Demons in the Night
Demons in the Night
Last night prior to falling asleep, an old crone devil appeared to the left of my feet and hovered briefly. It imaged itself sideways, from the thighs up in a kind of side-sitting position. The left side of its face displayed an evil eye that leered at me. Then a hideous half-smile spread, its lips curling back in a ludicrous grin.
I told it to get lost. I suppose more lost would have been better.
Then I saw myself as an infant of about four months, lying on my back in shallow, sand-bottomed water. I could make no movements other than with arms and scooting with my legs and feet. No rolling over or sitting up. The watery waves washed over me and receded, several times, each time I helplessly yet calmly and freely allowed the water to fill my mouth and lungs.
Sometime after my physical body was asleep, I saw myself with another (my angel) at my side, in the back yard of the Mid-western house in which I lived when young. I was starving and thirsting, and I had found two shriveled, hairy-shelled coconuts. Desperate for the white milk, when halved, there was none in the dried interiors. Suddenly, across the Spirea hedge, I watched numerous full-bodied, ripe coconuts tumble to the ground from the top of a palm tree in the neighbor’s yard! Ah! I exclaimed to the one with me that now we would have all the milk and meat we could desire or need! Just then, however, a huge, black demon in human form leaped down from the palm branches, wielding an immense machete with which he had hacked down the coconuts and proceeded to mutilate some on the ground. He looked over at me and laughed and laughed: You can’t cross this barrier to come for any of these! Then he laughed more as he sauntered off.
Later, my night work began. I was sent to a nursing home somewhere, and I was to help the elderly and a couple or more unfortunate younger people, maimed by accident and illness. I was working along with the nursing home activities director. As I did my best to encourage the residents to become involved and motivated in the activities and to be enthused in what they could do and be despite their plights, I also found myself becoming frustrated with two residents who didn’t want to cooperate or try. I could tell my heart just wasn’t in the job as much as it should have been.
A spirit, a saint, took me aside. He was enshrouded in a green mist and did not reveal himself or manifest in any identifiable form. But I heard his spiritual voice, and he spoke to me at length. It was not necessary for me to be able to remember in the conscious world his instructions; they were known to me interiorly in that realm and time. Upon awakening to this realm, in early dawn, I was at peace that I did not need to remember the words but to know the essence was instilled. I sense now that he spoke words of encouragement to me, and also that I must work in these other realms and assignments with as much spiritual grace and strivings even more so than what I might attempt on earth. I also sense God was wanting me to know that I must move on into these assignments and break from the earthly distraction in wrapping up a recent assignment. Work and life goes on, here and there, both. I must make the transition.
When I considered this nursing home work, I had an inkling of wonderment, maybe a twinge of questioning its reality. Immediately I was shown a time around ten years ago or so when my uncle was hospitalized. I had been to visit him in a nearby city hospital during the day, and that night I was taken to see him, to make a supernatural visit. In the morning light, again in my bed where I then lived, I was told firmly, “Think with your heart! Think with your heart! Think with your heart!” I knew I had seen my uncle, and he was tied down to his bed whereas the day before he had not been. My mother and aunts were readying to visit him that day, and I let them know that they should not be alarmed, but they would find him tethered down since he had struggled during the night. My mother and one aunt rebuked me, adamantly insisting that he was not tied down, that they had been there in the evening after I had seen him. I kept quiet about how I had gone during the night, but I said again, “Well, just don’t be alarmed when you see him today.” When they returned a few hours later, my mom and aunt apologized for having been so argumentative, for he was tied down when they arrived and were told he had to be restrained during the night. My mom later asked me how I had known, and I simply told her I had “dreamed it.” But, it was more than some dream.
So it is, and yet I still tend to doubt, which is probably not at all pleasing to God. Doubt is not good; He always says to believe and have faith. However, discernment is necessary. But, I do think that confidence would facilitate the nightwork, as I call it now. I am more and more open to doing His will at night, and yet I have no earthly guidance for this work. It is very difficult to find a priest (who is safest for revealing confidential matters) who can help me discern and uncover anything that might be helpful in my doing a better and better job for God. So, I think maybe I ought to know that God will help me from that realm, perhaps as He did with that haze-shrouded saint taking me aside and talking to me last night. Yet, even in this, I must be discerning. The demons were loose last night, too.
The demons verified for me that something I had done, which took more courage than what I have but God provided the motion to at least drag my limp carcass in to report a wrong and put the words in my mouth—something I had done had not turned out quite how I thought it might. These two were sneering, leering, and the one openly laughing. The whacking out the coconuts and hacking some on the ground was quite symbolic of the sexual aspects of what I had to report. The second demon castrated the palm tree. And even the palm branches—the same as used to wave when the people sang glad hosannas to the King of Kings on His entry into Jerusalem—prior to His Crucifixion. And yes, prior to His resurrection and redeeming the whole human race! I must not forget that important part! So, I am now reminded to not lose heart, to have confidence and faith, and to know that even though it seems as if I am hedged out of the nourishing milk craved and needed, and even if the demons laugh at my attempts to right some wrongs and get some help for someone who now seems to be himself mocking his condition and not being realistic about it—life goes on, jobs for God go on, and Jesus will have the last and most glorious hosanna.
This afternoon I became increasingly peeved, Lord Jesus. I started to complain and be angry about my failures, and also about the seeming inconsistency and loss of values. I let it get to me that I may have been discredited when I spoke truth. I even started wondering if I have deceived myself in thinking there were any truths covered over or from which I hid and protected myself. Doubts, doubts, and loss of stability of mind. I complained that no one in the Church was here to help me figure out these strange experiences, to help me do a better job with them, and that sharing with a couple of friends seemed so wrong, somehow. More doubt, more lack of confidence and faith in Your Divine Providence!
Looking at my Certificate of Confirmation which I have gold-framed, I even considered removing it and chopping it in tiny pieces. Well, by then I was laughing some, knowing how juvenile that would be—like when a little girl and I got so into imaginative play with a baby doll I called Roy Rogers, that I had him shot up in a gunfight, using my snub-nosed scissors to cut that poor doll to near shreds before I realized what I had done in such dramatic play, and then had to hide the remains in the midst of garbage and wait for several months for Christmas to ask for another doll. Fortunately, my dad traveled much and my mom was studying so much for her college degree and my being a third daughter, they didn’t keep track of my dolls. Anyway, I thought of this when I looked at my Confirmation Certificate, and then I decided I’d better write it all out to You, Lord, and in the meantime talked to two friends, and vented, and now it is all better. I know that You have it all in Mind and Sacred Heart, all this stuff, and tonight I pray to have more purity of heart and intention if You so choose to let me have another chance in any night work. And to any demons, get more lost than you are already! And to my angel, thanks for being with me always, and to that saint who talked to me, I pray I was paying attention totally and will do as you instruct in the other realms. Thanks that I can laugh all this stuff off. It takes a sense of humor in this world and beyond. Forgive my impatience and any anger or frustrations (all these coming from pride, as the confessor this morning said), and help me discipline myself against thinking I need anyone but You with whom to talk this stuff over. I really didn’t mind and didn’t panic when that water washed over and over, and filled my mouth and lungs to drowning. I seemed more like an amphibious being, as it all seemed peaceful and natural and without struggle. This is how I must remain in the current earthly situation that is, hopefully, coming to a close—at least my part in it. But if not, I remain Your trying-to-be-humble servant. Let me know if You want me to write this kind of stuff in a private journal or if it is o.k. to write in this blog. I only want to do what is right by You.
And, dearest Jesus-Love, I offer myself again for any assignment here on earth for which You think You can take a chance on me, and to which I might be sort of qualified, by Your graces and will.
Mother Mary, make me just like you in mind and body; purify me to be acceptable to Jesus’ will and desires. Heart of Jesus, make my heart like unto Thine!
Last night prior to falling asleep, an old crone devil appeared to the left of my feet and hovered briefly. It imaged itself sideways, from the thighs up in a kind of side-sitting position. The left side of its face displayed an evil eye that leered at me. Then a hideous half-smile spread, its lips curling back in a ludicrous grin.
I told it to get lost. I suppose more lost would have been better.
Then I saw myself as an infant of about four months, lying on my back in shallow, sand-bottomed water. I could make no movements other than with arms and scooting with my legs and feet. No rolling over or sitting up. The watery waves washed over me and receded, several times, each time I helplessly yet calmly and freely allowed the water to fill my mouth and lungs.
Sometime after my physical body was asleep, I saw myself with another (my angel) at my side, in the back yard of the Mid-western house in which I lived when young. I was starving and thirsting, and I had found two shriveled, hairy-shelled coconuts. Desperate for the white milk, when halved, there was none in the dried interiors. Suddenly, across the Spirea hedge, I watched numerous full-bodied, ripe coconuts tumble to the ground from the top of a palm tree in the neighbor’s yard! Ah! I exclaimed to the one with me that now we would have all the milk and meat we could desire or need! Just then, however, a huge, black demon in human form leaped down from the palm branches, wielding an immense machete with which he had hacked down the coconuts and proceeded to mutilate some on the ground. He looked over at me and laughed and laughed: You can’t cross this barrier to come for any of these! Then he laughed more as he sauntered off.
Later, my night work began. I was sent to a nursing home somewhere, and I was to help the elderly and a couple or more unfortunate younger people, maimed by accident and illness. I was working along with the nursing home activities director. As I did my best to encourage the residents to become involved and motivated in the activities and to be enthused in what they could do and be despite their plights, I also found myself becoming frustrated with two residents who didn’t want to cooperate or try. I could tell my heart just wasn’t in the job as much as it should have been.
A spirit, a saint, took me aside. He was enshrouded in a green mist and did not reveal himself or manifest in any identifiable form. But I heard his spiritual voice, and he spoke to me at length. It was not necessary for me to be able to remember in the conscious world his instructions; they were known to me interiorly in that realm and time. Upon awakening to this realm, in early dawn, I was at peace that I did not need to remember the words but to know the essence was instilled. I sense now that he spoke words of encouragement to me, and also that I must work in these other realms and assignments with as much spiritual grace and strivings even more so than what I might attempt on earth. I also sense God was wanting me to know that I must move on into these assignments and break from the earthly distraction in wrapping up a recent assignment. Work and life goes on, here and there, both. I must make the transition.
When I considered this nursing home work, I had an inkling of wonderment, maybe a twinge of questioning its reality. Immediately I was shown a time around ten years ago or so when my uncle was hospitalized. I had been to visit him in a nearby city hospital during the day, and that night I was taken to see him, to make a supernatural visit. In the morning light, again in my bed where I then lived, I was told firmly, “Think with your heart! Think with your heart! Think with your heart!” I knew I had seen my uncle, and he was tied down to his bed whereas the day before he had not been. My mother and aunts were readying to visit him that day, and I let them know that they should not be alarmed, but they would find him tethered down since he had struggled during the night. My mother and one aunt rebuked me, adamantly insisting that he was not tied down, that they had been there in the evening after I had seen him. I kept quiet about how I had gone during the night, but I said again, “Well, just don’t be alarmed when you see him today.” When they returned a few hours later, my mom and aunt apologized for having been so argumentative, for he was tied down when they arrived and were told he had to be restrained during the night. My mom later asked me how I had known, and I simply told her I had “dreamed it.” But, it was more than some dream.
So it is, and yet I still tend to doubt, which is probably not at all pleasing to God. Doubt is not good; He always says to believe and have faith. However, discernment is necessary. But, I do think that confidence would facilitate the nightwork, as I call it now. I am more and more open to doing His will at night, and yet I have no earthly guidance for this work. It is very difficult to find a priest (who is safest for revealing confidential matters) who can help me discern and uncover anything that might be helpful in my doing a better and better job for God. So, I think maybe I ought to know that God will help me from that realm, perhaps as He did with that haze-shrouded saint taking me aside and talking to me last night. Yet, even in this, I must be discerning. The demons were loose last night, too.
The demons verified for me that something I had done, which took more courage than what I have but God provided the motion to at least drag my limp carcass in to report a wrong and put the words in my mouth—something I had done had not turned out quite how I thought it might. These two were sneering, leering, and the one openly laughing. The whacking out the coconuts and hacking some on the ground was quite symbolic of the sexual aspects of what I had to report. The second demon castrated the palm tree. And even the palm branches—the same as used to wave when the people sang glad hosannas to the King of Kings on His entry into Jerusalem—prior to His Crucifixion. And yes, prior to His resurrection and redeeming the whole human race! I must not forget that important part! So, I am now reminded to not lose heart, to have confidence and faith, and to know that even though it seems as if I am hedged out of the nourishing milk craved and needed, and even if the demons laugh at my attempts to right some wrongs and get some help for someone who now seems to be himself mocking his condition and not being realistic about it—life goes on, jobs for God go on, and Jesus will have the last and most glorious hosanna.
This afternoon I became increasingly peeved, Lord Jesus. I started to complain and be angry about my failures, and also about the seeming inconsistency and loss of values. I let it get to me that I may have been discredited when I spoke truth. I even started wondering if I have deceived myself in thinking there were any truths covered over or from which I hid and protected myself. Doubts, doubts, and loss of stability of mind. I complained that no one in the Church was here to help me figure out these strange experiences, to help me do a better job with them, and that sharing with a couple of friends seemed so wrong, somehow. More doubt, more lack of confidence and faith in Your Divine Providence!
Looking at my Certificate of Confirmation which I have gold-framed, I even considered removing it and chopping it in tiny pieces. Well, by then I was laughing some, knowing how juvenile that would be—like when a little girl and I got so into imaginative play with a baby doll I called Roy Rogers, that I had him shot up in a gunfight, using my snub-nosed scissors to cut that poor doll to near shreds before I realized what I had done in such dramatic play, and then had to hide the remains in the midst of garbage and wait for several months for Christmas to ask for another doll. Fortunately, my dad traveled much and my mom was studying so much for her college degree and my being a third daughter, they didn’t keep track of my dolls. Anyway, I thought of this when I looked at my Confirmation Certificate, and then I decided I’d better write it all out to You, Lord, and in the meantime talked to two friends, and vented, and now it is all better. I know that You have it all in Mind and Sacred Heart, all this stuff, and tonight I pray to have more purity of heart and intention if You so choose to let me have another chance in any night work. And to any demons, get more lost than you are already! And to my angel, thanks for being with me always, and to that saint who talked to me, I pray I was paying attention totally and will do as you instruct in the other realms. Thanks that I can laugh all this stuff off. It takes a sense of humor in this world and beyond. Forgive my impatience and any anger or frustrations (all these coming from pride, as the confessor this morning said), and help me discipline myself against thinking I need anyone but You with whom to talk this stuff over. I really didn’t mind and didn’t panic when that water washed over and over, and filled my mouth and lungs to drowning. I seemed more like an amphibious being, as it all seemed peaceful and natural and without struggle. This is how I must remain in the current earthly situation that is, hopefully, coming to a close—at least my part in it. But if not, I remain Your trying-to-be-humble servant. Let me know if You want me to write this kind of stuff in a private journal or if it is o.k. to write in this blog. I only want to do what is right by You.
And, dearest Jesus-Love, I offer myself again for any assignment here on earth for which You think You can take a chance on me, and to which I might be sort of qualified, by Your graces and will.
Mother Mary, make me just like you in mind and body; purify me to be acceptable to Jesus’ will and desires. Heart of Jesus, make my heart like unto Thine!
posted by The Catholic Hermit | 8:55 AM
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