Here's some more to the story about the clairvoyant woman at my work. (I was reluctant to tell this part, because it is hard to believe and after many years is still real unclear to me.)
As background, we worked at the Ca Department of Fish and Game, where I was, at the time, the Fisheries Supervisor. The woman (call her JoAnne) was a member of my field sampling team, collecting adult America Shad for reproductive stage analysis at a nearby reservoir, Millerton Lake.
This was the World's only known landlocked reproductive American Shad population. Pacific Gas and Electric Company was relicensing their Kerckhoff Hydroelectric Project at the lake inlet. We were a part of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission's environmental analysis, trying to determine if the relicenced and much enlarged hydro operation would affect the fish adversely.
We randomly collected individuals from the population weekly, to evaluate reproductive maturity. Every week we had been setting out overnight two very large (150m long by 15m high) drifting monofilament Gill nets near the lake inlet. Typically we would collect from a few to 50 or more Shad, depending on the lunar phase.
We set the nets out right at dark, then slept while they fished until daylight. Typically, we tied one end of the net at the shore, then one person drove the big pontoon boat in reverse, while the others payed out the big, bulky nets over the bow. The nets made a vertical wall across about a quarter of the reservoir inlet.
JoAnne had been a part of the samplibg team for about two years when she got word of her teaching job appointment and left the program. At the same time, my other field assistant also moved to another job, suddenly leaving me with research responsibilities and no trained crew.
I decided to go up alone and set the nets. Joanne told me not to do it, but at the time I had that invincible attitude that most young men have.
At the second sampling station, I had the boat idling in slow reverse and was slowly feeding out the net through a wide opening in the bow railing. The 80 lb mono of the net snagged on the rail, so I moved up to free it, walking on the bulky net. In an instant, I was down on the deck, then in the water, with the net caught on my shoe and the boat backing away, pulling the net tight.
The lake closed its public gates at dark each day, and it was unlawful for any non-official boat to be on the water. So being rescued was not going to happen.
I bobbed around, trying to free my foot from the shoe, when suddenly the boat engine died. It was a new engine that had never unexpectedly died previously.
Without the engine pulling against me, I was able to pull on the net and draw the boat toward me. Exhausted, I climbed over the bow and lay there resting.
I finished dutifully setting out the net, finishing under the near-full moon about 10:00 PM. I then drove over to the sand bar where we normally camped, built a small driftwood fire, dried out my clothes and shoes, ate my sub sandwich dinner and climbed onto the beached pontoon boat to sleep-- away from the abundant rattlesnakes.
Hours later I was awakened by the boat rocking wildly, side to side, with the aluminum pontoons booming against the the sand. That normally occurred in a boat wake, which meant that a fisherman had illegally stayed overnight. We would have to scramble to keep them from running across and fouling in the shallowly submerged nets. I jumped up and instinctively rushed to the boat controls.
But there was no other boat ! The lake was glass smooth in the moonlight, except for the circle of big waves emanating from my pounding boat. I note that the boat was just shy of 8' wide, so it normally required good sized waves to rock it side-to- side. The rocking lasted another minute or two, then the motion stopped and the ring of waves attenuated. "Earthquake? I wondered.
I climbed back into my warm sleeping bag and faded.
The next morning, I hauled in the nets, processed the samples and headed back to the office. Just before noon, my desk phone rang. JoAnne's voice said, "Dale, that was scary-- are you OK?" I instaly felt goose bumps traversing my body and I welled up with tears. How did she know? Had she intervened? Did she rock the boat to communicate? I just don't know those answers. But I cannot simply dismiss the idea that there is another dimension in which each of us participates differentially.
(This is a totally true story).