Prologue

Just prior to leaving work this past Sunday ( July 9 ) there were a rapid series of accidents. Jean’s walker buckled when the front left wheel fell off, something near unheard of. Then when Terry was closing the blinds, a plant was knocked over over which fell flatly onto his right foot. Due to his foot breaking its fall the pot did not break. Likewise, his foot was not injured nor the toe it exactly fell upon broken. When cleaning up the mess and seeing to Terry’s foot, a plaster frog gets knocked off the shelf. It, too, does not break, even though it falls from some distance straight to the floor. I have said this before, something is not right in that house, something more than just not right. Things are constantly in chaos, constantly going missing, constantly breaking down. Staff constantly leaving and/or being let go. It just doesn’t stop. 

This series of so many small accidents in a row catches my attention. I know we are being told something and to pay attention. And I brought this to Jean and Terry’s attention. I told them I was getting out the sage, then began smudging the whole house, focusing heavily on the doors and windows. At 8pm, following a 12 hour shift I got in the car to head home. Road work was still being done on the 67, a switchback 2-3 lane freeway. I reached a point where our one-lane side of the freeway was stopped at a standstill, while the other two lane side was being let through. I noticed I was stopped at a really bad juncture, around the bend of the mountain, and even thought to myself “I hope the next car notices the roadwork signs”. Else, of course, it will be coming around that bend at 65+ miles an hour which could be really bad for me. 

At the same time as the thought >>

I am watching in my rear view mirror as the next car, a large oversized silver truck rounds the curve at full speed. There is nothing I can do. There is not even enough time to feel fear and I am so exhausted from my work shift I just numbly gaze at the mirror. I hear the brakes floored, see and smell the burning of the rubber and watch the truck begin to spin 90 degrees. Not an inch from slamming into me sideways the driver spins the wheel hard to what must have been his right taking his truck  a r o u n d  my back end and into the lanes of the oncoming traffic. In shock, not because I could easily have just been killed, but because my car ( and I ) were left wholly untouched, and at that one precise moment there were no oncoming cars in either direction, leaving the truck and its occupants also untouched and giving the driver exactly 7 seconds to reverse and get back onto the right side of the road behind me,  >>  I realize the sage had just saved us all. 

Had I not cleared my field prior to setting out on the road, this could have turned out a lot differently. At least I know now what from that house has been attempting to attach to me. And what may be at the center of all the ongoing chaos.

I am shown just two days later.

July 11, 2023

Dark skies, the presence of something coming, reaffirming my space

It is 6:30 in the morning. I have just gotten up to use the bathroom and laid back down after having set my room to a cooler temperature and put on my mindfold. I am intentionally going in for contact and information. Not long afterward, I find myself outside of a main house, in a smaller personal space; a wooden vagabond, horse drawn style cart that is my home. Inside is a large bed area, everything is only one color — white. My conscious mind finds this curious due to where I am, enough so to keep me lucid to a degree within the data exchange, receiving and embedding its pertinent symbols. I will note that my own bed IRL is all white.

Inside here, from the position on the bed, I am working with an electronic device that plays some sort of disc. The discs are silver and blue and roughly 3.5 inches across in size. I am looking for one in particular when I notice there are 3 of them stacked all atop one another inside the device. The way that, in the past LPs would be inside a record player. They should not be in here this way but the one I am looking for is here among them. There is also a small, black square piece of cardboard. I curiously pick it up to see what it is, what it does. In the process the whole roof of my cart comes unhinged. “Oh dear”, I somewhat neutrally think to myself, then without missing a beat move to the front opening of the cart to investigate what is happening. 

As I peer out of the cart I see the skies have grown dark, an ominous kind of dark. Light winds are blowing dark grey colored clouds in, moving them into patterns that are sometimes more heavy ( more dark ) and sometimes more thin. There are moments when I can almost see patches of the sky behind them, and some when I cannot. A middle aged man and a younger female, his daughter, have arrived. I ask if I might have their help refastening my ( copper ) roof. “It looks like the rains may be coming”, I say. They agree, come in, and there is interaction between us.

Many things are getting done in the process but after some time my roof has not yet been addressed. I am beginning to feel the time constraint. I know it must be fixed no later than 3:30, night is coming. I move to look at the clock to see it is now 2pm on the hour. There are just 90 minutes to work with. I decide I will go up and at least begin to see to it on my own.

The man has climbed up onto the bed. There is really no other place to be inside here, but he is laying down rather than standing and reaching up toward the roof. I notice he is still wearing his boots so I usher him out, “no shoes on the bed”, I say, while consciously thinking “it is the surest way to get bugs into the bed.” At this point it is like the cart has no walls. When the man comes down from the bed we are all standing outside.

We all look up toward the roof, still unhinged and in front blowing up slightly with the wind. The sky above doing something of the same, sometimes growing darker, more heavily laden with grey clouds, sometimes thinner with wisps of sun shining through. The spacial relationships between ourselves and the inside and outside are strange and unexplainable. They just keep shifting, moving and altering. Before I can get up to the roof we are inside again, there would seem to be no walls. To the right of center is a rapid SHAKE. I look over to see the man has shaken a large tomato vine and dozens of large beefsteak tomatoes have fallen to the floor.

I am so surprised, so delighted to see this that I move to retrieve the tomatoes and put them into a bowl. I begin to see that there is more space here than I was seeing before. There is this area, sort of a side porch to the right of center — the center being the bed — but also another to the front of center, to the left of center and to the back. I begin to walk around to the back, where I see a quite large area, relatively speaking, that has among other things a sitting area to the front of cozy fireplace. There are exactly 3 chairs that sit here. There are no proper walls, there is wood framing but the rest is just screened in. While standing here to the front of the fireplace I see something on the floor, it is dirt colored and a foot or so long. 

At first what I think I am looking at it is a thin piece of rope, but as I pick it up to investigate, drop it again almost immediately as I sense it is alive. It is one of the strangest things I have ever seen. As I look at it, it is rearing up the way a cobra might, but this thing is no snake, nothing even remotely of the like. I have no idea what this is. It is almost more like a plant than anything else. It has a flexible central ‘stem’ or spine, there are fine gossamer ‘hairs’ that come off it, and up nearer the head ( though there is no proper head ) are thin, sheer, ephemeral leaf-like formations.

Again—the whole thing is the color of dirt.

I back away, leaving it here to explore the rest of this area further. There is a kitchen here with strange storage compartments that I am getting into now. I open one lower compartment, there is a handle that pulls out a lower plastic? bin that has a whole bunch of pockets or indentations. I wonder to myself what one would ever store in such a thing. It just doesn’t seem very practical, but think maybe a whole bunch of tiny things, like beads, could go here. The bin has a color pattern of green, orange and gold, reminding me of the 1970s. I slide the bin back in, close the door, then see an old half melted food container on the floor just to my left. I pick it up, gather some of the other trash and move to take it outside. I don’t like keeping any trash in my space.

As I move around the corner, toward the back screen door I am surprised to see another of the dirt colored plant? things standing upright just outside of it. This one is more fully formed and has a proper face. It stands approximately 5 feet tall. It is focused on the door, on opening the door as in a deep trance-like spell casting voice it chants words in a language I am not familiar with.

By the energy it is clear to me it is dark, it is using a dark magic to break its way through. It cannot use its own hands, its physicality to get in, it has not been invited. Interestingly, I do not feel any fear, even though it has gotten the door open an inch or so, I just close it, lock it, and say “no you cannot come in.” I now think of the smaller one of these I had found on the floor, and with the thought I see it fully upright itself as the spacial relationship I perceive it having to the room shifts to where it is standing clearly outside the door, behind and visually to the left of this other. — who is not phased in slightest at the movement I have made to close and lock the door.

It is still darkly chanting away, which could be unnerving, but it matters not,
I have affirmed my own spell. “No,—you cannot come in.”