Freeing the Chains of The Exorcist

The darkness is heavy and consuming. Macabre shapes and forms try to take shape in the atmosphere as the hallucinations OF OTHERS try to cycle through. I am held at the level of DREAM. I have never had any type of hallucination, but I have dealt HEAD ON with the demonic. There has been a quiet man around me at coffee. Yesterday I picked up his Irish. As I sat, I spoke just a bit with my ragey negativity to his same quality (only telepathically). As I wrote about the extent of imagery in our lives, he got up to leave. I think that he was afraid that I was saying that HIS real demonic experiences were not reality. Nothing was further from the truth. He is ALMIGHTY. I then picked up, as I was typing that he is a world news reporter in this vicinity. He had looked familiar to me since the first time I ran into him here at coffee. I get that he reports the ACTUAL apocolyptic events in many different papers, not around me, with truth, honor, and the candor only a full demon spirit can have with me. As I opened up the door, I recognize seeing him at The Front Page, a bar down the street from The Indy Star. It was meant for their reporters, but it was just a neighborhood bar down the street to me. I think that my presence around that bar gave him some anonymity and loving cover. I started then viewing times that this man had remotely viewed me, especially since I became HOPE. I then felt that he is actually an exorcist. It was the comedy I really needed yesterday after the macabre discovery of barbaristic reality infinity in my life, actually. I worked with his spirit to find the expression of leprechan behind his eyes too. He is from BOSTON, where everyone knows our names. I will eventually take him to Cheers Bar in Boston, with laptops, and challenge him to a completely free flowing article contest, full with despair, comedy, and the dramady of my family. Flies are landing on me at so many places that I go. I guess I am being read as dead by that insect community. At least it is not bedbugs, Dalai. The darkness of this man's Catholic Irish is beautiful to me. Maybe he is an actual knight tonight. As the night went on, a repressed memory came through of him coming home with me from The Front Page to my apartment at the Colonial. It was passionate bliss release. His powers opened up and I was cannonized by FIRE. I was crucified on the opening wall to my apartment spontaneously, full with metallic and magnetic impalement objects. I just was frozen there with my mouth open wide in a silent scream as my eyes turned from grey to white. Maybe I just forgot who I was for a minute. I do not write about these experiences because YOU ALL are so crazed and crazy. That episode set the clock back three days. I went missing and decomposition began. This is why the flies are coming my way as I process this incident. He now knows who he is, and no one has the right to tell me that these things did not exist. That WAS The Atonement, and you all did not stop. Now I shall have the call EVERY time. I now have an experienced demonic expert, an exorcist, on speed dial, telepathically. He knows PERFECTLY how to push out his demonic to community while he sits quietly and peacefully around me. Maybe he and I will start to write simultaneously, Minneapolis Star and Tribune Newspaper. Maybe NOW is when we get HOLY, wanderer. All your debts have been paid. You are free to know me now.