Chapter Three. Part III.

Chapter Three. Part III

We began our journey into the “Ouija world”  exactly three months ago and the surprises were still coming thick and fast. Perhaps my behaviour constituted some kind of addiction in the way I’d spend a large part of my daytime hours thinking only of the sessions that would follow at night. 

Looking through my notes now, from Monday 21st to Monday 28th of February 1994, I can see that we got the board out for no fewer than five of those eight evenings, and these would be sessions that could last up to four, maybe five hours. We wouldn’t get to bed much before 2 a.m., and consequently, though the element of sheer tiredness pervaded my daylight hours, it was easy for me to push that tiredness to one side and let the sense of “journey” carry me. 

As I sift through these early, and often scribbled pages, the difficulty I later had in arranging them into accurate chronological order is apparent; I hadn’t placed a date on some of them (during the sessions), and so later had to try and match things like the colour of ink and the writing characteristics in an effort to locate the correct position amongst the pages that were dated, some of which even had exact day/night times written on them. 

Although this ordering process was ultimately not all that important, it would serve to illustrate–even if only a little–the way in which the topics of conversation gradually developed. 

It wasn’t long though before making a note of the date at the top of each starting page had become part of the routine. This “dating” issue only applies to those first few months, and consequently relates to just a handful of pages in the original one of four folders that sit here on my shelf. These folders contain, collectively, more than four hundred A4 sheets, some of which have been written quite neatly, but that mostly have the appearance of a grammatical bomb site. 

I’ve never been the neatest hand-writer, but with so many things taking place simultaneously–trying to keep the right hand resting on a glass which was often moving at speed; a left hand writing down whatever Carol spoke (or more often-than-not shouted at me); my eyes trying their futile best to watch everything that was going on; a brain which compulsively pre-empted the outcome of every sentence; pondering the meaning of everything that was being spelt out; and finally, thinking of what question I would ask next – neatness was not going to happen unless by accident. 

Actually, it wasn’t always so frantic, there was the fair share of contacts whose energy seemed low, and whose words were laboured. When the glass moves at such a slow speed, for any onlooker it would be an easy and natural assumption to make that the entire process was being deliberately orchestrated by us - the mortals taking part. 

Yes, it’s a natural thing to think, but believe me - and I’m speaking as a born sceptic - I assure you, it’s not at all that straightforward, and I will explain why.

TBC ...

Chapter Three. Part II.

Chapter Three. Part II.

So, as the evening of the 21st continued, from the frantic pace of Brenda, things began to settle down a little. At a much more manageable pace someone called Martin dropped by. This took me by surprise; I had known a “Martin” who’d died in a motorcycle accident a year or two earlier, though I couldn’t say he’d recently been on my mind. 

Martin was a very large figure of a man who’d taught piano and also played the piano accordion. Not long before his death we’d done some studio work together, and more recently I’d actually taken the recording of his accordion from that previous session, and re-used it on a new recording I made with John, the earlier mentioned actor friend of mine. 

Chapter Three. Part I.

Chapter Three. Part I.

I was just back home from the USA having spent the last three to four weeks in Los Angeles writing and recording with John, an actor friend. John had recently hit the big-time quite suddenly, becoming extremely popular as a main character on a leading UK soap opera. We had worked together (musically) in the past, but now because of this new found popularity of his and the potential television exposure it made available to us, we decided to form a duo and take advantage of whatever opportunities were now available

   

Los Angeles is a place where I’d lived once-upon-a-time, and it had been great to see some old friends there - not to mention the welcome change a little sunshine made from these bleak winter months of England’s north-west.

Just weeks before I travelled to America, there had been a large earthquake in Southern California, the worst in a good few years, and they were still experiencing after-shocks.

During my first few days there, early one morning, I had the most interesting experience when I suddenly woke up for no apparent reason. Now it isn’t that I don't wake early from time to time, but it was more that I was suddenly wide awake, and I didn't know why. 

Then within twenty to thirty seconds the entire room, including the bed - with me in it, started to swing from side to side. 

I had, to some extent become used to this sort of thing from the eight years I'd lived in LA, but this time I was baffled as to why I awoke just moments before the after-shock began. 

On arriving back in England and reuniting with Carol, the next thing I wanted to do was to eat Indian food, open a bottle of wine, get the board out, and to ask about this early morning experience.

As I said earlier, I really had missed our sessions; it was all very new and exciting. 

There were more and more pressing questions I felt I needed to ask, and every time I had a response to one enquiry it would then seem to prompt further questions. Much of what came from the board I found to be thought-provoking and absorbing, and I took its words seriously. Yet paradoxically, at the same time, there was still a reluctance to see these words as the actual truth. Consequently I expended a good deal of energy trying to catch it out, or to get whomever we were speaking with to contradict themselves. 

I suppose my reasoning was that if I could succeed in this, then there would be some form of comfort found in proving my “rationale”–the one I was so well acquainted with–to be correct. On the one hand, there was a strange mixture of doubt, and on the other, a hunger to find out more. Yet, as already stated, I must’ve certainly been giving the glass at least a modicum of credence in the first place, or I wouldn’t have been doing this. 

It did take me some time to learn, but in the end it really didn’t matter who or what it was - more often than not it just was smarter (and much faster) than me, and if I actually was going to be smart about this I’d quit spending so much time trying to expose all the assumed fakery.

TBC ...

Chapter Two. Part III

Chapter Two continued ...

Finding the superlatives to describe the wonder of this ever developing scenario we’d stumbled upon–without repetition–is difficult to say the least. And another thing, had we indeed stumbled upon it? That’s the way it looked to me, though it wouldn’t be all that long before we are told there was quite a bit more to this than meets the mortal eye.

Continuing to explore, and to get ever deeper into some utterly fascinating areas, my stubborn reluctance to shed any form of scepticism stayed firmly in place. But through all this, one unavoidable fact was striking me across the face again and again, and this was how so many, in fact virtually all of the answers being given, and indeed the interactions taking place - not just between us and them but also in the way they spoke about each other, bore no relationship to what we could have expected or been able to predict. 

I kept asking, “where is this all coming from?”

Although our sessions were certainly taking on a more meaningful direction, we would still get, out of the blue, something happen that would change all of this. Were these people, these spirits exactly who they stated they were? Or was it one individual taking on the guise of many? At times it felt as though we were being messed with a little. Nevertheless, neither of us ever felt threatened, in fact often it was downright amusing. 

Next are two examples that, even though hard to take seriously, add extra dimension to my view of this experience that we were having on the ouija board. Firstly, these characters were so off the wall that we couldn’t of made “it”, or “them”, up - certainly not with such ease and speed. So unless there was some quite remarkable unconscious process taking place, the indication would be that the source was outside of ourselves - even though it was coming through us. 

Secondly, if it were something (an energy, a force) capable of taking on any guise it chose to, what kind of doubt in my mind or question mark does that place over some of the characters whom I found so enlightening? 

So as we continued our session, here is what followed the previous three contacts during that same evening:

It's hard to take a conversation like this very seriously. Someone called “Brian” who apparently managed '“Notts” (naturally, I presumed it was Nottingham Forest he was talking about) and with that kind of attitude why didn't he just say his name was Brian Clough, and be done with it. 

For those who are not familiar with the real Brian Clough, at that time, he was alive, well and still residing on this mortal plane. 

When I first documented this session, here is what I wrote:

"Are we concocting this scenario; was it coming from the subconscious mind of one of us, or the both of us? If this is the case, what would explain the actual form or conciseness of the conversation? How many more subconscious characters might be waiting in line, and in what order will the unconscious decide they appear? 

If it wasn’t our minds creating this, it’s then natural you ask - who is it? - and why would they choose to be so flippant? Perhaps it was just a bit of light hearted fun, or maybe something more sinister than that? Regardless, I never have a sense there could ever be a physical, or should I say an “actual” threat - that the only perceived threat would come from within oneself. It’s about what you think is happening more than anything else. 

 There are many real dangers in life that most of us accept without question; driving or being a pedestrian possibly carrying the greatest risks. Yet I can’t recall one paranormal fatality to speak of - an area to which considerable fear is so often attached." 

Although the above points might be credible, there were certainly times when an element of mischief became apparent on the part of those we spoke with, a subject I’ll discuss further in a later session.

Chapter Two. Part II.

Chapter Two continued ...

This same evening, Brenda came through to us in a manner that gave the impression that she was sneaking a quick visit. The conversation went like this:

Then, after the briefest of pauses the glass took off at considerable speed. This always meant one thing - that Brenda was back. 

As I've previously stated, each conversation that took place seemed to have its very own set of characteristics. It wasn’t just a case of speed and fluency, there were distinctive nuances of mannerism and feel in the movement of the glass. One thing was certain, no one else moved, or perhaps I should say influenced the glass with the speed that Brenda could. It was very difficult at times to keep up with her. 

I couldn’t actually watch what was happening on the board and at the same time write the letters down that the glass was spelling out. In fact, just writing the letters out as they were being spoken to me by Carol was difficult enough. 

My right hand would rest on the glass while I held the pen with my left. Often, due to the speed of events, my hand would  part company from the glass, and immediately everything would just come to a sudden halt.                    

             

When we originally made our first contact with Brenda she spoke to us in a manner that had a powerful ring of familiarity about it, though some of her expressions were not ones I necessarily had a clear recollection of. 

She would often use the word: “course” (of course) in response to a question, and by now this had become something of a trade mark. That one word became her introduction; her way of letting us know exactly who we were speaking to.

TBC ...

Chapter Two. Part I.

As mentioned in the previous chapter, there seemed to be a process taking place, something was evolving. 

It wasn’t that suddenly I had a list of questions that had never occurred to me before, in fact it was the opposite. Much of what I was beginning to ask about was subject matter I’d been mulling over in some form or another for years. 

Regardless of where this source of energy (and knowledge) was coming from, it was as though we’d stumbled upon some kind of interactive forum, and finally here was an opportunity to enter into serious discussion on these searching topics. 

Although this level and depth of discussion wasn’t at the forefront of my mind when we began doing this, it’s certainly feasible to suggest that the original motivation–that of pure curiosity–was a connective precursor. 

I don’t think I’m alone in that when faced with such a scenario, it’s very easy to think that whoever (or whatever) you’re talking to, knows much more–about absolutely everything–than you do. 

There is a sense that because you can’t see them, yet you imagine they are able to see you, that they are “all seeing” and have boundless knowledge and wisdom. 

This may well be a completely understandable way to think, but as we went on to discover, not necessarily an accurate one. 

Not everyone that came through could, or was best qualified to answer the questions put to them; this is where a “I know someone who can” scenario would  sometimes take place. Often, in response to one of our questions the glass would spell out the word “wait”, and then would slow to a halt. After an indeterminate amount of time - perhaps seconds, sometimes minutes later, we’d be talking to someone new, someone either better qualified to tackle that subject, or who was connected in some way to the issue or person we’d asked about. 

      

The words of Tanina, who would become a regular contact, still ring in my metaphorical ears; she stated, “you are the receiver of as much wisdom as you seek”. 

The characteristics and behaviour of the board seemed to correspond very much with the intentions of how it was being used. This, I believe is an essential point to bear in mind when trying to assess the Ouija’s merits or dangers - or when evaluating anything else, come to that. 

We all know that most of the time, what we put into something relates directly to what we get back - not just as an ethos, but also as a physical reality in life. But for some reason, many of us can tend to feel that the moment we take hold of a planchette(1), or place a finger on an upturned (or actually down-turned) glass, we imagine ourselves rendered powerless to invisible and imagined forces. 

1. A planchette is a small, usually heart-shaped flat piece of wood that one moves around on a board to spell out messages or answer questions. Paranormal advocates believe that the planchette is moved by some extra-normal force.

Of course, one of my considerations was whether those who express warnings or negative views on the ouija actually have a valid point or not. But I’ll revisit this subject later in the book.  

So as the nature of my questions changed, so did those who came through responding to those questions. Some of them became regular visitors with whom we’d enter into long and detailed dialogue over protracted periods of time. 

Before I knew it, it felt as though our sessions had absolutely nothing to do with the occult, and that they’d become more like a get-together - an opportunity to meet with friends.   

In the sessions that follow, Tanina comes through to us for a second time. We’d spoken with Tanina during one of our very early sessions, and though I can’t recall every detail of that first contact (or can locate any written record of it) I do recall being very impressed, not only with the speed of her delivery, but also with her quick and clever wit. With the first encounter being so stimulating and thought-provoking, I expressly asked if she would please come back and visit again, and this she did.

TBC ...

Chapter One. Part II.

Sunday 9th January 1994, continued ...

This last contact, Carl, gives an indication that already the level of conversation was beginning to move away from the fairly basic into areas I wouldn’t have anticipated. The concept that there were individuals on “the other side” that are talking about “us” was, well, intriguing to say the least. And even though my doubts about the authenticity of this entire experience were still strong, not only these new pieces of information, but the character and style in which they were being delivered caused me to question how it could ever have been thought up–in any way–by us. 


Something was evidently starting to happen, as you can see from the following three contacts - all part of the session that began with Carl. There were new surprises all the time by the random yet organised form of what was being delivered.


In the following conversation with Theresa, she even talks about Sam with us - the character we encountered three days earlier, who we’d found so amusing.

Back to the session ...