PJ's Personal Archives
Journal Excerpt [searching for fear]
He can hold you by that fear, I heard someone say. I existed on more than one "plane," that seemed clear at that moment: I spanned many layers of consciousness, which were frequencies like radio waves, and each "bandwidth" was a world, a reality... divisible for infinity, but for me there were specific groupings. In the level where "he" lived, my fear, which is an intangible emotion to me, was instead real to him, was tangible, was a solid thing he could grasp.
I had just arrived home after work, and the moment I sat down in my recliner he had arrived -- perhaps not quite fully in the physical but almost tangible... He said he was going to test me for fear, and a weakness to....? I wasn't sure what. I was too scared to physically move, and I just reclined there, feeling my breathing, hoping I was dreaming or imagining it all. I was confused, and unnerved. I silently complied. Why me? I was scared -- how did he get in my house? Or was I dreaming? Hallucinating?
He put the fingers of his hand against my forehead and I trembled, unable to guess his intentions. Then I could see his hand as it became huge and rather etheric, and passed into me. He moved it slowly into and through me, searching, beginning with the very top of my head. He was intangible to me; I couldn't feel him physically, but I could "sense" him clearly. And I understood that while my body was intangible to him, he was looking for my fear, and somehow -- based on a "mutually matching frequency" or something like that -- it would not be.
I felt my fear starting up, growing and growling inside me, and now that I was tuned to the 'reality' of his plane, lower in my torso I felt it manifest, first as a wispy, cloud-like substance, then growing firmer as my fear became more pronounced, growing hard as it mounted into terror. I knew I had to let go of it; I had to get rid of it before his hand reached that part of me. I could almost imagine his fingers closing around it, and him having a part of me "in his control."
Unsure what to do or how to help myself, I remembered that my friend who was close to "Mother Mary" had once said that Archangel Michael was a good guy for protection. With a brief flash of black humor, recalling the saying about there being no Atheists in trenches, I yelled for him in my mind, hoping he was as real as Mary had been, and would help me for no better reason than because I asked. I wasn't religious, and I specifically wasn't Catholic, but faced with something this strange and scary, I found a sudden use for the imagery.
Secure in my belief that either he would protect me, or more likely that my belief in such would protect me regardless, with a humorous touch of not believing what I was experiencing was possible anyway, I relaxed, and I forced myself to clarity, to no emotion, to let everything go in the absolute faith that I would be ok. The solid result of my fear dissipated... into the wispy clouds... then into nothingness. I relaxed further. I was clear; I was clean; I was safe. His hand continued through me, traveling downward through my torso, and I had the feeling he was frustrated that I had nothing for him; I remained as intangible to him as he was to me.
His hand reached the bottom of me, just below my feet, and I found myself seized with an almost cruel realization. I opened my eyes, looked at him and laughed. He was very short, stocky (in some unusual manner I can't quite describe), he had no hair, he was very odd looking, and his eyes were far too bright to be "normal," they shined in a way that gave me the shivers.
But I was safe, and knew he wouldn't come near me again if he was smart. I had realized that my perception abilities included a wide spectrum of frequency-groups that included his group, his "reality." But he was a smaller, less complex sort than I -- he was limited to his own world, his own "layer," and I was bigger than he was, I spanned lots of layers. Without my fear, that vibration that somehow existed as solid to him where he was, he had nothing, none of the power he sought to gain from a small part of me. He couldn't hurt me. I wasn't sure how we'd met -- if he had "come" to me, or if I had suddenly "attuned to" him -- but he backed away from me and vanished.
I shook my head and said to myself, "Wow! What just happened here? Was that a dream?! What...?" and almost began to cry with a scared sort of confusion.
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