to be worm-eaten, dusty and out of
date. The walls were bare and dingy; there was not a picture or an ornament in
the apartment. An extremely dim light prevailed in the scene; indeed, I do not
clearly remember, whether, with the exception of the fire and a night-lamp, the
rooms were illumined at all. I seated myself in a chair by the hearth; it was
late, and I thought only of rest. But, presently, I became aware of strange
things going on about me. On a table in a corner lay some papers and a pencil.
With a feeling of indescribable horror I saw this pencil assume an erect
position and begin of itself to write on the paper, precisely as though an invisible hand held and guided it.
At the same time, small detonations sounded in different parts of the room; tiny bright sparks appeared, burst, and immediately expired in smoke. The pencil having ceased to write, laid itself gently down, and taking the paper in my hand I found on it a quantity of writing which at first appeared to me to be in cipher, but I presently perceived that the words composing as it were written backwards, from right to left, exactly as one sees writing reflected on a looking glass.
What was written made a considerable impression on me at the time, but I cannot now recall it, I know, however, that the dominant feeling I experienced was one of horror.
I called the owners of the inn and related to them what had taken place. They
received my statement with perfect equanimity, and told me that in their house
this was the normal state of things, of which, in fact, they were extremely
proud: and they ended by congratulating me as a visitor much favored by the
invisible agencies of the place.
“We call them our Lights,” they said.
“It is true,” I observed, “that I saw lights in the air about the room, but they
went out instantaneously, and left only smoke behind them. And why do they write
backwards? Who are They?”
As I asked this question, the pencil on the table rose again, and wrote thus on
the paper: —
Again horror seized on me, and the air becoming full of smoke I found it impossible to breathe. “Let me out!” I cried, “I am stifled here, — the air is full of smoke!”
Outside, the people of the house answered, “you will lose your way; it is quite dark, and we have no other rooms to let. And,besides, it is the same in all the other apartments of the inn.”
“But the place is haunted!” I cried; and I pushed past them, and burst out of
Before the doorway stood a tall veiled figure, like translucent silver. A sense
of reverence overcame me. The night was balmy, and bright almost as day with
resplendent starlight. The stars seemed to lean out of heaven; they looked down
on me like living eyes, full of [Page 63] a strange immeasurable sympathy. I
crossed the threshold, and stood in the open plain, breathing with rapture and relief the pure warm air of that delicious night. How restful, calm, and glorious was the dark landscape, outlined in purple against the luminous sky !
And what a consciousness of vastness and immensity above and around me ! " Where
am I ? " I cried.
The silver figure stood beside me, and lifted its veil. It was Pallas Athena.
"Under the Stars of the East", she answered me, " the true eternal Lights of
After I was awake, a text in the Gospels was vividly brought to my mind: —
no room for them in the
rooms of which are haunted, and in which the Christ cannot be born ? And this
open country under the eastern night, — is it not the same in which they were "
abiding," to whom that Birth was first angelically announced ?
Thankyou for visiting the Feelgood Lodge