Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive By William Dudley Pelley


Chapter IV

THE FIRST time I made such frank admissions about my original clairaudient complications, I aroused a wave of criticism that I had in nowise expected. Large numbers of people seemed to think that I was hurting my own standing by candidly narrating the mischief and interferences I had experienced instead of receiving crystal-clear and infallible communications. “If you got false or subversive messages even once,” they argued, “how can you say that you did not get false and subversive messages before and afterward?’

My answer to such doubters has uniformly been that by telling the actual truth as to what happened, and being absolutely frank about the pitfalls and trip-ups that I encountered, I have believed myself doing the very opposite of shaking confidence in my integrity or the veracity of bona fide communications when I had ‘found’ myself in all the disturbing business and mastered the technique of discriminating between the worthy messages of real mentors and the annoying vaporings of discarnate ‘kibitzers’.

I am showing people exactly what happens in this sort of development so that they may know what is occurring when they encounter similar phenomena—as they certainly will—and I am disclosing what the steps and attainments have been that now enable me to say that I believe my Sources to be correct and dependable.

And, by the way, I want to serve notice here and now that I am not strategizing in all of this, in order to build a great following for myself, or be taken for any modern Moses, leading people out of a spiritual wilderness. I declare that I lack the acumen to so strategize, even to carry myself to the point at which I find myself already.

If a stronger power than mine were not guiding and directing all this, I would long ago have gone down to defeat.

THEN there is another point that should be borne in mind. True adepts and investigators into these mysterious fields above the mortal know that if I declared myself faultless in my progress—if I announced that I had never gotten into the hands of “wrong people” in my experiences —they would have

Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

every right to look somewhat askance upon my integrity as well as my adeptness, because, as I say, these misfortunate do hound those who open these centers in themselves.

They hounded Christ Himself. What other interpretation can we put upon His Temptation in the Wilderness but the attempt of evil entities to gain control of His resplendent organism while He was in a developing state? This is by no means any alibi for y previous assertion concerning frankness in dealing with my audience. I am merely trying to impress on confused or dubious critics that what I am now printing in this book of Psychic Memoirs actually happened between twenty and thirty years in the past. Much water had flowed under the Bridge of Experience since these happenings. I believe that later I found ways and means of armoring myself against the tactics of these ignorant, half-developed discarnates who seem not to understand what it is that they are doing. But be that as it may, I do ask my readers to suspend judgment on my veracity and dependability until they have read the full account of what I have narrate.

AFTER coming to New York on what seemed a wild goose chase, and having much balderdash and slanderous material given me over the automatic pencil when I was alone and wearied with much writing, I had gone up to my friend’s apartment to get such explanation as I could from those who might instruct her in the true tenets of what was occurring.

We made the writing-board ready as I related at the end of my last chapter and after a few moments an Invisible Mentor began to write—

William must get these things from experience else he is never going to be of value as an instructor to others. He must learn the identities of his own Kith and kin in this work, how to form accurate contact with them, and how to know he has received dependable material that has actually come from them. No appreciable harm has come to him to date, and we will not allow serious harm to come to him, experience that, which may arise by his own willful disillusion within his own spirit.

IMMEDIATELY I asked if it was right and fair to left me obligate myself for $750,

to make the long cross -country trip, merely to learn that I had been the butt of

petty practical jokers. Whereupon he Pencil wrote—

No such thing has happened. You were given that money to come to Manhattan for a worthwhile reason that will presently be explained. In the next few days you are to be thrown into contact with people you should meet in this work—people you would not have been able to meet in any other way than by being here in the East at this time. We, not the antic-maker, arranged that expense-money for you. But the antic-maker cut in with an auduible explanation for the trip, which you seized on, in your subconscious

Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

mind, shutting explanation seemed valid to you. We had to let the matter rest until you discovered the bogus explanation; then we could correct you, as we propose to do now.

WHAT about all this slander and gossip that has been coming over since I’ve been here?” I demanded, much chagrined.

After all, I felt that I had cooperated with the so-called Unseen and should not be thus penalized with hoaxing. Where upon my true friends and mentors wrote the following bit of exquisite sentiment—

“Those of us who operate upon the higher planes of Love cannot, and would not if we could, pass on to you information about those you love that would cause either of you pain.

“Whatever else we are, we are NOT gossip. If there are those on this side who are gossips, they are much like such persons o your side, and most of what they pass on to you is the fabrication of diseased fancy. “The things of the Thought World are not a whole lot different from the things of the earth-world except that we have access to the thoughts and emotions of people which you do not.

“You must remember that all sorts of institutions exist foe the commitment of insane people on your side, but over here on the Lower Levels close to earth they are uniformly at large and can do quite as much damage on both sides as they can in the flesh on the earth side when they are not restrained. So you can imagine what a bedlam of vibrations sometimes exists over here when we want to concentrate with you most.

“These ‘crazy souls’ are obsessed with picking shining marks for their attacks, as they know that they cannot be perceived and yet can perceive the results of their mischief. They are like a lot of noisy children and the nursery is often a thumping nuisance.

“What we mean to tell you is, do not let yourself be misled by such people. What makes sense on your side makes sense here—and vice versa. What makes profitable converse here is doubly true upon your side.”

AFTER TWELVE years of working consistently in clairaudiency, I can now subscribe to all this as true.

For the guidance of my good friends all over the nation who may even now be “coming through the way”, I am going to give over the balance of this chapter to my second clairaudient paper which I received on the following evening, as I am certain the advice and observations it contains will help them as it then helped me. Next chapter I shall tell of the true reason for my being called to New York, and the events that started to transpire, ending my residence on the West Coast for good and culminating in the writing of “My Seven Minutes in Eternity” foe the American Magazine.

Eventually I discarded the automatic pencil and the mirror after I had gone back for the last time to California to close my affairs

Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

As I continued to have tip-ups and antagonism with the Pencil, I finally got this message—

“YOU are doing too much of the solo writing. Your nerve centers are becoming

over-sensitized and must have rest. Don’t you think there are others here who know the trick of pressing on the right nerve? This is what it amounts to, but the plan I should like to try is this—

“You choose an hour each day when you can surely give it to us and for one hour we will write. Do not try to transcribe anything during that hour. Wait r ill it is over. This will mike it easier for us to control conditions though even then there are certain elements that are in your control. That is, your physical condition or your mind may make a wall between us that we cannot penetrate. When this happens, your own subconscious, not wanting you to be disappointed, takes things over. It is then that all sorts of promises are made which seem to be deceptions on our part.

WE ARE giving you this warning because you cannot often in the least know the wall has been erected. Over-anxiety to get us and to make the right distinctions is often the strongest wall you can build. You have to be on your guard also against those malign influences that can get to you when we are not on guard and that are inevitably attracted when the atmosphere is fogged by Doubt, Weariness and Emotional Strain. You are straining too much. Quite means quiet all the way through—body, soul, mind, brain, nerves and spirit. Too much of this straining makes a condition so over-sensitized that it results in one of two things: either your vibrations are lowered in tone and you are open to almost any force that comes along, or you are almost completely shut away from this side and your subconscious gets busy looking for some wish or fear hope or question that has previously been expressed, and building it up and decorating it.

“Remember, we may give you sailing directions but we do not take the wheel. And we do not give sailing directions to go two ways at once. How can we help it if you persist in joining up the radio, and taking the telephone off the hook, and then while we are talking, accepting all that is coming from all three sources as from us?”

“We do take command insofar as your safety, and the success of your whole voyage, is concerned. As to the best and quickest daily charting of your course, we leave that to you.”

“We do not say that we cannot give you advance information. We know where the track leads and what time the train should arrive but we can never guarantee that the engine will not develop a hot-box and delay the train. We cannot even guarantee that an unexpected storm will not wash out a bridge and wreck it, that is, for the ordinary things of life. If the journey is one that is vital to you, we are ahead of the train and making sure that no mishaps can occur.?

Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

“You have no conception or the Power of Thought, even on your plane, and for almost two weeks you have been sending out thoughts destructive to the very things you were most keen about. We know you could not help it, considering the state of doubt that you were in, but that did not keep it from checkmating some of our efforts. So not be upset. We do not mean that any harm has been done except that Delay is always a factor that brings greater chances for something to go wrong.”

“You were I a state of doubt that was deeper than your conscious mind and applied to all the circumstances surrounding you. At first this was not very active, but it was enough to let through the things which in their turn increased the doubt and made it assume proportions that were serious handicaps to all that we were trying to do. You can check, you can question, to see of we are what we say. But you must never doubt that we are making the effort to reach you!

“You say that you understood that you had nothing to do but wait and we would serve you. What else would anyone on this side do if he wanted you to fail—if it meant more than to be calm and quiet and patient?” “There ate times of crisis, when after you have done all that is in you to do, we step in and do the rest for you. But there is no crisis in you affairs now excepting your relations to us and the problems we present. You must remember that crises are always of the spirit, never of the pocketbook. Sure, calm and free, that is the touchstone that gives you strength and wisdom to handle all of your everyday problems. Your impatience has been the tool used by your enemies in our world to get to you. You cannot send out at the same time vibrations of Love and Harmony, and vibrations of Impatience and Doubt.” “We want you to go to it and do your utmost. But remember always that it is Activity keyed to Love that is constructive, and Impatience or an attempt to force things unnaturally, may only stunt their growth..” “You are very weary, my boy; it is the weariness of one who has been sorely tried. But if even our gracious Lord must wrestle with the demons of Doubt, how shall any mortal escape?”

WE PAUSED here in the writing for a moment. And during this pause, an eery thing happened. “I feel so strange!” my friend cried suddenly. “I hope that I’m not going into a trance—or tainting—“

The next instant I seemed to be conscious of a sensation in the room that I can best describe as ‘angel wings beating softly’. The most uncanny tremors ran up and down my spine. What was in that room with us —but invisible? Something! Then the pencil in my friend’s fingers began to ‘act up’. It came alive and started off as though by itself in a most exquisite flowing Spencerian script—“ “Oh ye of little faith! … And yet, how could it be otherwise until the memory of Those Days is restored by the complete triumph of Spirit over Matter?” Immediately, as the pencil came to a halt, the ‘beating’ sensation ceased. I looked at my companion. She was limp and inert beside me—as though she

Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

had fallen into sleep. For myself, I had after-effects as from a charge from a galvanic battery. What—or Who—had been close I that apartment, close enough to make a pencil move in a sleeping woman’s hand? Did I need to ask? But the intelligence was by no means over for that evening. My companion recovered.

“What happened?” she cried.

I pointed to the beautiful writing on her lap.

She managed a dry swallow and drew a ragged breath. But the pencil was writing her hand again—

“IF YOU will do the things we now recommend, it may help.

“Ask no questions about material affairs; we will be with you in them and if you add to your judgment a sure, calm faith in us, you will find things working out, and when they seem to go astray you will know there is a reason and will trust us.”

“Put more confidence in this than in any other source of teaching or instruction. Check everything and be sure that any message we give you can be shared with your intimates.”

“Write alone only one hour a day, preferably the same hour. If you feel the impulse at any other time, resist it. If I want you, I will rap on something three times and then two times. When I do that, ask me to repeat.” “Then you will know that I am here.”

“But never accept anything wholly unless you know that it is in harmony with the principles we have given you, and your heart speaks for them.” “Do what you can in all your affairs and be sure that we are with you. You do not know how often what seems to be disaster may be the averting of a bigger one.” “Take better care of your health and get back your inner glow.” “In conclusion: do not worry about the time lost. It is all gain in the final analysis. After all, not many people could learn a lesson as vital as this in a few weeks. You could not do it if you had not learned so much before this life.” The penmanship of this latter message had not been in the exquisite script, but in writing similar to that of the first part of the evening. Both of us were appalled by being the recipients of the foregoing sentiments. “Can I believe,” I faltered, “that we could possibly have made any contact tonight with==”

My stupefied thought was reflected by that phenomenon of the gigantic ‘wings’ beating again. But this time my companion did not lose consciousness. The exquisite script was coming again from the pencil point, as both of us held our breaths to see what might be written. This was the ‘repay’ to my thought== “O my dearly beloved! … How shall I make you know that I am nearer than breathing and closer than hands and feet?”

“Albert is writing now, but that was a Greater than i. when your heart is open to Him He will always speak goodnight! … We all tonight have shared in the glory that has been about you and we join our prayers to yours that its radiance may


Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive

dwell in your hearts forever!”

THE WRITING seemed to be over for the night. But what a night!

I remember that a couple of hours later, in a sort of daze, I dropped into the Childs Restaurant near the Grand Central Terminal for something to eat before seeking my bed. I viewed the ordinary two-legged mortals about me and sought to get through my head that I was still living in the same mundane world.

For that night’s writing I had made the 3,000-mile journey across from California. Had it been worth it?

It certain had!