Inspired by Matt’s The Incubus Made Me Do It post from last week, it occurred to me that I’d actually written an entire chapter on the rarely explored topic of astral molestation in my first book. It’s out of print and I’m quite sure none of you have read it, so we’ll just mine it a bit at this point as I finish the final edits for my next book on occult weirdness (out spring 2013). Maybe I’ll do a re-release some day, but truthfully, I basically did nothing to promote the thing because I didn’t like it much. Parts are great but overall, way too dark. As was the nature of my life at the time. The thing is, despite me not liking it much, it was in fact a quite intentional work of magick, intended to destroy the alcoholic jerk off side of my personality (the death impulse) and re-align myself with the sacred feminine current of the multiverse. In that regard, it worked spectacularly well. Details soon.
For now, let’s talk about sex with the spirits. It’s certainly one of those things that never, ever would have occurred to me as anything other than total batshit crazy-ville until it fucking happened, which is a theme you’ll find a lot in any kind of occult or paranormal circles. If you’re into this sort of thing, it’s probably because something went down in your inner life that you couldn’t explain. This would be one of those cases. To give a bit of lead up here, because of the bizarro art invasion experiences I had on mushrooms and acid in my late teens, I started playing around with Robert Monroe’s techniques of astral projection at the suggestion of my mother. She went to Berkeley during the sixties and never tried drugs (lame), but had caught a bit of the new age bug that was so trendy at the time. I read the books, meditated with the hemi-sync tapes, and this is the sort of thing that started going down. I might point out that Monroe never actually mentioned that this type of shit might start happening in his books or tapes. Through me for a loop for quite a while. No drugs needed for these kind of kicks kiddies, just some free time and an Ipod.
“Less than a week after the first time I had sex, something completely unexpected and incontrovertibly unnerving occurred. I was taking a nap on my couch and suddenly the dream I was having went lucid, but in a different manner than usual. I realized that I was in an altered state but, was powerless to control the events that were unfolding before me. I was receiving a transmission from my inner sanctum and I felt compelled to seek a deeper meaning in it.
I floated above a world that appeared to be made out of living, breathing claymation. For a long time I sped above this anime world fascinated by the stunning details and surreal intricacies of the environment. Eventually, I began to hover over what seemed to be the equivalent of its Serengeti. I saw a clay lion and zebra frolicking, as I assume clay zebras and lions are prone to. Just as I began to think about how amazing this alternate universe was, the lion bit into the zebra’s neck and began to devour it with a quick ferocity.
In that instant I woke up disgusted. I lay on my couch for a bit pondering the significance of this particular transient vision. And then it hit me. I was being shown the nature of the physical universe. In our present state we are focused on violence and predation for amusement. I realized I had unconsciously made the lion eat the zebra because when presented with the parameters of the situation I was unable to come up with any kind of alternative plotline. The dream was illuminating the very limitations of our current mental paradigm as reflected in me. Did humanity’s seemingly infantile obsession with tribal warfare and exploitation actually come from our own lack of creativity and foresight?
Before I could reflect any further I fell into a deeper dreamless slumber. I then awoke suddenly, to the unquestionable sensation of a woman sucking on my neck seductively. I released a reflexive moan of pleasure as I felt hands sliding up and down my torso caressing me aggressively. Then, at once, the pleasure turned to utter dread as I began to remember that I had been sleeping on my couch alone. I was maybe at this point more intensely terrified than I had ever been before. Somebody or something was there with me. I tried to look at it only to realize that I wasn’t fully awake at all and I couldn’t see anything or anyone. This didn’t change the fact that some kind of astral creature was right there next to me, molesting me for reasons unknown. I could feel its hands and mouth having their way with me and it felt as real as any worldly sexual encounter I have ever experienced. The difference being of course that in this scenario I was consumed by a blinding sense of frozen consternation.
Eventually I got the impression that the being, or whatever the hell it was, sensed my fear and was turned off. I felt it float away from me in a hurry as I lay motionless. I then regained full waking consciousness.”
So that was the first foray into this sort of madness. Unquestionably terrifying yet also intellectually compelling. I still contemplate the necessity of hyper-violence in our art to this day and strive to keep my writing as devoid of violence as possible. It’s actually quite funny that I’m posting these stories here. I have a friend in a local metal band who read part of that chapter and never picked up my book ever again. He told me that. Hilarious. Supremely strange Disinfonauts? It gets stranger. How about the time they seemingly invaded the dreamspace of the girl I was seeing:
“The only thing I honestly recall of the experience is that I was sleeping in the same bed as this girl, not fucking mind you, just sleeping. I had a dream that she was calling out for me to help her and I tried but was sucked away by some unknown force. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, but her screams faded to the background as I fell back into the realms of amnesic slumber.
An hour or so later, I woke up to go to the bathroom. As I approached the door to my room, I heard her voice chime out to me in the night and it sent chills down my spine. “Where are you going?” was all she asked and yet, right then I knew that something was off. When I returned she was observably shaken up and demanded that we talk about the dream she just endured.
In it, she said that she was in a crappy room with me and there were inexplicable ghost-like beings surrounding her. I seemed to be familiar with them, but she wasn’t. They were talking to her and telling her how they had been fornicating with me for a while in my sleep among other things. Apparently, I was a willing participating in this supernatural experiment they were conducting. They let her know that now they needed her to move on to the next stage and I was whisked off to another room. As I left she became overwhelmingly aghast and begged me to stay and help her, screaming at the top of her lungs. I turned around and tried to offer assistance but was vacated from the area by the mysterious spirits.
The next thing she recalled was that these things were raping her. She described in great detail how she actually felt them writhing on top of her like they were completely physical in nature. After the discarnate gang rape, they began to illuminate arcane aspects of our relationship for her. She was led to an incredibly scummy bar where she felt very comfortable. They let her know that this was her place. They then brought her to another much more upscale club where I was hanging out. She told me that she wasn’t even allowed to enter, but was kind of floating above it, watching me interact with the other patrons. She got the feeling that this was my territory, not hers. She didn’t belong there and I did. That was the problem. They asked her if she understood what they were trying to tell her and she did.
Now at this point, I was in complete and utter shock. I hadn’t once mentioned the fact that I had been having strange sexual encounters to her. Obviously, in our society that’s one of those things you just don’t mention to someone you’ve been dating for fear of their immediate rejection. And yet now here it was coming out of her mouth rather than mine.”
Now we have psychic dream terrain shared between two lovers. Not only that but a level of precognition, we broke up because I found out she cheated on me like 4 months later. I moved to Seattle, she stayed in Columbus. Occult enough for you? Well, let’s run through one more encounter. This one was by far the most extravagant and horrifying. I just watched most of season five of Californication. Nothing remotely this freaky going on there.
“The first thing I remember is having a dream where I was making love to some kind of shape shifting space creature. My wish was its command. I would ask it to turn into a specific person and it would morph into whomever I telepathically requested instantaneously. I wanted it to be a hot Asian woman and it would turn into such. I wanted it to be the spitting image of Christina Ricci and just like that, my thoughts mutated into reality. This charade was really quite extravagant in retrospect. I often find myself wishing I could replicate the scenario at will. Well, that is, until it got weird.
From out of nowhere I got the unconscious idea that I wanted this female being, whatever it was, to mimic the essence of one of my current lover’s best friends. It wasn’t like I could keep this thought from entering my head. A few months prior she had shown me some naked pictures of said friend that she took at a party. What can I say, that kind of sparked the attraction. Regardless of the reasons, once the request had been processed the being became infuriated. Suddenly, I found myself lying in bed lost in a familiar state of deranged paralysis.
This thing was now sucking on my nipples vigorously and it felt incredible. Despite the enticing nature of the predicament, after a short period I started to get scared. There was something a little too out there about what was going down and it began to freak me out. I started to ask it questions. It answered in an eerie, distorted telepathy. “I’m trying to buy you.” It explained matter of factly.
That was it. For some reason, her introducing the concept of ownership sent me into a profound state of histrionic dread. I tried to scream but that prospect proved impossible. Upon sensing my deep-rooted fear, the ghost-like creature became disgusted. It got up to walk across the room away from me and, for the first time ever, I caught a glimpse of one of these things. It appeared as a perfect female form that was thoroughly translucent. As it sauntered away from me, I continued to scream at the top of my lungs in horror. It paused in my bedroom doorway peering back at me and I pleaded with it to flip on the light switch. It looked at my quivering shell for another couple of seconds and in a calmly irritated manner replied: “turn them on yourself, fucker!” With that, it left the room and I almost instantly snapped back into waking consciousness–quivering with fear.”
Should be noted that things didn’t end up working out with that girl as well. Maybe that’s why the spirit was pissed? Interpret it however the fuck you want. I don’t know what to make of it myself, but I have my ideas or moreover, I’ve been given ideas. Sex on this plane is a metaphor for the merging of spiritual energies. It’s the primary creative force in the universe. We all come from fucking after all. As above, so below.
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