It may seem psychotic to claim to have had demons, but as sure as they were once cast into a herd of swine, they were in me. Legions of them once held my soul hostage.
What exorcism techniques did I use? I wish it were that simple to explain. Why should I give away my demon casting techniques? If they are cast out of you, where are they going to go when evicted from your house? Don’t send them back to my place and ruin what remains of my hope!
They come during unsuspecting moments of lost hope when the master of darkness can break the seam of the vishuddhi chakra, tearing our rationality apart. We are stuck, lost in a space and time that separates the spiritual from an earthly world. It is their goal to ruin our destinies. They get in us when we are down, lonely, and vulnerable and work to keep us stuck with them, in a place of nothingness.
How did I cast them out? It wasn’t just me. Another showed me the way to the exorcism of pure fear.
Don’t try casting them out alone. It only makes the darkness stronger.
I prayed hard.
I awoke at 3 a.m., just as the sorcerer had promised. She was standing in the emergency room of a hospital next to my friend who was fading into the light.
“Here is my phone number,” the dark skinned Black woman with a Carribean accent offered.
She caught me crying over my friend, saying prayers, trying to keep him alive with pure faith.
“What? What did you just say?” I asked with tears streaming down my face. I could feel him dying. “Why would I want your phone number? I do not even know you.”
“Call me tonight when you wake up at 3 a.m.,” she advised while slipping a small piece of white paper in my sweaty hand. The hospital bed was shaking when I prayed over him, a response to the convulsions of his body. But there was an invisble energy in there. Another woman came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder and assured me that she was going to keep me in her prayers. She was a church lady. Where were all the religious people coming from? She gave me a hug. She too was frightened by that prayer. Where did that wind inside of the hospital come from? It was a breeze; one that blew strong enough to move the white cotton curtains which surrounded all the private sections of the emergency room around. The commotion of the blowing curtains caught the attention of everyone in there; even the doctors. All eyes were on me when I spoke in those tongues, but I couldn’t help it. The words came out on their own.
I woke up alright! My body felt like it was on fire– so much energy, a feeling of ecstacy, pure bliss consumed me for a while, until they got in me and took over my place.
“I repent,” I prayed when I felt that energy abandon my body and house, taking with it a part of my soul that gave me the desire to live on.
It didn’t work. God was gone from me.
I wished when I felt them take control of my soul that I had never said that prayer. I felt tricked by the stranger in the hospital, the one who gave me her number. How did she know so much about me? Who was she? That wasn’t fair, I thought.
“He’s going to live,” she promised. “His time to go is not now,” she said. I believed her. She sounded so authoritative, as if she had a crystal ball that showed her the future and she, somehow was able to see what was to come for my friend’s life.
When I awoke at 3 a.m. on the dot– during that time of night when we are possessable, I realized that the Black woman in the emergency room was a clairvoyant. How did she know that I would awake precisely at that hour of night and how did she know the conversation I had with Shawn the night before he died?
She claimed Shawn was channeling through her. I belived her and wanted to hear what he had to say from beyond.
“Why did you turn your back to me in bed last night?”
“You kicked my cat off the bed. That was mean. I have had Bette for 20 years, far longer than I have known you. I’m sorry Shawn.”
“It’s alright, Sexy. I will always love you,” she channeled when I was standing outside of the hospital in a parking lot, smoking a cigarette. Who was she to have known so much?
“I told him not to kick my cat off the bed. I hated having to move in with him. ” I explained to the stranger. “He hated cats. He said he was sorry, but I was mad at him. I turned my back to him in the bed and faced the wall.”
She seemed not to care or to be listening to me, but was rather in some sort of trance, capturing my dead lover’s essence, I suppose.
How could she have known what took place in our bedroom on the night before he died? That’s why I believed her and listened to her orders when she told me to pray and repent and to call her when I awoke at 3 a.m. that morning.
I should have gone back to bed, but I believed her, and called that Black woman– the Jesus lady, who showed me how to properly lay hands on him when he died.
But when she answered the call at 3 a.m. after just one ring, I realized that I was being possessed by her demons because I failed to believe in myself.
Please check out my book on the art of demon casting…