It is said that the night of my birth, my birthmother encountered a full-on angel about three times en route to the hospital when her car kept breaking down. She will have to tell y'all the story of that because it's way better coming from her. (I was given up for adoption and so the story was told to me fairly recently via meeting my biological mother. )
I guess that's how I came into the world, and she was quoted as saying, "You were the only child I had that had an angel present at your birth. I guess God knew you needed one."
Nothing more true has ever been said regarding my life.
I feel like the time is ripe for me to open up about the paranormal things that happened to me growing up. They still happen, but not in the way I'm about to launch into. I'll try to make this story somewhat hilarious so that it doesn't leave a weird aftertaste.
I have memories that are crystal clear dating back to before I knew how to walk or speak. I've read about this in various bullshit new agey self-help books. They explain this as being, "you had awareness because of being an advanced spirit." Whatever.
Here's how I explain it... I had awareness because if I hadn't had awareness, I would've either died, or grown up being 100% off the rails crazy. I guess the jury is still out on the second part of that...or at the very least I am routinely questioned by "normal" people as to my motives for not being "normal."
When I was adopted, I remember my first nightmare being so terrible that to this very day I can remember it like it was a scene from a movie. That nightmare involved me getting my head chopped off. Other nightmares soon followed that one which involved red eyed demonic looking animals that were always trying to get to me through windows, etc... Soon enough, those nightmares became a reality.
The first non-sleeping paranormal experience I had was when I was sitting on the floor in the living room playing. I heard my name being called with a voice that was female and very softly it would say, "Melodeeeee, Mellllodee... Melodeee," with different inflections that would trail off into a whisper. I would ignore this until it became so annoying that I would audibly say, "WHAT?" Then it would stop. This continued for about an hour, on and off, rinse & repeat. I kept ignoring it until I noticed that the carpet I was sitting on began to transform into maggots which were squirming all over the place. I stood up and couldn't breathe and looked up at the ceiling to "regather" my reality and that's when I saw rain coming from the ceiling.
Here's the thing... I didn't have a good imagination as a kid. I didn't like movies, or playing pretend, or anything like that. I liked REAL things. As I've found out with years of therapy, (ha ha) this is a very common trait among orphans and robots. Okay not robots...
This first experience that I just detailed out above, was the beginning of years of torment. I'll go ahead and say that the worst part of going through years of paranormal shit is NOBODY believes you. My family especially aren't keen on believing anything that isn't pleasant to digest. They also have an aversion to anything extraordinary and they happened to adopt a kid(me) that was anything but ordinary.
I remember being very "in tune" with spirituality early on. I had questions, lots of them. I knew that the world I lived in wasn't completely what it seemed to be. I was incredibly loving to everything and everyone. Very open. I say all of that to say this... Several mystics, priests, shamans, or any spiritual practitioner will tell you that evil lies in wait for the opportunity to corrupt someone pure of heart.
Not too long after the crazy ass maggot/rain name calling shit, I had my friend Michelle Merriman over to my house. Michelle and I performed together all the time and she was a part of my life from the beginning. She was one of those feisty hyperactive kids that always had a plan for what we were going to do that day for fun. She kind of wore me out to be honest. So... her mother came in and was talking to my mom about when she should come back to get Michelle, etc... Michelle within seconds of arriving at my house, immediately wanted to play hide and seek. I agreed to this with some trepidation, but figured I could use the "fun time" and felt like I needed to at least TRY to be a kid once in a while. Michelle said, "Okay, so you count and I'm going to hide first." I agreed to this plan and began the counting. "Ready or not here I come." I went to the places I rationalized were perfect hiding areas and she wasn't there. I kept looking, looking, looking, looking.... Finally! I see a reddish light coming from the crack of the door of my closet. I was thinking I'd be super sneaky and just fling open the door and say, "gotcha!" When I flung open the door, it wasn't Michelle that I "got." It was a 7ft tall shadowy being cloaked in darkness with glowing red eyes. I remember just looking at it. Not screaming, just looking at it with paralyzing fear. That's when it started this very purposeful scary slow smile at me. It's teeth were spindles with sharp points, jagged staggery teeth. It was laughing at me. I had one thought after I saw that... "It's here for me." I don't know why I thought that but I knew that 'it' had a mission and that mission had something to do with destroying me.
I slammed the door, ran as fast and as hard as I could toward my mom. "Mom, listen to me, Michelle can't stay here. She can't. She's gotta go home. Trust me. She has to go home. It's not safe here. There's this thing, it's like the devil, it's here and it wants me, and Michelle has to go home or it's going to do something really bad to her to try and get to me. "
My mom looked at me like I was insane of course, but Michelle was standing right behind me and she started crying because she thought I didn't want to be friends with her and that is why I was trying to get her to go home. (first onset of chick type behaviors that I have grown to loathe in most women to this day)
My mom was very upset at me because Michelle's mother had just left so...
I didn't care. I knew I was right and that I had made the right decision.
Jump to- Nightfall.
The realization that I had to go back into my room to sleep was too much to bear. It made me angry that I was having to deal with shit like that. I knew it was my battle and that nobody in my house would ever believe me so I had to take this on myself. I just remember being mad that I had to take on anything, you know?
Bear in mind I was probably around 5 or 6 years old at this time. I prepared myself mentally for the war of bedtime and went into the room. I opened the closet up, nothing was in there, and I felt like maybe I had just imagined all of it.
Nope.
Around 2-3am that night, I woke up from one of my many reoccurring nightmares of spinning downward through a vortex. After awakening from this dream I saw the glow of the red light coming from under the closet door again. I decided to ignore it and just go back to sleep by praying to God. I started to feel hot breath on my face. The same feeling you would get if your dog was just staring at you as you slept, but only if your dog was like a chupacabra or some shit like that. My eyes were closed and I did not want to open them. I kept praying. The breath became more intense and I started feeling the bed sink. I knew it was pressing the bed down. I held firm in my decision to not open my eyes and to keep praying. The intensity seemed to ramp up about 50% more until I broke from the pressure of this thing trying to get my attention and yelled, "GET OUT OF HERE!"
It grinned at me again but this time it was inches from my face. I remember it looking up and then it disappeared instantly as though something spooked it. What could have spooked it? My only answer to that is that it had to have been something protecting me from the lighter side of the train tracks. I didn't see an angel, but there was some reason why this thing buggered off just as it was gaining momentum.
This type of experience with this terrible "thing" happened regularly for years and years. It followed me to my grandparents house, school, everywhere. I even felt it at church a few times in the back annex areas where the recreational activities took place.
It wasn't too long into this regular occurrence that I started to break down physically. I had weird things happening to me all the time. I vomited regularly, had fevers that would reach 103 F at times, and I would get pneumonia as often as people get the common cold. I spent a great deal of time at the doctor and everyone would scratch their heads as to why my immune system was so weak. There was also the bizarre mood swings of everyone in my house. My dad became violent, abusive and downright scary. His face would change and he looked like an animal grinding its teeth at its prey. After he would have these bouts of terrible rage, he would cry for hours. I would comfort him as he said, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I love you." I knew he loved me but I knew that he had problems that were way above my "pay grade."
Various pets would disappear or be killed in tragic ways, etc... At the time, none of this was connected to me. My health seemed to be an anomaly that we kind of all assumed was from being a kid in entertainment that was pushed too hard to be perfect. The pets...well, we lived in the country so it could've been anything from coyotes to the black jaguars that had been spotted in that area. My dad's rage... that could have been his time in the military or the stress of dealing with my mom who spent his money as fast as he made it...
Now, after many years of research, I know that most of the turmoil was caused by something nobody saw but me. It was meant to destroy me by any means necessary. "It" was going to use any and everything around me to wear me down so that I wouldn't fight it.
Luckily, I wasn't that smart in some ways so I would continuously try, try, try something until I mastered it or figured it out. I had obsessive qualities that I wouldn't wish on anyone. However, that bullheaded determination is why I'm able to blog about this 30 years later with a clean bill of health and a fairly good head on my shoulders. I was objective about everything as a kid and through most of my adult life. I guess I still am in a lot of ways, objective, but objectivity was/is the reason why the fear, pain, and dysfunction didn't consume me.
In the next blog, Part Two, I will continue the story of how specific this "thing" was in trying to lure me into a false sense of security. I will also say this for the record... I am writing this down because I know that it's a subject that people do not want to believe is real. I understand that entirely. However, it is real and maybe my story will bring a new perspective to what we classify as "paranormal."
Here's a hint... This story, my story, has a happy ending.
....expect Part Two very soon...
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