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have re-ported seeing their own ghosts, in an article entitled "Have You Seen Your Double?"
Dr. Podolsky records the experience of a Mr. Harold C. of Chicago, Illinois, who, in March, 1958,
returned home after a hard day at the office with a splitting migraine. As he sat down to dinner, he
saw, sitting opposite him, an exact replica of himself. This astonishing double repeated every
movement he made during the entire course of the meal. Since that tune, Mr. C. has seen his double
on a number of occasions - each time after an attack of migraine.
Samuel V. of Kansas City, Missouri, was startled to see an exact double of himself duplicating his
every movement as he went about gardening chores. The double was visible for about two hours.
Most frightening is the case of Mrs. Jeanie P. As she was applying makeup, she saw an exact
duplicate of herself also touching up her features. Mrs. P. reached out to touch the double, and the
image reached out to touch her. Mrs. P. actually felt her face being touched by her mysterious double.
According to Dr. Podolsky, there are two main theories about the cause of autoscopy. One theory
regards the phenomenon as being due to "the result of some irritating process in the brain, particularly
of the parieto-temporal-occipital area (the visual area)." The other, a psychological theory, sees in
autoscopy "the projection of memory pictures. Certain pictures are stored in the memory and when
conditions of stress or other unusual psychological situations arise these memories may be projected
outside the body as very real images."
Neither theory explains the "Vardogr" of the Norwegians. Wiers Jensen, editor of the Norwegian
Journal of Psychical Research, wrote a series of articles on the Vardogr as early as 1917. The
possessor of a Vardogr unconsciously employs it as a type of spiritual forerunner to announce his
physical arrival.
"The Vardogr reports are all alike," wrote Wiers Jen-sen. "With little variation, the same type of
happening occurs: The possessor of a Vardogr announces his arrival. His steps are heard on the
staircase. He is heard to unlock the outside door, kick off his overshoes, put his walking stick in place,
etc. The listening 'percipients' - if they are not so accustomed to the prelude of the Vardogr that they
remain sitting quietly - open the door and find the entry empty. The Vardogr has, as usual, played a
trick on them. Eight or ten minutes later, the whole performance is repeated - but now the reality and
the man arrive."
Being of Norwegian and Danish descent (it seems that only the Norwegians and the Scotch
experience this particular type of "psi" phenomenon), I can relate my personal experiences with the
Vardogr.
One Saturday night when I was about sixteen, I managed to arrive home before my parents. I went
upstairs to my room and lay down on the bed to thumb through a new magazine I had purchased that
evening. I had not lain there long when I heard the front door open and the sounds of my parents
moving about downstairs. The sounds had been quite clear. First the opening of the front screen door,
then the individual squeaking of the inside door. The sound of footsteps mounting the three steps to
the inner hallway had been very audible, as had been the subsequent sounds of footsteps moving
about the various rooms.
"Goodnight!" I shouted down the stairs after a few moments.
There was no answer. I flipped through a few more pages of the magazine, thinking that my parents
had not heard me as they prepared for bed.
"Goodnight down there!" I shouted after a few moments, a bit louder this time.
Again no answer. And by now it had become very silent downstairs. Too silent if those footsteps had
really belonged to my parents. My mind was instantly flooded with a variety of startling images.
Burglars, thinking the home deserted and not seeing my light, had decided to enter the house. My
shouts had alerted them to the presence of a lone occupant. What would their next move be? Icy
ringers traced a slow, deliberate path up the length of my spine.
At the moment I was about to reach for my .22 rifle to do battle, I once again heard the familiar
sounds of my parents arriving home. The noises were precisely as they had been before, only this time
when I shouted down my "goodnight," the voices of my parents quickly responded.
The second time I heard the Vardogr of my parents was no less eerie, and neither were any of its
subsequent arrivals. Each time it tricked me as thoroughly as it had done before. My sister fell victim
to its spooky pranks fully as often as I. One night my parents arrived home to find her in a state of
near panic. She had been sitting in a chair with her back to the door. She had heard the door open and
close and the sound of footsteps enter the house and approach to the spot directly behind her chair. As
she was engrossed in the book she was reading, she had not bothered to turn around at the sound of
the opening door. After a few moments had passed, she began to wonder why her mother and father
preferred to stand behind her chair in complete silence. Imagine her surprise and horror when she
turned around and saw that no one was there.
Weirs Jensen, in one of his articles, notes the fact that, as a rule, the Vardogr announces itself only by
imitating the sounds made by inanimate objects, such as "the sound of the key in the lock, the placing
of overshoes and stick in their proper spots, the stamping of shoes on the floor. The jingle of
horsebells and the cracking of whips may also be heard."
At times, though, the Vardogr may materialize into such an independent apparition that it may be
mistaken for the real man.
In the summer of 1955, Mr. Erkson Gorique decided to visit Norway to investigate the possibilities of
importing Norwegian china and glassware. A successful businessman in his fifties, Mr. Gorique had
traveled widely but had never been to Norway. Each summer for several years he had declared his
intention of making the trip to the land of fjords and icy streams, but something had always interfered
with his plans and the trip had never been accomplished.
In July he landed in Oslo, inquired where he might find the best hotel, and took a taxi directly to the
recommended lodgings. He knew absolutely no one in Norway and was prepared to go about his
business in no great haste.
When Mr. Gorique registered at the desk, the clerk greeted him with a pleasant smile. "How nice to
see you again, Mr. Gorique. It is so good to have you back."
Gorique stared at the man, managed a thin smile. "But I have never been here before. You must
mistake me for someone else."
The clerk frowned, shook his head resolutely. "Surely you remember, sir. It has only been a few
months since you dropped by one morning to make a reservation and told me that you would be along
about this time in the summer."
Gorique could do nothing but blink incredulously.
Uneasy under the importer's peculiar stare, the clerk stammered. "Well, sir, that is, well, your name is
a bit unusual. That's why I was able to remember it."
"This just cannot be!" Gorique said firmly. "I have never been to Oslo nor to Norway in my entire
life!"
Mr. Gorique's voice had carried across the lobby and the manager had appeared in the background,
narrow-eyed and nervous. The clerk caught a glimpse of the manager out of the corner of his eye and
offered a wide smile to the American importer. "I must be mistaken, sir. Please forgive me."
Gorique walked away from the desk with the distinct impression that although the clerk had confessed
his error, he thought the American either mad or attempting to travel incognito.
Matters did not improve for Mr. Gorique when he visited the wholesale dealer whom he had planned
to see about arranging for the importation of glassware. Mr. Olsen, a white-haired, friendly man, rose [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]