It’s exactly a year since Will – my friend and remote viewing partner – started experimenting with viewing future events.
The strange but accurate scene Will viewed a week ahead.
To recap, briefly: I’d asked him if he could view where I would be at a specific time, six days ahead of the date when the viewing took place. I already knew where I would be, having a planned appointment, so it was a good chance for us to test out his viewing skills ahead of time. Sure enough, he came up with several very specific features of the room I’d be in and the surrounding area.
Buoyed up by our success, we tried a second viewing the next week, in which, again, I was quite certain where I would be and – once more – he nailed it. Obviously we were delighted with this proof that remote viewing seemed to work equally well for past, present and future events. Nevertheless, it raised some interesting questions.
What if I had changed my mind in the intervening days and decided not to go where I had originally planned to be? What if some misadventure had befallen me on my journey, preventing me from reaching my destination? Was he viewing my intention, rather than my future reality? Conversely, was it perhaps some kind of quantum effect? Was he – in effect – peering into the box where Schrodinger’s unfortunate cat was suspended between possible outcomes and, by becoming the observer, collapsing the wave of probability and determining which would play out?
In short, once he had done the viewing, was my future then set in stone? Clearly it wasn’t. Obviously there would not be some supernatural force propelling me to the location he had viewed me in, if I decided to stay in bed that morning. I still had free choice. In which case, how was his viewing so accurate, given that the event was yet to take place?
We thought long and hard about all the ramifications and Will finally concluded that remote viewing must be connected to probability. He felt that what he was seeing was the most probable place I would be on the target date and time.
Recently, I had been mulling over these ideas in my mind, wondering how we could refine our understanding of the processes involved. By synchronicity, we hit upon the perfect test for his theory.
I’d arranged to meet someone at a specific time and destination. My journey involved two train rides, with a change at the massive Birmingham New Street Station during rush hour. Because of that, I’d factored in a 25 minute transfer time at New Street. However, there I was, on my first train, finding that it was running 20 minutes late and my transfer time was shrinking rapidly.
The odds of making my connection seemed to be about 50:50. My train might or might not make up some time on the journey. I might or might not locate and reach my next platform quickly. There might or might not be delays caused by crowding on the escalators. My second train might or might not also be delayed.
Instinctively, I messaged Will and told him I was unsure as to whether or not I would make a train connection and asked if he could view where I would be at 6:40 that evening – a short while after my final train was due to arrive. If he saw me at my destination, I could relax, knowing I’d make it. If he saw me on a train, though, I’d know it was likely I would miss my connection and be on a later one.
A few minutes later, he got back to me. His viewing was unlike any we’d experienced. He saw ‘a long narrow dark area with rows of things along the side’. There were no colours or identifying features, and we were both unsure what it meant.
In fact, I did make the rail connection. My train arrived a little early, so that by 6:40 I was in my host’s home. It had two adjoining rooms, with a narrow passageway through them and items of furniture to each side. But one could argue that a train carriage is laid out in the same way. He’d turned on the light when we got in, so it wasn’t dark. Nor would a train carriage be. Curious.
A day or two later, I was on another rail journey. I decided to ask Will if he could view where I was. This time his response was that I was on a train. He saw it travelling through mountains and even told me the colour of the seats and the train’s livery. All correct. He was clearly still an expert at this.
So why the mysterious dark space in the other viewing?
To me it seems Will’s idea that probability is involved has been vindicated. I’d asked him to view a future that was hanging in the balance. The outcome depended on several factors, all beyond my control, and there was an equal chance that I would/would not catch the second train. In that circumstance, it seems, Will was unable to pick up a clear indication of where I would be. The long dark area could represent an uncertain future. The items at the sides might be the two possibilities ranged along it. Maybe, even, he was seeing both possible scenarios at once, superimposed on each other and thus darkening and obscuring his view.
Plenty to think about there, and I see it leading to more interesting experiments in the future – probably.