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Rosalind Heywood – The Infinite Hive

The incident took place in the 1950s. A friend came in for a drink and talked about ESP. Then, laughing, he shoved an envelope into my hand and challenged me to tell him something about the writer. 'But I don't do that sort of thing,’ I exclaimed.

'Oh, come on,' he said. 'At least tell me whether it's a man or a woman.'

Never being able to resist a challenge I glanced at the envelope. This was easy. The writing was forward-sloping and shaky. An old woman, of course. But as I was about to say so, some other part of me said, 'No. It's a man, younger, and very much of a homosexual.’

To imagine a less probable friend for my questioner was difficult; but I heard myself saying what I felt and adding a number of details about the writer's taste in furniture, decoration and what not. Then I thought, 'Why, this is crazy,’ and stopped, saying, 'Sorry, I'm talking nonsense.'

To my surprise my questioner was shaking with laughter.

'Go on,' he said  'You haven't put a foot wrong yet.'

That sent my morale sky-high and it may have been elation that enabled me to take a further step. If the previous items were not all chance hits the simplest hypothesis is that I picked them up telepathically from my friend. But the item I gave next he did not know. It also reached me in a different manner, as if an instruction came inside my mind from someone else. (I do not say that it did.)

It was worded as an Order, 'Say that he likes budgerigars.'

I did so and added, 'Does he?'

'I don't know,' said my friend. But next day he telephoned that a post card had just come from the writer of the envelope saying that he had spent the previous afternoon buying cages for his new budgerigars.