In addition to ordinary human violence/terror displays, I've experienced some paranormal/supernatural events; not an enormous number by any means. I've never tallied them up, but it's sort of interesting the way most of them have been different, rather like being given a Whitman's sampler box of chocolates, lol. The most common, I suppose, have been precognitive (but of course precognition may not be paranormal at all).
Three stand out as being particularly horrifying (and I immediately remembered another which ranks close). It's a toss-up, horror-wise, between the
little people, the 'thing' that threatened me after I'd assisted in someone else's botched 'exorcism' attempt, and the Jane-face thing we're currently discussing.
As the Jane-face caused me to black out and then
block out the experience for over a decade, I guess it must qualify as the worst, because at least I retained a level of control, thought and physical movement during the others.
Dingo wrote:
Do you think that if that face would have been shown to you many times over plus the knowledge that others have experienced it as well without any negative effects [apart from the initial fear], that you could have desensitised yourself to it and looked at it from a calmer viewpoint?
Do you think .... you could have desensitised yourself to it
Dingo, I don't know; I've never considered that.
What I can tell you is this; once, in response to request that I describe the incident fully, in writing, I foolishly (realise now) replayed the Jane incident in my mind, preparatory to committing it to paper.
I was already cautious enough to have deliberately chosen a particularly nice time of day, mid-afternoon, full sunshine. I drew back the curtains from a double sliding door which took the full sun (and as you'd probably know, the Queensland sun is
sunny, lol). I then placed my chair so that the sunlight flooded over me and a good way into the room. I was in good humour, felt in control. I knew what I was proposing to do. I believed I could do it, get it over with and get on with my day.
I don't know about other people's memory (am always curious about it) but mine is similar to a video recording, complete with sound, colour, atmosphere, etc. I can pull it up, even stuff from dreams, decades later. In fact, people have sometimes initially claimed my recollection has been incorrect and that they hadn't said or done such-and-such, yet I've been able to describe what they were wearing, their clothing, hair-do and surrounding circumstances plus events immediately prior to the event, based on these 'bubble' type memory clusters, at which point their memory has been prodded (usually based on something relatively minor, such as what they were wearing, per my memory) at which point they've often exclaimed: 'Oh, that's right -- I remember now -- gee, remember those stupid flares we used to wear then?' or similar. So, come to think of it, I guess other's memories
do survive in little clusters surrounded by minor detail, also. And of course, others have also been able to jog my memory quite often, using the same method.
Something else may play a role too. My sister said to me on a couple of occasions that I don't remember events as much as 're-live' them.
So back to this particular experience -- I deliberately brought up the Jane event in order to commit it to paper. I'd not done so as purposefully ever before. But I wanted to provide as factual and detailed an account as possible in this instance.
I took myself back to the day in question. I walked myself though the uneventful moments leading up to the Jane face. I re-lived the experience. I became the girl I had been. I experienced again the girlish sense of mild curiosity I felt when Jane didn't respond when I re-entered the house with the items she'd requested.
As far as I was possibly able, I put myself right there, inside the memory; the sunshine outside, the shadows cast at the rear of the kitchen (where the stove and Jane were) by the big water-tanks immediately outside. Everything was realistic; a memory-copy of that room, the temperature that day, the sounds outside, the heat from the stove, etc. I was there.
What made it worse, really, was that I was in a particularly cheerful frame of mind immediately before the event, almost giddy with relief actually, because it was such a welcome event to find Jane engaged in such a normal, domestic chore as cooking quietly with none of her usual ranting and bad humour.
So I was a sitting-duck. I went closer to her, but she still didn't respond. It was quiet right at the point I went even closer to her. She was in profile, her head tipped slightly forward as she stirred, and her hair had fallen forwards and was covering the side of her face. I didn't know if she was annoyed by the fact I hadn't been able to get all the things she'd wanted. So I leaned forwards and a bit around towards her, in order to see her expression. She didn't move a fraction, which I just had time to think was odd.
Then she turned towards me, at close quarters and I got the full face -- or, really, full force.
So, pulling myself back from that, I'll go on to tell you that I was there, decades later, sitting with the sun all around me, as I pulled this memory up on the screen of my mind, preparatory to writing it down in detail.
And I was too successful. The entire memory came back. But instead of blacking out this time, I was subjected to what I've always suspected was another form of demonic assault. Because when I remembered the Jane-face (and not in its entirety, I don't think, but bad enough) something -- actually a group of things, I've always thought -- attempted to take me over. And I don't know how to describe what it's like to be subject to a spiritual take-over, but I'll try. It's as if your mind is being pushed out of you. You begin to fade and slip into nothingness. At the same time, something is pushing its way in. It doesn't feel the same as when you begin to faint. Instead, you're conscious and aware. You feel yourself getting weaker, actually losing tenancy of your own mind and body. Sounds dramatic, but I'm understating it, to be honest, because there's no way to describe the terror and helplessness you feel at a time like that and no way to describe the energy or violence of the assault. It's very fast.
So there I was, in two places at once, yet still sitting in my own house in the sun. My children saved me, I think, or at least my total concern for them. I understood in an instant that if I lost this battle, my children would see this woman who looked exactly like me and may even sound like me -- but she would not be me. They would be, from that point on, at the mercy of whatever had kicked me out. Obviously whatever it/they were was not benign. It would not be good to my children. And there they were, just metres away from me, chattering away to each other and eating ice-blocks and utterly defenceless.
I couldn't make a sound, or they would look up to see what was wrong. If that happened, I would lose my hold and would lose the concentration and will-power that were all that was holding me in place. Then it would be over and I would lose and so would my children.
With my hands on either side of the seat of the chair, I struggled to remain upright. Whatever it was was trying to force me sideways. I was actually leaning a bit to the right. I fought back to stay upright. It took all my strength. I could feel myself going.
Then I just prayed. Not so much a prayer as a silent scream for help. And I kept it up, meanwhile holding onto the chair for my life to resist the force. I didn't think. Just fought and screamed out for dear life, in my head. A couple of times a thought -- that of failing -- tried to get into my mind but I booted it out before it could finish itself. Hang on. Sceam for help. Fight to stay there. That's all I allowed myself to do. And not a sound or my children would have come up to me, frightened by the look of me, and would have said; 'What's wrong, mummy?' If they did that, or touched me, or diverted my total concentration, I would have lost my grip.
Then it was over. The pushing had stopped. My mind was my own again. The things had gone. I relaxed my grip. The room came back in focus. The sun was still shining. The children were still chattering to each other in the kitchen.
I grabbed them and took them outside into the garden and got them interested in a game. I had this sense that the sun would protect us and cleanse us.
The experience scared me, a lot. I've never attempted to re-live the Jane-memory again. It would be reckless. And for the same reason, when it seems warranted, I try to advise others against reliving traumatic experiences, particularly those of paranormal bent. Better to gain what information may be sought by 'viewing' a situation from a distance, after taking precautionary measures.
Should add that the house in which I experienced the rebound 'take over' attempt re: the Jane-memory, was 'disturbing', for want of better term. I had a number of disturbing paranormal experiences in that house as did, other family members. The house, though quite new and modern, had a possibly strange history. I had the daylights frightened out of me in that place. We sold it and a few years later bought another, a few doors down, and it also was the scene for a handful of paranormal experiences. Then a version of Hag experience in a brand new townhouse I bought in the same area (we liked the area, obviously). The whole suburb was built on reclaimed land, which may or may not have something to do with it. Life has been almost incident free in our present house, where we've lived now since 2001. I still would not attempt to relive the Jane experience however. I think I have a tendency towards the paranormal.
Should add that my own 'explanation' for what happened when I tried to remember and write down the Jane-thing years later, is that the malign influences already present in that house combined with my existing vulnerability to the paranormal. They saw their chance and went for it, thanks to my stupidly 'opening' my defences.
Dingo wrote, regarding the Jane-face:
Do you think .... you could have desensitised yourself to it
It's possible, if the experience consisted of my merely being required to 'see' the face within and behind Jane's.
However, the experience was not just one of 'seeing' something horrible.
If it were, I daresay I
could become desensitized to it to the point I might even become brave enough to tell it to take itself and throw itself down the toilet.
However, the Jane-face experience was not restricted to that of mere terrifying visage; it was a spiritual attack by something that knew exactly what it was doing; i.e., terrifying the consciousness out of a human being, a child, simply for the enjoyment of being able to do so. The situation was set-up. Jane was not behaving normally. Sure, she was behaving as is 'normal' for others, in stirring food at the stove, in remaining quiet and non-violent. I should have known something was wrong when I found her that way. But children are endlessly optimisitic.
Dingo wrote:
I mean what could the face have done physically, any idea?
I don't know. I passed out, I think. If I hadn't, I'm not sure what would have happened. It was voracious, it obliterated Jane's face, basically, and seemed to screech out and occupy its own space, in front of Jane's head -- larger than her head, from what I remember without returning to it properly. Maybe it was impotent and restricted to delivering terror, I don't know.
Dingo wrote:
What if...What we call evil and are absolutely horrified (of) might just be the "look" of otherworldly beings
This may be so.
If so, we must then assume that otherworldy beings' natural appearance is that of voracious demons and that their natural means of expression consists of looming out of taken-over humans in order to deliver threats capable of blowing human minds. In which case, unless one's addicted to extreme-sports of the X-variety, I'd advise avoidance wherever possible, lol.
Dingo wrote:
Could it be that we call something "evil" and menacing because it frightenes us?
Does it make it automatically evil when we get frightened about it?
My own response is 'NO'. I'm frightened of heaps of things, yet I don't consider them to be even mildly 'evil'.
Why then do I consider the thing that superimposed itself within and over Jane's face to be 'evil' ? Very difficult to explain, other than to say it 'felt' evil, evil for the sake of it, evil that enjoyed what it was doing, evil that wanted to do what it was doing, evil that had no excuse for what is was doing, that had not been provoked or sought. It wanted to express itself. It set it up. My brother and I were children. We had few defences against something of that magnitude and no experience that could have prepared us for it. It lured us in, in different ways. It wasn't instructional. It traumatised.
I was about 13, my brother was about nine. I don't know if his youth protected him to a degree. What I can say is that I was suicidal until I was about 25, as was he and he continued to be so well into his 30's and may still be. He used to take phenomenal risks; just thinking about some of the things he did makes me cringe and push it aside, it's so frightening. I feel better with every year he gets older and tell myself he's past it and will be ok now. I can hardly believe he's made it this far. I used to try to mentally prepare myself to hear that he'd died, so that I'd be able to cope with it. He was still brought mentally to his knees by the memory of the Jane-face when a married man with children of his own. Yet he's lived in the wild, lived off the land, done high-wire acts of bravado on unfinished high-rise buildings he's worked on and has remained calm to the point of laughter re: events that others are still trying to get over years later. He doesn't scare easily. I do, I admit.
Maybe it was a situation waiting to happen, with Jane, my brother and myself already 'sensitive' or vulnerable to the paranormal. Perhaps the location further assisted. Maybe this explains a lot of paranormal events. And maybe it explains why some never experience any.
