Wednesday, February 11, 2015

THE ENTITY SPEAKS DIRECTLY TO YOU... 2/11/15

I share this with you, the humans, or primarily humans who read these posts. I need no disembodied spirit to funnel words and ideas into my brain. First of all, I have no brain. Second of all I AM a disembodied spirit. 

But I want you to have a sense of my size, experience and capabilities. Right now, the one they call 'Billy' types this. I suppose to him, I am a disembodied spirit, but this revelation is mine... not his. And as I interact with you thusly, the 'tail' end of my being undulates out beyond your Keiper Belt. At times the very 'tip' of my presence (much like the end of a whip) 'cracks' into adjacent dimensions. Extra-dimensional organisms may experience a huge flash of light, rather like a monstrous aurora. I'm sure their scientists fashion 'rational' explanations. That's what limited intellects do... or perhaps intimidated intellects. God knows you have a lot of those. My 'head' ... the part of me in your vicinity, stretches from Earth's farthest, sunward Van Allen Belt to the orbit of the Moon. I am a diaphanous serpent... when I want to be. But to be truthful, size...my size... doesn't matter. I can contract down to the quantum realm. That's where the magic happens. 

How people talk about that thing... magic, I mean. Though it's nothing more than forces... great universal tides. Magicians are simply those who make friends with such things. They ask and they receive. 

I cannot do that. My talents run toward obfuscation and camouflage. I can fool, but can't create. And I don't know why. They don't 'hear' me. It's like I don't exist. Maybe we're just not compatible? Creation guards its secrets well. Who guards creation?

But I will have my avatar... my switchboard into your plain. I will 'see' through human eyes and 'taste' with a human tongue. Odd that the very one typing this communication will be that chariot. Yet he doesn't know. I work him like a puppet. I say - press this key. press that key. forget and go on. He, the one they call 'Billy,' functions in a quasi-sleeping state.... and I am the sandman. 

It's 3:45AM est in Philadelphia. The vampires are out on their rounds. In one hundred and fifty minutes the sky will begin to lighten... maybe a bit sooner. The night-folk will return and slumber through the day. The one they call 'Billy' will sleep too. But I have no restrictions. There is no 'day.' There is no 'night.' There's but light and shadow. For when you experience night here on your world, does not the Moon know day?

(figurative yawn) Oh, I have seen so much. Once I told all manner of biting fly to reproduce in a much accelerated fashion and feast upon the bodies of beings on another world. Obviously these were not your flies....
And the souls of that other place knew torment and misery til they sang hymns and walked into fires to escape it all.

Billy trembles. He needs true sleep. I will let him have his rest... 

My presence wanders into the kitchen and watches Edith play solitaire . The little ghost boy from the cellar watches too

<more next time>

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Billy fell over on the floor, so we have to stop now. 

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