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98. The end
After the text yesterday, about how one sentence changed; from what it was when I remembered it, and to what it became when I should write it down; I have a little more to add. Both times the person in the office looked the same, sitting behind the writing desk. Who is this person? Of course, I don’t know. I remember this person as about 50 years old, but he can have been younger or older. I remember him as slim and fair‐haired. I remember him as without glasses. I don’t know if he was gray or not. This is how this was for my inner sight, a few days ago. I don’t at all have a clear image of this for my inner sight.
I didn’t have anything to do in this area of this big bank, and haven’t been there neither before nor after that this happened. I don’t know whom it was, who usually worked in this office. This person may just as well has been working in the bank, as not been working in the bank. I don’t know anything about that.
The last 24 hours I have been concentrated on how this situation finished. What I remember about that, which is very indistinct; is that I woke up from lying down on a bench, which I only remember as a long seat. I was dim and confused. The person said; oh, there you are awake again, you became a little unwell, but now you are well again. I answered, yes. He said, now you can go back to your work again. He sat a little bent forward, preoccupied about something on his writing desk. What then, had happened right ahead, is something I can’t remember what is.
I stood up and hurried back to the place where I was busy with what I was working with. I wanted to show that I had been clever, and had done much work, when I worked alone as an apprentice, and I continued with that.
A short time afterwards, I think this had become as something very little, or nothing. Maybe someone had asked me about something, which in reality had been nothing. This immediately disappeared from my memory.
All of these are nearly impossible for me to remember.
January 20, 2017, David H. Hegg