Periodically, the agitated-depression syndrome would hit me with renewed force. When able, my normally practical, analytical mind searched for the reason. Here was Fritz: a person previously unknown to me, who had died prematurely. I was puzzled that his death had affected me so personally. Why? Many people die young, and death of loved ones--though causing me sorrow, never induced deep mourning. My sorrow over Fritz's death was stronger than any I had ever experienced. I begged God to take my life and give his back--quite generous of me, as I had always been very possessive of my life. I literally visualized my self wearing sackcloth, pouring ashes over my head and, in Biblical style, weeping, wailing and gnashing my teeth. This grief over a stranger was incredible--and unbearable! One thing was clear: this type of emotion was completely foreign to my nature. My attempts to relate it to my own personality and past experience met with utter defeat.

About that time I started looking for psychic readers. I found one, whose advertisement stated she would"--tell all before you utter a word--$2.00 donation." I called and made an appointment. Later, carrying Fritz's first record, I arrived at her residence, a large, Spanish style house in a fairly good neighborhood. (Apparently Madame Nora, Madam Tina, etc. do quite well financially as spiritual advisors; also, they must all go to the same school to learn their "trade", because the few I have visited since have all begun their readings with exactly the saw words. I'm not saying that all psychic readers are phoneys-- many are quite genuine and render valuable service--but there is this type which can be easily recognized with experience. At that time I hadn't the experience to judge, so I approached the door in full anticipation of learning everything I wished to know "without uttering a word.") The door was opened by a woman wearing a sari and nose-ring. Greeting me with a faintly Spanish accent, she led me to her reading room. She gave the standard introductory spiel, " --you smile in your face, but inside you unhappy--", which should have clued me in at once. I hadn't smiled, and I'm sure unhappiness emanated from me in a visible cloud."--you goodhearted, try to do for others, but they don't appreciate--treat you bad--" and so on. Then she asked, "What you want, a short reading for $5.00 or full $10.00 reading?" Remembering the $2.00 donation mentioned in the ad, but too anxious to remind her, I said I'd settle for the $5.00 one. She, who knew all, said,"O.K.--now, what's you problem?"

I showed her Fritz's record and told her that I had been feeling depressed about the death of the man pictured on the cover. "You know him?" she asked. I told her I had never heard of him before his death, and briefly explained the strange manner in which I had acquired the record.

"This man", she intoned, pointing at Fritz's picture,"come to you on a vibration--you understand?" I nodded. "He make you unhappy--he cannot rest--you want me say prayers, burn candles-- make him go away?" I told her I didn't want him to go away, I just wanted to learn more about his connection with me. "Oh no," she said,"he make you sad, spoil your marriage, I do ritual--one candle for $25.00, two for $40.00--put his spirit to rest--". And my bank account as well. Beginning to see how she was able to afford such elegant furniture for her large house, I declined her offer and left her to her more gullible clients; but not without disappointment and a feeling of hopelessness.

By now my depressive phases had gotten complete control over me. To find relief, I visited a doctor who prescribed a "mood elevator" drug. It worked--and how: The "mood elevator" shot up to the top floor, marked "gross agitation", then down to the basement, marked " deepest despair". I felt aggravated and irritated. I couldn't sit, stand or lie down. I itched, burned and felt totally miserable. There seemed to be no escape from my despair. But was it my despair, and if so, why? I had a great husband, a job I enjoyed, and was dynamically productive both at work and in our musical activities. There had been no problem, physically or emotionally, until Fritz appeared on the scene.

I stopped the medication and soon settled back into the "normal" ups and downs created by my relationship with Fritz. It now seemed time for another sitting.

With Frances a willing co-operator, we began our third session with Fritz:

D: Is there anyone here who wishes to speak with us?

The planchette moved quickly to YES, then to the sun just above, in the upper left-hand corner of the board. (on the Ouija board the sun is pictured as a round, smiling face.) The nail in the planchette's center rested directly over the smile, and we accepted this as a cheerful greeting from Fritz. This seemed the correct interpretation, as he used this means more and more, in subsequent sessions, to display his outwardly sunny personality.

D: Hi, Fritz. How are you tonight?

F: O.K.

D: What would you like for Christmas?

F: No needs.

D: You man you have everything you need or want where you are now?

F: YES

D: What are your surroundings like?

F: ZUMACH LEBEN AUS EIN ZELLE REISCH FREUDEN HIMMEL NAKUMMER

MIT REISCH BINDEN MEIN ICH NACHT BINDEN MANKIN .

Frances and I were a bit awed at this rapidly spelled message in a language unfamiliar to both of us. (Of course we had both sung in German, and recognized a few words, but not enough to translate this message.) I immediately checked the German-English dictionary, and laboriously worked out a loose translation: " I am shut off from life as in a (prison) cell. Worldly possessions and pleasures have beenreplaced by the Kingdom of Heaven. I am tied to Night. My manhood is bound."

Weresumed the sitting:

D: Are other spirits with you?

F: NO

D: Are there buildings, trees and flowers?

F: NO

Fran: Are you in darkness?

F: NO

D: Are you surrounded by bright lig!ht?

F: NO All is grey...I am in a void.

D: Aren't you aware of anything at all?

F: Only of you

D: What about music?

F: Music is of the spheres.

D: I find this hard to believe. According to everything I've read lately, you're surpposed to be in

a world similar to ours. If you aren't, you must be earthbound and need help to get where you belong.

F: No need. Happy here.

No doubt about it; Fritz was earthbound. And to make matters worse, he stubbornly refused to believe this, thereby depriving himself of the opportunity to improve his circumstances. I vowed to convince him (of something I, myself, knew little about) at a later sitting.

In the following days My obsession began to grip) me even more fiercely. What had started out as a mild case of lovesickness bloomed into a mania. I thought of Fritz constantly, imagining he was with me. wherever I went; but the frustration brought on by feeling his presence and not being able to see him nearly drove me out of my mind. I was wild for him, and felt that I could easily barter my soul for five minutes in bed with him.One night, after I had gone to bed, an extremely powerful sexual sensation coursed through my body, It had happened so suddenly and with such intensity that I was certain I had not generated it. I was surprised--or more aptly, thrilled. As I had never before experienced anything similar, I knew Fritz had been responsible. Feeling a strange sense of fulfillment, I soon fell asleep.

I went to bed the next night hoping for a repeat performance, and was not disappointed! The next day I arranged another sitting, with Frances, and asked Fritz for details.

D: Fritz, what have you been doing to me for the past two nights?

F: Fucking your cunt for you. Very kind of me.

Frances looked up, a little shocked at his language, but her curiosity overrode any distaste she might

have felt. We went on:

D: Thank you. I enjoyed it immensely.

F: Would you like some more?

D: YES:

Fran: Doris, shame on you!

I ignored her, and continued:

D: How do you manage to rake me feel it?

F: Your brain.

D: I don't think I like the idea of anyone's tampering with my brain. What, exactly, do you mean?

F: Not your physical brain. Your mind.

D: Oh, you mean thought projection?

F: YES

D: That's a relief. But do you feel anything?

F: NO. Sorry.

D: But that isn't fair--you should be able to feel something, too.

F: Too bad.

I relied on Frances to catch any of the words I missed. Now, she was growing sleepy and we were

having trouble reading the words being spelled out; especially as the planchette had been moving more

quickly than usual,

F: Do you have a headache?

Fran: Yes. How did you know?

F: Read your thoughts.

We decided that we had had enough for the evening. The tact that Fritz could not only Project his thoughts to others, but could also nick up theirs, was a bit scary--not scary enough, however, to deter us from future sittings.

As I lay in bed that night, I said mentally,"What are you? Whatever or whoever you are, I'm going to face you, NOW."

At once, as it in reply, I felt that familiar surge of sexual stimulation--this time even stronger, and with the added sensation of vaginal penetration . I wasted no time in responding, vigorously, with sharp, thrusting pelvic movements. Some part of me recognized the bizarreness of the situation, but the majority of my being was caught up in the excitement of having intercourse with my unseen lover, I abandoned myself for the moment to sheer sexual enjoyment. I didn't achieve orgasm. but it had been close enough for comfort. Before falling asleep I thought," Wow. Fritz, dead, can do more than most men alive." Then I remembered that Fritz, himself, was unable to share my pleasure in our lovemaking. Suddenly, a tremendous sob burst from me, I wept, uncontrollabIy. Again, this was something generated from a source outside the realm of my own emotions. I was crying for Fritz because he wasn't able to do it for himself.

One of the books in my now fast growing occult library dealt with spirit communication. it outlined various means of communicating with spirit entities, then further stated that once contact had been made with an entity certain "lines of force" were established, which permitted the entity to have access to one's subconscious (or conscious) self whenever it wished. I would have found the thought of this rather frightening had I been dealing with an entity other than Fritz, who, I felt sure, was benign, loving and in need of assistance. It never entered my mind that his intentions could be other than honorable.

The next day was one of frustration work-wise, as my mind and heart were so full of Fritzy I couldn't even think of claims, let alone concentrate on them. That evening I attempted to learn some German from a book I had bought. I started to translate from English to German, "The shirt is on the chair", and "The dress is on the floor." My mind drifted from the translation and I began to fantasize a man's shirt thrown carelessly onto a chair, a woman's dress dropped hastily on the floor, and: Fritz and myself in bed together, nude--and busy. My mind toyed with this forawhile, then I suddenly felt compelled to try the board alone.

It seemed that Fritz, though reluctant to bare his innermost feelings when others were present, would be willing to tell me more about himself. I had never had any success at working the board without a partner, but I had to try. I got out the board and sat with it across my knees, my fingers resting lightly on the pointer. Surprisingly, after a few minutes,it started to move. Very slowly at first, then gathering speed it spelled out," I AM TOO MOODY." It continued:

F: A bed, a bed, my kingdom for a bed.

D: Why? Are you tired?

F: Doris and Fritz on a bed.

D: Have you been picking my brain? (remembering my earlier fantasies.)

F: YES I helped.

D: You mean it was a combined fantasy?

F: YES My thoughts and yours.

D: Fritz, will you tell me the truth about your surroundings?

F: It is a void, Doris. Why won't you believe me?

D: Do you want to get out of it?

F: YES (The planchette moved very swiftly and strongly at this point. As the sitting progressed it moved so rapidly, pulling magnetically from one letter to another, that I could hardly keep my fingers on it.)

D: Alright, I'll help you any way I can.

F: My nose...

D: (Laughing) What about your nose?

F: My nose is too Jewish.

D: Your nose doesn't look "too" anything to me--it's beautiful.

From the photos I'd seen of him, Fritz's nose was rather nice but there was nothing unusual about it. Later I was to learn otherwise.

D: Speaking of noses, how about mine? Would you say it's rather large?

F: Maybe--but my nose loves your nose.

D: And mine loves yours, too.

F: What do you want with a Nothing like me?

D: What do you mean, nothing? You're everything.

F: I didn't say I was a nobody, I said a "nothing". I loved women and left them because I wanted to prove I was a big man.

D: You are a big man to me, Fritz.

F: Yes. A big man on short legs.

D: How tall were you, really?

F: 5 feet 7 inches.

D: That isn't too short.

F: Too short for sopranos.

D: Did you have a lot of women?

F: YES But afterwards I felt disgusted. Art, music and love were ail I ever wanted.

D: That almost sounds like the story of my own life.

F: Doris--Scorpio

D: Aha, you know my sign.

F: YES Sexy Scorpio. Frances--Cancer.

D: (feeling a twinge of jealousy) Don't talk about Frances now. This is our conversation!

F: That's O.K. Frances isn't interested in me.

D: But you must be interested in her, otherwise you wouldn't mention her now.

F: Don't worry. Her pants are too big, and mine are too small. This sent me into a fit of laughter, dispelling the jealous feelings.

D: Oh, Fritz, you're so funny'

F: It is only a facade, Doris. I was not happy. A man of sorrow.

D: (not taking this seriouslv) --and acquainted with grief, I gather. I'm familiar with the Messiah, too.

F: Fame and money are nothing without lo~e.

D: But now you do have love, Fritz--mine.

F: YES My Doris. Doris and Fritz for all eternity.

I had a favorite record, on which Fritz sang "Granada", "Be my love" and other standards. "Be my love" was, to my knowledge, the only song he had recorded in English. I had come to regard this as his personal invitation to me, and felt only too happy to comply. Whenever I played this record itwould be accompanied by all sorts of delightful thrills and chills, I would sense his presence close, very close, to me as I listened. His none too perfect English diction caused the song to come through with a thick German accent; I found this most charming, and it endeared him all the more to me.

Now, Fritz began to "sing", via the board, "our song." He put his accent in writing, substituting "vun" for one, "vill" for will, etc. He made love to me, at first using the words of the song; then his own, becoming more ardent and demanding. Then the planchette stopped spelling words and started moving in large circles around the board, pulling my arms with it and causing my body to sway to its rhythm. When I felt totally aroused it spelled,"Kiss me." I closed my eyes and felt myself in a passionate embrace with Fritz, then I apparently blanked out. I next became aware of the final part of a sentence being spelled, "...strengthen the lines of force to you." Feeling exhausted, I glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was now 1:00 A.M., when just a few minutes before it had been midnight. Evidently I had lost an entire hour. I felt puzzled, yet uncommonly fulfilled and happy. Still enclosed in the aura of Fritz's love, I put the board away and myself to bed.

All through the following week I found it more and more difficult to concentrate on my work. I went about my duties in a semi-trance state. Chills would ripple over me frequently, and I felt a fuzziness at the base of my skull, I wondered what Fritz had been doing to me to cause such unpleasant feelings.

One morning, at the office, I was shocked to hear the expletive, "Dirty Jew!" I looked around, saw nothing unusual, then realized that the voice had been within my own mind! But, it was not my own thought. I am not Jewish, but neither am I anti-Semitic. This experience really upset me. Fritz had some explaining to do, and I could hardly wait to get him alone!

Later that evening I sat at my regular place on the sofa, board across my lap, and waited for contact. I hadn't long towait; almost immediately the planchette began to move.

Fritz was definitely there and ready to talk. I started the conversation.

D: Fritz, have you been messing around with my head?

F: YES

D: For what reason?

F: Tying you to me.

D: Well, I don't like the feeling. Will you please stop it?

P: FOR A BEGINNING, do not question how I tie myself to you.

I felt a chill. Fritz had never before taken this tone with me.

D: Did you say something at the office today?

P: YES. Dirty Jew. Dirty, filthy cock-sucking jew bastard.

D: (shocked) Fritz! In my presence don't ever talk that way about people of other races or religions.

He made no reply to this, rather, I received a mental picture

of a person, perhaps a child, being persecuted and ridiculed by others. Then a feeling of bitterness swept over me, as though Fritz himself had been the victim and was now projecting these feelings through me. Surely he couldn't have been Jewish and living in Germany --unless his family had changed their religion long before Hitler's time.

D: Fritz, were you Jewish?

P: Not really.

No other information was gained on this subject for many years, although we questioned Fritz about it a number of times. This time lie dropped the subject immediately and went into his "funnyact". We bantered back and forth for awhile, then he becameserious again.

F: Oh Doris, Doris, when will you be mine? You give me life. Fill my arms--feed me--FEED ME.

Abruptly, the atmosphere changed. I begn to feel frightened. This was not idle love-talk. A definite, desperate demand echoed in those words~ which I didn't quite understand and felt unwilling to meet. However, my catlike curiosity spurred me on.

D: will I die if I do as you ask?

F: YES

D: How much time do I have left? (to live)

F: What does it matter? Life is short anyway. (True. His life was very short.)

D. How soon will it happen?

F: One night, one day. (The planchette moved to the moon in the upper right corner of the board, then to the sun directly opposite.)

At that time I probably would have given my life to help Fritz; if I thought it would really help him; but I suddenly had a creeping suspicion that this might not be Fritz at all. Instead, it could be some sort of evil, powerful entity impersonating him; some being who had gotten a firm hold on me and now moved in for the kill. Determined to find out at once, I asked,"Are you the person you said you were?" Immediately the planchette shot up to NO.

"Who are you, then?"

I got no response. The board had gone completely dead. I tried for several minutes to get more information, but the planchette would not budge.

"You can't harm me, you know." I said aloud, rather unconvincingly.

I rose from the sofa a bit shakily and put the board away. Ronnie had gone to bed hours earlier, so I turned off the lamp in the livingroom and walked through the dininqroom into the kitchen. As I stood, bewildered, in the darkened room, a powerful chill enveloped me; then I felt a sharp, tingling shock through my head and upper back. I cried soundlessly. WHAT had I gotten myself into?

I had no strong religious ties; I was still agnostic to some degree, even though I felt that some kind of supreme being (which I called God) reigned over all. My only thought at that point was to find a way of combating my persecutor--since it was apparently evil, a symbol of good might be used: a rosary owned by Ronnie and kept in the drawer of his nightstand. As I opened the drawer, he awoke. I told him I was afraid. Since he had paid little attention to my occult dabbling and lacked any kind of understanding in these things, he merely said, "I'm sorry-I can't help you."

Uncomforted and scared out of my wits, I wrapped the beads around my wrist and held the cross in my hand. Praying for protection and help, I tried to force sleep.

I felt somewhat relieved to awaken the next day and find myself still alive. But I remembered the time-limit given me--I had only one day left. Obviously I could not discuss the matter with Ronnie nor could Fritz help me--there was no Fritz! This knowledge alone was enough to thoroughly crush my spirit--without Fritz there was no reason for me to continue living. I remembered reading, somewhere, "In the midst of life we are in death". How accurate those words were.