The 2nd Account - The Mage - Andreas ?!

REQUIRED READING - You are strongly Advised to read the First account 1-3 before reading this, or you may not know what is going on.  Click HERE for the table of Contents so you can find the relevant article.

For months after that initial event in Arthurs basement, I and several others explored what was seemingly happening.  We would use hypnosis and ritual.  We would chant, and we would talk.

Each time we got together I would go to another life, another memory of a time before I was born.  Looking back now, knowing what I know of the meaning of the metaphor, and the small shadow I see of the true nature of reality, I see now this was almost certainly not a true memory of any past life, but a way to tell stories of wisdom and truth from another plane of understanding.  A way to deal with problems in our lives or vent inner struggles I was dealing with.

Some would call this a hypnotic dream or hallucination.  So be it, but they had meaning.  To us at the time, these were factual accounts of a timeless being, a low ranking fallen angelic kind of being that had taken up residence in my body long ago when I was a baby dying from Scarlett Fever (see the First account).   This being claimed to be a fallen Angel that had decided not to take a side in the wars in heaven, and for this had been cast out from both heaven and hell... desiring to be free and serve no one.  Doomed with its brethren to wander the void, the space between the emptiness that is neither thing nor not thing.  Until it found a way to wander outside this emptiness and reach other realities beyond.

It would always preface these stories and with the disclaimer that what it was telling us, wasn't meant to be taken literally, that it used the words and concepts we would get the most impact and understanding from. Angels and Demons, wars, and god, as simply words we would understand and hold meaning relevant to the facts.  It was allegorical, Metaphorical and psychological in nature.

It repeated this mantra all the time, drilling it into me.  At the time I had NO idea what this meant, oh I knew, but not like I know now.  So I just filed it away.  Little did I know how important that subtle and important that message had been to the rest of my ascension and liberation.

This being refused to give a true name, for names have power, and names could cause harm to it and ME as the being it was joined with.  So we named it and it's various alter past life egos, and it accepted the names we gave it.

You see, as it explained in the past, I was dying as a babe, and my body was ravaged with scarlet fever, parts of my brain were being damaged, and (it claimed) without it's aid to heal and support me, if it was torn from me through a binding or banishing spell or anything of the sort, as unlikely as it would be to find one that worked, I would be returned to the mental state of a young child and suffer catastrophic physical impairments such as losing the use of my left leg, and hand, and my vision.  My eyes were the one thing it had the hardest time dealing with for some reason it failed to name, and to this day require a fairly high but manageable prescription.

It liked me, it liked my body, and my energy was in tune with it.  It LOVED me, in a syrupy way.  The way one might imagine a Cherub would love and be devoted to a child.  The way a fairy might love a child in Neverland.

It was sexless and timeless... but it generally preferred to present itself as masculine, and the majority of it's lifetimes in binary biology it expressed as, or merged with males.

It said it wandered the multiverse, living many lives by attaching itself to people like me, living with them, either in full possession (if the baby was weak or wanted to die but was willing to gift its body to the being).  But most of the time it simply rested in the psyche and subconscious of the individual, feeding on their biological and psychic forces.

A symbiote, an angelic. demonic, neutral grey Symbiote from the spaces between dimensions.

Those who know the Black Book Of Azathoth, or the Lovecraftian mythos, knows the uncanny similarities going on here.  I had no idea at the time like I often say, I love Lovecraftian style horror, though until about 2 weeks ago, I never read a word of it.

My friends would give it tests, some mundane, some supernatural, it passed nearly all of them... the ones it failed were things it never claimed to be able to do.

It always made it clear that its power was somewhat focused and limited to my biology, and what it could manifest through my body.  That meant direct action through me, physical abilities like seeing better than normal in the dark or sensing things or reading people.  Physical strength or pain endurance.  Manipulation of others and feeding on their raw essence... and limited localized disturbances and supernatural effects (minor forms of poltergeist activity or hallucinatory experiences, seeing shapes, smelling things, hearing things... nothing concrete and predictable, I didn't have the force, nor did I ever fly.  It was more like the old "show me a sign" kind of thing, where you hear a loud thump in the room without any rational cause or a stable object would fall over, things like that.)

People felt drained around me when this being was in full effect, and they took to calling it a demonic psychic vampire.

As we went through these stories and tests, and adventures, sometimes the newer people would run into trouble, they would argue with it or threaten it.  All too often it began to prove it was not some benign outcast being, but a fallen demonic thing that had a very Machiavellian nature.  It got what it wanted, always.

And often what it wanted most was energy in the form of creating fear, or pain, or psychological torment.  Finally, it came to a head, I was "showing off" for a group of other juveniles besides the ones I normally worked with... and one friend got mad at me, saying I was faking it all and tried to fight me.

I (with this being fully in play) stood up, and picked the guy up with one hand like one might expect in the movies, and tossed him like a rag doll across the room, my other friends pounced on me punching me and hitting me and I felt it all, it hurt like all hell, but I didn't stop.  My heightened raw physical power, plus my martial arts training made me something of a tank, especially against these untrained weak nerdy boys.

I threw them all down putting the key offender in a headlock with my back to the corner and warned them I would tear his head off if they didn't back off... and to never ever attack me or it again or it would not hold back. Keep in mind I was always bigger than most people around me, but this wasn't normal.  The only thing I could think of was that somehow this being caused my adrenal gland to squeeze out tons of adrenaline like a lemon in a juicer and I was essentially roided out on natural chemicals my body was pumping out.  Because the next day I felt it all, the bruises, the muscles felt like they almost tore free from my bones...

Needless to say, I had no friends for a little while, everyone called me crazy, everyone started to treat me differently.  I couldn't blame them, but I did anyway.

That was when a young man named Andreas fluttered into my life.  I say fluttered, because this was the most flamboyant and homosexual boy I had ever seen. I'm not judging, just stating the obvious.

He had heard the local rumors that I was possessed by an ancient demon from another dimension and he was utterly fascinated by the occult and magick.  He studied every scrap of new age nonsense he could find, he avoided practicing any dark magick, he refused to summon demons, work black magic, and left-hand path work, He didn't fear it, he studied it, but it wasn't his way.  He called himself a white mage and focused on learning, researching, and healing. And that meant studying me like a doctor studies a rare illness.

It didn't take long before this guy was enamored with me, the being in me was working it's charm, drinking deeply from this kids infatuation with the first REAL documentable case of possession he ever saw.  He filled page after page about me, and with the things, the "demon" told him. He was addicted to my stories, and it was plain he was in romantic love with me.  Unlike many in the occult (it seems), I'm not bisexual, I'm 100% grade A chauvinist pig (Cis white male).  So I did my best to never lead him on.

Andreas had a public sigil he would use to sign everything, an Exclamation point and a question mark overlayed on top of one another... He said it was a sign for his love for discovery, the question mark being the seeking, and the exclamation point being the startled joy of learning a new thing, which created a new question etc.

He had a touch of the gift, no question... Little did he know that Enlightenment is an end to questioning, not the attainment of answers... I think he would have rathered to never be enlightened if he knew that as I do now.

He was convinced that either this being was an egregore I created or some other thought form and that I was doing it all.  He would listen to my intuitive knowledge of magick and energy and mysticism and be positive that I was an old soul or some other being with innate power and knowledge and he collaborated with me on a number of projects.   I would often tell him something that just occurred to me, and he would write it down and later come back to show me where in an obscure occult book or eastern philosophical school what I said was almost recited word for word.

Still, I refused to go under as often as he would like... to let him hypnotize me and speak to the thing. I hesitated to risk him pissing off the monster he so desperately wanted to make his life's work.  I hadn't gone under hypnosis in weeks... I still felt terrible for hurting my friends.

Eventually, I was convinced he would not be at risk and agreed to almost daily sessions.

For the life of me, I can't remember the details of any one of these sessions, but they went on, almost daily, and we got to the point were hypnosis wasn't "required" this other being was able to just "come out" when called, or even when not called.

He filled spiral notebook after spiral notebook, detailing a missing blue gas planet in the solar system about the size of Uranus (it might have been Uranus), how it was knocked out of orbit and that once this planet had a moon that was large enough to support terrestrial life not too unlike life we would know.   That these beings visited earth and influenced the dawn of human civilization around 12 thousand years ago.  That somehow a terrible mistake was made, and there was a tearing of space-time, the blue planet and it's moon destroyed or removed from orbit, a cateclysm that caused a great flood on earth, wiping out the city of Atlantis on the west coast of Africa...

These days, I believe a large portion of all this is hypnodream, or a way for the being to have fed on people.  Telling them stories to give them emotional stimulation which fed his psychic vampire nature.

Of course... curiosity will show you that nearly every basic premise I mentioned is correlated to some fringe theory out there, many of them fairly recent... Especially the bit about Atlantis being on the west coast of Africa.

To a Christian I was in the deepest throes of dangerous demonic possession, except I showed none of the negative side effects, I wasn't depressed, or oppressed, I was invigorated.  I wasn't suicidal, I was more balanced than ever, though that Ragnar Red Beard "Might makes right" philosophy was still in the forefront of my worldview.

Which to a normal person is a kind of insanity I'm sure?

Anyway, Andreas was a genius in his field of study, for a kid his age, if he continued on this path, he would likely have become a famous occultist or new age author... But he had a terrible flaw... his heart was a mess, it had holes in it, and his veins and arteries were always puffed out when he was angry or sad, his face would turn dark purple when he had to run or do anything physical.

He had open heart surgery several times as a baby, and just punching him in the chest could theoretically kill him.

Still, he was the singular most important figure in bringing out story after story of my past lives, of teaching me to handle it, and deal with it.  To give me magick rites to practice or try out to protect myself and more.

He wasn't a teacher, but he was a perfect companion in the arts.  Had I been gay, I probably would have given him a shot. But as I said, I'm a red-blooded white Cis male pig. Besides he kind of looked like Warwick Davis... Nah... thanks but no thanks.

I will be talking more about this poor man in my next entries, but for now, understand he was a pivotal player in awakening the full potentiality of my younger self.

you may by now be wondering why I keep talking about him in the past tense...

He passed in 2008... we hadn't spoken in years... mainly because of the madness this being from the void between inflicted on me that hurt him and scared him and scarred him till he decided I was too dangerous and toxic, and that being a "breeder" meant I "...would never understand what he was going through as a LGBT fag."  His words...

My heart broke when I learned of his passing... the things I never said, the last times we spoke where he clearly hated me, everything about me...

When we parted ways in the early 2000s, I despised the terrible price I was often paying for this power being mine.  Losing friends, hurting loved ones, and never reaching a point of synthesis, never reaching the singularity the being promised (that is a major tale I will tell later), never gaining control, always losing something.

I had to hurt people, emotionally, physically... I had to control people and run a cult passing the energies to it through me... some of the rituals were sanguinarian, some were very emotional... but always there was pain... the need to cause fear... and the shadows... the terrible shadows.

To this day, I am not sure what the being was... he is gone from me now, or perhaps we merged as predicted, his soul and mine, forever intertwined, from 2 now one.  Was he really just a shadow entity?  Or was he something else?  Was he a demon?  Was he some Lovecraftian old one or some servitor thereof, living between the spaces?

Despite all the confusion and pain.  I also helped people... The being would claim the things it did to hurt people were not really harm, but what they needed at the time, checks to the ego, or a villain to stand up to.

I would often feel like Kord in "The Circle of Iron" when the blind master would do something that seemed cruel, but it turned out for the best.  The being in me would hurt people, or lie, or manipulate them, and no matter how horrible the thing he did was, the person always became so much stronger for it... except for the handful the being seemed to want to be enslaved, or the handful that truly threatened me... Bad things always happened to them, and still mysteriously bad things happen to them to this day.  One recently being sentenced to 20 years in federal prison for weapon trafficking... I often say demons don't have to do much to ruin your life, usually, all they have to do is just let nature take it's course a little bit more than normal.

It is true, people kneeled before me, and I was great and terrible...

But then I wasn't... I was just me, alone, the power was fading... Eventually, my friends and underlings no longer followed me... I found a wife and a life... and I didn't look back... I let the power go, I stopped calling on this being... and it stopped answering.

The utter irony of this should not be lost on you, my dear reader, for as you will learn in later episodes, this was prophesied by the being, that someday, our two spirits would merge, that the damage was done to me by my illness, and life in a broken dysfunctional abusive home would be healed by his presence, by the hard lessons he was teaching me.

Anyone who studies demons knows, that demons often give you what you ask for, though the means they use are not polite, not pretty, and not gentle.  They will destroy you and reforge you in terrible crucibles of strife and challenge, nothing like the gods of the right-hand path that deliver you from, evil and protect and nurture and spoil you into being a slave.

The demon wants you to be free... no matter how many times they have to whip you and torture you to make you stand up and say NO MORE!

If only I could explain to Andreas what I have learned... I don't really believe in Necromancy, I believe he returned to the same united source whole we all truly belong to... that when I die, I will not leave my body, my body will leave my attention and I will expand and see all and be all, until deciding to play the game again as some other facet of reality, be it a rock or a young Gay white mage with his scary demon friend.

Join me next time as I go into more detail on this person and my experiences with him as well as other dealings in the occult.  Until then...

MIND THE SHADOWS - D.H. Thorne





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