A remarkable psychic experience
Parcheesi in the shadow of the Amityville Horror
1977 — The King was dead (Elvis). I was living in Amityville, New York. Yes, that Amityville. In fact, the Amityville Horror house of book and film fame was across the canal from where I was living.
A night of Parcheesi
There was nothing remarkable about that evening.
My uncle, aunt and grandmother were all sitting on the back porch. The four of us were playing Parcheesi. It was dark outside, and the calm, black waters of the backyard canal reflected stars and lights from nearby docks and moored boats.
Parcheesi is a board game based on the old national game of India called Pachisi. The first player to get their four game pieces to the center of the board wins. While it’s fun and relaxing, it can get unexpectedly tense and competitive. I wasn’t expecting that to happen.
I also wasn’t expecting that the tension about to erupt was going to be my fault.
Everything was normal that quiet evening. We were relaxed, having fun. Each player was rolling the dice, making their moves. We were making all the normal gasps, giggles and moans, the sounds everyone makes playing a game. Small cheers, quiet grumbling. Rolling the dice, traveling our little game pieces around the board. Idle chatter. It was board game night. Tomorrow was Sunday.
My uncle was a deeply competitive guy, with an explosive temper. But he was keeping a good sense of humor that night. His wife was her usual modest self, interjecting wry satire as the moment called it out. What I hadn’t yet discovered was how competitive my grandmother was. But everyone’s mood was about to change. For the worse.
I have no idea why what came next, came next.
I remember thinking to myself that I needed a good roll. And, bam, the dice did it. I smiled silently at my good luck. Each player took a turn, and it was my go again. This time I thought doubles. It was doubles.
With a roll of doubles, the player makes four moves, one for each of the numbers on top of the two dice and one for each of the numbers on the bottoms. The player may distribute these four moves among one, two, three, or four pieces. Note that the sum of numbers on the opposite sides of a die is always seven, so with doubles, there are a total of fourteen spaces to move.
When the player rolls doubles, the player rolls again after moving.
I got another roll. Once again, I thought doubles, but this time my ‘wish’ included the exact numbers I wanted.
It was doubles. Exact numbers.
There was some head-shaking this time. But don’t forget, I had another roll.
It was doubles. Exact numbers.
The table exploded. I mean, loud. My uncle’s home was like all the others nearby, huge houses with huge lots. He even had a boathouse. But the uproar was so loud that the neighbors could have heard us, no matter the size of the property.
After my series of moves, I decided to tone it down and I wished a poor roll. I got it.
I had a really weird feeling in my stomach over all this. Was this all coincidence? Maybe. But it didn’t feel that way. What happened next was even more eerie.
The night got creepier
I wondered if whatever was happening was somehow my doing, then why not work it on the other players? I mean, they were hating me whenever I rolled. Why not make them hate me when they rolled? Why not ‘think’ them into poor rolls? Dreadful rolls?
So, as each of my three competitors took a turn, I wished them into the worse possible luck of the dice. We went around the table twice.
Each awful number I imagined was exactly what they got. I willed them the worse possible numbers.
I was breaking blockades, sending their game pieces back, willing them into morale-busting Parcheesi penitentiaries.
I’ve never seen my family members get so angry. Talk about being worked up. They were coming out of their seats. Pounding on the table. Cursing. Shouting. Ready to quit the game! Over Parcheesi!
It was ugly. It was astonishing.
Superpower
What do you do when you’re a superpower? It was an interesting question. To me, it felt ethical.
I think most nations, if asked that question, would answer, “Keep it!”
Think about it. Why would you give up something like that? Being a superpower keeps you in control. It stacks the deck in your favor. It makes you feel, well, secure. And… you get your way when you need it. It’s all about the benefits. For you.
Let’s say you’re a prizefighter. What if you own a title belt? Do you just win it once and then give it away? Or do you make them fight you for it, refusing to hand it over unless they bleed for it?
There I was. I had a superpower in the palm of my hand. Well, in my mind actually. But it was awful watching them, and I felt entirely responsible and manipulative. I was heavy with guilt, because I felt bad that they were so helpless. And I felt worse that it was so easy. It was so easy to take advantage of them.
I don’t think that’s the way superpowers tend to behave. They don’t feel guilty. And they definitely don’t feel guilty if it’s easy. They claim what’s theirs, and take what’s not. That’s just the way it rolls. If you have the gold, then you own all the banks, you control the oil, you steal all the money from the 99%.
But I’m not a thief.
Shutting down the quantum computer
While I was sitting there watching them, I was feeling a sense of responsibility wash over me. I knew what I had to do. I’m not sure I could explain even today why I knew this. But I knew.
I knew what I had to do. I somehow just knew.
I knew I was tapped into something that was giving me an unfair advantage. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew where it was. Somewhere in me, somewhere in my mind. And I decided, then and there, still sitting in my chair, to turn it off.
I don’t like the idea of gaming the system, whether it’s a normal everyday thing, or when it comes to matters of deeper consciousness. I wouldn’t have called it ‘consciousness’ back then. The thing is, I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew one thing for sure: it wasn’t fair.
And so I did the unthinkable. Sitting across from the Amityville Horror, playing Parcheesi with my grandmother, right then and there, I turned off the switch.
40 years ago.
NOTE: If you want to study and journey deeper and deeper into consciousness, in my opinion it’s important to just take things as they come. Not to judge. It comes with being a monastery. Even if the only monastery in sight is you.
