For people who don’t know, I live a rather crazy fantasy life, one not really of my own choosing, but one that kind of just fell on me. I’m thankful that’s not literal.
I don’t indulge in the whole supernatural/new age/occultic/paranormal thing. I actually avoid it all unless there’s pressing matters that requires I must absolutely do something and can’t ignore. Today, I want to talk a bit about my weirdness and the things in it.
My crazy recurring dreams was the gateway drug into the madness for me. It’s common for people to have one or a few recurring dreams. All my dreams are recurring dreams. And that’s not normal. I was always afraid to sleep. And it wasn’t just the dreams. In waking life, I was immersed in an invisible world from as far back as I can remember, one where even my parents who were shamans (and still are), couldn’t understand and relate to. Apparently, the things I’ve experienced, aren’t normal to them either (shamans communicate with spirits). It made me feel more alone than ever. And in my quest to fit in somewhere–between the world of the living and the world of the invisible, I started to try and understand what was happening to me and why.
When I met Keera (whose name is actually spelled, Ke’era), I never knew she’d enlighten me a bit about my dreams and introduce me to hers, a world I called the Otherworld, and of the inhabitants who live there who have been in my dreams as well.
We were good friends. I thought we were. She thought I wanted them, that world and those things there. I didn’t live there. I was alive here. And I wanted to fit in here somewhere. It felt so good to have someone who would understand what I was talking about who wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy and who could actually say, “yeah, his name is Charlie”. For all the mistakes we’ve made in our friendship, she was my best friend for a long time. I don’t know where she is now or what has happened to her. I dream about her sometimes, but like in real life, she’s never there.
The Otherworld is a place that exists. I don’t know where specifically. I wrote our story–mine, actually, or whatever the thing there that looks like me and takes my name’s story. The woman with the long black hair.
For a while, Keera and I didn’t have names for them. They were named what we saw them as: the man with the ponytail; the demon; the woman with the red hair; the cursed man; the man with the green eyes; the short creatures; the lady who lived in the lake; etc. As we got more involved in that world and in them, we were able to know their names. Sometimes, they’d have normal names. Other times, their names were so creative, it sounded made up. Domonico/Demonico; Anna; Ameggo; Deltro Clearstone; Lorenzo; Charlie; Charly; Will; Maeroleez; Stephen; Carmelia; and of course, me and Keera.
How do you communicate with a world that isn’t here where voices are whispers on the wind and the entire world seems to exist within your own head? Keera and I used to call the Otherworld (she called it the OtherPlace) a shared delusion between us. It was shared schizophrenia and in a lot of ways, that was definitely it. I could infect her world and change it. And in the end, I ruined what was once a beautiful and happy and calm place for her by knowing its existence, by being a part of it.
Things got darker. And more terrifying. What used to be a quiet day relaxing in the trees for Keera in her dreams became nightmares, trying to run away from Mr. Gray, the cursed man. They became dreams of being locked up in mental institutions and having bombs strapped to the backs of others, having heads blown off with guns. And the violence increased.
I’m sure that if she could take it all back–letting me in and letting me know about her secret place–she would. Just like I would’ve taken it all back for the five years I was obsessed with finding myself and that place being a clue and what seemed like a lifetime wasted. Keera and I both have our regrets, about that world, about each other, about our past. But what’s done is done. All we can do now is to pick up the pieces and move on.
Demonico haunts me. I call him my best friend, because I can’t get rid of him. Right now, we’re not really on speaking terms. I’m actually not on speaking terms to any of them from that place, from that world. When I need him, he’s here. I guess that’s what counts. It’s a long story, one that spanned three books and I shortened to two: Beyond the Gates: Otherworld and Beyond the Gates: Darkworld.
I don’t really know what Demonico or any of the others would classify as. I call them all Watchers. Being a Christian, there’s a lot of blasphemy in my life, but aside from that, there’s also a lot of valuable insight.
What is a Watcher? In the world of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, a watcher is someone who guides and teaches the slayer in her job and duties. A Watcher is sort of the same thing. Many people have said that Watchers were once the fallen angels who came to earth and watched over the world of man, who took mortal women for wives and taught them magic and such things that mankind didn’t know of. In essence, both are true. A Watcher guides. A Watcher is a fallen angel. A Watcher teaches mankind magic. A Watcher is a nicer name than demon. Demons are fallen angels as well. So Demonico, whose name was once spelled Domonico, is actually in fact, a demon.
Contrary to popular belief, demons aren’t always the nasty, horrible smelling, violence feeding, murderous entities that they’re depicted in movies and television and books. Nope. Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes. Point is, it doesn’t matter what religion you are or what you believe in. Watchers, demons, guardians (yes, they have many names), and pretty much the majority of the invisible world exist whether you want to believe that they are real or not. Your acceptance of their existence isn’t needed for them to exist. They are here whether anyone believes or not. They have always been here.
Demonico wasn’t the first and he surely wasn’t the last in the multitude of weird things I attract. Why? I don’t even know. The next was Angelus. Another made up name for a dying god who isn’t dead and has more followers than probably the biggest church in the state I live in. Another Watcher I didn’t want.
I can’t even remember how Volk and I got to talking about Watchers and demons and such. I’m quite certain half of it had to do with my arrogance and his intelligence. He’s pretty arrogant too. He offered his Watcher, Angelus, to me. I declined. Never ask me a question where I can say no because I’d say no. He sounded so distraught. We were awesome friends. And yet, Angelus imposed himself on me. In the end, I was marked and part of the team. Yay. I sound so enthusiastic about getting deeper involved in the crazy of crazy. When my entire goal is to be normal and blend in with this world and society, more crazy things don’t help. But it’s difficult to pretend to be something I’m not either and I am not normal.
Angelus dies a lot. Go figure how a spirit can die, but they do. He was a construct, not the actual entity. I’ve had constructs. I’ve made them. Quite easy if you ask me, but then, everything’s been quite easy for me. It’s much harder for others. Do you want one composed of an actual effigy? How about one solid as a golem? Or one that just protects you while you’re doing all that astral traveling? How about one to protect you while you’re awake? There’s many uses for constructs. There’s many ways to make them. The most useful to me, are of me. Weird, but true.
The newest Watcher was Xyr, who, apparently skipped the entire bonding process that would’ve had to exist between me and Jay and instead, imposed himself on me. Again. Recurring theme here, I guess, of things forcing their way. For a weak and whiny girl who isn’t anything special, I get enslaved to being a part of something I just normally avoid.
Like Keera and Volk, Jay was needed to simply inform me of a few key elements that would lead to inevitability, which was whatever Watcher(s) that was attached to that individual. For Keera, it was Demonico. For Volk, it was Angelus. For Jay, it was Xyr.
Oh, and did I forget to mention the ArchDuke of Arcadia which is currently at war with the faes? How silly of me to forget such an important and prominent individual! Argh…the mess, the stress, the dramas…you’d wonder why I haven’t cracked yet and gone to the crazy house. That’s because no matter how crazy everything is, I’m not crazy. I only sound crazy.
That’s not even the tip of the iceberg…
It doesn’t make me feel better to know I’m consorting around with demons. That’s the farthest from my intentions. One day, I’d like to return home to where I belong. And that’s not with them. So, right now, I persist in only knowing that there’s a bigger purpose for all of this jumbled mess and it will get sorted out later.
The best thing out of all of this, I think, is that I can relate to a multitude of people out there. Whether that’s the really crazy ones or the ones who simply, like me at one point in time, is trying to find themselves and why things happen to them. Being able to tell someone it’s okay and that we don’t actually end up in the crazy house makes everything better somehow. And letting people know that they’re not alone–that made a big difference to me so it’s good to be able to say it back to someone going through a tough time and letting them know that it’ll be okay. It will be okay.
Or is it all just in my head?
That is the question of skeptics. If someone is close to me, or if I hold them in high regards, then the weirdness in my life likes to leech on to them. I guess it’s a sort of blackmail kind of thing, and I never respond well to such things. Friends of mine have experienced dreams with entities from my part of the sphere, some as horrific as torturous nightmares. A lot of my friends don’t know the weird side of me, so they don’t talk about what happens to them and I’d have to hear it to know it. Even when they do know, they would be equally weird too, so it would seem like something weird they’re going through and not an attack from the weirder things concerning me. To everyone out there who has been hurt, I’m sorry. Maybe half of the reason why I’m antisocial is to keep everything in a bubble away from other people.
Most of the time, I don’t affect people in that manner–in the bad way. The whole nightmares thing was settled. That was a specific individual trying to get my attention and I got it and took care of it. The rest isn’t so bad. Tyesha had dreams of me and her and our four other best friends during college in some giant group orgy with a mystery guy that actually invades my dreams from time to time. I don’t even have dreams like that with that guy! Lol. That was a long time ago. He was a Watcher. And he’s actually not a part of my life anymore. He was only there at a time I needed someone to understand and there was none in this world. I was a child. Hope to a kid is heaven. And I hoped.
I actually shouldn’t affect people much. Demonico, Angelus, and Xyr would never bother anyone out of their own free will and whatnot. But I bother people sometimes. It’s kind of hard not to. When you’ve dealt with Watchers your whole life, you notice it in others. Meaning, when you know demons, you notice them in others and around others. The difficult thing is going up to someone and saying, “do you know you’ve got something dangerous with you?”
It’s hypocritical of me to pull demons out of people, knowing that I have them too and I can’t get rid of mine. Well, I take that back. I’m sure I can get rid of mine. But having more is not something I want. It’s something I have to deal with for right now.
People can tell me, “my daughter speaks to angels” or “my deceased great grandmother watches and protects our family” or “god gave me this gift to help others”. In all reality, what they’re really saying is, “this is what I believe it is”. They don’t know for sure. There’s no guarantee that what they believe is what is real.
When I was eighteen, I used to visit this cute little metaphysical shop. One of the psychics there was holding this two day workshop on developing your psychic abilities. I was invited because I was curious in the paranormal and also because I had been going to that little store for the past two years, ever since I could drive and before I could drive
At the first day of the workshop was this cool hippie looking talkative mom and her much quieter sixteen year old. She talked on and on about how her daughter speaks to angels and how they ask her to help them in their quests and everything. I watched this girl’s mom saying all this stuff about her, being proud to have a daughter who had such a spiritual gift. The girl didn’t talk at all. And even back then, before Demonico, before Angelus, before Xyr, I knew. I knew what they were and how dangerous they were. Yet, I almost envied the girl. When I was sixteen, my mom wasn’t that cool and accepting. My mom just avoided my weirdness and pretended that it didn’t exist. Lol. And all day, I stared at this girl who never looked at me. After the workshop was over, and they left, I gathered my courage and decided to talk to her the next day and ask her what the whole “talking to angels” was about. They never came back and I never saw them again.
Real angels don’t need help from people. If they couldn’t do their job without us, then they wouldn’t be angels because angels are greater and more powerful than us. But, a Watcher, a fallen, would have people believe that they are needed, that they are special. Everyone wants to feel needed. Everyone wants to be special. And they prey on that human desire. Everyone wants to be wanted.
I met a woman by the name of Dr. Morgan. Whether she was a real doctor or not was another story. I saw her reading something about the angel Metatron so I asked her what her interest in angels was. She proceeded to tell me that she was Jewish (as Metatron actually isn’t an angel in the Holy Bible) and that God gave her a gift to heal people.
Now, as amazing as it is to be able to heal people, I had to ask, “how do you do it?” And she tells me that she will be walking down the street and she’ll see someone and she’ll point and say, “you have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. You have to take this and this and it’ll heal you.” Those people she points to do have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. They follow her directions and they are healed. They come back thanking her for helping to save their lives.
And as incredible as that sounds, I’m still the crazy idiot who have to make people think for themselves. So I say, “how do you know that you just didn’t really curse people with so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem and then cure them because you cursed them in the first place?” Her answer was simple. “Because God gave me this gift to heal, not to curse.”
So I said, “what if the power you are using isn’t from God, but from another source. How could you tell the difference?” She gets angry and declares, “because I’m helping people!”
And I nod and said, “yes, but in order to help those people, you first pointed at random and told them they had something which only you can cure. If you never told them and they never met you, would they still end up sick or would they have gone about their lives never being sick?” Oh, she got angry. “My gift to heal is from God and I know it!” is what she said.
“But do you really?” I asked. “How do you tell someone who’s never known God how to know that it’s God speaking to them or helping them and so on? Couldn’t I just come along and pretend that I’m God and they wouldn’t know the difference? How are you so sure?” Her last answer was, “because I know” and she didn’t speak to me for a while. My point was–how do you know if it’s God or not?
A little old church lady, Miss Addie, once told me that in order to know God, you had to study and learn about Him from the Bible. “It’s the same as counterfeiting bills,” she said. ” There are too many fake bills to know which is real. So in order to tell the real bill from the fake, the people study the real bill so much that they can spot a fake immediately.” And while that’s true and relateable to Christians in the United States where the Bible is widely spread freely, what about people in other countries? What about someone who don’t know God and has never known Him?
It’s amazing how much Christian literature I read and how much of it reads exactly like all the pagan and occultic books I’ve read when I was much younger. While it’s amazing that someone cries out to Jesus and Jesus immediately stands in their bedroom and they become saved…with my experiences and my knowledge, I’d be very wary if that was Jesus or if it was something else pretending to be Him.
After all, Jesus isn’t on earth. He’s not here. And He’s not going to pop up to save anyone. Scripture tells us so. (Look up John 16:7, Mark 16:19, Acts 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, Colossians 3:1, Hebrews 10:12, 12:2, 1 Peter 3:22; also look up 1 Corithians 1:7, 1 Thessalonians 2:19, 3:13, 5:23, 2 Thessalonians 2:1, 2 Peter 1:16)
While it seems unprofitable for demons to “save” people and convert them to Christianity, I question why such things happen and why it would be demonic and not of God. It’s a good thing that people are converted and accepts Christ, right? For a Christian, I’m terrible at my work. I’m terrible at believing. Why couldn’t I just believe that that sixteen year old really spoke to angels or that Dr. Morgan actually has a gift of healing from God? Why couldn’t I believe that the deceased spirit of my cousin who possessed his sister and told his family to go get saved and become Christians as something coming from God? What is wrong with saving people? Isn’t the whole point to convert and save others?
Many Christians will go to hell. I’m sure they’ll be surprised when it happens. Being saved isn’t an automatic ticket to heaven. Most will disagree with me here. Go back and read about the parable of the ten virgins in the Bible (Matthew 25:1-13). Please have understanding. Christians can’t do what they want to do and think that being saved actually saves them to a Just and Holy God who does indeed deal out justice. That is why being a Christian means being ready to die/leave at any moment when Jesus returns. There are many reasons why a lot of Christians will go to hell. Ignorance, mostly. Compromisation of their faith. Absolute rebellion and disobedience. The list goes on and on.
“Stop oppressing my faith!” Christians say. “It’s God and I know it.” And then they call me a witch, not knowing I’m a Christian.
“Stop being blind and ignorant,” I say. Most Christians don’t even know anything about their beliefs. Faith isn’t blind. That’s something people came up with. People come up with the term “blind faith” in regards to how Christians believe in a God they cannot see. (They also say that love is blind too.)
Faith, it is said, in Hebrews 11:1 is quoted as, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (KJV–all italics mine.)
Nowhere does it say that Christians should walk about blindly believing that everything which seems good to people is of God. That’s our mistake–in believing that what we think is good and wonderful has to be from God or of God. I know plenty of people who shout out how horrible God is and questioning how He can do such terrible things if He was such a loving God. And now, that has to say something too. Christians shouldn’t just disregard someone else’s opinion about God as merely an “opinion”.
God in the Bible is depicted as many things, vengeful is one of those things. Romans 12:19 says, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” (KJV–all italics mine.) Jealous is another. Exodus 34:14 says, “For thou shalt worship no other god: for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God:” (KJV–all italics mine.) And Nahum 1:2 says, “God is jealous, and the Lord revengeth; the Lord revengeth, and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies.” (KJV–all italics mine.)
I can keep quoting scripture, but that’s not the point. The point is that our knowledge and our wisdom isn’t sufficient to God’s. So how can we say that because something we perceived as good happened, that it came from God? Earlier, I said that, “Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes.” And I still stick by what I’ve said.
It surprises me how much people don’t want to know the truth. It’s like Cypher said in The Matrix, “If you’d told us the truth, we would’ve told you to shove that red pill right up your ass.” And that’s how people feel about it. Ignorance is bliss, but to how far will someone pretend and keep pretending that everything’s okay?
I don’t know. This isn’t my fight. I can’t save anyone. I can yell at the top of my lungs until I’m blue in the face, but most people won’t listen and those who will, will only disregard what I say for their own truths. I mean, I get it. I understand. Demonico is incredible and Angelus is amazing and Xyr, well, I haven’t tested him out yet, but he’s proven interesting being the only strangely blue thing I’ve seen (aside from Shaar who is blue, but a different kind)–I understand the entire fascination with all of it. And power? Yeah, you’re talking mega watts of power. Angelus can fry people on the other side of the planet. And Demonico can travel worlds and conquer them. I don’t know what Xyr is capable of yet, but having the ArchDuke as a vassal is pretty impressive. So I totally understand why people would rather choose what they have (or think they have) and not care about their future or their soul or anything else. I’m there with all of you. I completely understand and relate.
And yet, it’s so unhappy, isn’t it? Most of us are alone. Most of us are misunderstood. Most of us hurt and hurt deeply. And it’s sad. It’s so incredibly sad. We’re all so unhappy. Power can’t compare to love. And all the Watchers and all the Guardians and all the Fallen in all the worlds cannot ever fill up that empty hole inside of you.
That is truth. And many of us know it. Many of us deny it. Many of us try to hide it. But it’s still there. Emptiness. Loneliness. We try to fill it with so many things: knowledge, power, sex…it’s just not the same.