While Wes and I still lived in the Twin Peaks house with Fred, I sought help. Of course, I could not call the police, talk to a mainstream minister (since they do not believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, which is a wee bit ironic,). Well, finally someone suggested a sympathetic organization in the San Francisco Bay area I will simply refer to as The Institute. I went to them and explained the situation, hoping (like on TV) someone would show up with a smudge pot and smoke out Fred and any refugee potato bugs.
Instead I was invited to start out the process of having The Institute help me by paying for a psychic reading. Uh huh. Well, I was so desperate that I decided to go for it. The lady doing the reading went into an altered state and her eyes looked very strange, sort of like blueberry ripple ice cream. She said that my aura was very hard to read because it was flashing in many colors and constantly changing. Evidently on the energy level, my aura was Times Square in NYC. She noticed a huge energy cord from my solar plexus outward. She followed it and discovered my mother at the other end. She asked if I’d like it cut, and I urged her to “Slash, cut, burn”. I did not expect to actually feel anything, but I felt a delicious itching in my solar plexus area that was better than sex. In other words, this psychic lady could cut my energy cords any time she wanted. Woof!
She did notice a form in my aura, and essentially described Fred! According to her metaphysical mumbo jumbo (sometimes mumbo jumbo can be true….) a spirit can attach to the aura of a living person and leach energy and live vicariously through that person. Since my life then consisted of going to work as a financial analyst in a cubicle at the West Coast Stock Exchange (Montgomery/California St), Fred must have been rather hard up for excitement. My idea of excitement at this time was sneaking across the street for a large coffee with cream and chocolate chips on top.
Ms Psychic didn’t think Fred was evil, but seemed more mischievous like a teenager tagging the side of your house. Then the psychic said I had great telepathic and empathic powers far beyond the understanding of modern man (although female psychics had it all in hand), and I should immediately sign up for some of their classes such as “Meditation and Healing for Poor Saps [men] who have great Telepathic and Empathic Powers Far Beyond the Understanding of Modern Man”.
Therefore, I found myself traveling weekly over the famous Golden Gate Bridge to Marin, where the classes were held in an old warehouse that had been converted into posh art studios and classrooms. The teacher was a middle aged gay man who I did not trust. There was something predatory about him. He took a liking to me (reminder: This was around 1982 and I was still young and astonishingly handsome even though I resisted taking all the steroid pills that most gay men of my generation took to quickly gain the muscles of Mighty Mouse). He took me to lunch a few times, which was distressing for me. He would boast about what was going on in the energy fields of the people around us, and amused himself by sadistically slashing through the intertwined energy cords of people in love, and tying together such energy cords to complete strangers. Evidently, his psychic abilities did not extend to sensing the revulsion I thought at this ethical violation. When I asked the guy what his goals were for using such abilities, he said "Money and Power". What a wasted gift.
Well, this was 1982 and I didn’t know where else to go, so I asked him to come to my house to check out Fred. He came for dinner one night, and focused all his energy on Wes, as if trying to steal his memories. This made Wes quite ill. Later, when I confronted the guy on what he was doing (psychically trying to rape someone else of their memories) he feigned innocence. My skepticism grew.
The depth of what I was deaing with came finally in class, when this guy announced that it was time that each of us become attached to an “elemental” spirit. This is supposedly a spirit that has never been human, but has a pure heart and a desire to serve. The class was told that instead of using our own energy to heal others, we should use the energy of a spirit being that would become “one” with us.
Frankly, I thought this was total nonsense. But since I didn’t want to make a scene, I partook of this bizarre ritual inside a large pentagram with the other class members. The teacher supposedly summoned a spirit to stand behind each one of us. I saw nothing. Then I was to say some words in Latin and then repeat the words of integration (essentially, inviting the spirit to move in, like those modern mucus commercials). I did so while rolling my eyes in my best modern financial analyst yuppie disbelief. But right after uttering the final words, my body began to heat up until I felt that I was burning alive. I cried out in pain and (I confess) screamed and fell to the floor.
The teacher seemed a bit thrown by this development. He rushed over and put one hand on my brow and another down my pants. No, not really – just checking who is still with me. The other hand he put on my solar plexus (not far from the belt line). He mumbled something and I immediately felt fine again. In a hushed tone, he said that sometimes the “elemental” spirits do not know how to adjust their energy to cohabitate in a human body. Then he calmly asked if I’d like him to summon a different spirit.
"Ah…….no, not tonight thank you. I have a bit of a headache and think I’ll just go home." It just hit me in the face that this guy was sinister and what he was effectively was doing could be called Possession.
I rushed out of the warehouse, swearing never to come back. As I walked towards my car, a Porsche 914 convertible with recessed lights (after all, I did work in the West Coast stock exchange at this point), the lights of the car came out of their recessed pockets and began flashing off and on at me. This was in the very ancient days before any one outside of Star Wars had a little pocket clicker for car doors and lights. I got to the car, unlocked it and got in. Meanwhile, the lights kept going in and out of the recessed pockets. I remember thinking “I cannot possibly drive across the Golden Gate Bridge this way; the cops will stop me for sure.” Then it hit me that this might be an after effect from the ritual I had stupidly participated in upstairs. Maybe my spook was not in my body, but wanted to let me know it was still around. I said aloud “STOP THIS NOW AND GO AWAY”. Well, one out of two isn’t bad. The lights did stop their insane display.
I quietly drove home, and parked outside the house. Wes and I had made an agreement that I would park my car in the garage first (it was a tandem parking garage, one car in back of the other. In the 1940’s I doubt it occurred to the builders that someday a household might have 2 cars). As I stopped, Wes’ car, which also had the recessed hidden lights that were the rage in the 1980’s, began doing the same thing! My invisible little friend had evidently hitchhiked home with me.
Now, bear in mind that I originally contacted The Institute for help in dealing with Fred, with the hopes of getting rid of him. And what had happened? I had evidently brought home a playmate!
Again I told this “thing” to stop fooling around with our car lights, and this immediately stopped. By this time I was wrapped in fear. I became very religious instantly and began praying for deliverance from the new Spook in my life. I prayed so hard one of my contacts popped out!
Well, I must say that either the prayer worked or the Spook decided I was a bore, because all indications of its presence died (no pun intended) in a couple days.
Now, I have something important to tell you all. This story, like Part 1 is 100% true. There will be a Part 3 since even 10 years after we sold the house and fled to the East Bay, the house came back into our lives in an eerie way.
But what you truly and sincerely must know is this:
BELIEF IS NOT NECESSARY. IF YOU GO THROUGH SUCH A BIZARRE OCCULTISH RITUAL TO SUMMON ASTRAL ENTITIES TO SUBLET YOUR BODY, YOU ARE SEEMINGLY ENTERING INTO SOME SORT OF BIZARRE CONTRACT. FROM MY EXPERIENCE, BELIEF IS IRRELEVANT. ALSO, STAY AWAY FROM LATIN - IT IS A DEAD LANGUAGE, OR PERHAPS A LANGUAGE OF THE DEAD.
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