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In 1978, I spent some time in California in the fall, looking for a quiet place to live. I finally found what seemed to be the perfect apartment. But the night after I moved in, I heard a tremendous pounding sound. As it turned out, I had moved in right above a Hawaiian hollow-log drum school; every other night, it was converted into a hula school with a live band of six Hawaiian guitars. I decided to sound-proof my place. But I didn't hang the door very well, and all the sounds kept drifting in. About this time, like a lot of New Yorkers who find themselves on the West Coast, I got interested in various aspects of California's version of the occult. We would sit around at night, while the Santa Ana winds howled outside, and ask questions to the Ouija board. I found out a lot of information on my past 9,361 human lives on this planet. My first life was as a raccoon. "AND THEN... YOU WERE... A COW..... AND THEN... YOU WERE... A BIRD..... AND THEN... YOU WERE... A HAT," spelled the Ouija. We said, "A hat?!" We couldn't figure it out. Finally, we guessed that the feathers from the bird had been made into a hat. "Is this true?" "YES," spelled the Ouija. "HAT... COUNTS... AS HALF... LIFE." "And then?" "HUNDREDS... AND HUNDREDS... OF..... RABBIS..." Now this is apparently my first life as a woman -- which would explain quite a few things. Eventually, though, the Ouija's written words seemed to take on a personality, a kind of a voice. Finally, we began to ask the board if the Ouija would be willing to appear to us in some other form. "FORGET IT, FORGET IT, FORGET IT, FORGET IT, FORGET IT, FORGET IT" -- The Ouija seemed like it was about to crash. "Please! Please! What can we do --" (we were nagging it now) "-- so you will show yourself to us in some other manifestation?" "YOU SHOULD... LURK..... YOU SHOULD... L - U - R - K..... LURK..." Now I never really figured out how to lurk in my own place -- even though it was only a rented place. But I did find myself looking over my shoulder a lot, and every sound that drifted in seemed to be a version of this phantom voice, whispering in a code that I could never crack.
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