“Describe where you are,” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled sleepily. “There is sand and wind and stars. They are coming. They are coming.” Paul yelled these last words.
“Paul, move on,” instructed Romy. “Move away from there.”
Paul calmed himself.
“There is someone else here,” said Romy, a little concerned.
“Vol,” said Paul.
“Vol, is that your name?”
“Yes,” said Paul. “He is of the Cherubim.”
It began to dawn on Romy that she was witnessing something she had always dreamed of witnessing. She had desperately wanted to experience a multiple personality. But, she was unsure of how to proceed.
“Are you alive, Vol?” she asked.
“In your mind,” said Paul.
“Are you Paul’s spirit guide?”
“Yes,” answered Paul.
“Paul told me about angels and how he has been chosen. Is this true?”
“Yes,” said Paul.
“The angels exist?” asked Romy.
“Intangible,” said Paul.
“What do you do for Paul, Vol?”
“Protect him and guide him.”
“You are speaking through him now?”
“Yes.”
This was not what Romy had expected. She had assumed Paul had been hallucinating and that this was being caused by deep-seated stress. Everyone suffered from stress to one degree or another and some of it was good for you. Maybe there was stress involved but this was more than that.
“Bitch,” snapped Paul. “Fucking bitch!”
Romy was taken aback. She looked at Paul intently. There was something going on here. He seemed to be channelling something. Vol, the spirit guide, appeared to have been displaced. So much for a spirit guide, she thought. Paul began to move around in his chair and clench his fists. Romy had not experienced this sort of thing before. It was alien behaviour. She pondered what to do. Maybe he was stressed out and his endorphin levels were low leading to a chemical imbalance of a kind and this was allowing his imagination to conjure up a kind of false reality existing side-by-side with his real existence. But then, why should she be able to witness it? She noticed that Paul was whispering something inaudible. She leaned close into him but could not work out what he was saying. His mouth was shaping two vowels, ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’.
She could make nothing of it. This would need further thought and deliberation. Channelling was nothing particularly new; neither was split personality, although, Paul exhibited none of the necessary characteristics of that phenomenon, except by inference and under hypnosis. She believed his relationship with his wife was full of tension but was solid. He was a talented and attractive man with, rare these days, a good soul. Romy had come across so-called spirit guides before but, like many of these more fanciful and esoteric notions, the jury was out as far as she was concerned. She didn’t really believe Paul was in contact with angels. She didn’t believe in the existence of angels but she was savvy enough not to allow these personal beliefs to affect her work. So, what was causing his intense anxiety? Somewhere deep within lay the answer. And something had happened that had caused or set up these events in his mind that had taken on almost tangible reality as far as he was concerned. This would include voices, angels, demons, intense fear of imminent death, devils and dark forces. She brought Paul around.
“Well, that’s enough for now,” she said. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was aware vaguely of what was going on. Well, what do you think?”
“Let’s finish off that wine,” she smiled and led the way back to her living room.
When they had settled she said:
“I think I may have met some of your friends. It is too early to say exactly, but I feel that something has triggered deep seated fears and anxieties within you which have manifested as external spiritual beings which have convinced you that they are real but existing in some other or parallel reality. Before we can take this further and try to exorcise these non-existent entities from your mind, even though they appear real, I would like to teach you a method of trying to isolate the emotions that may be giving rise to these phenomena, and I believe that you are experiencing what you are experiencing by the way.
“Put your forefinger on your heart chakra,” she told him. She pushed her own forefinger to a point under her left breast. She smiled when she noticed his immediate reaction. He followed suit.
“Now, what you must do is to run through a long list of every emotion and deadly sin, negative attitude and fault that you can think of. Don’t do it now. Wait until you are completely alone and will not be interrupted. You may experience considerable emotional release. What you are doing is scrolling through a list until you find the issue that is the root cause of the trouble and there might be more than one. What is almost certain is that you will be surprised. You will not be expecting what you find. It may shock you. When you have isolated the emotion or sin or fault or negative attitude you may have no idea why these particular words caused such a reaction when others did not. All you know is that they did and it was painful, very painful.
“Next comes the most difficult part. You must accept that you suffer from or are guilty of whatever it is you find however unbelievable it is to you. You must accept it out loud. You must say, yes, I am or do hate or wish to harm or dream unrealistic dreams, whatever it is you find within. If you can do this you are on the way to solving your problem and finding a way out of the debilitating situation you find yourself in. You can decide then if you need my help and we can put things on a professional basis.”
“Could I be suffering from some form of psychosis or schizophrenia?”
“That would require a six month psychological evaluation and maybe an MRI, a brain scan, although some doctors in Israel believe they can diagnose schizophrenia from a simple blood test. I don’t know if you are exhibiting symptoms of schizophrenia, which is a form of psychosis, but hearing voices and experiencing hallucinations are, indeed, symptoms of the condition. But you don’t exhibit any other positive or negative symptoms; alienation, unrealistic beliefs, social isolation and many others. But I have heard of people who claim to have been contacted by extra terrestrial beings, spiritual entities and so on and a very fine line exists between a medical diagnosis of schizophrenia and genuine contact. The medical community, of course, would not accept that such contact exists and that there would have to be a physical or medical cause.
“I suggest that we start at the beginning and try to establish whether something as common and straightforward as stress is causing this situation. If that does not work, I may have to refer you because I am not a medically qualified practitioner, but, the condition needs to persist. If the worst came to the worst you could not keep this from your family and this is another factor that makes me think hard. Normally, it is the family or immediate friends who notice the symptoms whereas in this case you are the only one who does. You seem to be suggesting that you have been told that the situation is coming to an end. Let us see if it does. In the meantime, try the stress busting technique. It works every time. Facing up to whatever is causing the problem forces the issue.”
“Okay, I’ve got to thank you for your time. Look, let me pay you something.”
“No, a deal is a deal. Besides, I was curious to see you again.”
“Really, I’m flattered.”
“You’re also married. Try the technique I have just taught you and call me next week.”
She stood up. When Paul was on his feet she walked over to him and kissed him gently on the lips then stepped back before he could react.
“Call me impetuous,” she laughed. “I just wanted to do that.”
“I’m glad you did, “ said Paul. “Maybe we could do it again?”
Romy just giggled as she led Paul to the door.
“Keep in touch,” she reminded him as he took his time leaving.
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br /> CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alternative reality
Annie had spent an hour in the bathroom making herself beautiful. Kate had also spent some time on her appearance. We’re only going out for a family meal, thought Paul. Rory had washed his face and was wearing some new jeans. That was about the extent of his preparation.
While Paul was waiting for the women, he went into his office and closed the door. He wanted to check on something on the web. He felt the comforting rattle of his constant companions, the small black bag of crystals, and wondered idly how they could affect anything or provide any kind of protection. He thought momentarily about silicon chips and how crystals facilitated the most revolutionary development of the last hundred years.
He could hear Kate and Annie chatting upstairs and Rory watching television. He had a couple of minutes to kill. It was a mistake.
A black mass of impenetrable density surrounded the house. Paul gazed bleakly through his office window and although it was early evening and should have been still partially light, he could see nothing.
He began to panic. He slipped his hand into his pocket and held on tight to the bag of crystals, his talisman.
A powerful thought entered his head. The crystals were acting as a kind of homing signal, attracting devious demons and evil spirits, not to mention the dark force of negativity that, he knew, could crush the life out of him as if he were a nuisance insect. Get rid of the crystals, said the inner voice. They are the cause of the problem. His logical mind was telling him the opposite. Where were the angels when you needed them most? He thought about Romy and her technique. He hadn’t had time to try it out and now wasn’t the time. He was about to take his family out for a meal and he didn’t know if he could leave the house.
He had to get rid of the crystals so he would have to run outside and throw them into a nearby field. He experienced a swift injection of courage. It struck him like a bolt of lightning. Listening carefully for sounds of the family preparations, he went to the front door and opened it. The scene was exactly as it always was. The last shafts of light from the evening sun flooded the garden and the woods beyond conjuring deep shadows packed with menace. He held the bag of crystals in his hand, convinced now that he had been duped again. The urge to rid himself of the stones was irresistible. What if he was wrong and they were his only protection as the angels had told him? Maybe it wasn’t the angels? Maybe it was the dark force persuading him to assemble the little pieces of crystal in that particular combination?
Terrified lest he be seen and conscious that the family was starting to assemble, he ran down the track to the garden opening the bag as he went and flung the crystals into the darkness of the field beyond. He paused, looking around him with burgeoning terror. He could sense a gathering of dark pressure at the corner of his mind but he was determined not to let anything ruin Rory’s farewell meal.
Just as he arrived back at the house the others emerged.
“Where have you been?” asked Kate.
“Oh, just getting some fresh air. Everyone ready? Then let’s go.”
The restaurant bar was nearly full. It was a popular dining and watering hole. There were rows of alcoves lit by candles and centre tables positioned around an Italian marble tiled floor. The dark wood of the décor matched Paul’s mood. He had felt naked ever since he had rid himself of the crystals. Had he been right? He was totally confused by it all.
There was a warm circle of light surrounding them, almost an angelic glow, Paul thought with amusement. Rory had reached a crossroads in his life. He hated the country he lived in and saw salvation and fulfilment somewhere else. Paul deduced that the boy was really unhappy with himself and had told him that wherever you travel you take yourself with you.
Kate looked ten years younger, laughing in the candlelight at sudden remembrances. Annie was just her usual vivacious self. She would be the last to leave the nest in a few years time. Then he and Kate would be on their own again. He did feel a little anxious at the prospect. The atmosphere and the congeniality almost made him forget the stress he had been under recently. It had been an extraordinarily fearful and disturbing time, and it wasn’t over yet.
Despite his cool exterior, Paul knew that Rory was nervous. This would be the first time he would be away from home properly. The notion that soon could be the last time he would see his only son suddenly dawned on Paul as they sat chattering at the table while the waiter poured wine for everyone. He thought back to the early days of the pendulum. It all seemed light years ago now. Next time he sees me I’ll be in an asylum, a ranting crazy, thought Paul. Get a grip, snapped his other half. You’re not going crazy. This will all be over soon. Ignore it. Think rationally.
“You okay, Pa?” asked Rory as he checked out the menu. “You look a little, I dunno, weird.”
“Do I?” Paul replied. “I feel fine. I’m just thinking maybe you might not come back.”
“Sure I’ll come back,” he laughed. “I’ll be home for Christmas and maybe when something special happens.”
“Sure,” said Paul. “Sure you will.”
There was a powerful, lurking fear at the edge Paul’s consciousness. He sensed this was the dark force gathering for an assault. How could all this be happening to him? Schizophrenia. The thought wouldn’t go away. But, this didn’t feel like some mental illness, although he had never experienced one as far as he knew. He felt so rational and normal and the idea that, because of the nature of the process behind all creation, something perceived as evil would try to prevent him fulfilling a special destiny that would help to beatify mankind and transform the human race, seemed all too plausible.
He could also feel, quite clearly, his angel group, just present in his mind. The group was detached from him, he was quite clear of that. He heard voices then and it was a few moments before he realized he was being spoken to.
“Dad, dad,” said Annie. “Wake up.”
“We need to order, dear,” said Kate. “We need you to be in this world for a moment; think you can manage that?”
“I know what I want,” said Rory.
Paul experienced then a powerful compulsion to talk to Ebenezer Nuttley. He remembered he said to call him if he ever needed to be cleared. Maybe this was the answer to getting rid of these spiritual squatters. Paul slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Hell,” he said. “I’ve left my wallet back at the house. Look, I’ll have a Salad Nicoise to start and a medium rare Steak Au Poivre. I won’t be long. We’re only ten minutes away.”
Paul stood up with the family gaping at him. The waiter smiled at them.
“Well, don’t be long, Dad,” said Annie, “or we’ll start without you.”
Kate just sighed and scrutinized the menu. Paul skipped out of the restaurant and drove back to the house at full speed. All the while thoughts of suicide and death were knocking on his cerebral cortex. He scared Sabre as he ran into the house and straight into his office. Frantically, he searched for Nuttley’s card. His screen saver was blinking in its calm way but suddenly the hard drive made a ripping noise and the screen turned black as night with only a red flickering line down the centre. Simultaneously, Sabre began to howl and run from room to room as if spooked by something or someone. Madly, Paul ransacked his filing cabinet and found the file with the original pendulum book of instruction and the clearance chart. Tucked at the back was the card. Paul glanced at his watch. He was terrified to leave the house. The darkness was gathering and it meant business. The pressure in his mind was building up trying to blot out rational thought. Paul grabbed the card and placed it on his desk by the telephone. Then he took the rest of the material and ran to the open fire in the sitting room, grabbing a box of matches that always lived in the same place in an alcove by the fire. His hands were shaking as he threw the material into the fire and struck a match. The dense sense of extinction was almost tangible now. He could smell death closing in. So could Sabre, Paul was sure.
The dog
was going frantic and Paul called to him. The fire erupted and Paul watched briefly as the Nuttley’s chart and instruction manual turned to ash. Nuttley, he had to call him. Paul dashed back into the office and jabbed the buttons on his ’phone, praying the little man would not be out. After a few rings the receiver was picked up at the other end.
“Hello,” said a thin reedy voice.
“Mr Nuttley?” asked Paul.
“Yes, who is this?”
Paul wasted no time. The others would be wondering what had happened to him. He would say the ’phone rang and it was a business call he had to take. If they called they’d get the engaged signal. His cell phone was turned off. He told Nuttley everything as quickly as he could. He told him also he couldn’t stay on the ’phone.
“I remember you,” said Nuttley. “I will attempt to clear you and find out what exactly has been attacking you. I can sense a serious attempt is being made on you but I cannot say by what or why.”
“Look, I have to go,” Paul almost shouted. “Things are going crazy here. The dog’s howling, my computer has a mind of its own and I’m scared to leave the house.”
“Very well,” replied Nuttley with irritating calmness. “I will surround you and your house with a shield of white light. This will provide temporary protection. Only powerful entities will bother or be able to penetrate. Call me tomorrow.”
Nuttley disconnected. That was that then. Shield of white light? What good would that do? Paul wanted rid of them all, right now.
He had to get back. As he headed towards the car outside he heard the ‘phone ringing. He broke speed limits getting back to restaurant.
The others were midway through their first courses when he returned. His salad was waiting for him.
“At last,” said Paul. “I called you but the ’phone was busy.”
“Sorry, wouldn’t you know it? A client rang, sorry.”
“You better get started before the lettuce wilts,” said Kate.
An Angel on My Shoulder Page 16