Here is part two of an outline of a proposed book I am writing about my life. All rights reserved--by ME!
Remember of course the first rule: everything I am posting here is false!
When we last left our heroin she had just set out to make it in the big world of business, leaving all her occult weirdness far behind. I wanted to
make a lot of money and also look good so I could have sex with hotties. I had also had a falling-out with my Wiccan friend from college, but that
was just a casualty of growing-up, oh well. I had this weird dream where something was kicking my bed and then I woke up and something was still
kicking my bed so I turned on the radio and John Lennon's "Instant Karma" began to play--but that was just coincidence.
So a couple of months passed, and then I had a dream that my ex-best friend was lunging at me with a large knife, saying "I'll kill you! I'll kill
you!!"In the dream she was almost flying through the air towards me. I woke up, pretty shaken. And a few days later, I dreamt that my ex-best
friend was strangling me in my bed; when I woke up, I still felt as if I was being strangled, and my neck hurt all day. These dreams happened for
quite a while. And so the witch-wars began.
By this point, I found myself being irresistably pulled towards the Gothic. Pulled towards the dark. A similar change had happened to my ex-friend,
about a year before we broke up. She started out being this nature-loving, real elves-and-fairies hug-a-tree and kiss-a-hobbit Wiccan, but then this
Goth darkness fell upon her. She began dressing really Goth and became obsessed with vampires. She began writing lesbian S&M vampire fiction (which,
ya know, I never really apreciated at the time!). And she had this very heightened sense of the war between good-and-evil. About several months
after we broke up, and the witch-wars began happening, it was like I got infected with this dark Goth quality. I know that this sounds like total
bull#, but that's what it felt like. A year passed, and I accidentally ran into her (ok, I didn't accidently run into her. I did a spell so I could
run into her and maybe clear the air--stupidstupidstupid!) She was completely gothed out in leather and lace and so was I. She looked like a
completely different person, and I guess I did as well--a completely different person spiritually, I mean. And she looked at me and I heard in my mind
: "you've just lost your job." And three days later, my company closed.
Well holy #.
And so the witch-wars continued.
After losing my job I went through a series of #ty corporate jobs & I wore a suit every day. My paranormal experiences were happening every day. I
also began actively reading the occult and trying spells and conjurings. I still held on to the belief that I could make it in the corporate world &
would drop the occult # as soon as I "made it." My prophetic dreams were dead-on and happened almost every night. Whenever a co-worker was to be
fired, I always knew ahead of time. I also did some shamanic work in dreams with people I knew during waking hours--these were of a profoundly
healing nature. But most of my occult stuff was chaotic crap. Most of my goals were materialistic crap. My boyfriends were crap. And instant karma
was beginning to get me right in the ass.
I could go into detail into at least 5 genuine weird events in my life during this time-period that resulted from magic--but I'm not ready yet, I
But around 2001 I really made a big effort to turn my life back to the light. I read a lot of positive-thinking books: Deepak Chopra, Creative
Visualization, Don't Sweat The Small Stuff. I stopped drinking, went on a diet, and began an exercise programme. I through all the"dark stuff" out
of my house -- candles, pictures, clothes, movies, books, etc. I felt great. The only occult activity I engaged in was the lightest of light
Wicca--huggin' Hobbits and kissing flowers. I dedicated myself to the Mother Goddess. I also realized I was a little gay (which fit in perfectly
with what was happening on BTVS with Willow, it was all so karmic and beautiful!).
Life was good. And then the towers came down. First the towers were on fire. But I couldn't see them being on fire. They looked normal. I
couldn't understand why everybody was so upset on the train, looking out the window. Then I came to work, and saw the towers come down. And I headed
home, stopped off at the liquor store, bought a case of wine, and hid in my room for several days. It was a horror I could not process.
And why hadn't I dreamt of it? Looking back, there was the slightest of slight tiny hints, but nothing even close to a warning. My sister, who is
the most un-mystical normal woman on the planet, had a bigger warning than me--six months before the disaster she suddenly announced that her job at
the towers was making her sick and she abruptly quit.
I handled the disaster by becoming a total anti-social alcoholic gothic evil little #. If there was such a thing as Darkness that jumps on you and
infects your life, I was living it out. I handled the disaster by watching horror movie marathons. I started to hang up Halloween decorations around
my house. And the paranormal events continued...and they were nasty buggers. I didn't care.
What about my big life in Corporate America? Hell, I realized by then that I wasn't corporate material. How could I be corporate material when I was
going into work shaken because I had just dreamt that I had gone down in a plane crash the previous night & then found out that a plane did go down?
How can I discuss the latest episode of Friends around the water cooler when I just dealt with my co-worker's childhood physical abuse issues during
a dream the night before and now he's looking at me weird (but tender) like he just might remember the intervention...
Um, then I lost my apartment. Then me and my family stopped speaking to each other. Then I realized I wasn't going to get that big promotion at
work but would be kept on as a secretary because "you're so good with those invoices." Then I became a hardcore alcoholic. What was happening
with my life? It had to be the magic, the occult. I had to get rid of it all somehow. But at the same time, there was this dark part of me that
woudn't let it go. It was a struggle. At that point on BTVS, Willow had just gone evil--I was really freaked.
I made a short film and played it in on my VCR on Halloween night. It was about a woman who gets seduced to the occult. I became really queasy, as in
getting really sick. I went home and packed away every occult book I owned, every occult anything, even anything with the color black--with the
intention of either throwing them away or selling them on ebay. I renounced all of my "kooky" mystical ways.
I began to become seriously ill. They gave me medicine, which almost killed me. For three months I was in constant agony from every type of pain
imaginable. Because of the roaming nature of the illnesses, my doctors said it was all psychosomatic and there was nothing they could do. I began to
become allergic to painkillers so I was really #ed. I would have OBEs in the middle of some of the worst pain and briefly materialize in other rooms
of my house.
In the midst of all this misery, something channeled through my roommate. I must say first of all that my roommate is simply not a mystic-type
individual who channels things a la Jane Roberts did with Seth--my roomie is an average Joe. He was talking to me and then his eyes closed and he said
"Cassie has a friend who's a Goddess" and then opened his eyes and went on with his conversation as if nothing happened.
I had some hope. I had more hope as I read about Shaman's Sickness & the mechanics of Kundalini awakenings, which followed the pattern of my
symptoms. After taking a bunch of sick days, I got back to work -- I hated my job and really wished there was a way to follow my spiritual callings
instead, but of course that wasn't practical. So I forged through. And for a month, everything was fine. I was back on a healthy lifestyle, quit
drinking, looked into a retirement package, and was even thinking about buying a nice pair of shoes with heels.
Then the sickness came back. I though I was stronger than it. At night, I dreamt I was facing the most powerful entity imaginable, without form, a
loud vibration, a humming, a humming...
But still I thought I could beat it.
And then one day at work, a bolt of lightning hit my spine with such force that I was knocked right out of my chair.
An electrical force ran up and down my spine as what felt like another vortex opened up at the top of my head and in the middle of my chest. I told
the doctors that it was a panic attack--which was true, in part. I am not a fan of medications but when you are dealing with such a potent force you
need a buffer. I feel you deal with the mundane aspects of a situation with the mundane world, and the fantastic aspects you leave out of it.
But maybe it was just a panic attack.
Two occurences since this experience have proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is something else entirely--I don't feel cool about
delineating exactly what those things were right at the moment. You know, the whole hurl factor
So I probably will write this book, and probably write a bunch more after that. As for the whole dark-vs.-light thing, I walk the grey, it keeps me
And as for my Wiccan friend who nudged me on this path, gave me good advice, and then in a moment of anger compared me to Darth Vader--it is really
too bad we no longer kept in touch. Something tells me we would have had a lot of useful information to share with each other.
And for those who think I'm totally cracked in the head--I did
say that everything in this post was a lie, didn't I?