My name is Alba. Here is my story from various points of view:
The beginning of my experience: Getting to know Andrea
I was 32 years old at that time. I was married and had become mother of a beautiful child, Dara, when the company I was working for as a secretary moved too far away from where I lived and I decided to resign, I stayed home with Dara until she was 18 months old.
I then decided, (don’t ask me why, an unconscious impulse maybe) to start working as a social worker for a young man called Andrea. (I responded to a request on the radio for someone who could take him to school and help him with homework). He was 19 years old when I first met him.
Andrea was born healthy but because of a vaccination against polio he actually got polio and a cerebral infection that soon led him to end up completely paralyzed and unable to talk.
He spent many years of his childhood considered to be a “vegetable” but his parents took him to the USA and found out, thanks to an organization who look after people like him, that he was very intelligent and able to understand and communicate through the movement of his eyes – the only part of his body at that time under his willing control.
Later on, a cousin of his, a young lady, found out when Andrea was around 11 years old, that by putting a pen in his hand and have his hand held in her hand, Andrea could actually write and communicate. Not everybody managed to assist him to write in this way but he eventually found people who could and attended school like everybody else up to his third year of high school, which was the time when I first met him. My role was to stay with him at school and enable him to write his home work, school tests and help him communicate with his school mates. It is funny how nobody, including his parents, thought that it was actually weird that he, being paralyzed, clinically proven, had managed to move his hands and write! But many people could help him write his thoughts and questions this way.
In any case I did as they told me and had his hand in mine with the pen inside and soon noticed soon that there were some days where I “felt” his hand “pushing and write” and some others where I could not “feel” his hand doing anything and we were not able to talk to each other. He kept writing to me not to give up and relax because he knew that I would be able to write with him and to be able to “feel” what he wished to tell me.
Discovery of telepathy
Once during class time, I wondered (only in my head as a thought ) if he had completed the translation from Latin he was supposed to do two days before. At that point I “felt” his answer together at the same time in my mind and in his hand and he wrote “yes I completed it with my father yesterday”. I was shocked because I was sure that I had not open my mouth and then asked myself as a thought again “My God, is he reading in my mind?” and he wrote yes I am , don’t get scared please.
I didn’t get scared, I was petrified! I let go of his hand and ran out the classroom! It took me a week to be able to stay next to him again and “feel” his writing again. We started talking about his way of communicating. He explained to me that he could not talk and found out as a child overtime an alternative way of having people understand what he wished to say. He also used to call and talk mentally, or telepathically as some people define it. For instance: to his parents during the night when they were sleeping and he needed to be changed or else; he told me he actually communicated mentally with them and not with his hands, but that most people, including his parents would have refused to communicate with him if they had known the way he managed to do it. He also explained to me why I, at times, could hear his thinking and could not at other times. When I was relaxed and not scared my mind worked as a receiver, however when I doubted if the whole thing could work, I would close my channel of communication and capacity to “hear him”. In other words I had to believe in it to have to have it happened.
Therefore I had to decide: whether to go on with this experience and change many of my ideas (I did not believe in telepathy ) and beliefs or just forget about it and do as other people had done, just believe it was his paralyzed hand that could move or not even bother to ask myself how it worked.
I was not a believer in paranormal phenomena; I had grown up in a kind of family where nobody had to believe things that were not scientifically proven. I had no faith in God or life after death, I hated church and priests and many, many times I believed I was going crazy. Telepathy, how can that be? Everyone says it does not exist and yet I was experiencing it and I was not even the only one in that class: three other schoolmates communicated with Andrea that way and they often came to me telling me that Andrea seems to write things as if he knew much more about their personal life that he was supposed to know.
I did not tell anybody else about telepathy for many months as I thought it may scare his friends and did not wish him to be scary to people he liked and also because it was all so crazy for me to believe at times! Since I‘ve always been quite a stubborn person, before accepting telepathy to be a reality for me I asked Andrea for many and various proof . . For example I would have him tell me something telepathically then ask a school mate, Nadia, to write with him what he had just told me. And they wrote it exactly as it was. He then taught me how to communicate with him without the need of the pen held together. It was fun too, we could chat during boring lessons at school without being caught by teachers!!
When he was hospitalized and I had learned by then how to communicate with him telepathically at a distance, I would ask him to give me the rates of his clinical data (oxygen or pressure) which were registered on a book at the hospital and then I used to go and see him at the hospital and check if the rates I was given were correct and they were and so on. I eventually decided I had and wanted to change my previous belief and what the hell believe in what my experience really was despite what everybody else might have said about me.