Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition) — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

54 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION turned up the sound on the television set. A young gentleman with hollow cheeks and a soulful tenor suddenly raised his voice and assured her, dulcetly, of his never-ending love. Roger turned it down again and stood with his back to the instrument. “Levitation!” he said. “That’s it. There is some way in which human beings can make themselves float. They have the capacity for it. It’s just that they don’t know how to use that capacity—except when they sleep. Then, sometimes, they lift up just a little bit, a tenth of an inch maybe. It wouldn’t be enough for anyone to notice even if they were watching, but it would be enough to deliver the proper sensation for the start of a floating-dream.”’ “Roger, you're delirious. I wish you’d stop. Honestly.” He drove on. “Sometimes we sink down slowly and the sensation is gone. Then again, sometimes the floating-control ends suddenly and we drop. Jane, did you ever dream you were falling?” “Yes, of c—” You're hanging on the side of a building or you're sitting at the edge of a seat and suddenly you're tum- bling. There’s the awful shock of fall- ing and you snap awake, your breath gasping, your heart palpitating. You did fall. There’s no other explanation.” Jane’s expression, having passed slowly from bewilderment to con- cern, dissolved suddenly into sheepish amusement. “Roger, you devil. And you fooled me! Oh, you rat!” What?’ “Oh, no. You can’t play it out anymore. I know exactly what you're doing. You’re making up a plot to a story and you're trying it out on me. I should know better than to listen to you.” Roger looked startled, even a little confused. He strode to her chair and looked down at her, “‘No, Jane.” “T don’t see why not. You’ve been talking about writing fiction as long as I’ve known you. If you’ve got a plot, you might as well write it down. No use just frightening me with it.” Her fingers flew as her spirits rose. “Jane this is no story.” “But what else—” “When I woke up this morning, I dropped to the mattress!” He stared at her without blinking. “I dreamed I was flying,” he said. “It was clear and distinct. | remember every minute of it. I was lying on my back when I woke up. I was feeling comfortable and quite happy. I just wondered a little why the ceiling looked so queer. I yawned and stretched and touched the ceiling. For a minute, I just stared at my arm reaching upward and ending hard against the ceiling. “Then I turned over. I didn’t move a muscle, Jane. I just turned all in one piece because I wanted to. There I was, five feet above the bed. There you were on the bed, sleeping. I was frightened. I didn’t know how to get down, but the minute I thought of getting down, I dropped. I dropped slowly. The whole process was under perfect control. “I stayed in bed fifteen minutes before I dared move. Then I got up, washed, dressed, and went to work.”’ Jane forced a laugh, “Darling, you had better write it up. But that’s all right. You’ve just been working too hard.” “Please! Don’t be banal.” ‘‘People work too hard, even though to say so is banal. After all, you were just dreaming fifteen minutes longer than you thought you were.” “Tt wasn’t a dream.” “Of course it’ was. I can’t even EComichooks:co im