M. Constant Savy

A modern writer, M. Constant Savy, relates an extraordinary dream which he had when he was apparently at the point of death. “I felt very ill,” writes Constant Savy, “I had no strength, it seemed to me that my life was making efforts to resist death, but in vain, and that it was about to escape. My soul detached itself little by little from the matter spread all about my frame; I felt it retiring from all those parts with which it is so intimately united, and, as it were, concentrating itself upon one single point, the heart, and a thousand obscure, cloudy thoughts about my future life occupied me. Little by little nature failed from before me, taking irregular strange forms, I almost lost the faculty of thinking, I only retained that of feeling, and this feeling was all love of God and of the beings whom I had most cherished in Him, but I could not manifest this love; my soul, withdrawn to one single point in my body, had almost ceased to have any relation with it, and could no longer command it. My soul experienced some distractions still, caused by the pain of the body, and the grief of those who surrounded me, but these distractions were slight, like the pains and perceptions which caused them. My life was now attached to matter by only one of the thousand links which had formerly bound it, and I was about to expire.

“Suddenly, no doubt to mark the passage from this life to the other, there came thick darkness, to which succeeded a brilliant light. Then, O my God! I saw Thy day, that daylight I had so much desired! I saw them, all assembled together, those beings whom I had so dearly loved, who had inspired me during my life in this world after they had left me, and who had seemed to me to dwell in my soul, or float about me. They were all there, full of joy and happiness. They were waiting for me, they welcomed me with delight. It seemed to me that I completed their life, they completed mine! But what a difference was there in the happiness I now felt from the sensations of the world I left! I cannot describe them! They were penetrating without being impetuous; they were mild, calm, full, unmixed, and yet they admitted the hope of a yet greater happiness! I did not see Thee, my God! Who can see Thee? But I loved Thee more than I had loved Thee in this world! I comprehended Thee better, felt Thee more strongly, the traces of Thee which are everywhere, and on everything, appeared more plain and bright to me. I experienced such admiration and astonishment as I had never hitherto known. I saw more distinctly a portion of the wonders of Thy creation. The bowels of the earth had no more secrets from me, I saw their depths, I saw the insects and other creatures which dwell in them, the mines known to men, and undiscovered by them, the secret ways and channels of earth. I reckoned its age in its bosom, as one counts that of a tree in the heart of its trunk; I saw all the water-courses which feed the sea; I saw the reflux of these waters, and it was like the motion of the blood in a man’s body; from the heart to the extremities, from the extremities to the heart; I saw the depths of the volcanoes, I understood the motions of the earth, and its relations with the stars, and, just as if the earth had been turned round before my eyes that I might be made to admire Thy greatness, O my God! I saw all countries, with their various inhabitants, and their different customs; I saw every variety of my species, and a voice said to me: ‘Like thyself, all these men are the image of the Creator; like thyself, they are all journeying towards God, and conscious of their progress.’ The thickness of the forests, the depth of the sea could not hide anything from my eyes; I had power to see everything, to admire all, and I was happy in my happiness, in the happiness of the dear objects of my tender love. Our joys were in common. We felt ourselves united by our former affection which had now become much more deep, and by the love of God we drew happiness from one and the same source; we were but one, we each and all enjoyed this happiness, which was far too great to be expressed. I am silent now, that I may feel it more deeply.”

Richard Pike, Life’s Borderland and Beyond (London: Derry and Sons, 1900), 84-85.