Quote:
Originally Posted by look 171
then it gets serious when the damn thing would move with one finger. that's my one finger and I was NOT pushing or pulling it. How the hell does that happen?
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Probably similar to what happens in automatic writing, in which you hold the pen lightly against the paper, and a spirit moves the pen and uses it to write.
When I was in 6th grade, I went to school one day and found out that a 10-page paper was due that day. I had no idea what my classmates were talking about; maybe I had missed school the day we were given that assignment? Anyway, I told the teacher that I didn't know about the assignment, and he was very kind to me. He said I could sit in the back of the room, and all I had to do that day was write a 10-page paper on any topic I chose.
I sat in the back of the room, pen to paper, trying to figure out a topic that I could write 10 pages about. Suddenly the pen moved by itself, and started writing words in my handwriting. I thought that was very odd. I could read the words as they were being written, and I soon discovered that I was writing about King Charlemagne. There were specific names of people, and exact dates of specific events from many hundreds of years ago, and it was written as if the writer was there in person seeing all these things.
The pen moved as fast as it could. It was writing a lot of words! Page after page. At lunchtime, my friends asked me to go to the cafeteria with them, but I said to go without me, because I wanted to keep writing. It's funny, because as the last sentences were being written (halfway through the afternoon), I could sense that the writer was almost done, and when the final sentence was finished, I knew that was it. The story was complete. I sat and looked at all the pages for a minute, hardly believing that I had finished the assignment! Then I walked up to the teacher's desk and gave him all of the pages. He was pleased. The next day, he asked me how I knew all of the information I had written down. Obviously I *must* have known all of that information, because it was all in my handwriting, right? I told him the truth of what happened. He looked at me, and I could see that he believed me. I never saw that paper again.
He was a good teacher.
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