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The
Paranormal Sourcebook
Charles E. Sellier |
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I
agreed to the meeting and arranged to be at the airport when Geller's flight came
in. I took two of my staff with me—Jerry Fleck, a longtime assistant who
is now an assistant director on the Star Trek television series at Paramount,
and a young man by the name of Tom Chapman, one of our staff writers and a dose
personal friend. The meeting took place as scheduled, in the second-floor restaurant
of the Salt Lake City airport, overlooking the runways.
Uri Geller turned
out to be a very likable young man, good-looking, intelligent, and very perceptive.
It didn't take him long to discover that I was still skeptical regarding things
of a psychic nature. My attitude at the time was fairly typical: "If you
can't put it in my hand, it probably doesn't exist." That seemed to suit
Geller just fine. If all it took was a demonstration, he was glad to oblige. He
leaned back and with just a trace of a smile asked if anyone had a key. Jerry
reached in his pocket and came out with a leather, zippered key case full of keys
and started to hand it to Uri.
"No," Geller said, "don't give
it to me, you hold it."
Jerry kept possession of the case, unzipped it,
and held it open. "Okay?" he said.
"Fold out the longest key
in there," Geller instructed, "then zip it back up and hold it tightly."
Jerry selected the key, zipped up the case around it, and, as he had been instructed,
held onto the case very tightly.
"Now," Uri said, "put it in
front of Mr. Sellier."
The leather case was now being firmly held in
Jerry's hand, the key that was selected protruding from between his thumb and
forefinger. He was holding it in front of Tom and myself, just a few inches from
our eyes. We can see it very dearly and in every detail. Uri now took his index
finger and positioned it about 2 inches above the key. In fact, at no time did
he touch the key during the entire demonstration. Instead, he began moving his
finger back and forth, stroking the air in a petting motion just above the key.
"You've got to be kidding," I thought, and glanced up to see if Mr.
Geller weren't actually putting us on just a bit. His dark eyes were focused intently
on the task at hand. He was not smiling now, and I got the distinct impression
that two airplanes could have collided on the runway just outside the window and
he wouldn't have noticed. I looked back down at the key. It was a stout, brass
key, similar to those used in Yale locks. It was, in fact, the key to Jerry's
post office box. I was still staring intently at the key, trying to imagine what
in the world this young man was up to when suddenly it began to curl, to bend
upward. I looked up at Jerry, still holding the key firmly between thumb and forefinger.
His eyes began to widen, as I'm sure did mine. Tom bent in closer, as if he couldn't
quite believe what he was seeing.
Uri dropped his hands, leaned back, and
with a big smile asked, ''Well, what do you think?"
I took the key from
Jerry and examined it closely. I'm not sure I could have bent it in a vice, yet
it had just curled up like a Christmas ribbon right before our eyes, with no one
touching it. Trickery was out of the question. Geller could not have known what
key Jerry would pull out of the case, and in any event, all of us were within
inches of both the key and the case, when the key began to curl. There were no
diversions, no substitutions possible. The three of us had witnessed, firsthand
and very dose-up, the amazing power of the mind. Back |
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