posted on Jan, 14 2009 @ 08:59 AM
My interest in the ouiji board was heightend when some friends brought a home-made version over one evening. It was suggested that we give it a go,
and immediately I felt like a doomed teenager in a bad horror film.Coupled with my excitement was a clear theoretical understanding of ideomotor
movement and how it was supposed to operate, so I was interested to see how things would work out. Doug, one friend, was convinced by its efficiency
and it was he who was pushing for us all to be impressed by it. I suggested that we contact my grandfather who had died a few years before, and ask
for proof that his spirit was coming through; but I added that I myself should not place my finger on the glass, as I might prove guilty of making the
tiny unconscious movements needed to spell out the details we were hoping to see.
Doug, however, insisted that the person who knows the deceased needs to have his finger on the glass. A convenient point, I thought, and I joined in
with the others, though I decided to do nothing to influence the movement of the glass. We solemnly asked whoever could hear us to bring us into
contact with my deceased granddad.
The glass was placed between two circles, one with a 'Yes' written inside, and one with a 'No'. Around them, in a large circle, were written the
letters of the alphabet. With 4 of us with 2 fingers on the glass, we asked our first question under dougs instruction: Is there a spirit present? We
were told to start the glass moving around in a circle and wait for it to start moving towards the 'Yes' or 'No'. Now, at the time, we were all
rather focused on the exciting possibility that the glass would start to pull one way or the other, and missed the psychology of the situation.
Clearly, a move to 'No' would be rather ridiculous, a textbook error on the part of the spirit which would cause him no end of embarrassment in the
happy summerland. So there we were, moving the glass around in a little circle, expecting and waiting for the glass to move to the left towards the
'Yes'. Of course it eventually did.
Doug, now excited urged me to ask a question. "Tell us your name,' I asked. None of my friends present knew my grandfathers name, so I was ready to
become a believer if it was spelt out. After 10 seconds or so of stillness, the glass started to move slowly, seemingly pulling our fingers with it
over the board. It rested for a moment on the letter 'R'. Then it started again, shifting across to the 'U'. Now picking up speed, it zipped
across to 'P', Then 'E', 'R' again and 'T'. Rupert. Then it stopped. We all let go. It was impressive stuff.
"That's amazing!" Doug exclaimed. 'As soon as you asked for it to spell a name, I thought of Rupert. I knew that was the name before it even
'That'll be it then', I said. 'My granddads name was Fred, not Rupert.'
Doug had expected it to move towards the R, and had provided the movement needed. Once he saw that he knew what was coming and expected it to
continue spelling the name, and as each move to each letter convinced him more (and made him push it more), the impetus increased as the suggestion
involved became more intense. We tried a similar thing without him, and the movement was much more sluggish.
Still he wanted to persevere, so I suggested we contact a woman who I said had died in the area recently. In fact she was a complete fabrication, and
I invented some details about her that we could use to check for proof. Sure enough, we had no trouble contacting her even though she never existed,
and had all the details verified even though they were never true. When I told the others that she lived in Islington, the Glass spelt out exactly
that. It took only a tiny suggestion from me that there might have been some foul play for the accusation of murder to come through the board. When
the direction of movement of the glass was expected - for example, when spelling out the ends of words already recognizable from the first few letters
the speed inc