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Life is a crazy journey. Sometimes it’s a fun ride at the carnival, occasionally it’s a walk on the beach, and sometimes it’s like getting lost in the jungle and you have no idea how to get through the thick brush and vines that are tripping you up as your trudge on forward.

When Sandy and I lived on 4th street eleven years ago, we were stuck in a canopy of thorns in the jungle and way over our heads with the dark energy in that house. We made the best of a bad situation, and jumped headfirst into a pit of denial.

I say that now, all these years later because while writing this series, it brought back so many memories that I had long buried of nightmares, unwanted visitors, (or residents – as the case may be) and negative energy.

Now, I’m the first to tell you that my religious upbringing shaped the way I see things. In my church, demons and devils were the norm and waiting around every corner to pounce on you when you screwed up. Worse, they were waiting to test you in some way – even if you were flawless in character. Spiritual warriors went out looking for them – on purpose!

It wasn’t until four or five years ago that I really began to reach for different explanations. It was then I accepted my gifts as a good thing – and began passionately searching for a different paradigm and a new belief system.

I’m telling you this now because I realized after writing the first three parts in this series, how much of that horrific experience, and my memories of it – are colored by my upbringing. Some of those memories were buried so deep and my typing fingers went so fast, they brought up things I had forgotten until I was proofing my blog. Such as, the demonic books, robes, and the cursed door.

That’s scary.

I thought that writing about these events would be a catharsis for me, to let out these fears and let them go. I posted them because they were fascinating and frightening. And hey -I write books about the paranormal. While I have scores of psychic experiences to share, there is something very dark – and well, wrong about sharing these particular ones.

While I’ve mentioned this is my go-to place for scary memories – I’d forgotten about what I’ll call, The Resident. While going through those pictures, something shifted for me. I felt sick and began having nightmares again. After last week’s post, I had an unwanted visitor. I’m not going to share the details, only that I was trapped back in that basement and face to face with it. Whether it was real or not, the nightmare brought back the very tangible terror I felt while living there and had locked behind a door in my mind. As if I was still in that house so many years ago.

Not fun.

While I would love to continue the series for the readers, I’m going to have to back off for now.
I will tell you we escaped the fire that burned down the house on 4th street.

Thank you for understanding.

Sometimes,
Some things -
Are better left in the ashes of our old lives.

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