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   During the time when I was teaching, I lived in the home of a charming couple, Mr. and Mrs. John Armstrong. He was the Mayor of Hayward. Mrs. Armstrong's sister, a Miss Anderson, also lived there. Their son had enlisted in the air corps and was an aviator in France. They rented his room to me.
    One night, just before going to bed, I opened the French windows on one side of the room and walked out onto an adjoining screen porch. Beyond was an open field and some trees. It was a beautiful Spring night. The air was like perfume. I stood there for a moment or two before returning to my room. I locked the door leading to the hallway, turned out the lights and was soon asleep. I do not know how long I had been sleeping when suddenly I awakened. The room was suffused with light, an almost blinding incandescence, much brighter than the soft glow of the average electric lamp. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I sat bolt up- right in bed. Every object in the room, even the smallest on my dresser, was visible. For the briefest second, I thought