Mid-morning. The electricians have been
working for an hour or so. One can light goes over the shower, the second goes
over the tub; a third is in the toilet area and the fourth is in Carol’s walk
in closet. They also suggest LED lights that fit with the eight-string bar. Carol
is asking about relighting the kitchen at a separate time later. Larry hasn’t
arrived yet and at 12:10 you both have to leave for a cleaning at the dentist.
0956
hours. We like their suggestions for light and fan placement partly because
they concur with our own. The fan needs to go nearer the shower not the room
center. We go with this also once we heard the reasoning.
You watched two more episodes of “Stranger
Things” and are enjoying the entertaining storytelling. Here is what Wikipedia
has to say. - Amorella
** **
Stranger Things is an American
supernatural horror-science fiction web television series created by the Duffer
Brothers. It is written and directed by Matt and Ross Duffer and
executive-produced by Shawn Levy. It stars Winona Ryder, David Harbour, Finn
Wolfhard, Millie Bobby Brown, Gaten Matarazzo, Caleb McLaughlin, Natalia Dyer,
Charlie Heaton, Cara Buono and Matthew Modine. The plot follows the
disappearance of a young boy, and a telekinetic girl who helps his friends in
their search, while the boy's older brother, mother, and the town police chief
start their own investigations.
The show
is set in the 1980s in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana, and is an homage
to ‘80s pop culture, inspired and aesthetically informed by the works of Steven
Spielberg, John Carpenter, Steven King and George Lucas, among others.
The show was released on Netflix on July 15, 2016. It
received critical acclaim for its characterization, pacing, atmosphere, acting,
soundtrack, directing, writing, and homage’s to 1980s genre films. On August
31, 2016, Netflix renewed the series for a second season of nine episodes, to
be released in 2017.
Premise
On November 6, 1983 in the town of Hawkins, Indiana,
12-year-old Will Byers vanishes mysteriously. Will's frantic mother, Joyce,
searches for him while Police Chief Jim Hopper launches his own investigation.
Will's friends Dustin, Mike and Lucas discover a psychokinetic girl who claims
to know Will's location. As they uncover the truth, a sinister government
agency tries to cover it up, while a more insidious force lurks below the
surface.
Selected and edited from Wikipedia
** **
1013
hours. It is well acted and though rough in plot passages it is good enough,
better than many such summer shows.
You were particularly taken by the ‘light’
communication between missing son and mother and her use of the alphabet on the
wall to broaden the communication pattern. – Amorella
1036
hours. It irks me that you bring this up as I used similar communications with
you early on via the string and washer and alphabet on a tablet – similar to an
Ouija board.
** **
“The Strange and Mysterious History of the Ouija Board”
Tool of the devil, harmless family game—or fascinating glimpse
into the non-conscious mind?
By Linda Rodriguez McRobbie
smithsonian DOT com
October 27, 2013
In February, 1891, the first few advertisements started
appearing in papers:
“Ouija, the Wonderful Talking Board,” boomed a Pittsburgh
toy and novelty shop, describing a magical device that answered questions “about
the past, present and future with marvelous accuracy” and promised “never-failing
amusement and recreation for all the classes,” a link “between the known and
unknown, the material and immaterial.” Another advertisement in a New York
newspaper declared it “interesting and mysterious” and testified, “as Proven at
Patent Office before it was allowed. Price, $1.50.”
This mysterious talking board was basically what’s sold in board
game aisles today: A flat board with the letters of the alphabet arrayed in two
semi-circles above the numbers 0 through 9; the words “yes” and “no” in the
uppermost corners, “goodbye” at the bottom; accompanied by a “planchette,” a
teardrop-shaped device, usually with a small window in the body, used to
maneuver about the board. The idea was that two or more people would sit around
the board, place their finger tips on the planchette, pose a question, and
watch, dumbfounded, as the planchette moved from letter to letter, spelling out
the answers seemingly of its own accord. The biggest difference is in the
materials; the board is now usually cardboard, rather than wood, and the
planchette is plastic.
Though truth in advertising is hard to come by, especially in
products from the 19th century, the Ouija board was “interesting and mysterious”; it actually had been “proven” to work at the Patent Office before its patent was
allowed to proceed; and today, even psychologists believe that it may offer a
link between the known and the unknown.
The real history of the Ouija board is just about as mysterious
as how the “game” works. Ouija historian Robert Murch has been researching the
story of the board since 1992; when he started his research, he says, no one
really knew anything about its origins, which struck him as odd: “For such an
iconic thing that strikes both fear and wonder in American culture, how can no
one know where it came from?”
The Ouija board, in fact, came straight out of the American 19th
century obsession with spiritualism, the belief that the dead are able to
communicate with the living. Spiritualism, which had been around for years in
Europe, hit America hard in 1848 with the sudden prominence of the Fox sisters
of upstate New York; the Foxes claimed to receive messages from spirits who
rapped on the walls in answer to questions, recreating this feat of channeling
in parlors across the state. Aided by the stories about the celebrity sisters
and other spiritualists in the new national press, spiritualism reached
millions of adherents at its peak in the second half of the 19th century.
Spiritualism worked for Americans: it was compatible with
Christian dogma, meaning one could hold a séance on Saturday night and have no
qualms about going to church the next day. It was an acceptable, even wholesome
activity to contact spirits at séances, through automatic writing, or table
turning parties, in which participants would place their hands on a small table
and watch it begin shake and rattle, while they all declared that they weren’t
moving it. The movement also offered solace in an era when the average lifespan
was less than 50: Women died in childbirth; children died of disease; and men
died in war. Even Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of the venerable president, conducted
séances in the White House after their 11-year-old son died of a fever in 1862;
during the Civil War, spiritualism gained adherents in droves, people desperate
to connect with loved ones who’d gone away to war and never come home.
“Communicating with the dead was common, it wasn’t seen as
bizarre or weird,” explains Murch. “It’s hard to imagine that now, we look at
that and think, ‘Why are you opening the gates of hell?’”
But opening the gates of hell wasn’t on anyone’s mind when they
started the Kennard Novelty Company, the first producers of the Ouija board; in
fact, they were mostly looking to open Americans’ wallets.
As spiritualism had grown in American culture, so too did
frustration with how long it took to get any meaningful message out of the
spirits, says Brandon Hodge, Spiritualism historian. Calling out the alphabet
and waiting for a knock at the right letter, for example, was deeply boring.
After all, rapid communication with breathing humans at far distances was a
possibility—the telegraph had been around for decades—why shouldn’t spirits be
as easy to reach? People were desperate for methods of communication that would
be quicker—and while several entrepreneurs realized that, it was the Kennard
Novelty Company that really nailed it.
In 1886, the fledgling Associated Press reported on a new
phenomenon taking over the spiritualists’ camps in Ohio, the talking board; it
was, for all intents and purposes, an Ouija board, with letters, numbers and a
planchette-like device to point to them. The article went far and wide, but it
was Charles Kennard of Baltimore, Maryland who acted on it. In 1890, he pulled
together a group of four other investors—including Elijah Bond, a local
attorney, and Col. Washington Bowie, a surveyor—to start the Kennard Novelty
Company to exclusively make and market these new talking boards. None of the
men were spiritualists, really, but they were all of them keen businessmen and
they’d identified a niche.
But they didn’t have the Ouija board yet—the Kennard talking
board lacked a name. Contrary to popular belief, “Ouija” is not a combination
of the French for “yes,” oui, and the
German ja. Murch says, based on his research, it was Bond’s
sister-in-law, Helen Peters (who was, Bond said, a “strong medium”), who
supplied the now instantly recognizable handle. Sitting around the table, they
asked the board what they should call it; the name “Ouija” came through and,
when they asked what that meant, the board replied, “Good luck.” Eerie and
cryptic—but for the fact that Peters acknowledged that she was wearing a locket
bearing the picture of a woman, the name “Ouija” above her head. That’s the
story that emerged from the Ouija founders’ letters; it’s very possible that
the woman in the locket was famous author and popular women’s rights activist
Ouida, whom Peters admired, and that “Ouija” was just a misreading of that.
According to Murch’s interviews with the descendants of the
Ouija founders and the original Ouija patent file itself, which he’s seen, the
story of the board’s patent request was true: Knowing that if they couldn’t
prove that the board worked, they wouldn’t get their patent, Bond brought the
indispensible Peters to the patent office in Washington with him when he filed
his application. There, the chief patent officer demanded a demonstration—if
the board could accurately spell out his name, which was supposed to be unknown
to Bond and Peters, he’d allow the patent application to proceed. They all sat
down, communed with the spirits, and the planchette faithfully spelled out the
patent officer’s name. Whether or not it was mystical spirits or the fact that
Bond, as a patent attorney, may have just known the man’s name, well, that’s
unclear, Murch says. But on February 10, 1891, a white-faced and visibly shaken
patent officer awarded Bond a patent for his new “toy or game.”
The first patent offers no explanation as to how the device works, just asserts that it does. That
ambiguity and mystery was part of a more or less conscious marketing effort. “These
were very shrewd businessmen,” notes Murch; the less the Kennard company said
about how the board worked, the more mysterious it seemed—and the more people
wanted to buy it. “Ultimately, it was a money-maker. They didn’t care why
people thought it worked.”
And it was a money-maker. By 1892, the Kennard Novelty
Company went from one factory in Baltimore to two in Baltimore, two in New
York, two in Chicago and one in London. And by 1893, Kennard and Bond were out,
owing to some internal pressures and the old adage about money changing
everything. By this time, William Fuld, who’d gotten in on the ground floor of
the fledgling company as an employee and stockholder, was running the company.
(Notably, Fuld is not and never claimed to be the inventor of the board, though
even his obituary in The
New York Times declared
him to be; also notably, Fuld died in 1927 after a freak fall from the roof of
his new factory—a factory he said the Ouija board told him to build.) In 1898,
with the blessing of Col. Bowie, the majority shareholder and one of only two
remaining original investors, he licensed the exclusive rights to make the
board. What followed were boom years for Fuld and frustration for some of the
men who’d been in on the Ouija board from the beginning—public squabbling over
who’d really invented it played out in the pages of the Baltimore Sun, while their rival boards launched and failed. In 1919, Bowie
sold the remaining business interest in Ouija to Fuld, his protégé, for $1.
The board’s instant and now, more than 120 years later,
prolonged success showed that it had tapped into a weird place in American
culture. It was marketed as both mystical oracle and as family entertainment,
fun with an element of other-worldly excitement. This meant that it wasn’t only
spiritualists who bought the board; in fact, the people who disliked the Ouija
board the most tended to be spirit mediums, as they’d just found their job as
spiritual middleman cut out. The Ouija board appealed to people from across a
wide spectrum of ages, professions, and education—mostly, Murch claims, because
the Ouija board offered a fun way for people to believe in something. “People
want to believe. The need to believe that something else is out there is
powerful,” he says. “This thing is one of those things that allows them to
express that belief.”
It’s quite logical then the board would find its greatest
popularity in uncertain times, when people hold fast to belief and look for
answers from just about anywhere, especially cheap, DIY oracles. The 1910s and ’20s,
with the devastations of World War I and the manic years of the Jazz Age and
prohibition, witnessed a surge in Ouija popularity. It was so normal that in May 1920, Norman Rockwell, illustrator of blissful
20th century domesticity, depicted a man and a woman, Ouija board on their
knees, communing with the beyond on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. During the Great Depression, the Fuld Company
opened new factories to meet demand for the boards; over five months in 1944, a
single New York department store sold 50,000 of them. In 1967, the year after
Parker Brothers bought the game from the Fuld Company, 2 million boards
were sold, outselling Monopoly; that same year saw more American troops in
Vietnam, the counter-culture Summer of Love in San Francisco, and race riots in
Newark, Detroit, Minneapolis and Milwaukee.
Strange Ouija tales also made frequent, titillating appearances
in American newspapers. In 1920, national wire services reported that would-be
crime solvers were turning to their Ouija boards for clues in the mysterious
murder of a New York City gambler, Joseph Burton Elwell, much to the
frustration of the police. In 1921, The New York Times reported that a Chicago woman being sent to a psychiatric
hospital tried to explain to doctors that she wasn’t suffering from mania, but
that Ouija spirits had told her to leave her mother’s dead body in the living
room for 15 days before burying her in the backyard. In 1930, newspaper readers
thrilled to accounts of two women in Buffalo, New York, who’d murdered another
woman, supposedly on the encouragement of Ouija board messages. In 1941, a
23-year-old gas station attendant from New Jersey told The New York Times that he joined the Army because the Ouija board
told him to. In 1958, a Connecticut court decided not to honor the “Ouija board
will” of Mrs. Helen Dow Peck, who left only $1,000 to two former servants and
an insane $152,000 to Mr. John Gale Forbes—a lucky, but bodiless spirit who’d
contacted her via the Ouija board.
Ouija boards even offered literary inspiration: In 1916, Mrs.
Pearl Curran made headlines when she began writing poems and stories that she
claimed were dictated, via Ouija board, by the spirit of a 17th century
Englishwoman called Patience Worth . The following year, Curran’s friend,
Emily Grant Hutchings, claimed that her book, Jap Herron, was communicated via Ouija board by the late Samuel Clemens,
better known as Mark Twain. Curran earned significant success, Hutchings less,
but neither of them achieved the heights that Pulitzer Prize-winning poet James
Merrill did: In 1982, his epic Ouija-inspired and dictated poem, The Changing Light at Sandover, won the National Book Critics Circle Award. (Merrill, for his
part, publicly implied that the Ouija board acted more as a magnifier for his
own poetic thoughts, rather than as hotline to the spirits. In 1979, after he
wrote Mirabelle:
Books of Number, another
Ouija creation, he told The New
York Review of Books, “If the
spirits aren’t external, how astonishing the mediums become!”)
Ouija existed on the periphery of American culture, perennially
popular, mysterious, interesting and usually, barring the few cases of supposed
Ouija-inspired murders, non-threatening. That is, until 1973.
In that year, The Exorcist scared
the pants off people in theaters, with all that pea soup and head-spinning and
supposedly based on a true story business; and the implication that 12-year-old
Regan was possessed by a demon after playing with a Ouija board by herself
changed how people saw the board. “It’s kind of like Psycho—no one was afraid of showers until that scene… It’s a clear
line,” says Murch, explaining that before The Exorcist, film and TV depictions of the Ouija board were usually jokey,
hokey, and silly—“I Love Lucy,” for example, featured a 1951 episode in which
Lucy and Ethel host a séance using the Ouija board. “But for at least 10 years
afterwards, it’s no joke… [The
Exorcist] actually
changed the fabric of pop culture.”
Almost overnight, Ouija became a tool of the devil and, for that
reason, a tool of horror writers and moviemakers—it began popping up in scary
movies, usually opening the door to evil spirits heel-bent on ripping apart
co-eds. Outside of the theatre, the following years saw the Ouija board
denounced by religious groups as Satan’s preferred method of communication; in
2001 in Alamogordo, New Mexico, it was being burned on bonfires along with
copies of Harry
Potter and Disney’s Snow White. Christian religious groups still remain wary of the board,
citing scripture denouncing communication with spirits through mediums—Catholic.com
calls the Ouija board “far from harmless” and as recently as 2011, 700 Club host Pat Robertson declared that demons can reach us
through the board. Even within the paranormal community, Ouija boards enjoyed a
dodgy reputation—Murch says that when he first began speaking at paranormal
conventions, he was told to leave his antique boards at home because they
scared people too much. Parker Brothers and later, Hasbro, after they acquired
Parker Brothers in 1991, still sold hundreds of thousands of them, but the
reasons why people were buying them had changed
significantly: Ouija boards were spooky rather than spiritual, with a distinct
frisson of danger.
In recent years, Ouija is popular yet again, driven in part by
economic uncertainty and the board’s usefulness as a plot device. The hugely
popular Paranormal
Activity 1 and 2 both featured a Ouija board; it’s popped up in
episodes of “Breaking Bad,” “Castle,” “Rizzoli & Isles” and multiple
paranormal reality TV programs; Hot Topic, mall favorite of Gothy teens, sells
a set of Ouija board bra and underwear; and for those wishing to commune with
the beyond while on the go, there’s an app (or 20) for that. This year, Hasbro
released a more “mystical” version of the game, replacing its old
glow-in-the-dark version; for purists, Hasbro also licensed the rights to make
a “classic” version to another company. In 2012, rumors that Universal was in
talks to make a film based on the game abounded, although Hasbro refused to
comment on that or anything else for this story.
But the real question, the one everyone wants to know, is how do Ouija boards work?
Ouija boards are not, scientists say, powered by spirits or even
demons. Disappointing but also potentially useful—because they’re powered by
us, even when we protest that we’re not doing it, we swear. Ouija boards work
on a principle known to those studying the mind for more than 160 years: the
ideometer effect. In 1852, physician and physiologist William Benjamin
Carpenter published a report for the Royal Institution of Great Britain,
examining these automatic muscular movements that take place without the
conscious will or volition of the individual (think crying in reaction to a sad
film, for example). Almost immediately, other researchers saw applications of
the ideometer effect in the popular spiritualist pastimes. In 1853, chemist and
physicist Michael Faraday, intrigued by table-turning, conducted a series of
experiments that proved to him (though not to most spiritualists) that the
table’s motion was due to the ideomotor actions of the participants.
The effect is very convincing. As Dr. Chris French, professor of
psychology and anomalistic psychology at Goldsmiths, University of London,
explains, “It can generate a very strong impression that the movement is being
caused by some outside agency, but it’s not.” Other devices, such as dowsing
rods, or more recently, the fake bomb detection kits that deceived scores
of international governments and armed services, work on the same principle of
non-conscious movement. “The thing about all these mechanisms we’re talking
about, dowsing rods, Oujia boards, pendulums, these small tables, they’re all
devices whereby a quite a small muscular movement can cause quite a large
effect,” he says. Planchettes, in particular, are well-suited for their task—many
used to be constructed of a lightweight wooden board and fitted with small
casters to help them move more smoothly and freely; now, they’re usually
plastic and have felt feet, which also help it slide over the board easily.
“And with Ouija boards you’ve got the whole social context. It’s
usually a group of people, and everyone has a slight influence,” French notes.
With Ouija, not only does the individual give up some conscious control to
participate—so it can’t be me, people think—but also, in a group, no one person
can take credit for the planchette’s movements, making it seem like the answers
must be coming from an otherworldly source. Moreover, in most situations, there
is an expectation or suggestion that the board is somehow mystical or magical. “Once
the idea has been implanted there, there’s almost a readiness to happen.”
But if Ouija boards can’t give us answers from beyond the Veil,
what can they tell us? Quite a lot, actually.
Researchers at the University of British Columbia’s Visual
Cognition Lab think the board may be a good way to examine how the mind
processes information on various levels. The idea that the mind has multiple
levels of information processing is by no means a new one, although exactly
what to call those levels remains up for debate: Conscious, unconscious,
subconscious, pre-conscious, zombie mind are all terms that have been or are
currently used, and all have their supporters and detractors. For the purposes
of this discussion, we’ll refer to “conscious” as those thoughts you’re
basically aware that you’re having (“I’m reading this fascinating article.”)
and “non-conscious” as the automatic pilot-type thoughts (blink, blink).
Two years ago, Dr. Ron Rensink, professor of psychology and
computer science, psychology postdoctoral researcher Hélène Gauchou, and Dr.
Sidney Fels, professor of electrical and computer engineering, began looking at
exactly what happens when people sit down to use a Ouija board. Fels says that
they got the idea after he hosted a Halloween party with a fortune-telling theme
and found himself explaining to several foreign students, who had never really
seen it before, how the Ouija works.
“They kept asking where to put the batteries,” Fels laughed.
After offering up a more Halloween-friendly, mystical explanation—leaving out
the ideomotor effect—he left the students to play with the board on their own.
When he came back, hours later, they were still at it, although by now much
more freaked out. A few days post-hangover later, Fels said, he, Rensink, and a
few others began talking about what is actually going on with the Ouija. The
team thought the board could offer a really unique way to examine non-conscious
knowledge, to determine whether ideomotor action could also express what the
non-conscious knows.
“It was one of things that we thought it probably won’t work,
but if it did work, it’d be really freaking cool,” said Rensink.
Their initial experiments involved a Ouija-playing robot:
Participants were told that they were playing with a person in another room via
teleconferencing; the robot, they were told, mimicked the movements of the
other person. In actuality, the robot’s movements simply amplified the
participants’ motions and the person in the other room was just a ruse, a way
to get the participant to think they weren’t in control. Participants were
asked a series of yes or no, fact-based questions (“Is Buenos Aires the capital
of Brazil? Were the 2000 Olympic Games held in Sydney?”) and expected to use
the Ouija board to answer.
What the team found surprised them: When participants were
asked, verbally, to guess the answers to the best of their ability, they were
right only around 50 percent of the time, a typical result for guessing. But
when they answered using the board, believing that the answers were coming from
someplace else, they answered correctly upwards of 65 percent of the time. “It
was so dramatic how much better they did on these questions than if they
answered to the best of their ability that we were like, ‘This is just weird,
how could they be that much better?’” recalled Fels. “It was so dramatic we
couldn’t believe it.” The implication was, Fels explained, that one’s
non-conscious was a lot smarter than anyone knew.
The robot, unfortunately, proved too delicate for further
experiments, but the researchers were sufficiently intrigued to pursue further
Ouija research. They divined another experiment: This time, rather than a
robot, the participant actually played with a real human. At some point, the
participant was blindfolded—and the other player, really a confederate, quietly
took their hands off the planchette. This meant that the participant believed
he or she wasn’t alone, enabling the kind of automatic pilot state the
researchers were looking for, but still ensuring that the answers could only
come from the participant.
It worked. Rensink says, “Some people were complaining about how
the other person was moving the planchette around. That was a good sign that we
really got this kind of condition that people were convinced that somebody else
was there.” Their results replicated the findings of the experiment with the
robot, that people knew more when they didn’t think they were controlling the
answers (50 percent accuracy for vocal responses to 65 percent for Ouija
responses). They reported their findings in February 2012 issue of Consciousness and
Cognition.
“You do much better with the Ouija on questions that you really
don’t think you know, but actually something inside you does know and the Ouija
can help you answer above chance,” says Fels.
UBC’s experiments show that the Ouija could be a very useful
tool in rigorously investigating non-conscious thought processes. “Now that we
have some hypotheses in terms of what’s going on here, accessing knowledge and
cognitive abilities that you don’t have conscious awareness of, [the Ouija
board] would be an instrument to actually get at that,” Fels explains. “Now we
can start using it to ask other types of questions.”
Those types of questions include how much and what the
non-conscious mind knows, how fast it can learn, how it remembers, even how it
amuses itself, if it does. This opens up even more avenues of exploration—for
example, if there are two or more systems of information processes, which
system is more impacted by neurodegenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s? If
it impacted the non-conscious earlier, Rensink hypothesizes, indications of the
illness could show up in Ouija manipulation, possibly even before being
detected in conscious thought.
For the moment, the researchers are working on locking down
their findings in a second study and firming up protocol around using the Ouija
as a tool. However, they’re running up against a problem—funding. “The classic
funding agencies don’t want to be associated with this, it seems a bit too out
there,” said Rensink. All the work they’ve done to date has been volunteer,
with Rensink himself paying for some of the experiment’s costs. To get around
this issue, they’re looking to crowd-funding to make up the gap.
Even if they don’t succeed, the UBC team has managed to make
good on one of the claims of the early Ouija advertisements: The board does
offer a link between the known and the unknown. Just not the unknown that
everyone wanted to believe it was.
Selected and edited from -- http://www.smithsonianmag DOT com/history/the-strange-and-mysterious-history-of-the-ouija-board-5860627/?no-ist
** **
1133 hours.
This is a good article. I agree the Ouija works because we make it work through
unconscious small motor control.
And that is how I work also. – Amorella
1135
hours. But I can use my near eye muscles as well as with my fingertips to work
with you.
Yes. You can. You have learned how to do
this on your own. – Amorella
1139
hours. In my mind the meat of the article is this:
**
**
That was a good sign that we really got this kind of condition
that people were convinced that somebody else was there.” Their results
replicated the findings of the experiment with the robot, that people knew
more when they didn’t think they were controlling the answers (50 percent
accuracy for vocal responses to 65 percent for Ouija responses). They reported
their findings in February 2012 issue of Consciousness and Cognition.
“You do much better with the Ouija on questions that you really
don’t think you know, but actually something inside you does know and the Ouija
can help you answer above chance,” says Fels.
UBC’s experiments show that the Ouija could be a very useful
tool in rigorously investigating non-conscious thought processes. “Now that we
have some hypotheses in terms of what’s going on here, accessing knowledge and
cognitive abilities that you don’t have conscious awareness of, [the Ouija
board] would be an instrument to actually get at that,” Fels explains. “Now we
can start using it to ask other types of questions.”
Those types of questions include how much and what the
non-conscious mind knows, how fast it can learn, how it remembers, even how it
amuses itself, if it does.
**
**
1141 hours.
The above statement is valid from my perspective when I focus on you, Amorella
as a non-conscious thought process.
I work through this path, boy, but I am the
Amorella. This is the way I came into your world.
1145
hours. The ‘path’ began with the string, the washer and the crosshair on a
piece of paper.
That was the catalyst and not the first one.
– Amorella
1148
hours. I have to get ready to go to the dentist.
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