Strange Phenomena

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Strange Human Stories


Goldberry

 

Mind Over Matter

 
One day in the 1930s my father and a friend, Billy Condino of Lexington Massachusetts, were delivering some building materials to a business. My father went inside to take care of the paperwork while Billy began to unload the truck.
 
When my father came out all the items were sitting on the sidewalk. One was a barrel. My father asked how the barrel got on the sidewalk. Billy said he put it there. My father asked again, thinking that Billy was kidding him. Billy swore that he did it. Then my father told him that the barrel contained nails and weighed three hundred and fifty pounds.
 
Billy said he didn't know what was in the barrel and had simply lifted it easily from the truck. He estimated that it weighed about forty pounds. After my father told him the contents and weight, Billy tried again to lift the barrel and couldn't even budge it. It took both of them to get it inside by rolling.
 
 
February 25, 2006
 
11:36 AM
 
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Telekinesis in West Virginia
 
 
At my eastern club. Just had lunch with a chap named Harold from Maryland who told me a story about a man he knew in West Virginia in the late 1950s.
 
Harold had heard that the man had the ability to move objects without touching them. The man had grown up doing this and took it for granted. Because of other peoples reactions he tried not to use the ability, but would sometimes do things without thinking.
 
The subjective sensation experienced by the man was that of moving the objects with his eyes. For example if a saltshaker were out of reach he would look at it, then move his eyes sliding the saltshaker across the table to him. He said that when he tried to move something too heavy he would feel a painful tug on his eye muscles.
 
Harold asked him for a demonstration and held a two by four stationary at a thirty degree angle. The man made a shot glass slide from the low end to the high end at the normal speed one would do it by hand.
 

April 6, 2006
 
1:55 PM
 
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The Temple of Hecate
 
 
Spring 1985. I briefly become persona-non-grata at my favorite nightclub in Boston because a domineering barmaid is angry that I don't return her affections. Here I am on the town, all dressed up with no place to go.
 
Decide to see how the other half lives and go slumming just for tonight. Having been to all the nightclubs, I visit every sexy bookstore and every variety of peep show known to man. One of these latter should truly be requisite field study for young gynecologists.
 
Then I come to a strange little theater where there is a large round central chamber surrounded by small private booths. People get quarters, enter a booth, and put a quarter in a slot. This causes a curtain to drop allowing the booth occupant to see what is going on in the chamber.
 
I get my quarters and go in. As I stroll around the outside circumference I hear a loud sound every few seconds as though someone is punching the booth wall from inside. I hear the same sound again at another booth and then at others as I pass.
 
Finally I come to a booth where the door is open and see a man goosing himself mercilessly as he gazes into the inner chamber. The noise is made by his elbow hitting the wall, because the booth is so tiny. I keep walking and hear this sound at seven or eight more of the booths as I walk the periphery.
 
When I come to the point of origin I retrace my steps to a quiet empty booth and, with eager anticipation, put my quarter in the slot to see what all this fuss is about. And then I see her -
 
Oh yes! - the Mistress of Mistresses! Tall and shapely with ghastly white skin that has a subtle bluish-gray translucent quality. Raven black hair. Large firm grapefruit breasts, short wasp waist, radical hips, upright protruding buttocks, long legs, and an exotic, cruelly beautiful face.
 
I have seen hundreds of beautiful naked women, but this is by far the most desirable woman I have ever seen before or since. A Caucasian Vampirella with a chic late 1920s pageboy hairdo. I will have her, and on any terms she will accept.
 
It takes three quarters, but finally she comes near to my booth. I catch her eye and say "I admire you very much. If we can have just an hour alone together I promise that I will obey you completely". She says "Give me a tip, please. Two dollars". I say "Nah!" knowing by her tone and demeanor that I will not connect. Such women almost always have a large jealous bruiser boyfriend. Not worth the trouble. I leave and have an interesting night of further adventures, but she still haunts my dreams.
 
I recognize the pecking order in human sexuality. I would very much like to see the kind of economy where, for a small donation, people could make deep and solemn obeisance to human pulchritude amidst opulent surroundings and then go home satisfied, at one with their true place in nature's sexual hierarchy.
 
 
March 17, 2006
 
10:24 AM
 
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    Precognitive Music
 
 
First a little background about two things - music and a friend.
 
In late Winter of 1978 I was playing guitar after three days  of healthy self-indulgence in Boston. Suddenly it felt as though someone were playing through me. I began to play things I had never played before, things I didn't know how to play.
 
I have come to think of this as a moment of inspired relaxation where I was able to tap subconscious ability. I have also experienced this principle on the ski slopes when survival depended on it.
 
My first acquaintance with Bob Boetcher was through his music. At my downtown club he is in the habit of playing piano in the large ballroom when nobody is around.
 
One day I overheard him and walked in quietly so he wouldn't hear me. I sat and listened as he played an unbroken medley of songs mostly in the classical style. Even when he ventured into barrel house or blues it was very grand with classical trills and frills. A very eccentric but accomplished musician.
 
Yesterday afternoon c 4:45 I ran into Bob in the southeast part of Las Vegas. Always looking for stories I asked if he ever had experienced anything paranormal. He told me two things.
 
The first was when he was a kid. One day in his room he suddenly felt an overwhelming presence of something very dark and powerful far beyond the human. "Like a fallen angel" he said. The impression was not sensory or tangible, but purely psychological.
 
The second was on September 10, 2001. Bob was at a music store on Sahara Boulevard in Las Vegas playing an electric piano. It's pleasant to do this when the opportunity arises, because the adjustable volume allows for very light finger pressure. Suddenly he felt as though someone were playing thorough him. He began to play things he had never played before, things he didn't know how to play.
 
The music was modern classical, very dark and completely unfamiliar. What amazed him most was the speed and precision, far beyond anything he had ever been capable of previously. There were three main pieces each ending with a complex downscale arpeggio culminating in a passage reminiscent of an explosion.
 
The performance elicited applause among the store patrons. The store owner looked disturbed emotionally by the content of the music. Bob felt this too, as though the music portended something very dire. This feeling persisted the rest of the day and into the evening.
 
The next morning Bob turned on his television to see the World Trade Center under attack. Then he understood the music.
 

April 26, 2006
 
8:26 AM