I have written Art Of Psychic Dice. which is about the relationship between psychokinesis (the ability to move objects with you mind) and casino craps.
This is not just another get rich quick scheme. My slant is that if you understand the principles that I detail in Art Of Psychic Dice, you can easily extract and apply them to any psychokinetic endeavor (or any intention, for that matter), including faith healing. I believe that you will find this interview worth your time.
Back in the 1970s, casually chatting about the magical, mystical, telepathic, psychokinetic and metaphysical realities would most often get you humored, openly mocked or even institutionalized. After all, hearing voices was one of the criteria that defined schizophrenia.
However, after listening to me tell this story, no one ever considered fitting me for a straight-jacket:
At the beginning of Meetings with Remarkable Men, the Sufi master George Gurdjieff states that an old Turk taught him a ritual for getting what he wanted. He was told to turn in a circle once for his mother, once for his father and once for himself, each time repeating his wish.
Gurdjieff says that he was in the mountains and that he had chipped his tooth. He then performed the rite. Instantaneously, a huge shooting star hurled across the night sky, burst and fell in seven lines of brilliant colors.
Upon reading that, I smiled to myself and figured that sly, ole Gurdjieff was putting me on with a tall tale.
Then, in 1971, I hitch-hiked through the New Mexico Sangre de Cristo Mountains. While cleaning my teeth with a soda can tab, I chipped one. On the side of the road, Highway 76, in Truchas, alone, I performed Gurdjieff’s ritual: thrice turning in a circle, each time repeating a wish.
Instantaneously, a huge, fierce diamond blazed across the midnight, mountain sky and exploded, dropping in three columns of dazzlingly frightful and fiery oranges, blues, reds, yellows, purples, greens, and golds to the evaporation below.
As I said, no one ever mocked me for telling that story. There were just too many coincidences: the chipped teeth, the mountains, the night, the ritual and the amazing shooting stars, both of which exploded and fell to the earth in colorful rows.
This story is from the first chapter of Art Of Psychic Dice:
Casino craps is play, and that’s what first attracted me. In the summer of 1973, at the Sahara Tahoe, men dressed in slacks and jackets. I was wearing cut-offs and hiking boots. At one point, I counted $40,000 in wagers at the table. I spent most of the night trying to decide whether to make a bet with the $6 in my pocket.
The shooter to my left rolled the dice. His point was 6. One die bounced to 5. The other hopped on a chip, whirling like a top. It didn’t stop spinning. It didn’t tilt.
That die commanded everybody’s attention, eventually mesmerizing us all. I don’t know how long we stared, but at some point, I looked up. The table was crowding, with more people hustling in our direction. Those in the back were on their toes to see over everyone else who was peering at the amazing die. No one spoke. The dealers from several surrounding blackjack tables
had stopped dealing and were focused in our direction. The players at those tables, too, were all gazing our way.
It was then that it hit me. The pirouetting die had been in violation of the laws of physics for a very long time. I looked back to it. A lady slapped the table and called out, “Six.” Instantaneously, the die tumbled ace up. The shooter made his 6.
I was riding my bicycle across the Golden Gate Bridge and listening to talk radio. This was a week or two before 9/11 (not that it’s connected, but that it makes it easy to remember when it happened). The announcer was tired of his usual political talk. Through the course of an hour he brought up UFOs, racial profiling, and nymphomaniacs. I thought that that was a ridiculous mix of topics, so as a joke, I shot off this e-mail to him:
I was once racially profiled by aliens. I know because I was wearing my Roswell T-Shirt. The Grays abducted me from a lonely, night highway into their flying saucer and forced me to have sex with an alien nympho. I think it was a female.
A couple days later, during the day at my job with my eyes wide open, the face of a Gray popped into my mind – eyeball to eyeball, smack between me and my computer. This was a vision, clearly in my head. I thought of smiling, but momentarily felt entranced with the steely stare and couldn't.
At the time, the image was so absolutely still that when it was over, I thought that someone with a particularly strong mind had projected a picture into my head. It was all extremely interesting, but I couldn't let myself take it too seriously.
So, I emailed the above story to friends, cloaked in a Dear Abby parody letter, just to raise smile. I ended it with this:
“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Abby, I think I angered the husband big time. What should I do?”
Sometime, in the next couple days, the image came back, but at a distance, and I felt the Gray being a bit upset - as if it didn't like my Dear Abby joke. Over a few days, I finally got her (the Gray) to agree that my humor was in fact funny. I think I even got a slight smile out of her.
All the while, I had to wonder precisely what I was dealing with. I still can’t prove anything, but the following shook me up.
At the time, I was involved with a woman who was being slapped around by a male. It upset me. I felt the Gray berating me for not being more even tempered and wanting to kick the guy’s ass. To make a point, I mentally slapped it in the face. This was a way of asking, “What the hell is supposed to happen here? What would you do if you were being slapped around?”
It’s response was bewilderment, which seems consistent with the idea that some Grays are little more than organic toasters and cannot think on their own. However, it was the slap that shook me. The Gray in my imagination had no jaw bone. That is not a detail that I think that I could have made up. It scared me that I was messing with something much more powerful than myself that was probably real.
A few months later, while I was relaxing, the voice of the Wizard of Oz’s Good Witch of the North came through to me. I knew that it was about the above incident. It said, “You are dealing with real evil.”
For the next year and a half, street lights shut down one to four times a week as I drove past them. They still do if I am upset about something.
Some other examples of the paranormal in my life:
I discovered in the mid-70’s that I can lie in a forest and listen to the birds. In my mind I pick the one that is making the faintest sound and concentrate on it. It always becomes the loudest.
In the mid 60s, I was living in a commune with Duke Smith, a weimaraner, who seemed to walk over to the door whenever I thought of taking him for a walk. I experimented to see if the telepathic connection was happening or not by sitting perfectly still while facing a corner of the room for several minutes and then thinking, “Duke, let’s go for a walk.” Every time, he went right to the door.
While leaving the Grand Canyon, I glimpsed the ghost of a rabbit that was crossing the path behind me.
During lightening storms, I have pointed to right where the next lightning strikes will occur.
I was once in a VW that collided head on with a Mac truck, each at 60 mph. I woke up 3 days later in a hospital with broken ribs and a few cuts.
Two spontaneous remote viewing experiences:
1) During our bombing attacks in Afghanistan soon after 9/11, while sitting at my computer, I found my mind’s eye viewing a darkened room. Osama Bin laden was lying on a mattress on the floor at the back of the room in serious condition. A friend of his walked back to him concerned that he was near death.
2) Just before our Iraq invasion, I saw and felt Saddam Hussein calmly riding across the desert in an open air jeep at night.
A thin, 5’ Gray floated through my room as a shadow. It seemed angry and possibly satanic. I found out later that near that time, an old friend died. I am pretty certain that this Gray was somehow failed when it came to my friend’s soul. In other words, The Devil Went Down To Georgia. :)
I hope that the above is interesting to you and that you would like to interview me.
All the best,
Robert E. Graves
Amp Your Untapped Paranormal Power To Amass Casino Craps Profits