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Demons and Psychic Attacks
by Paul Schroeder
(Copyright 2009, Paul Schroeder - All Rights Reserved)

Posted: 16:30 December 27, 2009

Part of the alarming nature of the unknown is its mysterious link to the known; I awake each night to a lewd exhibition of the merging. I open my eyes and turn to see the digital alarm clock, sitting on the lamp table next to my bed and see; 12:12, and 1:11 am, 2:22 am and 3:33 am and 4:44 am.

This distresses me so badly, upon awakening, that I cannot think; just a wave of panic that SOMETHING is awaking me, as the calculated odds of awakening each night precisely at those specific times is astronomically impossible.

The message intended seems to throw me off balance and keep me wrapped in fearful confusion and lets me know that I am being toyed with but yields no greater insight than to let me know that when I sleep I wander amongst monsters and beasties.

Sometimes after abductions, the inter dimensional door, left open, invites the gangster fringe element of the spirit world; sometimes demons are thrown into the equation as spite work for attempts at thwarting abductions.

But the unseen sinister world is as real as the nose on your face.

The building, called Harold Hall, since renamed, stands six stories tall and houses some eighty families.

The basement area is the place that I've encountered, face to face, the entity that followed me home and stands gauntly by my bed at night and delivers mind blowing dreams, the signature symptom of telepathic attack.

I know nothing of the history of this building except that when I leftI wassure that anyone who entered the basement would meet it.

However,it seemed to have moved with me.

I am straddling the fence of the twilight zone surrounded by harassing, omnipresent, sinister, psychic, tenacious entities whose presences fill me with wonder and indignation.

The imposed dreams are now more likeout of body attacks and differ from my dreams in their vivid 3 D total sensory envelopment and the inherent viciousness in provoking angst realistic in every waywhen compared to consciousness.

The perspective is waking to find thatI am asleep wrapped in delusional thoughts and scenes, dreams aligned with negative thoughtsand nightmarishscenarios whichreveal that they are imposed, simplyby virtue of their worst scenario plots and their vividness.

They, whomever these discorporate negative thought entities are, are masters of delusions.

I have recognized the raw power of the vividness as more than my murky dream scenarios could ever muster.

I am convinced that we are dead wrong about the nature of dreaming, itself.

At night, your astral body travels to realms from angelic to demonic, a spirit world of myriad vibrational levels and the pictures thatyou see on the backs of your eyelids, while you REM, are not dreams but visits, souvenirs of a greater reality.

Like a goldfish who never suspects a greater world beyond the ponds surface, the limited awareness of humankind floats beneath the surface of a greater reality; groping, mouth agape in total ignorance.

Sadly, I've only met sharks, not the porpoises, in the ocean currents of unconsciousness, between 2 and 6 am and grounding is essential but I don't knowhow.

As we struggle into consciousness, each morning, a self-erasing mechanism destroys memories of dreams; only vague and vivid snippets remain as clues.

But how many people can recall dreams that were not dreams at all?

I have recall for hours and days, afterwards of these impositions, unlike the general amnesia accompanying most of my dreams, forall of my life.

I assure you that I have shockingly unlearned all Jungian and Freudian concepts of dreams.

It's only our own languages impotence incalling these dreams; the Eskimos have myriad words for snow.

We have only one word for dreams that often are not dreams which we ourselves generate.


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