Seventh Residence

  ... A Mobile Home

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It was towards the end of April that I decided to buy a mobile home. I was feeling secure at work and began to have a deep sense of belonging here—i.e., love. So I asked a friend at work, who in turn referred me to a friend who was a dealer. The first place I looked at, about a half mile up Rogue River Highway (east), is the one I bought. It was kind of spur of the moment, but I was already considering a home in the park I was at, and for $2,500 more this was much nicer. Besides, having lived in my trailer for over a year, it was a big contrast. Moving in only involved pulling my trailer over to the new park, where I parked it out back for a nominal fee. I moved in on May 1st.

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But I was only there a month when I quit my job. I had been working a lot of overtime (often a fourteen hour day), when they hired a new person, who I didn't get along with. The work area was also dirty and stank, wreaking of cigarette smoke—and smelled like dirty socks! But I was more agitated with the new person, who brought his per- sonal problems to work. He was continually jabbering and whistling, or singing; not quietly, but to the point of filling the whole room, to get every-one's attention. And it was a big distraction! I spoke to my boss about it at least twice before telling him I wanted to quit. I rescinded a few days later, but continued to have problems. A week or two later I gave him a month's notice, which he wouldn't accept, and he let me go that day. Thus I was without a job—abruptly—and found myself paralyzed, and unable to do anything for three weeks (a month?).

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I then went around the mobile home park asking people if they wanted the pine needles cleaned off their roofs. There were mostly senior citizens there and, a lot of pine trees. They were glad to have me do this, and I cleaned a half-dozen roofs in the next two weeks (and got paid). Soon afterwards I ran an ad in the paper, saying I did yard-work and odd jobs, and began working twenty to thirty hours a week. About three weeks later I ran ad in the free paper out of Medford, and got a job with an elderly man in Rogue River, working forty hours a week. He had just moved up from Los Angeles and was developing his property. I worked for a month or two but all we did was argue and bicker (as he did with most everyone), and I finally decided to leave.

  ... New Neighbors

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When I first moved in, the mobile home next to me was also vacant, and around June 1st my neighbor moved in. She was an older woman, in her early fifties, and we got along real well. Like me she was also out of work, and she decided to do some nursing (for the elderly) and some house sitting. We became good neighbors, as I continued to do things to help her out around the house: cleaning her roof, fixing the telephone, installing carpet in her bathroom, mowing and watering the lawn, etc..

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She knew I was out of work and kept telling me to apply for unemployment, because of what happened when I left. Initially I didn't want to, thinking I could make enough doing yard-work, nor did I think I was eligible. But there were periods when I was out of work and, as I was beginning to feel happy here, I didn't want to jeopardize that. She kept saying it wouldn't hurt to apply, and when I finally did, I was surprised to find I was eligible (about two or three months after I quit). Thus it became the extra insurance I needed, to help me through the next year.

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Later that summer I had my mother come and visit. I was thinking about getting her to move here and wanted her to see the area. So I drove down to Santa Rosa to pick her up, and while driving through California, I couldn't help but think how much better off I was than Californians—to the point of arrogance—for judgment would soon be passed onto the world, and I had escaped (and California was "center stage"). Such were my "religious ideas," and it was something Roy Masters continued to stress.

  ... Lower Lake

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When driving back to Oregon we decided to visit my aunt in Lower Lake, which is essentially out in the middle of nowhere. (I spoke of her when staying with my cousins in Cupertino.) We drove through Calistoga, up over Mt. St. Helena on Highway 29, and through Clear Lake—a very windy road. I wasn't aware of it when driving over the hill, but the most unusual thing was about to happen. My clutch was about to go out. (While I stopped to adjust it once, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.) We continued to drive and, when I missed my aunts turn-off on Highway 20, I hit the brakes hard, but without engaging the clutch. And there was a loud pop! Something was noticeably wrong, but I figured it was only the clutch adjustment. We were only two blocks away and drove over to my aunt's, and stopped to visit while I adjusted the clutch. Fortunately she was home! (We dropped by unannounced.)

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When we left we only got a few miles before we knew the clutch was gone. We turned around and barely made it back: as the truck pulled into the driveway there was no friction on the clutch-plate! Who's to say what would have happened if I didn't hit the brakes hard like this?—indeed the clutch was ready to go—where would it have broken-down? It was still 350 miles to Oregon! So we spent the weekend at my aunt's, as I repaired the clutch, my first time ever. And being mechanically inclined, she helped out, and we both got greasy and dirty!

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Now it seemed like an act of providence that we were delivered to her doorstep, and though it wasn't stated outright, we all knew it was. Hence it coincides with Dionysus, where he and his mother Semele were washed ashore (in a chest) at Ino's doorstep! at Lower Lake? And, as Semele had died, Ino was charged with his upbringing. Like I said earlier, my aunt was one of the only people to help me out as a youth, and one of the only people I identified with—a relationship developed after my "mother's destruction" (after she went to the mental hospital).While there I reflected on this relationship, and determined I had grown beyond it.

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My mother spent the next two weeks with me in Oregon. She enjoyed her stay and was considering the move. Before leaving we drove to Crater Lake, a two-hour drive, and it was very beautiful. We then drove back to Santa Rosa, and I drove home the next day. All of this time I was still working for the man in Rogue River, and when I got back I started stacking firewood for two or three days. The next day (Saturday) I went fishing along the Upper Rogue, which was on the way to Crater Lake (over an hour's drive). It was late in the afternoon and I caught a very nice trout. It was getting dark when I left. When I got home I started to cook the fish, and a drop of oil spattered onto my arm. My whole body twinged, as a tingling sensation ran up and down my spine. Needless to say I'd hurt my back. With all of this driving and stacking wood, my back muscles had weakened, and this was all it took. It probably wouldn't have if I had gotten some rest.

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I knew something was wrong, but not how serious it was, so I went to work on Monday to finish stacking firewood. But when I started to complain about the pain, all this man could do was accuse me of lying. He said he'd seen it all before, having been a foreman in a machine shop in Los Angeles for many years, and I was only interested in the insurance money. He was getting old and senile—and incompetent—and this was his way of protecting himself, rather than show any real concern. I continued to work a few days, "in pain," but we continued to bicker and I decided I had enough. The pain was chronic, but subsided a couple of months later when I began to exercise: lifting weights and doing back-raises. It was about this time that he called me back, to work a few weeks in the fall. And, though we continued to bicker, I left when I was out of work this time.

  ... Daughter Moves in

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My mother came up again in December, to spend Christmas, and all she did was complain about the cold. It was about the time my neighbor's youngest daughter moved in (she was about 22), a week or two before Christmas. She came up with her boyfriend from Modesto—"after moving back from Iowa"—and both were living off her mother, and the little money she had. And her mother told me how thoughtless and irresponsible this was.

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As her mother spent most of her nights out, house sitting or nursing, it wasn't long before all hell broke loose. One night while my mother was there, she turned the stereo up. It was after midnight and really blaring and I went over to tell them to shut it off. When she answered the door she was drunk. (Her mother spoke about her drinking problem later.) I told her she had no business playing the stereo this late and would have to shut it off. When her boyfriend came to the door he was drunk—and fuming. I said they'd better shut it off and insisted I'd get them kicked out of the park. He tried to argue, when I said it again and left. I questioned whether I was too assertive, but I was looking out for my interest and her mother's, and the last thing I wanted was things to get out of hand in the middle of the night. Which after all is why I moved from California, to get away from this kind of crap!

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They turned the music off about twenty minutes later, but it's clear it didn't go over well with them. And the very next day, later that evening, she began to stomp on the floor, and they were soon yelling at each other. It seemed to last a half-hour, and they did it at least once more. This may have been when I called the cops, though I think it was a few nights later when I called them twice. (I think I called them once afterwards.) I found out later they were yelling because he was trying to get her to keep it down—and, as her mother described it, she was very unruly. He left within a few weeks.

  ... Evil Spirits

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So the stage was set, and it appeared the late-night disturbances would continue. I was getting angry, and beginning to feel leery. I also had problems with her mother coming home at night, with her driveway less than ten feet from my living room, where I slept. (I preferred to sleep in the living room; while my mother had been sleeping in the bedroom.) Though it often woke me, it was mostly unavoidable, and I refrained from getting upset. While at some point I began to sleep in the bedroom, for it was further from the driveway but, it didn't seem to make much difference. It was the night after my 29th birthday when it happened (on January 11th). The mother came home with her older daughter (she was in her early thirties) and it disturbed me. I was having a dream and in it I cursed in God's name, and an evil spirit entered my "left jaw." Typically it happens on my left side, in accord with a part that's vulnerable or "exposed" (or overworked). And I awoke.

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It wasn't that traumatic, for I wasn't too "wound-up" (upset) at the time. But it was disheartening, for I had succumbed, and it was plain I hadn't learned to cope with it. And, while her boyfriend left just prior to this (I had hoped to get a handle on things), it was of little consolation. What it did was open the door to "my fears," and I couldn't keep it shut. Indeed this is what happened. And for the next few weeks I went through a phase of disorientation, as I tried to reconcile myself.

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It wasn't long before she had a new boyfriend, after she started working for a nursing home at night (he was a nurse there), and the pattern with the noise and arguing continued. Like the previous boyfriend, he tried to get her to keep it down. While at some point I began to pressure her mom, insisting she get her to leave, and I wouldn't let up. She kept complaining of how irresponsible she was anyway. I still continued to work for her, but without consulting the daughter. Ordinarily I would have, but it was my way of letting her know I didn't care for her behavior. At one point I was up on the roof sweeping the pine needles off, and though it was late in the morning, around 11 a.m., I figured she was still sleeping. Once she began to curse at me from the kitchen window, when I was sweeping the pine needles out of the driveway. It was late in the afternoon and I kept hearing these vile utterances, wondering where they were coming from. It went on for about ten minutes before I realized it was her. I think I must have startled her or, she thought I was snooping around the trailer.

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Needless to say it was only the beginning with the evil spirits, and a month or so after the first possession, the second possession occurred. From there it progressively got worse, as things began to unravel and "cascade." They started to happen one right after the other, sometimes within days of each other. (This is what I was referring to in my fifth residence.) And it was about this time that I began "my wanderings," all over Southern Oregon: as I camped out to try and put some distance between myself and my neighbors.

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While it was in April I believe, that I went back to work for the old man in Rogue River, and I spoke of my problems with my neighbors (but not about the spirits). And it was about the time I fixed up my travel trailer and put it on consignment, for my unemployment benefits were running out. While fixing it, the roof was leaking and the wallpaper needed replacing, I started sleeping out there, and got some relief from my neighbors. It wasn't enough though, and I soon put my mobile home up for sale (possibly after my first night out).

  ... A Revealing Dream

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At one point I had a very revealing dream about this young woman. Where I was with another spirit, "a man," who spoke of finding some women "for pleasure." We started to look and when we found someone suitable, he started having intercourse with her, doing pretty much as he pleased. When he was about through he said, "Okay it's your turn," and I started to get ready. But when I looked over at the young woman's face it was very beautiful—and yet, very sad, the saddest face I'd ever seen. And I began to cry. At which point I awoke and exclaimed, "Okay I know who you are! You're the Devil! And you won't get away with it!" And I started shaking my fists. When I fell back asleep I had another dream, about an evil spirit with a hideous face. We began to struggle and it eventually overpowered me, as it got inside of me near my heart. (It was about my seventh possession.) When I awoke I was furious, and heard my neighbor's daughter up with the TV blaring. I sensed she somehow seduced me (even though she didn't), and later the next day I started pounding my fist on the inside walls of the mobile home.

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Soon afterwards, around my tenth possession, in May? I encountered David at Tall Timber Ranch (which I speak of in chapter 13, regarding King Lycurgus). This was the ultimate slap in the face, and I was clearly on my own. And later that day I received a phone-call, from someone threatening me and calling me a vile name. It was in response to the letter I'd written to Freedom to Express, a local paper with no affiliation with Roy Masters. Yet I believe it was an offshoot from his being there, for one of its editors, "David," was later put in charge of the FHU. (This is the same person I refer to in chapter 8.) In it I accentuated Roy Masters' right to be there, saying he had just as much right as the next person, and I gave a very good argument. And it was during the middle of my crisis! (I thought it might help counteract the negativity I was experiencing.) It was also the first pro-Roy Masters article I was aware of, written by someone other than the paper's staff. It seemed nobody wanted to go out on a limb. So it's ironic that I received the phone-call on this day.

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Soon after this, my neighbor told me the "whole story" about her daughter. Of how she was a good kid until she got into the liquor cabinet in high school, and started hanging out with the wrong crowd. And how she and her "second husband" were heavy drinkers—"and socializers"—and didn't find out until it was too late, a year or two later. I believe this is when I told her about Roy Masters, and showed her the article I'd written in the Iconoclast Magazine.

  ... The New Boyfriend

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The daughter also had another boyfriend, an "ex-cop." Which leads me to ask why? I believe he was let go for being over-zealous. And he let her borrow his old dilapidated pickup truck, after she wrecked the car her mother's friend gave her—the one I was asked to work on. And while much of the noise at night had subsided, the truck more than made up for it. It needed a muffler and a tune-up and, both doors were sprung. So when she got home, often with her "previous boyfriend," it sputtered badly and the doors made an awful crash! Thus she continued to disturb my sleep, and the demons continued their onslaught.

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It was about this time that I realized something essential about this woman, and began to wonder if she was that missing counterpart in my life—to offset "my emptiness and callousness." I felt this deeply and knew I had to find a way to reconcile things with her. And like I said in Daphne, the truth dawned, and she appeared like a "wonderful sun" coming up in my mind. Hence it seems no coincidence that it occurred on my "29th birthday," and that she was from Iowa the "29th state," both of which correspond to Daphne (as does the year "85"). It's one reason I've gone into so much detail here, for it signified the beginning of the end—"of all I knew"—and the most phenomenal change. While in Revelation 11, it speaks of the "two witnesses," who prophesy "42 months" before the advent of the New Church. This was about how long it took me to recover, and to assume a new direction in life (what I proclaimed on July 11th, 1988).

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I brooded over this for a few days, and at one point cried out—in my heart—hoping she'd sense my concern; I needed to bridge this "great rift." And, as everything seemed to unfold in a prearranged way, to assume a "spiritual precedence," it seemed like the thing to do. Besides I didn't know what else to do. Thus from my point of devastation, I called some "spiritual entity" to me, and sensed she somehow responded. It felt like someone or something was there, and in my heart I imagined she was on the couch with me, as I held and caressed her. (It wasn't sexual.) Indeed it was very soothing—and, felt like I had "tapped into something."

  ... The Letter

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I then opted to write her a letter, to try and explain "my dilemma." Which was the most unusual thing, for as soon as I began to write it, she came to the door! I was sure my prayers had been answered, that it was confirming my experience above. While it was essentially the first time we met, except briefly at her door the first night, and once when I did something for her mother (when I was working on her car?); she was laying on the couch and we didn't say much. I believe this is why she approached me, for it was plain I only wanted to help, and not give her a bad time.

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She was noticeably upset and I asked if I could help. I invited her in and we began to talk, and I tried to calm her down. She said she and her friends were at the Rogue River the night before, and lost the keys to her boyfriend's truck. She asked if we could drive over and look for them, and I said we could. When we got there we scoured the area but couldn't find them. And, as I said in Daphne, she expressed a special fondness for the river at this time. She said they also drove to the Applegate River seven miles away (in another car), and she could have lost them there. I suggested we go there and look but, that we first try and move the truck, which was parked down the boat-ramp in the way. We spent the next half-hour trying to push it with my truck, but to no avail; and I nearly burned out the clutch. We then drove to the Applegate River and spent forty-five minutes there.

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Unfortunately we couldn't find the keys and we had to come back. When we got back we sat on her mom's front steps and began to talk. We then went inside to see if anything was in the refrigerator, as it was getting late. (Her mother wasn't home.) She then said she wanted to see a movie, and insisted I go with her; she was grateful and wanted to spend more time with me. But she was beginning to take control and I didn't think it was a good idea. I was out of my element and knew it wouldn't work if I let her "lead me by the nose," like her previous boyfriends. I wanted more than a one night stand.

  ... The Argument

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So I turned her down, but she wouldn't accept, and we spent the next twenty minutes going back and forth. We were practically arguing when I suggested she was irresponsible, and she got furious, and started calling me a "filthy pig." I believe she was referring to how I looked, for I just got off of work before she came to my door (i.e., I was still working for the man in Rogue River). So I got up and said I was leaving, while she got up from the sofa and headed for the door—all the while shouting. A strong young woman, and very willful, we both struggled. I had to tackle her to get her out of the way! When we got up I apologized and said I didn't mean to get her upset. Then grabbing my arms, and swinging them, she looked me in the face and endearingly said it was alright. I then said I had to go and left.

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That was about the extent of it, so I figured I'd play it cool and wait and see what happened. Sure enough she asked for a ride a few days later, to the hearing on her car accident. I said I would, and while it proceeded, I waited in the courtroom. I drove her home afterwards. I had also finished the letter, and wondered if I should give it to her, but I held off. I wanted to get to know her better, nor was it the time or place.

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Having referred to "my dream" in the letter, I said it reminded me of Marilyn Monroe, who was very beautiful but had to suffer tragically, because she let people take advantage of her. And I made the comparison to her, and spoke of my concern. (Her mother said she also won a beauty contest in Iowa.) And I spoke of my experiences with the evil spirits, and about pounding my fist on the inside of the trailer, as well as the experience where I imagined caressing her on the couch. And, attempting to suggest it was spiritually ordained, I referred to marriage, and said I hoped to take her to heaven with me—which, uncannily portrays Dionysus and Ariadne, when they ascended to heaven together. And it was the first time I had ever done this!

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There's no doubt its content was questionable—"even creepy"—but considering my state of duress, and the surrounding circumstances, who can say how wrong it was? I wasn't fabricating it, and it was the only plausible thing I understood. Yet I know I wouldn't allow it to happen again today, nor am I condoning someone else's behavior. This theme is continued into my eighth residence, with wilder results, while I speak of something similar that happened at work in 1990 (the next chapter), but without all the implications. Perhaps I can give some insight into why people do this, and dissuade others from doing it.

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I gave her a ride a couple of days later, to the house of the elderly woman she was caring for. This is when it was apparent she wasn't interested, and she received me coolly that day. And like Apollo, he was struck with love, while Daphne showed no interest. Hence it seems fitting to equate Apollo with Dionysus, for theirs was the relationship between truth and good, i.e., you can't have one without the other; and while the truth predominated with Apollo, and good with Dionysus, elements of both are contained in each. (Hence Daphne becomes Pasiphae, the mother of Ariadne.) Indeed, their relationship signified the height of Greek culture. Thus being the period where I was ascertaining the truth in my life, without the full comprehension of good—"as I equate with Roy Masters' church"—it seems fitting that I correlate it with Apollo.

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I was also concerned about her boyfriend, for I expected her to dump him if my beliefs were correct. I knew they weren't right for each other, and even heard her mother emphatically say over the phone he was a fool for believing her (she also spoke to me about her lies); and in my own mind I knew he had no business being there. But she continued to see him, and I got more anxious. I then opted to make my move, and gave her the letter a couple of days later, the day they went on a picnic.

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It was the next day I believe, that I spoke to her mother, and tried to develop an alliance with her: I was hoping she could steer the boyfriend away. Suggesting she ease up on her daughter, and take more responsibility for her problems, she became very defensive—even hostile—putting most of the blame on her daughter. It was clear she was trying to sweep it under the rug, and wasn't treating her daughter fairly. This is when I got angry, and determined this whole misunderstanding was mostly her doing; and her daughter became the true heroine. In fact if it wasn't for this, I wouldn't have pursued things further, for I didn't intend to take it past giving the daughter the letter. I was only more determined. So it was out of spite—with intensified feelings for the daughter—that things got out of hand.

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It was clear I couldn't count on the mother, nor did the daughter get back to me, though I spoke to her about it once. I was getting more anxious as I wrote her a couple of notes and stuck them on her door: saying I awaited her reply and she shouldn't delay (with a sense of urgency). I also started sleeping with the shades open in the living room, on the sofa-bed, and turning the porch light on when she got home. And while it was questionable behavior, I really was lovesick. This is what I ascribe to "giving the chase" in Daphne, and it went on for about a week, until the night they both came home in his car.

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I turned the porch light on and opened the door, as they drove up and parked in front of her mother's. They stayed in the car and talked, and she started gesturing to him. I just stood there and glared. I wasn't sure they saw me, for it was a good fifty feet, and they weren't looking my way. I figured they were ignoring me "as usual." It went on for five or ten minutes, until I finally decided I had enough. It was clear she wasn't responding—for she was still hanging out with him! Little did I know she was scared to death! I then decided if he wanted her he could have her and walked outside. Of course I hadn't said anything to him before, feeling he was only interfering and didn't merit my acknowledgment. (Similar to his game?) While the words of her mother kept ringing in my ears—"What a fool!"

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I walked up to the car and knocked on the window, which startled him. When he rolled it down I said, "Hey, let's shake hands and forget about the whole thing." He then got out and, it was soon apparent he was accustomed to getting his way by bullying people. Thinking he had me all figured out he started to grimace and threaten me. I was just another piece of low life scum, and he was going to demand retribution for terrifying this poor helpless creature in his car. It quickly turned into a scuffle, and I did all I could to hold him off. Indeed he was big and muscular—and powerful. Fortunately I'd been working out and doing yard-work, otherwise he would have overcome me in a short time. As it was we scuffled for about a half-hour.

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He tried to project this hideous monster into me, to get me angry and/or scared, and get me to succumb. And he put on a big display, the mighty warrior that he was, to try and impress her, and show how he could wipe out any scum that got in their way. And I knew he was trying to justify what he wanted to do next—beat the daylights out of me or even kill me. I wasn't putting it past him. While he kept telling me how much he loved her? All I sensed was a huge ego, for I wasn't soliciting this kind of confrontation. She was also horrified, and asked us both to stop early on, at least twice. But towards the end he overpowered me, and started to pound his fist on my head, before he pulled his gun out of the car and put it to the back of my head and threatened to shoot. Does this give any clue as to why he was an ex-cop?

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He let me go shortly afterwards, after he forced me to apologize to her. But I was undeterred and, as I walked back into the house I exclaimed, "Have a good evening!" But it didn't have to go this far, if he wasn't so intent on putting on a show. If anything he discredited himself, to prove his callousness and cruelty: i.e., who was the real monster? I found out later that they said I was masturbating when I was at the door, which was an outright lie—or, an attempt to save face? (I suspected it was his doing.) If so, why was he startled when I walked up to his window? He clearly wasn't keeping an eye on me—"the creep." While I was in plain view all the time. But because she was terrified, it probably helped get the restraining order that I was served a few days later. It was still a hideous thing to say.

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In the meanwhile her mother approached me saying she heard about what happened and said I was very sick. And later the same day the landlord, who I was in good standing with, came up and started reading me the riot act. And threatened to kick me out of the park if I so much as looked at the girl. I tried telling him about what was happening at night but he was too angry. (I didn't say anything before this because I hadn't had a falling out with the mother yet.) It seems everybody was now against me, and the situation was extremely tense—Gad! It's amazing what one little lie can do. "...and a troop shall over come him, but he shall overcome at the last." Genesis 49:19

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I felt terribly restricted and opted to stay low for awhile, restricting myself primarily to my trailer. Thus when the police officer came to my door it was a welcomed relief. I let him in and we began to talk about my letter. And though he hadn't read it, he said most women were troubled by this kind of material (reference to the Devil), and I concurred. I then spoke of coming between the mother and her daughter's problems, of how it was upsetting me and disturbing my sleep. He acknowledged this before bringing up the restraining order, and asked if I thought I could leave the daughter alone. I said I had already determined this, and that I put my mobile home up for sale and was looking forward to moving. He thought it was a good idea and said there was one last thing he wanted to ask, if I had been masturbating while standing in the door. I was somewhat amazed, but not that surprised it was said, and said no. He seemed satisfied and got up and thanked me for understanding. We then shook hands and he left. Indeed there was quite a contrast between his professionalism and the outright contempt of the daughter's boyfriend.

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A few nights later this whole episode was resolved. It was late, I was in bed and I had fallen asleep. I awoke and heard an eerie noise outside—a haunting noise, like a ghost, trailing off before reoccurring again. I was half awake and kept falling back asleep. Finally I sat up and listened intently. It was the daughter running through the trailer park, with her boyfriend chasing her. She was shouting and taunting him, as he struggled and wrestled with her, trying to bring her under control, all the while it echoed through the park. I surmised she was probably drunk, and/or he was trying to force her into something, i.e., control her the way he did other people—or, it was just his idea of love. I suspected he had a falling out with her and she wanted out (of his clutches). It lasted about a half-hour, and she spent much of the time running through the huge lawn next to the landlord's house. Thus I knew "the fever" had broken, and it was like a great weight falling off my shoulders. And I thought there still might be a chance between us.

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The landlord approached me a couple of days later saying he heard the whole thing and said she really had a problem. (It may have been when I paid the rent.) He then said he misjudged me, and he wouldn't hear another word. I guess he figured I was the same person who had helped out around the property, as well as helped the other tenants. Having mixed feelings about it I was slow to respond, for I didn't want her to get into trouble. I was still relieved though, for it took more of the pressure off, and it was good not to lose his friendship. Little did I know I wouldn't see her again.

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A couple of weeks went by and I began to wonder if she went to live with other relatives, something her mother had talked about. Things were relatively calm now, and I hoped she was ready to see I wasn't the bad guy, and I had weathered this entire storm for proof. I still felt she was close at hand but, I hadn't seen her in over a week. It was like she vanished into thin air! Remember Daphne? And like Apollo I let her go, but pronounced the greatest admiration for her.

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I still wasn't in the clear, for throughout the ordeal I managed to get both mother and daughter upset, and sensitized to the comings and goings of "evil spirits." I knew this was so—which is why the daughter finally left—for something later happened to the mother, and under similar circumstances to mine when I was overpowered. I won't go into specific detail but, it was something I clearly understood. And due to a high level of tension, coupled with a sense of feeling trapped, with no recourse, it sets the stage—"for trauma." And when she started banging on the walls of her trailer at 4:00 o'clock in the morning I knew this is what happened.

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And just before the daughter left, I was experiencing a banging noise in my ears, right at the moment I fell asleep. At the time I thought it was the daughter stomping on the floor; that as soon as I fell asleep it freed up my unconscious (the evil lurking there), which was then directed towards her. Hence I was very apprehensive about going to bed, which didn't help. (Remember the movie, Forbidden Planet?) By waking me up it would subside, as I reflected on my fears and tried to bring them under sway, until I fell asleep again. And it may have happened this way, but the banging noise continued when I moved. I suspect what it did was set up a pattern, that my unconscious mind "latched onto," similar I believe to what happens when people start to hear voices.

193

It was this fear of projecting evil onto someone that perpetuated the situation with the mother. At this point I had little to do with her, but I "assumed" it was understood that this was going on. What else was I to do after what happened? So the spirits continued their assault, as I tried to reconcile myself. At one point I started developing a relationship with her, similar to what I said about the daughter in my letter. It seemed to make a difference then, and I figured it might help with the mother. I didn't know what else to do? So I began to stage things in my mind, and portray all the tension between us, to try and bridge this rift. Effectively I took her to me as a wife. Thus feeling I was at fault for "setting her up," I was to assume responsibility for her soul, as I tried to soothe and comfort her (and protect her). Which indeed is hard to do when you're not in direct contact with someone.

194

It was essentially the first time I began to stage things in my mind—i.e., it was a more sustained effort than with the daughter. I also regard the daughter and mother as the first of the Four Wives of Dennis, as related in chapter 4. And I warn you not to scoff, for there are serious implications! You're apt to open the same door in your mind! Hence there's the seventh commandment, "Thou shalt not commit adultery," which portrays something similar to the Church of Laodicea, the seventh and "lukewarm church." And as I said in the last chapter, it signified an "adulteration of truth." Which indeed was my predicament, for everything had become perverted and twisted around. Not to mention all of the carousing around, by both the daughter and mother; in fact much of it reflected the mother's lifestyle. (She was generally good natured though and didn't do this outright.) And, while it was the severest of trials, I did manage to hold onto my beliefs. Which brings up my reference to Gad, Israel's seventh son and what was foretold about him. So it seems fitting that it apply to my seventh residence. I lived here for seventeen months altogether (from 5/84 to 10/85).