October 2002

Ever since my mother died I've felt like I tripped and have fallen down a long slippery slope that has no bottom. Since the end of August I have been writing to my mother as LL said my mother wants. First I write my letter to her and then I write a letter to myself from her. It begins, "Dear _____, This is what I want to share with you." Then I make small connecting circles across the page. When I get to the bottom of the paper I write, "I love you, Mom." My mother is supposed to take over the letter writing at some point as I do this and until the second week of this month nothing has happened. Then I start getting a cramped feeling in my hand each time I reach the circle making part. By the middle of the week the cramp is strong enough to be uncomfortable. Then the pen starts moving on its own. I am not consciously making the pen move, but it does.

The pen moves slowly and hesitantly as it draws a light line haphazardly across the paper. Then it starts making a large circle. I get scared and lift the pen away from the paper. The moment I do this the cramped feeling leaves my hand. I move the pen back over the paper and feel my hand cramping again. About a quarter inch above the paper the pen forcefully pulls itself onto the paper and I hear a sharp snap as the pen makes contact with the paper. As I watch I feel my skin start to crawl. What is going on? The pen makes a large circle on the paper and then traces over it several times. Then it starts making a figure eight. As it traces over the eight it starts moving faster and faster, the line becomes stronger and stronger, until there is a dark blue figure eight drawn. At this point I lift the pen off the paper because I am very frightened by this. Again the instant I pull the pen away the cramped feeling in my hand vanishes. I decide I am done with this for the day and put the pen and paper away.

Even though what has happened scares me it also fascinates me too and I try it again the next day and the day after that. Both times the pen moves on its own, my hand cramps, and I draw a figure eight. But the third time I try the figure eight is drawn lying on its side and the speed of the tracing is much faster. It is so fast I can only stare at it in amazement. The eight gets darker and darker and thicker and thicker. There is so much ink on the page the side of my hand starts to smear it across the paper and the drawing. The cramping in my hand is so strong it becomes uncomfortable. I want to keep going to see how long this will go on but I am also very afraid. I put my hand away and the cramped feeling disappears.

I sit there staring at the figure eight not sure what to think. Am I doing this unconsciously? If I am, how can I make the pen move so rapidly? I've never done it before in my live. Then I have a terrifying moment of clarity. My hand is not cramping. I remember feeling this sensation before when I was a child. It is the same feeling I had in my hand when my teacher put her hand over mine as she helped me form letters and words when I was learning to write. Only whoever is doing this now is squeezing my hand so tightly it almost hurts. Now I am really scared. Who am I in contact with, Captain Howdy? What's next? Will my head spin around 360 degrees; as I start projectile vomiting green pea soup across the room? I am so unnerved by this I decide to leave it alone for a while.