A friend had asked me for a few recounts of Ouija board experiences, and that got me thinking on "perspective". To ME, THIS was a "good" Ouija experience.
I was working with my mentor to find someone. She had a firm knowledge of the board, and had been working with one for over twenty years at the time. She is not a psychic, or a medium, just someone who is considered a "healer". She had been approached by a man who claimed that his daughter had been abducted. He went to the police, but as he did not witness anyone taking her, and the time between her disappearance and the time of the report was not long enough to start a search, their hands were "tied" for helping. They did promise to put her description though, and when the 48 hours was up, the Father was to go back and try to fill out another report if she did not return home.
He was scared, frustrated, rude and devastated about his "little girl" (19). The session seemed to point to a young man who picked her up from her dorm room, and took her SOMEPLACE. It was clear that she went willingly, and even with a bit of anticipation. She was excited. Sounded like a "date".
My mentor was so "good" that she could get a whole story out, just by patiently asking, rewording and then re-asking the same questions, until whoever she was talking to understood exactly what she needed. She has a no nonsense kind of personality, and it really showed through in the board. She made it CLEAR that this was NOT a game, and we needed answers.
Somewhere near the end of the communication, we started smelling lilacs (the "scent of spirits") and hearing soft strains of music. I do not recall the "type" of music, but when I was younger we called this elevator music, I have no clue what they call it now.
THIS particular time I started to feel nauseous, and really light headed. I tried working out the kinks in my neck as she continued, and rubbed my shoulder up against my own right cheek. I started acting out of character, and almost as if I was a flamboyantly flirtatious, YOUNG, coy, dimple cheeked kid. When I smiled, it was not in the manner in which I normally did, it was as if I was trying to make the dimples more pronounced, and the smile was bigger.
With our hands still on the planchette, my mentor started asking ME questions. Where was I? What was going on? Who was I with...
I answered them.
Good thing, too. The young lady HAD been picked up for a date. She was to go to one of the local college hangouts, have dinner and a few drinks, head on out to a movie and then back home. To HER dorm.
That is NOT what happened. When they were at the hangout, her new found friend slipped a pill in her drink. She was drinking a non-alcoholic beverage, but it had carbonation in it, so she never noticed. After drinking it, there seemed to be no ill effect, so when she slipped into the bathroom to freshen up, he slipped in another one in the second drink. She was walking a bit differently when she returned to the table, but apparently her new friend thought it was because she had to weave around the people, tables and the bar. Either that, or he simply did not care, he HAD slipped her a second pill.
When they left the hangout and got into her car, she was "drunk" and he laughed with his buddies that he better get her home before her Mama found out. They all wished them a safe night, as she leaned over in the drivers seat and passed out. She made it back to her dorm room the NEXT night. She was bruised, battered, "broken" and needing medical assistance, but would not go, as she blamed herself. SHE had accepted this date from the "most handsome guy on the basketball team", she had chased HIM, SHE had picked out what they would do that night etc, etc.
OH! The GOOD part, right?
When the Father had heard all the answers I was giving to my mentors questions (I gave specifics. The NAME of the hangout, the boy's name, his car, ALL through HER questionings), he went on a man hunt. He found the boy. His car was destroyed, he was kicked off the team, expelled from the college, and spent fifteen years in prison for aggravated date rape.
SHE did not have to say a word. The BOY was so scared of the Father that when the Father went to the police, and they knocked on the boys door and the boy saw the Dad there, he immediately started telling the police what the Father had done to HIM. Oh, WAH, so he beat up the sports car, I thought that was what ball bats were for... He was so agitated that the Dad did this, he never thought to ask him who he was. When the argument ensued about him smashing up the car, it all came out, and essentially the boy confessed. Though he did not mean to.
I was not there for the confrontation. I was only in that little room with my mentor. I felt guilty for a LONG time that we could not stop the rape, and the drugging of this young lady, but we were only brought in AFTER the fact. It took me forever, it seemed, to come to terms with that.