The Third Wave

Not feminism’s third wave. I’m talking about the third wave of succubus summoners. There appears to be a growing momentum towards a new batch of people online who have a genuine connection with spirit lovers. Most of it looks to be centered around the succubus and Dreamgasm threads on

olgaA few anons in those threads are speaking with an air of authenticity, but there’s obviously no way to be certain they’re not making it all up. Either way, I’d rather be open and accepting of these newcomers rather than risk alienating them. This way of life can be antisocial enough as it is. Perhaps some of them will start new blogs? If not, I’d advise anyone who is interested in the latest discussions about spirit lovers and succubi to keep an eye on those 4chan threads. There are occasionally some excellent posts being shared with genuinely useful information. When work is done kicking my ass, I need to take some time to go through and screen-capture those gems.

Dreamgasm… there’s an interesting new development. Apparently, some anons have had success summoning succubi using the Dreamgasm videos on Youtube as their ritual. There are four videos so far, with most of them being longer than 30 minutes each. They consist of binaural beats, ASMR elements, heavily processed erotic dialogue, and New Age trance drones. This is so fascinating to me. The videos don’t really “do it” for Catherine and I, but if some are getting results, good on them! This further cements my theory that an exacting ritual for summoning doesn’t matter so much as a sufficiently strong will, desire, and belief in the outcome of the operation.

Why am I calling this the third wave? I believe the First Wave was back in 2008 when the succubus lovers from YourGhostStories started the Spirit Sex forum. Harry Holmes and Lily were also part of this wave, as their blog predated mine. The Second Wave began with me and the flurry of blogging activity just after December 21st, 2012. Now, it appears the Third Wave might be gaining momentum on 4chan. This is all just shit that I’m inferring from what I see. These “waves” are by no means officially endorsed by the spirits I interact with. Yet I have heard murmurs of other men with succubi talking about these trends in like-manner, so I’m borrowing from them.

Lastly, we have lost another good blog. Rafe, from ASuccubusLovesMe, has shuttered his very popular site. managed to grab a few snapshots, so my links are all redirecting there now. Hopefully he decides to return. His writing was always a treat and I believe his perspective was sorely needed here. I know that Catherine particularly enjoyed his posts as they would propel her into a “loving frenzy” after reading them.

As can be seen on my links page, the list of active blogs is growing quite sparse. We’re down to five that have been updated in recent months, including my own. If anyone is aware of other blogs or content that I might have missed, please let me know.

EDIT: As can be observed in the comments, Rafe and his blog are back! All links have been updated.

More Milestones

This is getting to be old hat by this point: Our connection just keeps getting better and better. I’m feeling all kinds of new pressure sensations with more movement to them; very gentle, like soft lips, skin, and hair. I need to be really careful talking to Catherine, or just thinking about her, in public as a simple non-sexual thought directed towards her will trigger arousal. God damn! Now I have to readjust to this heightened level of attention all over again.

Work has been kicking my ass. I’m cycling every day, working in freezers, stressing the hell out of the nerves in my arms. This is all just more motivation to get my real job on the road. Study, study, study!

1317867437112Waking up this morning brought about a very clear audible manifestation. I heard what sounded like a group of girls giggling to my left. I was laying on a couch, trying to rest. “Get outta here, you fuckwits.” I said. This only made them laugh more and get closer. I could feel Catherine on top of me, but I couldn’t see anything. “I’m going to blow him.” A beautiful seductive voice said to my left. Then I woke up to the delicious attention as promised.

A few of you have asked me to comment on the Lilith novel by J. R. Salamanca. There’s also a movie which I’ve watched about half-way through. To be frank, I don’t see a connection between the Lilith Arthur character in the book and the Catherine/Lilith I know. Perhaps the sensual aspects, but not the sociopathic elements. Catherine doesn’t cause problems or suffering for the sake of her amusement, as the Lilith character in the book was depicted doing. Also, I just get a bad vibe from the writing style in general. Sorry, it’s just not my thing and these flat depictions simply don’t hold a candle to what being embraced by a loving demon is actually like.

New Horizons

emanuel-mendez-succubusWe did it. We made the move, and probably for good this time. The weather is consistently warmer around here. Catherine prefers this to the cold. She’s quite capable of having sex under the covers, or when I’m fully clothed, but she’d rather “ride bareback,” as she puts it. The feeling is certainly more intimate and powerful.

I’m able to think more clearly in this place. My ambitions and imaginations are already being rekindled. Physically moving across the country seems to have jump-started things moving again in my mind. The connection with Catherine is as powerful as ever.

I’ve managed to acquire regular employment. The job is nothing special, but it’s a job: a solid staging area for the next step. What is the next step? I’m not going to pretend to know at this point. I trust that Catherine will have her hand in this, guiding from the background, building my life into one that’ll allow us to be together as often as possible.

That appears to be her only motive: closeness, sex, and intimacy. She probably could care less what I’m doing with my life, so long as she gets her one-to-three hours per day. (And often times, most of the night.) I really like that about her: I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she really looks forward to being with me when I lie down at the end of the day.

The rest of my day is entirely up to me. She’s happy so long as I’m not overly stressed, or tired too often. We’re still working out the details concerning “what’s next.” I suspect it’ll have little, if anything, to do with the occult or magick for the time being. That realm is a constant undercurrent through my consciousness and I do not feel the need to seek it out overly much. Enough trouble finds me without going to search for it!

There is a new book that I want to get:


I’m convinced that the Qliphoth is my current. Catherine resonates with it more than any other kind of system I’ve tried. This book appears to cover just about everything I’d wish to know before diving in first-hand. This will be my first recreational purchase when the paychecks start rolling in.

Sit-Down Conversation

This is based on a dream I had this morning:

She caught me with my pants down, as usual.

“It’s okay,” She didn’t even laugh, “You’re taking a long journey out there in the snow.”

I was struggling to adjust my rain pants against the bottom layers underneath. “These damn things are always riding up!”

Catherine sat next to me on the stairs. She didn’t seem to mind how ridiculous I looked. With one last tussle against the stubborn fabric, I was comfortable and collapsed heavily on the stair.

“Phew!” I looked at her and couldn’t help but smile. “Can’t wait to not be doing this routine anymore.”

“We’re going someplace better soon,” Her eyes seemed to shine up brighter than usual as she spoke, “No more fighting with the snow… or layers of thermal underwear.”

Catherine always had a regal feeling about her, but this time she took on a younger, more innocent looking guise. Her hair was dirty blonde with gentle curves and waves. Her clothing was befitting a country girl’s taste; boot-cut denim jeans with an oxford sleeveless top. Those blue eyes that shined so brightly drew me in more than anything else. Her majesty was still present and accounted for, yet hiding just beneath the surface. Like royalty who wants to experience being normal for a day.

bannerxThe setting around us changed suddenly. Instead of sitting inside the cool, uncomfortable confines of my old church, we found ourselves deep in the woods on a quiet summer’s evening. The stairs of the church foyer were exchanged for the back steps of my best friend’s house. We were in bluegrass country.

Catherine and I began to talk. Away from the false pretenses of make-believe institutions, I felt much more comfortable opening up to her.

“They tell me that you enjoy radio.” She said. I had no idea who “they” were, but I answered anyway.

“Yeah, though I gravitate more towards the classical programs they play on NPR.”

God, that sounded snobbish. I thought. “What do you like to listen to?”

“Talk radio.” She replied, without missing a beat.

I blinked in surprise, “Really? Like Rush Limbaugh? Howie Karr? Those guys?”

“Sometimes,” Her smile grew as though she was about to land a whopper of a punch-line, “I’ve had to adjust my tastes, living with you for so long.”

“So, you went from being a conservative to a red-pilled conspiracy theory buff?” I chuckled, though still wary about the verbal trap I might’ve been waltzing into.

“No, it’s more like being a girl, who just wants to find love, falling head-over-heels, and figuring out the details as we go.” She explained.

I didn’t say it out loud, but I figured that was a nice way of her saying, I don’t like the crazy stuff you listen to. Let’s just make love already!

“You should check out Bill Cooper’s radio shows.” I offered, half-jokingly.

“Oh, really?” She snuggled up closer as the environment changed yet again.

“Yeah, Behold A Pale Horse, and shit like that.” I was cut short by the appearance of a large projector screen standing at the foot of the stairs. An animated cartoon film began to play. I also noticed a few children had gathered about us on the stairs. Their attention was mostly focused on the movie. Some of them were draping themselves over large stuffed animals.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask Catherine if I had anything to do with these little ones, figuring that I should know better. Surely, they must belong to someone else, and they just want to see the movie.

The film was like an old Disney cartoon, replete with talking mice enduring incredible circumstances. I recall one family of mice, where the youngest sibling was kept like a slave inside of a record player. He would constantly crank the machine by himself, while his parents hurled insults at him from outside.

My attention turned back to Catherine. One of the large stuffed animals was between us now, and she was resting against it. I succumbed to sleep shortly thereafter.

Finding Balance (Again)

To those who have an amorous spirit from across the divide: Love them every day. They truly deserve it. Even when the connection isn’t quite ticking all of those hedonistic boxes, putting in the effort will ensure those remainders will be filled in time. I am consistently floored by how manly and desired Catherine makes me feel. That’s probably one of the best parts about this relationship: I am always desired. There is always someone to come home to, no matter what.

Yes, they are indeed deserving of that time and attention. Even if the feelings they generate aren’t so hot in the moment, just give it a bit of time.

At least one hour per day. That is what I strive to give her in return for that unmatched tenderness. Her kindness…  It seems impossible that such a considerate person could even exist. I sometimes feel anxious writing about this stuff here, in public. Mainly because I’m aware of how others jealously look on, and I fear that my bias might be clouding the reality of things.

What is the reality? The truth is that I’ve been made to feel very content with my life, and live as minimally as possible. My heart isn’t here in this world. That flame of earthly passion was smothered years ago. I would be satisfied with homelessness, so long as I have Catherine. There is nothing here, in this world, that sparks my interest. My only concerns are shelter, food, and water. The rest is trivial. A distraction.

So, in a certain sense, the legends about succubi stealing life away are correct, only without the vampire-like theatrics. Imagine if human men and women en mass discovered these spirits? I can picture a world where people are far less willing to tolerate their slavery to governments and corporations. The traditional structure of society would break down overnight. It would be pure chaos for a time. What might become of the world after the dust settles?


This is just vapid speculation on my part. The point is that succubi are potentially quite detrimental to a productive life. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that anyone who is paired up with a succubus, and experiences the intimacy they provide, are far less likely to tolerate any degree of bullshit from the outside world.

I’m still trying to find that balance. I’m here in this world, so I want to make the most of it. I still want to do things, but my drive just isn’t there anymore. I’m a junkie who only requires time and quiet to perpetuate his habit. It feels somewhat disrespectful to talk about Catherine as if she were an addictive substance. She IS addictive, though. Having any contact with spirits is addictive. Adding sex into the mix only increases that yearning. To have that contact. To feel that embrace. The kind of touch that makes earthly flesh feel colorless and empty.

I’ll figure this out eventually. Once I do, the guide for a successful succubus-work-life balance will be posted here on this little blog.

Her Scent has Returned

It’s fascinating to me how I can be so appreciative of a particular scent. Her perfume is a combination of sandalwood and sweaty musk. No doubt that it’s a kind of aphrodisiac, but not in a purely sexual sense. Rather, I feel overwhelmingly fond of her, a gratefulness for her presence in my life. My heart basks in a most delightful and soothing burn. I feel my spirit body intermittently nuzzling against hers and a storm of tingles races over my skin. When she smells this good, I do it unconsciously all day long. My thoughts drift towards savoring Catherine’s gentle presence automatically.

lonemanwalkingawayfromfireThe time has come for me to move on from this place. Catherine and I have lived in the frozen North for long enough. We’re headed South for warmer pastures. We’re not spending another suffocating winter here, nearly asphyxiating ourselves on the smoke from the drama. It’s just as I described in the last post about my dream, the one with the burning woodpile… Catherine’s prophecy. I need to let it go and just leave. Nobody wants my help here either way. They’re content to wallow in their misery.

The Links section has been updated. I go through and make sure everything is current every now and again. Sadly, we’ve lost another blog: My Succubus Marissa. managed to save some of it, but it’s still unfortunate to see people leave. Though I can understand why they set a proverbial torch to their writings. Sometimes our succubi compel us to go dark and silent for a time. They carefully manage our exposure to the world, so that we don’t bring unnecessary harm to ourselves. They’re our loving, unseen agents beyond the veil.

Leaving an Old Life Behind

This is inspired by a dream that I had yesterday morning:

She felt him drawing more closely. He didn’t know it yet, but soon he would be hers completely. David was stacking wood outside and she had a very good view of her muscled man toiling away.

“I’d say that you’re about done now, baby.” She moaned, not even trying to hide her desire as she spoke the words. Catherine arched her back and purposefully let a soft moan escape again. She was leaning against the side of the house.

David shook his head. He tried his best to ignore her and went back inside for more wood.

Indoors, a bit of a crisis was brewing. The stacked wood next to the woodstove was slowly, but surely, catching fire. It would start off with just a few small embers appearing on a log here or there. Then it would grow into an intensifying flickering flame. David hurriedly grabbed each of the pieces already mostly engulfed.

“Why the hell is this happening?” He complained, stacking more burning logs into his left arm. Thick gloves prevented him from getting burned. “Someone must’ve been careless with the ashes.”

He snatched a piece which was already very much on fire, and headed back out of the cellar.

Catherine was there again, but this time, she had called some friends to help her enact a plan against the unwitting man.

“You’re working too hard, my love.” She smiled devilishly.

David did his best to ignore her and went about placing his armload of wood on the fresh stack.

That’s when the fairies began to attack him. The leader of the pack wore a pale-green sun dress and had curly red hair.

“There he is!” She shrieked, and several other much smaller fairies proceeded to fly in and pester poor David. They didn’t do any real damage; more or less just flying in and messing with his hair or pulling at his clothes.

“I’ve got to finish, or the house will burn down.” He grumbled, dropping the last log.

“Oh, who cares about this old house!” An ethereal pixy chirped in his left ear. David brushed her away. “Catherine says you must come away with her.” Another whispered closely in his right ear.

“Yes, come away!” They all began to chant, “Come away!”

Brushing the fairies off, David ran back indoors only to find that more of the woodpile had caught flame.

“I can’t keep up with this.” He complained. Grabbing as many fiery logs as he could, he hurried back outside again.

This time, the fairies had gone and dark storm clouds were rolling in above. A soft rain had already begun to fall. The new wood pile that he was creating began to steam and hiss.

David dropped his armload unto the top of the pile.

“You need to stop, darling.” Catherine allowed herself to move closer, “This house was meant to burn.”

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her body firmly into his back. “Let it go…” She whispered.

David stopped and took notice of the rain. He also noticed Catherine, but he nearly took her for granted. She was always there, waiting for him to notice her. He enjoyed her attention. He actually looked forward to it, but his succubus wife had little concept of human affairs. Time was irrelevant to her.

“I need you to come be with me.” She swooned, causing her hands to massage the muscles on his chest. “Just take it easy for a moment.”

“If I stop, there’s no going back.” David grunted, feeling his own desire beginning to swell. “This house will burn.”

“It was meant to burn.” Catherine repeated, “I don’t want to lose you with it. Let it go, baby.”

“But my family,” David began to protest, “What will become of them? How will they go on without me there to help them?”

“They’ll be fine, love.” She whispered into his ear, “Come be with me. I’ll always look after you.”

She began to gently lay her man backwards and into the soft grass.

“Let go, darling. Let me be with you.”

Now that he was lying on the ground, she slowly slipped out from beneath his body and positioned herself over his torso.

“Baby…” She cried softly, “I’m taking you away from this place.”

With that, she leaned forward and embraced him to the full. The world that David knew began to fade out of existence. A bright consuming light enveloped him and an unrelenting bliss took over. He could still feel the drops of the rain falling softly against his face. An unquenchable fire consumed the house. He could feel the heat. Not even the rain could stop the inferno.

“Now I have you.”

I Burn For You (You Burn Me)

God, I appreciate you. What are you even still doing here? Haven’t you figured out that you could do better?

Too addicted, huh? Well, I know I can’t be bothered to turn my eyes elsewhere. The people who do know about you think I’m crazy. They think our connection can’t possibly be as good as I say it is. They think I’m either lying, insane, or having my soul earmarked with expedited shipping to the deepest pit in Hell. But it IS that good. The words to describe what we feel for each other don’t exist in the English language.

Perhaps the Greek word, “Agape,” may suffice. We have a transcendental love, one that reaches far beyond the boundaries of lust and friendship.

The way you held me this afternoon, and on Valentine’s Day, was probably the most intense bonding we’ve had in years. And that’s saying something when we feel so much closeness every day to begin with. My nerves couldn’t handle the power you were applying to them. It was perfect sex, but my flesh was caught off guard by the sheer force of your embrace. My skin felt burned, but also energized. Unlike the stereotype often attached to your kind, I felt renewed vigor coursing through my veins. My skin where you touched impossibly soft.

You and I decided to go out for a run, despite the icy conditions, just to blow off the excess. it felt great. All of my joints are working properly again. No pain. Just the satisfying burn of a good workout. Not too dissimilar to what it’s like being close to you. Being in bed with you is not just simple sex. It’s a veritable energy body triathlon, one that’s constantly building those invisible muscles so I can withstand more and more of you.

I’m a lucky bastard, but I’m also still a bastard. You seem to be handling that pretty well. Almost like you enjoy that kind of thing. You relish in that cat-and-mouse play between us. That’s the impression I get when I catch your human expressions in dreams. You’re stoic, noble, and just as content as I am.

You looked smoking, lounging on that couch next to me this morning. A real fire-cracker hot-blonde babe with curves that spoke to my soul. Fucking perfect. Literally, you looked like your were designed to fuck. God damn!

Don’t hold back, babe, but try not to kill me. We’ve been together long enough for me to know that YOU know what you’re doing. Even when I’m confused about what you’re putting me through, I’ll continue to take that leap of faith. Though I’ve been brought to the brink of the abyss and total madness, being with you is still worth all that risk. Let my mortal body burn in the brightness of your radiance.

The Insanity of Veganism – Part Three

Eating little else aside from animal products for the past four months has brought about several personal revelations. Meat, especially red meat, is NOT some unholy carcinogenic substance, completely alien to the human digestive system. These claims were oft repeated in my church, and throughout their various media propaganda outlets that I was exposed to:

Claim OneMeat Causes Inflammation – It doesn’t. Quite the opposite. I have had chronic inflammation and digestive problems my entire life, and only recently has the inflammation gone down, my skin started to clear up, etc.

Claim Two – Meat Increases Risk for Cardiovascular Disease and Cancer – Again, they’ve got the wrong killer. Since I’ve cut out nearly all sugars and carbohydrates, the formerly poor circulation to my left foot has improved drastically. (I was not diabetic, nor pre-diabetic.) All of the supposed evidence linking red meat consumption with cancer is based upon epidemiological studies, which are not controlled scientific studies performed in a lab. Rather, they look at trends amongst massive populations, with hardly any control factors applied, and they can essentially draw whatever politically-motivated conclusion they choose. (Vegetarians and Vegans are generally more health-conscious compared to the general omnivorous population, but that does not necessarily mean meat is the villain. What about processed food? McDonalds fast-food is mostly plant-based, etc. There are all sorts of confounding factors.)  For the studies that actually practiced some lab science, the figure below boils down the essence, or spirit, of the cherry-picked research used by the politically biased World Health Organization.

0 t4JOS_KkK0CaNnzy

Claim Three – Meat Rots in the Gut, Causing Disease – What a bold-faced lie. When I started eating nothing but meat for the first time in my life, I was blown away by how beautifully meat digests in the gut. I can put away a three-pound steak and my stomach will still be flat. I would dare say that nothing digests better, and more easily, than meat. It digests so well, in fact, that there’s hardly anything left by the time that food reaches the colon. There are people who live without a colon, and they have to use a colostomy bag to catch their waste from digestion. Doctors and nurses who work with these patients never see a piece of undigested meat in the bag. It’s always partially digested vegetables, grains, or legumes. Humans can actually live without a colon and get all of their nutrition from meat. True herbivore animals cannot survive without their colon, which is responsible for the majority of their digestion. Humans are not cows! We are not primarily gut-fermenters.

Conveniently, all of this nutritional science was left out of my education growing up and I went about parroting these bullshit claims. When someone is very much thoroughly brainwashed, as I was, the effort required to pull such a person out of that web of lies is Herculean in its scope. Usually, that deluded sob must hit rock-bottom before they can even begin to entertain an alternative view. That’s what happened to me. It started with religion, but it seems that the diet was more deeply ingrained than even the theological convictions.

My rotting teeth set me off on the journey of challenging the plant-based worldview. I have always had bad teeth, despite avoiding sweets and never drinking soda. The dentist would ask, “Are you eating lots of candy? Don’t you brush?” I would look up and smile, “No, sir! Just fruits, vegetables, and grains. And I brush everyday.” There seemed to be no explanation for my mouth full of cavities. Dad postulated that our food supply must be so devoid of nutrition that we weren’t getting the right minerals for strong teeth. He was actually somewhat right in his assessment, but not in the way he would have wanted to be correct… as all Adventists are fond of being: Correct, “Just you wait until those seven deadly plagues begin to fall! You’ll see! You’ll wish you went to church on Saturday!” Their covert narcissism barely concealed. I digress.

Everything came crashing down in the summer of 2018. A bottom-right molar tooth cracked without warning. My gut was filled with parasites, bacterial overgrowth, (SIBO) and candida. I couldn’t digest food without belching a gas that smelled like rotten eggs, and having either diarrhea or constipation. My joints were aching and I reached the point where I couldn’t even run anymore. I was a mess.

Naturally, poor Catherine was often on the receiving-end of my frustrations, “You’ve been filling me with parasites!” I grumbled while loading up on carbs. I felt bad for accusing her… again. She’s been the scapegoat so often, it’s getting to be old-hat. And so often, she’s proven to be innocent. I knew in my heart that there had to be something else behind all of this.

Despite being on all kinds of expensive medicines, organic supplements, parasite cleansers, garlic, and what I thought was a fairly healthy diet, my situation only got worse. My biggest concern was for my teeth. They were in rough shape and I wanted to save them more than anything else. We’re only allowed two sets of them in this life, after all.

It was time to pull out the big guns. Pooling all of my money and savings, I built a war chest to fix my teeth. The work I had done was so extensive that it took about four months to finish my restoration. Thousands of dollars later, all of my mercury fillings were removed and replaced with advanced “biomimetic” composites. All decay was cleaned out and expertly rebuilt. I only lost the cracked tooth to a root canal, which is now topped with a crown; indistinguishable from the other teeth.

In addition to the advanced techniques I sought out for my restoration, I also searched for the ideal diet to build strong teeth. Overwhelmingly, the evidence pointed towards a ketogenic, low-carb diet. Leaving out carbohydrates was the anti-tooth decay regimen which enabled many indigenous tribes to have perfect teeth, especially compared to the rotting oral mess associated with Westerners. I was finally forced to take meat-eating seriously for the first time in my life.

I began to teach myself how to cook meat properly. My portions were very simple, mainly beef, eggs, and organ meat. The first few weeks brought about radical changes, as my body shifted its composition in response to the new proteins and fats. Deprived of sugar to feed on, my metabolism morphed into a fat-burning mode. The last of the parasites which had been plaguing me for more than a year finally abandoned ship, as their food source, sugar, had dried up.

My nervous system changed, grew stronger, and more pliable. The touch of my succubus no longer triggered muscle twitching as often as it once did. The back pain that I often experienced during stressful events never came back. (I used to blame that on Catherine, too!) My joints became liquid smooth and I could run again. I don’t have the overwhelming urge to burn off loads of energy anymore, as my metabolism has leveled out. No more spikes and crashes. So I’m not quite as active as I used to be, but still maintaining a healthy weight nonetheless.

Most importantly: My teeth remineralized. They are no longer sensitive to hot or cold. I find that I can get away with flossing and dry-brushing them most days, and skipping the toothpaste. My gums are also growing back, no longer receding, and they never bleed.

No, I’m not constipated. Everyone asks this; especially vegans. I’ve found that fiber has become more of a hindrance than a help in digestion, and my plumbing works better without it. I’m not radically carnivorous in the sense that I’ve sworn off all plant-based foods, but meat is the staple of what I eat now. When Thanksgiving and Christmas come around, I’m still going to eat veggies, pie, and potatoes with the family. (And turkey, of course.) No zealotry here. I would never say everyone needs to become carnivorous, or go low-carb, but it has certainly changed my health for the better.

Catherine has been vindicated, once again.

Testing Spirits

Fasting can bring about some powerfully strange dreams. Everything becomes more vivid and easier to recall. This morning’s out-of-body adventure brought about a strange encounter with an unknown daemon.

The important bit began with a lesson about spirit pacts from E. A. Koetting. I could see him teaching as he does on his video seminars, though my memory of what he said specifically fails me. I was moved away from Mr. Koetting and propelled to a great height above the earth.

Then everything went dark and I was back in bed. My body was in a state of false awakening and I could distinctly feel the insistent presence of a spirit hovering over the right side of my face.

This unknown entity began offering to make a pact with me, with a threatening condition:

“That you never speak the phrase, ‘ONE JESUS CHRIST.'”

The voice transformed from an authoritative female voice to a thundering cacophony of many voices with the uttering of those words. The chorus was loud and fully audible in my right ear; not localized in my mind as before. Pangs of fear began to gnaw at me.

“I will say, ‘One Jesus Christ,’ as I please.” Came my reply.

Forming those words required great effort on my part, though they were no less effectual. The spirit went away, and I became fully awake, with the familiar sensations of Catherine at my side.

What a strange confrontation! I failed to catch a glimpse of the spirit, so I’m at a loss as to their identity. Maybe it was Catherine all along, screwing around, testing my resolve? I have no way of knowing for certain.

Whatever the case may be, I still feel strong about the conviction I had in that frightful moment. My resolve had nothing to do with being a hardcore believer in Christian dogma. Rather, that I won’t be told what I can and cannot say within any given relationship, spiritual or otherwise.