I found a new job literally within two days of faxing out my resume. I was still at the real estate agency, and again, with no car. However one of the lead guys at the company I faxed my resume to named Christian offered to come pick me up, along with his wife, and bring me to the office for the interview, since they were in a desperate time crunch sort of situation that involved the need for a typist. And when they saw my typing speed on my resume they were like “WE NEED TO TALK TO HER.” Apparently nobody else who’d submitted their resumes had any sort of a decent typing speed. So that was a first, a company offering to pick me up and bring me to an interview, and something I was grateful for.

Sure enough, true to my vision, one morning after the Christmas party and the start of the new year my boss M____ called me into her office. I already knew though as I walked up the stairs what was going down. I had the job interview scheduled for that afternoon, with Christian and his wife planning to pick me up at 4 p.m., and had my resignation letter already typed up and printed. Except doh! I’d left it at home that morning while rushing around, getting ready. I was distracted that morning knowing I had the job interview lined up. oh well. It would have been nice to have it on hand to prove my claim about already quitting anyway, and offset whatever she was about to try to dump on me, but ultimately it didn’t matter.

I sat across from M___ at her desk, her calmly giving me the “this just isn’t working out” b.s. schpiel, thinking she was springing something on me. Meanwhile I just shrugged nonchalantly and let her know that Actually……I was already planning to give my notice today, and had a resignation letter prepared but which I’d accidentally left at home this morning. But at any rate, I have a job interview scheduled for this afternoon at 4. So if you don’t mind I’ll need to leave early. They’re coming to pick me up. Etc. Etc.

Just calmly and nonchalantly laid the counterattack on her which she didn’t see coming. And I say “counterattack” because there was something vindictive/“revenge” about her attitude, which became REALLY obvious when she heard my response. She went from having a small “pleased with herself” smile of vindictive glee on her face, thinking she was “springing” some surprise firing on me (talk about sick/toxic)……to eyes getting wide, looking slightly WTF?? It was priceless. But that’s how I knew for sure what her motives were. Still boggles my mind that C__ was her son, and somehow came from this woman. He couldn’t have been more different.

But the problem wasn’t that I was “wasn’t working out,” as already noted. The problem was I didn’t need her to “dress me” for the party, politely turned down her fake ass Christmas dinner invite to be her charity case, because I already knew she’d be letting me go within a month, tops. Then showed up to the party looking awesome. Even upstaging a few of them. Her dinner invite was very disingenuous, with “ick” underlying energy. Not coming from a place of truly warm sincerity and concern. Especially since she had refused to speak to me or have anything to do with me during the first three months I was there, and still remained cold, detached, “fake” friendly and disconnected during the last few months. You can’t be like that to somebody….then expect them to fall for disingenuous “charity” that they didn’t ask for in the first place. “Oh, yes please, dress me for your ball! I am but a poor peasant with nothing but rags to wear! Bring me into your home and feed me, for I only have but measly scraps of morsels! Show the world what good, kind and giving people you are! Bask in the praise it will generate!”

Please.

And actually……there was even slightly more to it than just that. Because at some point during my final three months M___ expressed an interest in the idea of her and the other women agents “mentoring” me in some fashion into the world of real estate. Just something about wanting me to want that, wanting to see this desire in me, and seeming a bit…..disappointed that I wasn’t expressing an interest in going down that path. It wasn’t just disappointment that I wasn’t interested in striving for the extreme wealth and lifestyle that they all had, but paraphrasing the idea that was being conveyed: She saw herself and these other higher level agents as people I should feel privileged to work for. I should be recognizing them for the opportunity that they are, and doing everything in my power to want to be part of that, and to learn from them. (I remember something about that phrase – “learning from them”…..)

And admittedly, when it came to the world of real estate, M___ was extremely successful and well known, no doubt. She was a big deal in that region, and her and her then-husband were probably the richest people I’ve ever known or worked for, to this day. Turning over multiple, multi-million dollar mansions in Coto and Dove Canyon every single month…..after month….after month……with their commissions. I processed their spreadsheets, keeping track of the sales and commissions that needed to be sent to corporate. So I know. They had more money than they would ever know what to do with. And then there was me……not recognizing her greatness, was how she seemed to be seeing it. And this was extremely perplexing to her. Talk about out of control, narcissistic ego, viewing “others” as mere objects, simply there to reflect you. Versus real people, with their own individual needs, wants and goals.

But she wanted to see that “thirst” in me you could say…..me wanting to be under her, having her lead me, where I become her project. She could not conceive of how a young, thin, cute, 25 year old female surrounded by them, and this lifestyle, wouldn’t want this. “How could you not want this?!? How could you not want to be us?!! What’s wrong with you?!? Something has to be wrong with you for not wanting this……”

Nevermind though that she, and some of the other women, treated me in a totally cold, disconnected, unfriendly way. :/ And in some of the women’s cases….were downright mean to me at times. Who cares! I should still desperately want to be around them, and doing everything in my power to be “allowed” into their privileged inner circle! I should be grateful to be in their presence!

But I had beyond zero interest in being a real estate agent – I loved office admin work. That’s my thing, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do to make a living. Starting at 18 right after high school when I’d comb the classified ads in the Orange County Register every day while eating, honing in on all the office admin jobs and wishing to someday be able to have a job like that, mentally noting all the requirements. Day after day after day after day combing those ads………. talk about reality creation/manifestation. O.o Then it finally happened, a few years later, due to crazy bizarre serendipitous circumstances, and became a meteoric rise. So I wanted to be the one working for the real estate agents…..not being an agent myself. And my energy is not about “the weakling who needs to be taken care of,” or “kissing up to mean girls with a desperate need to be accepted.” AT all. TOTAL opposite. Nowadays they have a terminology for this type of chick, one that’s neither the dominating, bullying Alpha, nor the weak, submsissive Beta. They call it “Sigma,” and there’s entire vids about it on YT, if people are interested. Sigma was me back then, and now. The powerful outsider, who knows her own way and doesn’t cave to bullying and group think, but who also doesn’t want to dominate over others either.

But, she needed my place to be “under her thumb,” the “lowly charity case” that they could do their fake “sad” faces to while proving what “good people” they were as they “helped” me, patting themselves on the back. Meanwhile, as they took the needy, thirsty peasant girl under their wing to guide towards a better future. And…………I kept slipping out of that, not playing the role. I was obviously weird for not wanting what they had, and I wasn’t validating her sense of self importance. And in the end, not validating her ego trumped actual job performance and reliability. But since she obviously couldn’t admit what was really going on here it instead became the cockamamie, “this just isn’t working out…..” vague excuse, with no actual details to back it up.

So I took the power away from her as I sat there completely unaffected, shrugging, like “Yeah, no problem….” already planning to leave, and with a job interview scheduled for that very afternoon on top of it. It was very satisfying.

Sure enough, Christian and his wife Patty picked me up at 4 in Patty’s new model VW Bug, as M___ watched me go from the second story landing. (She actually came out of her office to see for herself….I think some part of her didn’t believe I really did have an interview.)

So that’s how 2001 started for me. Paranormal activity peaking, and with a new job. After Christian brought me to the office for the interview they explained how they had this massive, emergency word processing project that needed to be completed in a week. Hard deadline. They were a geotechnical engineering firm at the border of Lake Forest and Irvine, with about twelve in-office employees, as well as field employees. Christian was one of the project managers who’d been tasked with overseeing this particular project. I wound up being hired on the spot due to my typing skills – at that point it was about 65-70 wpm (it’s now 90+). So there was something “data entry-ish” about the job when I responded to the ad. And hey, if it all went well with the big project then they also needed a receptionist/admin person. So finish this big project first, then we’d all go from there, see about turning this into a full time permanent position.

I’ve always said that out of all the classes I ever took in school, the only one that was ever of true use to me out in the world in terms of making a living was……typing. “The class so nice I took it twice.” Took it the first time in 10th grade in Connecticut, then again in 12th grade in California…..just because. I was caught up on my credits by my last semester of 12th grade (actually ahead, weirdly enough….it amazed me that despite going to a public high school in rural Connecticut I was ahead of what the California school system required by 12th grade….) but still needed to take an elective course as a requirement. So I signed up for typing (actually, called “keyboarding” by that point) again, just to be able to brush up on things, because at that point I was only doing 25 wpm. I just had a very strong compulsion to do this, that I needed to focus on typing. I enjoyed it, but I wanted to be GOOD at it. (Another elective “course” I took was to work in the school’s office during 3rd period in 11th grade, answering the switchboard and helping the secretaries for the Principal and Vice Principal with admin projects. “Working in offices” was just always going to be the destiny. )

And lo and behold, once I was out there in the world working in offices my typing skills became an EXTREMELY important “selling point” for me getting job after job, whether on my own or through staffing agencies. And in this specific case with the geotechnical engineering firm, being hired on the spot no less, solely because of typing skills. And which became my golden ticket out of very shitty circumstances.

I finished out my one week’s notice at the agency during the day, and meanwhile after work I worked diligently on the word processing project from home, often late into the night, using my own computer. All the while with those “white laser lines” shooting down from the ceiling, all around me, of course. O.o My friend Julie meanwhile (more on her later) couldn’t even believe I was willing to give them a week’s notice, and was arguing with me via email from her job about it, like, Fuck them!! They don’t deserve notice!!!! You should just leave!!! :D

But I finished the word processing project on time, no issues, fulfilling my end of the deal. Then was hired on to be their new receptionist/administrative assistant and accounting assistant. A slight bit more intensive than “data entry” ;) but it was all good.

My new boss Felicity, who was the office manager/accounting manager and the owner’s live-in girlfriend, wound up making the gig as pleasant as it was. And the job itself would wind up paying me the most money I’d ever made so far at that point, in early 2001, from a single job. Felicity was 37 at the time, originally from Australia, tall, with short, moppy looking dyed blonde hair and blue eyes. She was very kick back and friendly and mellow, and just liked to have a good time in general. She was very down to earth, a good listener, very generous and giving, with a good sense of humor, and acted like she was everybody’s friend from the moment she met people. She was just everything that Australians typically are: friendly, happy, down to earth, generous, loves the outdoors, loves to party. And she was everything that the female office staff at the real estate agency wasn’t. So far my New Year’s resolution/focused intent to drastically turn things around was working spectacularly. This new job was the major key to my entire life getting back on track.

Right off the bat when Felicity learned that I didn’t have a car and was taking two buses and walking two miles, each way, she immediately made arrangements to pick me up at Portola Plaza, which was half way to work from where I lived, and right near where she lived. Eliminated me having to be up by 5:45 every day, to catch the 6:30 a.m. 82 bus out of Rancho, transferring at Portola Plaza to the 89 at 6:50 am, going down El Toro, where I would exit at Rockfield at 7:10. And walk for like another two miles, getting to work by 8 on the nose. Now all I had to do was take the 82 bus out of Rancho, to the end of the line at Portola Plaza, and she picked me up from there. And at night she’d drop me off there, so I could catch the bus home. Even if she hadn’t offered the rides though I would’ve gone through all that, JUST to not have to work at my previous job. ANYTHING to not be there, and in that situation, with those “people,” anymore.

Meanwhile the activity in my room never slowed down. If anything, it was growing more powerful every day. In essence, what was happening was that it was feeding off of me, and my energy. And growing. And that’s why I always got so exhausted and wiped out after walking through the front doors of our lovely little “home.”

There was an interesting little incident around this time, one Saturday morning. I was laying in bed, watching my little personal laser light show of white lines going on. They had extended as far over as my bed now. I was watching them shoot silently through my bed covers, right next to me, and through my arms, and through Kitty. Kitty kept flinching and tensing up as I lay there with my arm around her. Then I noticed this shapeless orange yellow fire looking blob in the air, over by my closet, smack in the middle of the white lines. It was about six inches off the floor, and no bigger than a foot around, but it definitely looked like yellow orange-y fire. I don’t know what it was, but I was wondering if I was really seeing it. Until Kitty jumped off the bed and ran over to it, and tried to bat it around, to no avail. Her paws passed right through it. It’s interesting how some of the manifestations created perky curiosity in her, like this one, but while most just generated fear, causing her to spaz. Possibly revealing the nature of what’s what in terms of the various phenomenon.

I no longer worried if I was really seeing this. The thing that’s obvious by this point in this write up is just how instrumental Kitty was as a corroborator of things. Without her eyeballing up the same things I was seeing, trying to interact with them, or flat out running away from them, as well as seeing and reacting to things I couldn’t….but which Joe claimed to be seeing…..then I’m not even kidding, I either probably would have gone slightly nutso, or just eventually dismissed everything outright, as a coping mechanism. And then none of this document would ever have been compiled, let alone posted online. But because she was there – the stray kitten that we’d rescued on the brink of emaciated, flea and worm ridden starvation – it meant that she corroborated over, and over, and over that NO, I’m not imagining these things, and I’m not crazy. And she was also my adorable little furry companion in need of care, attention and love, keeping me company and helping to reduce a lot of stress. Both of which were vital for maintaining my sanity in all of this. Without her….I would not have made it through this situation, and nobody would even be reading this. So when people say “Who rescued who?” about their rescue pets, they’re not kidding. Nobody would be reading this were it not for a little stray cat.

The entrance above my doorway pretty much began to “glow,” as Joe termed it. I couldn’t see it glowing, literally. But I could feel it. I didn’t notice it until the night that Joe came knocking on my door to ask me something. Well I’m standing there in the doorway, talking to him, growing more and more antsy and fidgety and uneasy with every passing second. Not consciously realizing it though, even though I’m shifting from foot to foot, looking around, antsy and impatient…until finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I interrupted whatever it was he was talking about and said, rather hysterically, “…Okay, WHATEVER! Do you have to stand here and talk about this right HERE?!?” (i was backing away from the doorway, watching Joe’s puzzled look on his face) “I mean, why can’t you come IN the room!?!? Why do you have to stand in the DOORWAY?!? Why can’t you come in HERE?!?!” (continuing to back away, until I’m way in my room now, far away from the doorway.)

“What’s wrong with you?” Joe finally asked me, calm, but puzzled. “What’s your problem?!”

I stopped and stared at him, realizing that hey, that was a weird reaction. Hey, what is wrong with me?? I thought. What’s the problem here? Why am I acting like this?

I just stared at him, blank, staring back at me, puzzled.

“I don’t know…” I said slowly, thinking about it. Then I began to realize it.

“It’s the doorway…” I said, looking up at it. “Something just felt really WRONG when I was standing under it. It was like these waves of chills were coming down over me. Pulsing down on me. I didn’t even realize it consciously when I was standing there, but now I realize what was bugging me…”

Joe stepped into the room, peering up at the vaulted ceiling over the door, interested. He stood under it, now staring intently down at the floor, focusing on it, seeing what he could feel.

“Yup…there we go…there’s one… (pause for a few seconds) …there’s two…(pause for a few seconds)…there’s three…”

“So you feel it too then?!”

“OH yeah. There’s another…and another…”

“Let me try it again…” I edged him out of the way and stood under it again. Steady pulsing waves of icy chill were coming down from the spot above the door. And it wasn’t a drafty chill breezing over the surface of your skin, giving your goosebumps. You know, like something normal. This went through you, feeling like nails on a chalkboard. Meaning, it made the nerves in your rib cage area tingle and cringe, like when you scratch a chalkboard. It felt gross. And it was extremely difficult to maintain standing underneath it for longer than 30 seconds. Because your first instinct is to want to get away from it. So to continue standing there is to override a very strong impulse.

Shortly thereafter, Kitty started getting weird about that spot under the doorway. If there was ever a doubt in my mind that it was just a “draft” going on, there wasn’t after this one night, when I watched her act like a freak underneath it. I was in my room just up and about, doing whatever, when I noticed she was pacing in circles under the doorway, staring intently up at the ceiling, where the entrance supposedly was. She was pacing in circles, and mewing, and pacing around some more. Then she proceeded to pull a “Poltergeist” and got up on her two hind legs, like a prairie dog, or, like the dog in Poltergeist did, with her her two front paws hanging limp. Eyes locked on that area, mewing nervously. Back down on all fours. Crouched in a subservient position, mewing. Eyes locked upwards at that spot, never letting it out of her sight. Then she got up a little, eyes still locked on it, and did the absolute freakiest thing…She began jumping as high and as hard as she could, straight up towards that area. Like she was on a springboard, boing boinging straight up, over, and over and OVER and OVER and OVER. Like she was trying to leap up into it.

I was so scared watching this, all I could do was sit on the edge of my bed, frozen, heart pounding, hair standing on end. What the fuck is going on??? I thought. I kept looking at the spot, but no matter what, I couldn’t see anything. At best, there was one time I think I may have seen some static-y looking stuff, like what Joe described, but I believe that was just wishful thinking on my part.

This went on for a little bit, with her boing-boinging straight up at that spot, until she calmed down and went back to just pacing in circles and mewing, eyes still locked on it. Then she eventually gave it up.

Okay. So what do we have here then…We have a spot above the doorway that Joe says is an entrance, and that he can see with his eyes. I can’t see it however – but I can feel it. And so can he. And I’ve watched something drift down from there one night, which in fact had woken me up. And I watched my cat watching the thing too. And Joe confirmed the thing I had seen drifting down from there by providing a more accurate and detailed description of it than what I had given, including details I would’ve actually forgotten about. And now there’s this. My cat completely wigging out under the spot. Trying to propel herself into the spot.

Did I believe now, at this point that there was an entrance?

Absolutely. 100%.

Unless of course, I was too busy questioning it and doubting the whole thing.

And one night in a moment of defiant cockiness, fed up with the entire situation, I stood in front of my doorway looking up at the vaulted ceiling and basically just RAGED at it. I stood there and thought the most nasty hostile I’m-Gonna-Kick-Your-ASS! thoughts. Over and over I was thinking FUCK you! FUCK you! FUCK you! FUCK you! I’ll fucking KILL you! FUCK you! FUCK you! I’ll fucking KILL you, come on motherfucker! I know you’re there, come on! Bring it on! FUCK you! FUCK you! I’m sick of your shit! FUCK you! FUCK you! I raged at it internally with everything I had, for a good minute, full of passion and vigor and hostility.

When I was done, I stood there, by the light of my lamp, my radio going in the background. Staring up at the spot. And then an cold icy wave came down, INTO the room, where I was standing, and went right through me. I stood there, as it passed through me, and my whole body quivered and shook with the chill, and I even said, “uugggggghhh!” outloud, shaking it out of me, my rib cage tingling like nails on a chalkboard. I felt it was there, circling about me in the room. Waiting.

oh shit.

this is bad, this is bad, this is NOT good, I fucked up, I fucked up, oh shit this is bad, oh shit…And I grabbed my phone and called my friend Julie, in a panic. Her apartment complex was right down the street from mine, within easy walking distance.

“Hi Julie, it’s Carissa…I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering, is it okay if I come over and hang out with you guys for a little while? I did something REALLY bad here, I fucked up, I fucked really bad, and I can’t be here right now, it’s really bad, I have to get out of here…”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem, that’s fine. Mikey’s here right now too. We’ll all hang out.”

As an add on that’s kind of funny in retrospect that I could just…..call her up out of nowhere saying something like that and she in turn would just roll with it and remain nonchalant. But you would have to have known Julie to understand. Just the most chill, laid back, nonchalant, wry/sardonic chick you could imagine. Nothing ever fazed this girl. No matter what was happening she dealt with it with that eye rolling, sardonic humor. Coping mechanism, basically. She’d learned long ago to give up getting stressed about life because it didn’t matter anyway. Besides, that’s what alcohol was for. (She’d been through the absolute ringer in life. Plus, she was schnockered on wine half the time anyway, same as me. But it means she had an “it’s all good” attitude about most anything.)

Julie and I technically first met when we were both juniors in high school, but then became friends in our senior year when we were sitting next to each other in Psychology class. The whole reason we became friends in the first place was because we were the only two chicks that we knew of who were in the same messed up life situations; both having bad levels of different types of abuse in our background, and then both of us on our own, supporting our own selves, with no parents/family or help while all the other kids at school still lived at home. (Her abuse involved full on rape/molestation, and from more than one source; She’d lived with her aunt and uncle since the age of 13, due to her mom passing away and her dad bailing out when she was young. But since her Aunt’s husband wouldn’t stop molesting her she finally moved herself out on her own at 17, in 11th grade.) So she’d already been at the whole “living on her own” thing since 11th grade, a full year before me. She was the old pro by the time it happened to me. Interesting that life put us right next to each other in the same class at the same time. The only class we ever had together, and during the time period when I was now out on my own, and needing to find somebody who was in the same boat who could relate and provide any useful tips.

Julie once mused about both of our “places” at school as “There’s the jocks, the cheerleaders, the (this group, that group, another group…another group….just started ticking off the different cliques/groups of kids, which I don’t even remember at this point) And then…….there’s us. We’re just here, because we have to be.” So true. Even though I never told Julie outright she could tell how I felt about things. I viewed school as this literal prison I was stuck in, and couldn’t wait to be done with, ASAP. Because I didn’t transfer in until 11th grade I therefore wasn’t part of any “groups,” didn’t join any clubs, and in general didn’t connect with or identify with our school. I had nothing personal against the school itself, it was a million times better than the one I’d gone to back in Connecticut, but, I didn’t identify with it. I also wasn’t doing anything to prep for college, because I knew I wasn’t going. And my friends were a total random hodge podge, but definitely included girls who’d been beat up on in life. Julie wasn’t the only one. Funny how we all gravitated to each other. Highschool for me was just this childish nonsense that was holding me back in life. I went because I had to, by law, in between working….which was what I actually enjoyed. Since 13, when I went into business for myself. But I just wanted to be out there, already on my own, working and taking care of myself. So let me out already, let me get going with it all. I’m too old for this shit. It’s like taking a 40 year old and forcing them to be back in highschool.

After graduation during the summer of ’93 Julie and I ran into each other one afternoon at Taco Bell, total fluke, and where I learned she was now married…..and about six weeks pregnant….and homeless. She was now living with her then-husband Jeremy whom she’d only married weeks before, along with his puppy in her car at O’Neill Regional Park/campgrounds. As soon as I heard that though…….? “You REALLY should come stay with me…..”

I told them about the guesthouse I was renting from my then-boyfriend K___’s parents. Mainly because she was pregnant. If she hadn’t been I wouldn’t have be so insistent. But this was now a full blown SITUATION. Living outside/in a car/in a tent in the middle of the blazing hot southern California summer, while pregnant, without proper food storage/cooking facilities to eat decent meals?? Are you freaking kidding me??? No.

So they moved in with me for several months until she could get things sorted out. But now with a roof over her head, A/C, kitchen w/ full refrigerator and stove/oven, a full bathroom and access to a free washer and dryer. Jeremy had just turned 19 in June, same as her, and was a total fucknut (a June 8th Gemini year of the 1974 Tiger) since her inner compass/gauge for judging guys was completely screwed up. He wound up briefly in jail for something by the end of the pregnancy, so no surprise that they didn’t last. But her daughter Katelyn was born in March of ’94….though he later refused to admit that the kid was his, even though she looked like him. Then bailed out of California entirely for Arizona, spending years playing “dodge the child support” by continually quitting jobs and bouncing around to evade the child support authorities who wanted to garnish his checks.

What was funny was that Julie and I looked so much alike that my then-boyfriend K____ said that from a distance he couldn’t tell us apart. Nearly same height and weight, same clothes, same long blondish red hair (hers was natural, mine was dyed), same dark brown eyes. She was part Native American, giving her that “something ethnic” factor, while I had the Italian. Even the astrologies were near identical, with her being the water sign Cancer sun, Virgo moon, year of the 1974 Tiger, and me being the water sign Scorpio sun, Virgo moon, year of the 1974 Tiger. Like me she wasn’t religious/spiritual at that time, but also like me was actually pretty psychic/intuitive. (water signs usually are.) And both of us had the same “simultaneously feminine yet no-nonsense tomboyish” vibe. Which means we were both mellow/low key but tough, fearless and kind of crazy in how we were living our respective lives. We were not operating like typical girls. We’d both been left hanging out to dry in life, bouncing around, wayward and on our own, making it up as we went along, getting into crazy adventures and situations as a result. (Me moreso though…..WAY moreso…..)

We both initially came across as harmless, but we both knew how to take charge. Which means, push either one of us too far and….watch out. O.o Like most of the hodge podge friends I had in highschool Julie was a shitkicker. We all were in our own ways. We had to be.

Any guys that were into her usually also were into me as well, so we wound up with at least one boyfriend in common. (My ex Steve, mentioned briefly in this piece; Julie and Steve had a casual thing during ’94-‘95, but he and I wound up as full fledged boyfriend and girlfriend, living together for years, and now recently broken up right when “the vortex” started.) As well as a guy named Cliff that I’d been friends with and had a flirtation with at 16/17 in ’91 before even meeting Julie. He later became Julie’s serious live-in boyfriend for at least two years, and substitute dad for her daughter Katelyn.

She liked to joke about this guy “overlap” thing, finding it amusing. So there we were on Easter Sunday ’95, as I found myself hanging out with Julie on that day and being invited to dinner by the people she rented a room from, along with Julie’s new boyfriend……..Cliff. All three of us were 20, born between ’74-75, and had no real family to speak of. Three orphans, basically. Abused and let down and abandoned by the parents who were supposed to be there for us, but weren’t. So it was fitting we were all together. (Cliff’s situation was so bad he’d been removed from his parents at nine, and placed in foster care for a period of time. He still had all these scars on his body from what they’d done to him which he showed me back when we were 16/17. Abused kids always find their way to each other. “Stay with your own kind.” Truly.)

So as we all sat around the table Cliff and I had a moment where we looked at each other and he grinned shyly, marveling to me that here we were……reunited, and somehow sitting next to each other at Easter dinner of all things. We both agreed that this was massively surreal. He was truly somebody I never imagined I’d run into again, considering the bizarre circumstances of where/how we knew each other in the first place………and also being that we hadn’t even gone to the same school. So, yeah….it was crazy that we even met at all in the first place at 16. So in some ways you could say we shouldn’t have even crossed paths years ago….but we did. And now here we were…..again, against the astronomical odds.

The universe felt we needed to know each other, for whatever reason. “Carissa, this is Cliff….Cliff, this is Carissa…..welcome to 1991!” um…okay…..so, yeah, I mean, we both like each other…….but now what? “Nothing….just wanted you to meet and hang out for a short bit and “LIKE EACH OTHER.” We’ll have you meet again in ’94 when Cliff has to go to a DMV-mandated traffic school, being held on a Saturday morning, at the same hotel you’ll find yourself working at as a front desk clerk. He’ll hang out with you at the front desk whenever he’s on break, giving you his phone number. But you don’t end up calling because you know you’re completely incompatible, despite how attractive he is to you. Then we’ll have you meet up again in ’95, just for the hell of it, when he’s now dating your friend. And that’ll be that, forever.” ummm….okey dokey….!

Once out of high school neither Julie or I went to college (technically I did actually cave in and tried community college twice, but dropped out both times, couldn’t deal with the whole “sitting still and being forced to learn b.s. I have no interest in” thing). Julie and I both worked low rung jobs, me at a spate of hostessing/waitressing/cocktailing gigs, as well as a hotel, and she at places like Builder’s Emporium (a mom ‘n pop equivalent of Home Depot back in the day in Mission Viejo) and The Wherehouse (Big time SoCal music store back in the day……….back when they actually still sold tapes.) But we’d both managed to work our way up in life. So during the “Vortex” time period of 2000 we were now both working at nice office jobs. More things in common, considering there’s a whole world out of there of money making possibilities.

Julie’s day jobs were always mortgage-industry specific, since her aunt had given her a piece of advise that she adhered to religiously – Get yourself into the mortgage industry [which she herself worked in] and you’ll have a job for life. So Julie took that advise to heart. When she’d had enough of making $4-6 an hour at bullshit low rung jobs she found herself an entry level office job at a mortgage company, as an underwriter, and began working her way up from there, always staying within the mortgage industry. (Same as me, Julie also presented well despite the crazy background, so had no trouble landing and keeping jobs. You’d never know by looking at either of us that things were SERIOUSLY askew behind the scenes. Unlike a lot of girls from troubled or rough backgrounds who look it on the exterior, with their clothing styles, crazy hair dyed crazy colors, piercings all over their face and body, tats, etc., we didn’t have any of that. Neither one of us even wore makeup, mostly because we didn’t have any quality female influences that would have showed us how….though being real, we didn’t need it anyway. But the “no makeup” thing was another way in which we looked alike.)

And it turned out Julie also now had an all black cat during this Vortex time period…..same as me. The only pet both of us had. And now we were living right down the street from each other, within walking distance…..and not the first time this had happened to us in life, and the odds of which are astronomical. But back in ’94 it turns out we were both renting rooms in condos in the same exact complex in Aliso Viejo, off off Alicia Parkway, which is how we became reunited once again after not seeing each other since the summer of ’93.

In the seven years since we’d graduated I’d lived all over north and south Orange County, and even spent a brief period of time back in Connecticut during the summer of ’95 after driving across the country with my then boyfriend Gary. (Julie, along with a couple of coworkers of mine from two different jobs, wanted me to send postcards as we traveled so they could live vicariously. So I did, keeping in touch from all the major cities along the way……..Vegas, St. Louis, Chicago, New York, etc.) So considering that neither of us were even from Rancho, and considering just how ginormous Orange County is (about the size of Rhode Island roughly, in terms of total land area) and considering all my unstable/cuckoo travels and life adventures then it really is………..a little weird that we wound up right next to each other in life. Yet AGAIN. Started out right next to each other in 12th grade Psych class, and years later…………still right next to each other, oddly enough, in a county of 5 million people.

And it had also happened back in ’98. Julie wound up living in the same exact apartment complex as me and Steve, in Lake Forest, despite the ridiculously large number of apartment complexes available all around south Orange County. Which is how she and I wound up spending 4th of July ’98 together, with her newest “boyfriend” Joe. Who was one of Cliff’s friend’s. She and Cliff had now broken up, and at this particular point she had literally ten guys going at once O.o including this Joe dude. So there Julie and I were in Joe’s giant modified old pickup truck thing with the scuffed up paint job and no muffler, blasting Gwar, driving through the streets of south Orange County, as he continually tossed lit M80’s out the window, exploding on the streets as we headed to the fireworks show. :D Between the no muffler and Gwar and the exploding M80’s it was deafening in that pickup cab. :D Julie had literally begged me to come along with her and keep her company, so I did.

Life would keep taking us in different directions, but then we’d keep crossing paths, again and again and again. It was nuts.

And there’s even more stuff “in common” that Julie and I shared, but which I can’t even get into publicly. But it’s a very nutso spiderweb, is the only way to put it. Everything that happened to me post 1994, every friend/boyfriend who was in my life in SoCal, and any crazy adventures that came about as a result of any of those friendships and relationships, either traces directly back to Julie, or connects to her in some way. Every last thing. And even though we weren’t hanging out together for that entire time. Even the aforementioned boyfriend Gary. Despite Gary being from Buena Park, about 25 miles away in north Orange County and seeming like the last person who could possibly be connected to Julie, he was only one degree of separation from her. Again, in a county of 5 million people. Gary and I had a mutual friend named Paul, whom went to high school with Julie and I in south O.C., and whom I became buddies with since we had two classes together……and Paul briefly “went out” with Julie for a couple of days. But……………it was actually because I was casual buddies with Paul, the guy who briefly “dated” Julie, that I indirectly wound up even crossing paths with Gary later, after graduation, in the first place, through another guy named Mike (that I dated), from south Orange County, but who was friends with Gary, from north Orange County. Who I also dated, and who became one of the most important people ever to be in my life. O.o

Julie and I would finally part ways in life as friends for good in mid-2001, because we’d just gotten so completely opposite in vibes. Mainly just the way she was living her life in general. She lived in south O.C. suburbia, worked full time and had a nice apartment, and always driving a new leased VW Jetta. So it all looked good on the surface. She’d come a LONG way since that summer of ’93, no doubt. She was now doing WAY better than me, no thanks to Joe. But her behavior was emotionally stunted/toxic, unable to mature and progress. The whole “constant cheating and endless fighting” dynamic in particular with every single guy she was ever with, was a HUGE problem to always have to hear about. And her current boyfriend Dave being no exception. She craved conflict like normal people need oxygen. In particular she loved the idea of being able to cheat on Dave right under his nose, as well as having guys lined up waiting on the sidelines, “just in case.” Then bragging about how she would get drunk almost every night with Dave (he himself was a full fledged Scorpio alcoholic) and pick fights with Dave just for fun, and how these fights would go on for hours. (energy vampire alert….)

And meanwhile I was just….not like that, to put it mildly. At all. My idea of fun was being by myself, hanging out in bookstores, libraries, or writing, writing, writing, either in my notebooks at the freight train tracks of north Orange County and L.A. in the middle of the night (literally…..sitting ON the train tracks…….and literally, in South Central L.A…….) or on my computer at home. And I just got sick of hearing about her stupid shit all the time. Childish and tiresome broken record. She’s a mom, with a six/seven year old. Time to grow the fuck up already. And yeah….it became a problem to be hanging out with her and Dave, knowing what she was doing on the side with other guys.

And yeah, she was definitely a bad mother in a million different ways to Katelyn. She was always nice to her, but seemed to have an inability to be truly connected to/bonded with her. I never saw her pick Katelyn up once and hold her or cuddle her. Nothing. Just weary, far away and disconnected. Meanwhile as Katelyn was basically raised by others for the first couple years of her life. (Namely the landlords that Julie was renting a room from in the mid-90s, this couple named Mike and Sandy. Different Mike though from our mutual friend Mike. Katelyn spent most of her time with them, but mostly Sandy, while Julie was either working. But also out partying, and hooking up with guy after guy after guy after guy after guy.)

On that aforementioned Easter Sunday in ’95 when Julie, Cliff and I were hanging out all afternoon, then arrived back to the place where Julie was renting a room, we walked into the kitchen, where Sandy was cooking. Sandy had Katelyn set up in a playpen while she cooked. Katelyn began smiling and bouncing up and down while holding onto the edge of the playpen as soon as she saw Julie enter the room after being gone for hours. Meanwhile as Julie just smiled at Katelyn in her playpen in this kind of wary/weary way from the other side of the room. Acted like she was looking at somebody else’s kid, a total stranger….then left the room. O.o Didn’t even go over to say hi, give her a hug, kiss or cuddle.

(That’s crazy to think back on, as I simultaneously hold an image of 27/28 year old Katelyn in my mind from 2021-22, on her Facebook. Full CosPlay makeup, dyed blue-green hair, fully see-through CosPlay outfits showing off large C/D-cup size [making it “obscene”) breasts, same as Julie’s, and nipples covered by upside down crosses………face looking like the exact spitting image of her mom Julie in her teens and 20s. But with the cool clothes and makeup we didn’t have, because we were poor with no female influences. And I admit, my pushing-50, mostly conservative self is a tad :/ disappointed, though completely not surprised, at how Katelyn turned out. Upside down crosses?? Pentagrams are one thing, but upside down crosses are a whole other thing, an actual “anti Jesus”/“I Hate Jesus” statement. And yet there’s 100% understanding, because like with my brother Joe, I was there before she was even conceived. I knew the shit storm her mother was dealing with. Then during the pregnancy, then after her birth, me and Mike babysitting her as a newborn, or me running around giving her piggyback rides, or taking her to the playground with Mike. So I know. I was there. I was a witness. She didn’t stand a chance being raised by Julie.)

By the time Katelyn was four, when Julie and Cliff were now broken up, Katelyn had seen an endless parade of guys come and go. Julie would brag about how smart Katelyn was that she could keep all their names straight. At only four. O.o (During that particular conversation it was ten different guys that she was rotating through that Katelyn was able to keep straight. Hand to God, no lie. Julie was the complete by-product of molestation/rape. It often results in out of control sexual behavior. And I’m thinking it started before her uncle, since she once mentioned offhand in her typical wry, sardonic “laugh everything off” way back in 12th grade that “my mom tried to sell me to the old guy down the street when I was nine.” O.o So there was a lot more to that sexual abuse story.)

So that was really hard to watch on the sidelines as well, having been on the receiving end of that kind of indifference from my own “mother,” who also never picked us up and cuddled me and Joe, and usually wanted nothing to do with being around us. Julie was 19 when she had Katelyn. My “mom” was 21 when she had me. That’s the common denominator. Too young. And from a fucked up background, including molestation, parental death and abandonment, life upheaval and instability, and with zero family support on top of it. Already permanently damaged/can’t be fixed by the time they reach legal adulthood. Damaged kids having kids. Same template. If our “mom” could have had somebody else care for me and Joe the way Julie had with Sandy and Mike taking care of Katelyn, she totally would have, in a heartbeat. Would have dumped us off with somebody else and never looked back.

The very first time I ever met our mutual friend Mike, who was just mentioned, it involved us….babysitting Katelyn together when she was only a few months old, while Julie ran off to go meet up with Jeremy who was newly out of jail and see about “reconciling” maybe. And in that instance Julie never picked Katelyn up or interacted with her either, before happily bailing out and leaving Katelyn to me and Mike. The situation with the other Mike, and Sandy, acting as the primary babysitters/caretakers of Katelyn, eventually did come to a head as people reading can imagine, where Julie refused to hear any of their concerns, and felt that they were overstepping and trying to take over her life……leading to her abruptly moving out. So the primary caregivers of Katelyn’s entire short life abruptly disappeared overnight for her. Same as Cliff, when they broke up.

When me and our Mike were visiting Julie and Dave though we’d always play with Katelyn. I never liked doing the whole “everybody sits around on the patio drinking and/or smoking and having mundane grown up chat” while Katelyn is inside by herself. I always wanted to be hanging out with kids. Way more fun and full of energy and enthusiasm for the world. So I’d be running around giving Katelyn piggyback rides, or Mike and I would bail out on the “drinking/smoking patio chat” and take Katelyn down to the apartment complex playground so she could have fun. When Katelyn would see me and Mike her face would always light up….since we were the fun adults that actually paid attention to her. Mike and I were ourselves just overgrown kids, mature and responsible in the ways that mattered, but very kid-like at the same time.

But during this particular time period, which was now late 2000, Julie was still in my life, and we had been talking about some of the paranormal stuff happening in my apartment. In particular we’d email each other during the day while at our respective office jobs, talking about all kinds of random things. Including the one time she emailed me with nothing but “Tell me a story.” She loved my weird tales of strangeness about what was going on in the apartment, and it helped keep her amused while she was at her boring mortgage company job.

Not unlike my website now does for people I’m sure. Same thing, MUCH bigger scale. Hence, why I could just call her up randomly, saying something really bizarre, and she’d just be like, “Yeah, sure, come on over, Mikey’s here too.” She was already familiar with the whole situation, and again…..nothing really fazed her anyway.

We hung up, I grabbed my Vans skater shoes (literally, boys size 5 skater shoes :D ) my backpack, and bailed out. I left my light on, my radio going, my door open, I didn’t care, I just bailed, leaving everything as is, trying to get out of there as soon as I could. I stopped by Joe’s open doorway and told him I had to go, I screwed up and did some really bad shit in my room, and I was going to go to Julie’s. !!!! And I practically ran out the door, into the night.

It was easy to get to Julie’s apartment because it was only about a half mile away maybe at most, as mentioned earlier. Because despite the ginormous size of Orange County and the fact it had been 8 years since we first met in highschool, put right next to each other in Psychology class, here we were all those years and life adventures later, right down the street from each other. And the streets were calm and empty as they usually are in sprawling south Orange County suburbia at night. I arrived at her unit and hung out with her, Dave, and our old friend Mike in the living room. I’ll get back to the story of Mike in a moment. Katelyn, who was five and a half by that point, was asleep in her room.

Dave had heard that I had some weird things going on in my apartment, but he didn’t know any specifics. He wanted to hear what exactly was going on. Sounding skeptical. Not because he didn’t believe in the paranormal – it was quite the opposite, he was a firm believer. And because of the fact he believed in the paranormal it made him feel like he was an expert on the subject. He wanted to see what exactly I considered to be “paranormal.” I could tell by his attitude that he seemed to think that he was the expert on all this, and I was just some stupid girl, only thinking I had supernatural stuff happening. It was obvious he thought I probably had some really lame shit happening, and I blowing it all out of proportion and just being hysterical, wanting attention.

After about fifteen minutes of me rehashing some of my stories of what we’d been going through in that place, mainly, me and Joe’s attack stories, he went from pacing about the living room looking skeptical and dismissive, to sitting on the floor hanging on my every word, absolutely fascinated. His tone of voice went from cocky and skeptical, to really??? Whoa…..

Julie was silent during my stories, sitting on the couch holding onto a pillow with scrunched brows. At first I thought it was because she didn’t believe me and thought I was a freak. She explained that it was actually because I was “scaring the shit out of her,” and that she “hates this kind of stuff.” (truly the first time I ever saw her get fazed by something. !!) And Mike listened attentively too, next to me, staring straight ahead into the air, focused while I spoke. Going from looking objective and nonplussed, to having furrowed brows, and looking concerned.

I never even got the chance to tell everybody what had just happened earlier, prompting my visit in the first place. We got so sidetracked on the other stories I was telling, and with Dave talking about his beliefs on the matter, that we just didn’t get a chance to get into it. Before I left, Dave gave me a book from his collection, called “Seth Speaks” by Jane Roberts. He told me that I really should read this book, because from what I’ve been telling him, a lot of what I have happening is mentioned in the book. I skimmed the first few pages, as everybody around me talked, and realized it was a book done by a woman who claims to have channeled this entity named Seth.

Channeling.

I don’t think so.

I was skeptical of the book, and told Dave, “Yeah, you know, I don’t believe in this channeling shit. I think it’s just people’s overactive imaginations…”

“No, no, just give it a chance. I’m telling you, it’s a really good book. Just try it out. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But I think you will. She gets into some of the same stuff you’ve been talking about. Hey, it doesn’t hurt to give it a chance, right?”

“Okay.” He was right. It wouldn’t hurt to skim it. He was pretty good at convincing me.

Me and Mike left at 10 pm, because Julie and Dave had to go to bed. I had the book with me.

Mike drove me back to my apartment, so I wouldn’t have to walk. But I didn’t go in right away. I sat with him in his car and talked with him about everything for an hour and a half. Til 11:30. Keeping in mind that Mike and I were literally BFFs, again, courtesy of meeting through Julie back in ’94. So this situation makes complete sense. From the first moment we met on the night we wound up babysitting Katelyn together it was like I’d known him forever, and all my walls went down. Something pretty rare for me at that time, since I was always on guard with people, with all my walls up. But with Mike it was truly like I’d known the guy my entire life from our first five minutes of meeting, something I’ve never experienced with anybody else before or since. It wasn’t just a matter of “being comfortable” with him. It was like I knew him already. There’s a difference. But it’s why I felt comfortable enough to stick around and help babysit instead of bailing out. So something that could have just been a one-off meeting, hanging out that one time to babysit Julie’s kid and never hanging out again went on to become its own years-long friendship, independent of Julie.

Mike was three years older than me and Julie, born in ’71. An Aries/Cancer. Our situation was always platonic though, I viewed him like a literal brother, and meanwhile from Day 1 of us meeting he was hopelessly in love with Julie, for years….which she was well aware, and took full advantage of. She hooked up with him a few times to get him reeled in and permanently hanging on the line for years after, always toying with him….and especially when she had boyfriends. That’s where it got fun for her, in a very mindful, manipulative way. She had a thing with needing to know that there were multiple guys all in love with her and/or lined up waiting, wanting her. That was her deal. And guys actually physically fighting over her? OHH, she couldn’t get enough of that. (eye roll.) But with Mike and I there was never any weird dynamic between us like that. Julie was the one that tortured him, the love object, but not actual friend, whereas I was the one to go places with and have fun with, the one who he considered an actual friend. The first person you reach out to when you have exciting news to share, or are bored and want to go out and do something.

It was later confirmed to me by a very psychic acquaintance named Leslie who tuned into the situation that Mike was a “higher density walk in,” something I’d already guessed based on the million indicators he exhibited, but which I never mentioned to her. Leslie went on to note that Mike and I “went WAY back.” (One of the big reasons I knew Mike was a walk in, besides the fact that he said he doesn’t remember the first eight years of his life, and life began for him at age eight, when he woke up in the hospital with a leg broken in three places, surrounded by “family” that he didn’t know……I’d never met anybody else so uncomfortable and unhappy in a physical body as Mike. O.o Dude was NOT cut out for physicality, and was always complaining about it. I realized after the fact though that I had all the same complaints he had and was exactly the same in that regard…I just complained about it way less. :D But neither one of us seemed to enjoy being here, especially with all the limitations there were. Can’t fly. Can’t move objects with your mind. Can’t have automatic telepathy all the time. Have to eat. Have to “maintain a body!” Nobody else around us seemed to have these problems. Everybody else was all like, “OH MY GOD! FOOD!!!!” and meanwhile me and Mike were begrudgingly eating because we “had to” and couldn’t care less about anything to do with food, the entire idea annoying both of us. Even showering annoyed him. He did it, every day, but thought it was such a complete and total annoying waste of time. Same here. And then due to Mike’s inability to ever seem to get the hang of having to navigate the world in a human suit, always bumping into everything, I bought him a card one time at Urban Outfitters that had a bandaged up ‘Mr. Bump’ on it , from those childhood “Mr. and Mrs.” books we all read. He kept that card taped up on his wall, next to various other things I gave him. One of which included a sample of the metallic blue and metallic purple gift wrap paper that I’d used to wrap his three favorite books from childhood that I’d hunted down for him, which also included a gift tag with a quote from some Oasis song lyrics.

But Mike was absolutely instrumental in my survival in life in general post ’95. Despite me giving it 200% at all times and always working multiple jobs, it just wasn’t enough. South O.C. is insanely expensive, even back in the 90s. So were it not for him and everything he voluntarily did for me to fill in those gaps when 200% just wasn’t enough I wouldn’t be where I am today. (And I never asked for any of it. But he always insisted. Partly because I would never ask, and tried to do it all myself.) I’d slept on his floor for three months when I needed a place to stay in late ’95, his invite. Then was invited by Steve, the leader of the house, to become one of the official roommates once their other roommate Dave moved out in ’96 and his room became available. (Not Julie’s Dave. A different Dave.)

It’s funny how Julie lived with me for a few months in ’93 until she could get herself sorted out, and now it was my turn. This time helped by a close friend of Julie’s. Mike loved to mention this factoid when introducing me to his friends whom I hadn’t yet met. “This is Carissa……she used to sleep on my floor.” He just thought that was a funny way to get a conversation going.

Me, Mike, Steve and another guy named Todd were all roommates together until ’97, along with a part time fifth roommate named James who sometimes crashed on the couch, until Steve and I became a thing, moved out and got our own place together. And even though we weren’t roommates anymore by that point Mike and I still did pretty much everything together, often times along with Steve. Kind of like the Three Muskateers. Steve and Mike (along with Todd) knew each other since grade school, and basically grew up together. Mike and I though were all about getting into adventures and just having fun.

The other major important thing worth noting, and which comes into play with this particular “vortex” adventure, was how insanely psychic Mike was. I’ve described him as the most accidentally psychic person I’ve ever known, as opposed to those who actively try to hone their skills and use them to make money. Too many stories to sidetrack into in depth, but it was just next level with us, like nothing I’ve ever experienced with anybody else. Part of him “being there for me” was the way he always kept a “psychic ear out for me,” which is the only way to explain it. So there were times when he knew when something bad was going down in my personal reality, and would just……show up, and bail me out. We also had an issue where he said my “loud thoughts” would bleed over onto his, “like a radio.”

But we were so in tune and in each other’s heads all the time that it just got to where he hardly ever had to complete a sentence. He could just be like, “You remember that time when….” “Yup,” I’d nod, immediately knowing what he was referring to, and then tell him. “You remember that chick we met at….” “Yup….” “You remember that guy that one time….” “Yup…” Which was funny considering just how much stuff we’d done/places we’d gone/people we’d crossed paths with. But I always knew exactly what person/life adventure anecdote he was thinking about. Even the time he came home marveling about some awesome song he’d just heard on the radio in his car, but had no idea what it was. Without him even trying to hum or sing any of it I just immediately knew as I listened to him rave about it, with my mind blanked out/relaxed……“Solsbury Hill, by Peter Gabriel,” I said. Then proceeded to sing/hum it to him. “YES!!!!! THAT’S IT!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!” he said. :) I just did. Or the time he stumbled into his apartment after having waking surgery with mild sedatives, feeling dizzy and nauseous as he flopped down on his bed, thinking about how he wanted to call me at work and tell me all about it. Meanwhile there I am at work, heading back to the switchboard from the kitchen……suddenly dizzy and nauseous out of nowhere, something I never experience. I practically fell into my seat at the reception desk from the dizziness, feeling sick in my stomach, answering the ringing switchboard only to hear Mike’s stoned voice on the other line. “heeeeeyyyyyyyyy…….!” he said, laughing. Totally felt everything he was feeling in that moment when he was in the process of reaching out to me. It just goes on and on though, all the psychic phenomenon we experienced over the years.

All in all Mike was the only person I probably ever actually truly “Functioned As One” with, in my entire life, because our minds were just so in tune.

But as far as the “psychic ear” thing goes, the best incident worth mentioning, since it’s paranormal/supernatural in nature and is thus a bit fitting for this piece happened back in early ’96, when I was 21. I was roommating with all the guys, and had just moved into the room Dave vacated. One night I was by myself in my room doing my writing, while drinking, and listening to NIN/Pretty Hate Machine by the light of my purple Christmas lights. I could hear the voices of the guys – Mike, Steve and Todd – out in the kitchen, as they hung out talking and laughing at the kitchen table. “Head Like a Hole” was on, and in a very much buzzed trance-like state I was sitting in my rattan chair and singing the lyrics “head like a hole…..black as your soul…..i’d rather die…..then give you control……head like a hole…..black as your soul……i’d rather die…..then give you control…….” to myself.

After a minute or so I suddenly felt a very strong, defined presence behind me, to my right. Just appeared there.

Without thinking I whirled around…..seeing nothing….but feeling it standing there, plain as day. It was as if a real person was there. I eyed the space up and down, then cautiously said “Hey………” Waiting.

After a few seconds there was a knock on my door. I got up, opening it, finding Mike in my doorway. “Hey…..how’s it going?” he asked, smiling, feigning casual nonchalance.

“It’s going good, yeah…..just hanging out, doing some writing…..”

“Yeah, hey, why don’t you come out, come hang with us,” nodding towards the kitchen. Smiling, keeping it light.

“Um, I don’t know, I’m good…..think I’ll stay in here…….”

His face changed, getting more serious. “How about hanging with us for a bit. Come on…..” Gently commanding me now while nodding with his head again for me to follow him. “Come on…..” again. This wasn’t really a request anymore. More like, You need to get out of your room. NOW.

“Okay…..” I nodded, noticing the look and tone change, thinking about the invisible presence, realizing yeah….he’s probably right…..probably best to get out of here right now…..

After we got out to the kitchen I told him what had just happened in my room, while he nodded knowingly, looking serious. “Yeah, I felt something was really wrong all of a sudden with you, and knew I needed to get you out of there.” He went on to explain that he didn’t know what specifically was wrong….just that something was. Like “danger” level wrong. Not sure what would have happened had Mike not gotten me out of there. I myself had no fear, so he wasn’t picking up on my own emotions. But obviously something negative was about to happen. O.o

But that was Mike, and like I said, if it weren’t for him being in my life throughout my 20s then I wouldn’t have made it.

So as Mike and I hung out in his car I told him more detailed stories of what had been going on in our apartment. But still, I never mentioned the icy chill thing to him, which is important to note, for reasons that will be evident in a moment. We talked about other stuff too, but mostly the supernatural stuff. Finally I admitted that I was too petrified to go back inside. I told him that I had provoked it earlier and fed it and given it just what it wanted, and that if I went in there tonight, it was going to come back.

We both decided to have him come inside with me and do a protection/cleansing meditation with me. He was eager to help, despite the fact he had to get up early for work. Early, as in, 3:30 am. I was surprised about that, but I think it was because his life was so boring and predictable that he welcomed something interesting like this to stir up the schedule, even if it meant it would disrupt his sleep. I mean, nothing ever happened to him that was out of the ordinary anymore. He was also curious about my apartment, and wanted to see if he experienced anything for himself.

So inside we went. As soon as we were through the front door, Joe popped his head out of his room to see what was going on. Which in itself is unusual. Joe normally couldn’t give a shit about anything I did. “Immediately popping out of his room” the second I walk through the door had never happened until this night. I told him what we planned to do……And he became totally obstinate about it. Mike and I went into my room, and I turned on the light, getting things ready for our meditation. Candles, sage sticks……and then Joe came in and sat languidly on my bed, half laying down, and started being arrogant about the whole thing, but in a low key, forced nonchalant way. Saying it wasn’t going to work, why bother, don’t even try to do it, it’s pointless…….

And when that wouldn’t deter me, he flat out started mocking me and making fun of it.

I was thinking, WHAT is his PROBLEM??? Why is he acting like this??? Why is he trying so hard to deter me??? Finally I got so pissed I started yelling at him, just like when we were kids…GET OUT OF MY ROOM!! NOW!!! GET OUT, OKAY??

And just like when we were kids, it didn’t work. He wouldn’t get up and go, just continued to lay there, languidly, with a cocky arrogant attitude, trying to mock me and deter me. Just super bizarre energy coming from him that I’d never seen before. But I kept screaming at him to leave, as Mike looked on, perplexed about the whole deal, until finally Joe did leave. Reluctantly.

“WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM?!?” I demanded. As if poor Mike on the sidelines could provide that answer. :D

Mike shrugged. “I think he knows that you CAN get rid of this stuff. That you ARE strong enough. And he doesn’t want it to stop. He likes this, remember? He’s scared that you’re going to stop it.” (Ran out the door earlier, scared because I’d screwed up, then came back later with reinforcements, ready to combat it head on like the fucking Ghostbusters. ;D )

“Yeah. That’s kind of what I was just thinking.”

That whole incident right there should have tipped me off to some things about Joe, but as usual, I didn’t see things when it came to him. I was too close to the situation.

We got everything set up, turned on the purple Christmas lights instead of the bright obnoxious lamp, lit the candles, lit the sage, and sat down on my floor, Indian Style, eyes closed, to calm my mind and get ready for the task at hand. Considering the distractions I had going on – It was already really late, we both had to get up for work tomorrow, Joe’s attempt to deter me, the fact that I have no real proven experience with being able to meditate, and the power of what I was up against – I was oddly calm and level headed and focused. And determined. I was on a mission. I fully believed in what was happening, and I fully believed that I could do something about it. I was very determined. There was something I wanted more than anything – to be safe – and nothing was going to stop me from getting that. In retrospect whatever was piloting Joe obviously knew this, and hence….his bizarre behavior and mannerisms like I’d never seen before.

Mike took the lit sage stick and began to slowly walk about my room with it, as it burned, moving it in circles in the air.

“I’m just going to walk around and see if I can sense anything, so don’t mind me…”

“Okay…” I continued to sit, up against the closet door, eyes closed, focusing, and determined.

“You know, to be honest, I don’t sense anything,” he said after about thirty seconds. “It doesn’t mean that it’s not happening, it’s just that I can’t perceive it.” His tone of voice was matter of fact, and I could picture him shrugging nonchalantly, like, Oh well. “I haven’t seen or heard anything since we’ve been here.”

I appreciated the honesty. I preferred someone who was neutral and objective over someone who was a sheep…meaning, someone who’s going to get all hysterical and start imagining stuff that’s not there, just because they’re caught up in the moment. That’s why I wanted Mike to help me. He believes in this stuff, he’s open, he’s very “in tune” with things like that. Yet, he’s still neutral and objective and doesn’t just automatically believe something just because you tell him it’s so. He always has to see for himself. He’s not about bandwagons. He was absolutely the most perfect person for this situation.

“Well, I told you, it’s not like the movie Poltergeist where Carol Ann’s room had shit flying around in the air, non-stop,” I joked. “It’s a little more subtle than that.”

I went back to clearing my mind and getting ready. Mike walked about my room, circling the lit sage stick, over my bed, around the whole perimeter of my room, being objective and open to this. Kitty laid low, under the overhang of my bed, watching us with wide eyes.

Mike came back over to the area where my computer was, a few feet from me, and I heard him go,

“uuugggghhhhh!” And shake himself vigorously, as I had done, a few hours earlier.

My eyes shot open.

“What?!” I demanded. I was thinking, Wow, don’t even tell me he just felt the chill…

He stood there, looking confused, shaking the last of whatever it was out of him, looking about the room.

“I just felt this icy cold chill go right through me,” he clenched his fist up against his ribs and stomach, to indicate where he felt it, moving the fist about that whole area. “And it wasn’t a draft either, like on the surface of my skin, I know what THAT feels like. This was different, it went THROUGH me.” He looked about the room. His expression was now one of interest, like, Hmmmm!

“Something’s here, and it doesn’t like me,” he said, getting a mischievous smirk.

I told him about how that had happened to me, earlier this evening. And it was the reason I fled my room, because I knew it was out and about in the room with me, and it was feeding off me and it was going to “get me” now that I had provoked it.

“You think there’s something really here right now?” I tried to re-confirm. I was forever reconfirming over and over the obvious.

“OHH yeah,” he looked about. He sunk down to the floor, Indian style too, next to me. He put the sage stick on the small plate and closed his eyes, to join in.

We sat like that for a bit, in silence. We never talked about what I was actually going to meditate on, it was just sort of understood that it would involve something to do with protection. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t have any fancy, poetically worded spells or incantations to chant. I had to wing it, make it up as I went along. Common sense instinct. I began to imagine a white bubble of protective energy encircling me, picturing myself on my bed, with the ball around me, and then around the whole bed, then extending outwards to encompass the whole room. Envisioning the room as if I were above it, hovering in the air, looking downwards at the bed from the vantage point of my ceiling above my computer. The same vantage point the thing had had when it swooped in on me the night it attacked me.

Then I envisioned myself getting up and walking about the room, still surrounded by this white bubble…

“Whoa, whoa WHOA!….WAIT a minute, HOLD on!…” Mike said, cutting into the silence. He sounded confused and intense.

My eyes opened. “What?” I asked, surprised.

“What were you just thinking?” he asked, slowly and intensely.

“What do you mean?”

“What were you just thinking? Right now? What were you imagining?”

“I was imagining this white bubble of protection around me, you know, and then I imagined I was getting up to move around the room, taking it with me…”

He smiled, and nodded. “Okay, that’s why then. See, I was sitting here, following along with you, and then all of a sudden there was movement. Like you were moving around suddenly, and I was like AH! What are you DOING?? Stop moving around! Okay, well, now I know why. You can’t move around, okay? You have to stay still. Stay in one spot. Imagine the bubble filling up the room, but don’t move around the room. STAY PUT, woman!” he grinned.

“Okay,” I nodded. I was shocked, but not really, that he was able to read my mind like that. As mentioned earlier we had a crazy level psychic connection, and his abilities were next level in many ways.

I went back to my meditation. I was expecting it to go the way it had the other time I’d tried to meditate, during my “Out Beasties Out” escapade. It had been difficult, and near impossible for me to remain focused. I had started to fall asleep even, from sitting so still and quiet for so long, which was why in the end I had to resort to talking outloud. I couldn’t do it through focused mind meditation.

But now…It was completely different. Not only was my focus strong and intense, but the longer I focused, the stronger I became. It was like I was rolling downhill, picking up speed and strength along the way. I was on a roll, imagining the white ball, filling the room, seeing it covering the walls, the floor, the ceiling, enclosing my room completely like a white sheet, blocking off my room. I extended it to include my bathroom, all four walls, the ceiling, the floor, and then focused especially on the spot where the entrance above the door was.

I imagined the entrance doorway as a rectangle, and imagined a plug of white protection, covering it. Pushing back the thing. Pushing back everything. Keeping everything out. I imagined as these things were trying and wanting to get in, but sorry, unfortunately, you can’t…it’s closed off…sorry…I’m so sorry…and I picked up more speed, on even more of a roll, now focusing on the It thing itself, doing what I knew would repel it the most…Feeling love and sorrowful feelings of sympathy towards it. And sincerely meaning it, sincerely feeling. And it was so easy to get in that frame of mind, I was on a roll, rolling down the hill, gaining speed and strength. I apologized over and over and over to it for yelling at it earlier, and meant it. I told it that I’m so sorry for whatever happened to make it the way it is, I’m really sorry, I’m sorry, I feel bad for you, but you can’t be in here…I’m sorry…I wish I could help you, I wish I could fix it, whatever it is, that’s making you this way, but I can’t, and you have to go…you can’t be in here…I’m sorry…And I envisioned pushing it back through then entrance, hugging it as I did, truly feeling bad for this thing, and its plight, and then closing off the entrance. With that plug of white. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry…feelings of love, over and over and over.

I imagined myself as a kid. All my favorite happiest memories of being a kid, everything that was good about being alive, everything pure and fun. The sheer joy of my life as I knew it when I was 4 and 5, which were the happiest times for me. Winter, spring, summer, fall…different memories from different seasons, me, and all my friends…Pure goodness, at it’s best. THIS is me, THIS is Carissa. This is who I am, and what I’ve experienced. This is what surrounds me, protects me. And you can’t take it, and you can’t hurt me. I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…

And as I was doing this part of my meditation, I noticed that I felt the pleasant sensation of this warm tingly feeling moving downwards through my arms, past my wrists, into my hands, and filling up my fingertips. I sat there, with my eyes closed, leaning up against the closet, feeling this new phenomena, and smiling, mystified at how and why it was happening.

I did a couple of more mental imagery of hugging this thing and sending it on it’s merry way, back through the entrance, back to where it came from, and plugging it up and keeping it plugged up, and then I was done.

I opened my eyes.

Mike opened his.

Wow…I said. I marveled at the warmth filling up my arms and hands and fingers. I marveled at how strong and intense and focused my meditation was. I couldn’t BELIEVE it! It was so…so…EASY!! WOW!!

“It’s because I lent you my energy,” Mike smiled to himself, looking tired and weary.

“Really?? I believe it, because it was so easy! It was like I had a boost, like somebody was holding me up, and feeding me as I went! I’ve never been able to do that on my own! It’s like impossible for me to do it on my own. It’s so hard!”

“I know, meditation IS hard. But not if you have somebody helping you. And that’s what I did. I gave you my energy.”

He looked wiped out, but happy.

“God, I’m so tired right now,” he said. “But it was worth it. I wanted to help you with your room. You needed it.” He laid down on my floor, and spread his arms over his head, closing is eyes a little.

“Wow…Thank you SO much. You have no idea. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I’ve tried before, and I can’t do it. It’s just too hard for me to focus. Not this time though!”

I marveled too at the fact that I had no embarrassment or hang ups about doing this whole thing. A year ago, there was no way I could have been so open about doing something like this. But now, I believed this 100%. That’ll eliminate any embarrassment, let me tell you.

And how did the room feel now?

Completely okay. It was completely “empty”, and clean. There wasn’t one heeby jeeby thing in the room, anywhere, to be found. Nothing.

“It feels tented!” Mike smiled.

“Doesn’t it?? It does, huh?” I looked around, feeling the vibe now. The air glowed purple from the Christmas lights, and the room was filled with sage smoke. And it felt exactly like if you were inside a tent and you reached up to zzzzzzzzzip it shut. Tented off. And protected. Absolutely no vibes of bad presences, roaming about, up to no good. Like usual. Before this, my room had a bad, unsafe exposed and vulnerable vibe going on, 24/7.

Even Joe had noticed it and pointed it out. Only because he remembers the way it felt before the attack. My room truly had been the one safe spot in the whole place. But not after that. Afterwards, it had felt open and raw, and just negative. He often commented (when in a “normal” mode) that my room “…doesn’t look right right now…it looks really wrong…” Again, part of that phenomenon where the room not only felt weird/wrong/raw/exposed, but too bright/glaring, and with that yellow-y colored tint to thing going on that I would later learn can be indicative of a 4th density (or other dimensional) bleedthrough. So he knew.

“I mean, it really really feels okay…” I said to Mike.

“Yeah, it does.”

I was filled with glee, you have no idea. Just giddy giddy giddy, because for the first time in so long, my room felt clean and safe and positive. I had no qualms whatsoever about Mike leaving me alone in my room now. There wasn’t a chance of that thing coming back tonight to “get me”. I knew it with everything I had. Didn’t even give it a second thought when he left.

And I was right. Nothing happened that night. For the first time in months, Kitty slept peacefully, for the entire night. Calmly with her paws tucked under her, looking relaxed and tranquil. Never once nervously pacing about, like usual, running in manic circles, disturbed by presences, like usual, playing with shit I can’t see…or sometimes can. And the same went for me. I fell into a deep sound sleep, enjoying the tented feeling. The sinister look and feeling of my room was completely gone.

Woke up the next morning. Immediately felt the “tenting” effect, and the complete lack of presences going on. It was soooo nice. I was so full of giddy giddy glee. Smiled to myself as I got ready for work. Went to work. Came home, excited to be going into my room for once. Walked into the room, and could still feel the tenting effect, loud and clear. Giddy giddy again! It was still clean and safe and empty and positive. The look of my room was normal again, no sinister bad dream look. yay!

Went to bed. Experienced a second night in a row of complete tranquility and safety. Kitty completely calm and quiet throughout the entire night. This was good! Life is awesome now! I’m so loving it right now! YAY!

Got up again, went to work, came home. Burst through my door into my room, to drop my backpack on my bed, and immediately noticed that

….the tenting was gone.

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Articles in this Section

• » Interview with James Bartley, Tom/Montalk and Myself: The Cosmic Switchboard - April 2023
• » My Fourth (2-Part) Interview with In Other News Radio - December 2021
• » Discussion with Dr. Randall Nozawa and Patrick Herbert RE: Negative Forces - Sept. 2020
• » Interview with James Bartley: The Cosmic Switchboard - July 2020
• » My Third (2-Part) Interview with In Other News Radio - November 2014
• » "Love Bite+" Roundtable panel discussion
• » Headline Dissection - updated 9/16/13
• » My Second Interview with In Other News Radio - 2014
• » Flickr Pics & YouTube videos - Continuously updated
• » Leaving Florida
• » Weather Anomalies - Includes photos - Revamped 10/3/09
• » The Vortex
• » Biorhythms - in Relation to Hyperdimensional Activity