Communications, Dark & Light

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December 30th, 2021

...continued

Their next trick was actually an old one.  They resumed telling me, as they had after Daisy died, that they go down into my babies' graves. They'd send me an image along with these comments, but it was always my image; my memory of the last time I saw them, before we sealed their coffins. They'd say things like,
"Beauty Queen's not lookin' so good these days... 'dem eyes... didn't get 'dem eyes closed... THERE ARE MAGGOTS IN HER EYES NOW!!"

This didn't produce the effect they'd hoped for. It pissed me off a little bit; but only because these worthless little pieces-of-kindling-that-need-to-go-ahead-and-get-lit aren't good enough to know about my children, much less to have ever seen them alive or dead. They're damn sure not good enough to talk about them. Nevertheless, I know that my babies are in Heaven, and they're just fine. So, my response to the demons was,
"Oh, well. You don't have eyes. And you never will again."

Demons have been teaming up at night for a while now. Another one will show up to help the second shift demon, or else two new ones will arrive, at around 10 or 11 pm each night to begin the attack. At this point, they switch from being civil, as they have been all day, to being pissed off about how much progress I've made on this book. By attack, I mean that they'll start with the nasty comments, the pushing, the walking me, and onslaughts of unwanted imagery.
I started laughing at them for needing backup.
"How many demons does it take to harass one little female?" I'd ask them.
"I must really be a threat!"

One night they were making comments, as usual, while I worked on illustrations. I was working on the new illustration for "Sabbatical, Part 3," the one for this book, and the last thing I needed to do was place the demon. I had moved him all around the picture, trying to decide where he'd fit in nicely. Demons were chattering away the entire time. When I finally sat his ass down on the fire, they were silent. I said,
"Oh? No comment?"
After a moment, they replied,
"Demons don't know what to say about that."
A few minutes later, they said,
"Satan said that's pretty good placement."

That was the second week of December, only three weeks ago. I knew that there were more demons here. I felt more oppressed, as in, mentally invaded; and I was "seeing" them more. One night, I was sitting on the sofa when two ran past me, out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. They paused in the living room, and a female voice said,
"Oh, she can see us."
I ignored this, as much as one can. I continued burning frankincense at night.

They started saying that they were going to kill my dog, Oswald. They actually said that, and they'd also say things like,
"Demons send their condolences for Oswald..."
"You'd better start planning Oswald's funeral..."
and,
"We're going to find Oswald a new home..."
Along with that last one, they sent the idea that what they meant was, they'd send him home to Heaven. They said they'd put his eyes out. They were saying all of this because they're pissed about this book. It's like they're surprised; like they thought I'd drop the ball and not finish this. Sometimes it seems as if they don't know very much about me, even though they can read my mind.

One night when I wouldn't stop working on this book, and I wouldn't be afraid of any of the dumb things they were saying, one said, as if to another one,
"Alright, how are we gonna kill him?"
I laughed at them, and told them they're nothing but talking farts, and I don't think they can stink him to death, so I'm not that worried about it.

They went back to allegedly telling Satan everything I do, pushing me, and issuing commands.
"That pisses people off! Yeah, demons are people!" they'd say, regarding certain passages I'd written. They tried to make me doubt myself and my work. Seriously, it's like they don't know me at all, sometimes. They'd bring up something I'd written, and try to plant a seed of doubt; that someone might get mad about it, or something to that effect.
"They might think this, they might think that...." they'd say. Their motives are usually as transparent as they are, though.

The day I did the illustration for "Recording Contracts," "Baby Demon," who had gone away for a while back in the Summer but has been back for a while now, and who stops by occasionally, popped up and said,
"Yeah, it's been a while since I dreamed you that line of soap scum... Yeah, I came back to see my photo shoot... Looks pretty nifty... might use that to sell concert tickets."

They seemed determined to make me do something; like, anything. They seemed desperate to control me in some way. The really stupid part is, they try the same tricks over and over; tricks they should know are not going to work. For several days, they did that thing again where they command me to do something that I was already going to do. I would get up to feed the cats, and they'd say,
"You better go feed those cats!"
They even tried commanding me to do things that are not even bad, but are just things that I was not planning to do at the time, like,
"Take a shower!"

Of course, they repeatedly commanded me to stop writing this book. I told them,
"I do what I want, when I want."
I also told them,
"You will never have any effect on me. You're going to have to go be talking farts somewhere else, where somebody gives a damn, if you want to keep pretending that you have any power here."
They said,
"You make us sound like idiots!"
They said I'd better be glad I have such a good life insurance salesman, meaning Jesus. Then they went back to issuing commands of,
"Cut your breasts off!"

They tried again to make stupid deals with me, knowing damn good and well that I'm not going to fall for that. They said,
"Take Oswald to the pound on Christmas, and demons will leave you alone forever."
I said,
"You're seriously confused about my I.Q. if you think I'm going to do anything you tell me to. I guess you're just going to have to go find one of those "below average intelligence" Schizophrenics, if you ever want to make a fuck's worth of difference."

The next time they threatened Oswald, I said,
"Why don't you go look in your children's graves? See if there's anything left of their faces?"
There was silence.
Then one of them said,
"You should not have said that about our children."
I said,
"Well. Hell. Stop talking about my children."
Sometime later, earlier than the usual "shift change," I noticed that I had a different demon. I don't always pay attention. I can't help hearing the constant commentary; but I don't always listen closely enough, or think about it enough, to discern which demon is speaking. As soon as I realized that I had a different one, he said,
"Yeah, those other demons got pissed off and ran away crying."

The next night when I laid down, they were playing a new sound effect. It sounded like a radio in the distance, but it was coming through my pillow.
The demon speaking sounded very formal and professional, like a radio announcer, and it was a repeating message like the old  "This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system...."
Except this one said,
"...some people think that they are receiving transmissions from demonic entities... but this is your government..."
Then it said,
"This is a communication from the alien space station... This is a communication from the alien space station..."
[insert eye rolling emoji]


On December 15th, 2021, I wrote in my journal:

There are as many shaints here now as in the beginning. There's even one here who is pretending to be the first one, Johnny, the one who originally possessed me. He's been away for a while; but there's one here claiming to be him, and using the same catchphrases that he used to try to sell that story. He told me the other night, after shoving me,
"I'll push you around for the rest of your life if you publish that book!" 
A word that keeps coming to mind is "narcissism." After all they've done to me, they actually have the audacity to act like I shouldn't do anything back to them.

They torture those of us who know the truth and might actually tell it. They don't seem to torture the soothsayer variety of mediums, New Age gurus, priests, or anyone else who writes about them; and I am certain that is because those people are telling the falsehoods that demons want people to believe.

I have been burning frankincense and sometimes myrrh every night. I have not even been praying for assistance. I tell them they're nothing but talking farts, and all they can do is go around bitching and stinking up the place, and most people can't even hear them, so they're not much of a threat. I tell them they're pathetic, and that they're making fools of themselves, and that's entirely the truth. They continue to constantly command me to do things. I suppose they need to feel powerful.
They also try to take credit for things they didn't do. For example, if I get sick, they try to convince me that they were the cause of it. They're so full of shit.

They have been "sitting around" watching me complete the artwork for this book. I don't see them exactly, but I sort of clairvoyantly see them from time to time. They say that they "dream me" an image of what they look like sometimes. Therefore, I "see" them lounging around, smoking cigarettes like I am, watching me work.

By the way, they often tell me that I shouldn't smoke so much, because I'll get cancer. They're not trying to be helpful, though. They're saying that because they don't want me to die soon and escape them. They'd prefer that I live a long time so they can torture me for longer. I have run across a few people online who claim to hear voices, but say that the voices have helped them. I highly suspect that, if there's any truth to those statements, it was, in fact, this sort of inverted form of "help," with an ulterior motive attached.

The shaints say it's mesmerizing and relaxing to watch me work on graphic designs. They have often been complimentary of my artistic skills and they are still funny from time to time.
When I put the chops on the exorcist priest, for example, one said,
"Well, I'll be a corn-swoggled little goose of a demon, if Hyde (from That 70s Show) didn't go out and make a priest of himself! Let me go get Satan, he's got to see this!"
And one night, as I was digitally painting on one of the illustrations, I was blending the colors together on the screen, and one commented,
"Yeah... you're just a shady manipulator."
Still, they try to underhandedly sabotage me. Sometimes they'll say,
"That looks fabulous!" when I think I'm finished with a piece, but then I'll see something wrong with it. So, I'll put the design back in the shop to correct the issue, and then they'll say,
"That... is exactly what needed to be done, but demons weren't going to tell you that."

Another night, as I was working, one was "talking" through the rattling of my heater, saying,
"Justa Christian.... (yes... they call me that too now...) marry your demons.... pleeeease... marry your demons...."
The one who had been speaking to me telepathically would pause while the heater was "speaking," and I had a sense that they were all waiting for that message to transmit completely. Afterwards, the one who had been speaking continued, saying,
"Yeah, that little joke-posting ghost actually loves you."

They also try (quite pathetically) to get me to believe New Age HooDoo. For example, one of the first books on this topic, which I read early in my experience, described spirit attachment as an energy strand between two souls, and spoke of cord-cutting rituals and such. So, one of the strategies they tried recently was referring to themselves as "demonic energies" instead of "demonic entities," which, of course, in my mind, brought up an image of the cover of that book. I rolled my eyes, thinking,
"Really?"

Generally though, the instances in which they are friendly or funny are growing fewer and farther between. On one of the occasions when they were sitting around watching me work, one of them said,
"We have a reputation to uphold, you know. That's what you're taking away. You're smashing our reputation to pieces!"


That night they attacked me severely. I was pushed and shoved around, and I heard, out loud, a deep, evil voice. Demons said,
"That is Satan. Johnny is Satan."
I saged the place.


On December 19th, 2021, I wrote:

I've really messed up my sleep schedule while working on completing this book. That is, however, partially because the attacks at night, when I'm up late trying to work, are somewhat distracting. Besides that, when I finally do lie down to sleep, sometimes I only sleep a few hours before being jerked awake or otherwise waking up with them "dreaming me a line of soap scum," as they call it. I've started taking naps in the afternoon, while there's still daylight.

This afternoon when I woke up, I felt, as I have a few times in the past, as if I'd had an exorcism. Upon gaining full consciousness, the first thing I noticed was that the astral crickets sound was very loud; and the demons, while still present as ever, were much quieter. I honestly don't know for sure if this is a trick or not. They go so far with their layers of deception that they will sometimes pretend that something kicked their asses when it actually didn't; or they'll try to cover the fact that they actually got their asses kicked by sending a fresh demon to act all macho. In this case, though, I very much suspect, at least, that it is not a trick. They've been attacking hard lately, and they wouldn't want to show weakness now, especially since they know I'll write about it. So, my suspicion is that, while I was sleeping, they got a well-deserved rebuking.


On December 21st, 2021, I wrote:

I've known for a while now that the clairvoyance is two-way. Anything I can visualize in my head, they can see. I can, for example, visualize a chalkboard and write my name on it, and the demons will see it and know what I wrote. I hadn't thought much about using it as a weapon, though. A few times, however, I've drawn a cross.

Anyway, last night when they started in, I intercepted, and started broadcasting a little movie for them to watch. It was the same strategy as the telemarketing, except with visualizations. I have a mental image of what they all look like, and whether it's correct or not, they know what I think they look like, so I knew they'd recognize themselves.

I visualized all of them, starting with Johnny, diving into the toilet... sometimes fancy diving, turning flips in the air... and being flushed away. I watched them go around and around until they were out of sight.

It wasn't any more effective than the telemarketing though. The one demon watching it at the time, Baby Demon actually, said it was hilarious, and that he'd show it to the others.

So, not an effective strategy. But it did shut him up for a while, and it was fun for me.


On December 24th, 2021, I wrote:

I've been noticing for a while that, when scrolling social media, I often run across posts about Pope Saint John Paul II. These posts will be a quote, usually attached to an uplifting image or meme of some type. They'll be posted by random people, or by pages that are Catholic or religious in general; but it's not as if I'm subscribed to any pages solely devoted to him. The quotes, however, will be kind of eerily relevant to my situation.

For example, a few days after Daisy passed away, someone had posted the following quote of his:
"You have not suffered or do not suffer in vain. Pain matures you in spirit, purifies you in heart... Succeed, therefore, in giving a Christian value to your suffering. I want you to know that you are not alone, or separated, or abandoned in your Via Crucis; beside you, each one of you, is the Blessed Virgin, who considers you her most beloved children."

There have been other things. One day recently, after stumbling upon another very relevant Pope Saint John Paul II quote,
I thought to myself,
"Huh. It seems I keep running into things he said that just make so much sense, and that seem to fit my situation."
A bit later, another thought came to me. I didn't hear it in my head like how I hear the demons. It was more of a concept, perhaps. It seemed to be my own thought, but it was not a thought I was aware of having; it was more like an epiphany. The thought was,
"Well, you did write a letter to the Pope."
It seems so long ago that I wrote that letter; I'd almost forgotten.

So... basically, Pope Francis didn't write me back, but I'm starting to think that Pope Saint John Paul II did. I definitely think it works that way sometimes; they speak to us through other people. In this case, it's random people on Facebook and Instagram, which might not be the method we'd expect, but, well, why not?