Three weeks ago this past Sunday, I grew sleepy enough that I went to bed around 2:30 (1430 hours). I don’t remember dreaming.

Just after dark, something pushed me out of bed. With force.

I didn’t fall out of bed.

How I wish I had.

This was a push in the middle of my back, forcing me off and away from the bed so that I landed on my stomach two feet away.

On the way down, I hit an old computer desk I was using as a nightstand. The top was heavy but it came off, flipped over and landed on my legs. My lower back was wet from a glass of water I’d sat on the stand.

In the pitch dark, I tried to turn onto my back but felt my shoulders pinned to the floor. I struggled, feeling a pain on my posterior right deltoid which I couldn’t process because suddenly I was released and I turned over. Whatever was there with me in the dark, it pinned my shoulders again, on my back. I never heard anything but the crash of the table falling apart. No growling or anything or like that.

But I was being held.

I raised my head, trying to get momentum to sit up, but could not go any further.

I was scared, but not terrified. This was new for me but I know the drill from other past experiences: never show fear; it’ll only make it worse. Demons suck the energy you put out as fear right out of the air and that energy makes them stronger.

I was finally released and was so weak that getting up was still difficult nonetheless. A scratch behind my right shoulder burned and itched like an animal’s scratch.

Feeling my way in the dark, I found the lamp, impossibly further from the wall than my feet, and turned it on. How it could still be plugged in, I couldn’t say. I was in shock.

Looking around in the lit room, it hit me: it was a demonic attack, no doubt about it.

For years I could see shadows in there from where I watch TV on the sofa. I didn’t dismiss them outright. That’s foolish. You tell a doctor and they’ll medicate you with an antipsychotic. Don’t do it.

But I didn’t worry either; they were fleeting, usually a sign they’re just passing through.

This time one didn’t. It stayed long enough to get irritated, perhaps, at my snoring. More likely, though, is that it just found a target and took advantage of it.

Most physical attacks attributed to ghosts are probably not what people think. They’re either weak and give a slight push near a staircase, or they tug at your shirt. When it comes to powerful physical force, enough to empty cupboards or scratch you, I don’t care what TV “experts” say; that’s no ghost, and certainly not a poltergeist. It’s demonic and you are in danger.

One thing I know is that electricity can give them power. In the room on the side of the bed the push came from, there’s a peculiar combination. The utility room is on the other side of the wall and it holds the power main, circuit breaker panel and the mammoth Fios box. Part of it draws so much power that a hole runs through for it to plug into a socket in my bedroom. Also, in my room, is a box for a double router and the main router sits on the dresser. That’s enough to supply plenty of energy to an entity for at least a single attack, but I’m counting being pinned twice as part of the attack, too.

I haven’t slept in there since. Sooner or later I will. I’ve bought a new matress and frame, tossed the computer table and have asked for prayer intervention by a priest in New York who is powerful in his faith. A short prayer from him goes far.

But none of my stories ever end so quickly. By now, you’re probably aware of this. Because there could be a reason for the attack.

I have a friend who’s plagued by misfortune. Plagued. I’ve talked with this friend at length trying to “see” what causes so much trouble in the home. I was sent a photograph of two dolls. Out of caution and for the friend’s anonymity as well as safety I won’t give any name, nor shall I describe the dolls.

There’s one in particular that bothers her and yet I saw both as being attached by dark spirits. I mean demons.

The one bothering my friend the most — or which, more specifically, she thought was responsible — is indeed immediately troubling to look at. That’s my gift if you want to call it that. I can read photographs of places, and on rare occasions people, and see things about them that others may not. Of course, in my posts “The Cat Who Knew Too Much” and “The Angel Of Death”, I did this with a house across the street from me. But most often, in person, sensory overload prevents me from it. It’s rare. The senses are all being used and can make me unaware of what’s unseen. However, a photograph is something I’m practiced at concentrating on, and in a second can tell if a place is best avoided. When I look after that, the intuition may intensify or even get specific.

This happened recently when someone put up a photograph of a house which was of interest to someone they knew. I simply commented with, “any way they could keep looking (for a house to buy)?”

It piqued my friend’s interest and I was asked to elaborate, which I did. But in the end it seemed that friend came to other conclusions and I’ll be careful about offering my two cents henceforth.

Back to the doll my friend thought solely responsible for some of her misfortune. It isn’t. The other one has a prideful and mean attachment. It has a mischievous side as well. It picked the doll for that reason. I can’t say why. But it likes to mess with her, hide things like keys, money, trinkets or something else needful. Sometimes, I suspect, the items in question are found in weird places. I would say also that some are never found, a testament to the spirit’s true power.

Activity began immediately after the pictures were taken. My friend got upset but moreover, so did her cats. They became agitated, anxious.

I advised prayer, a Hail Mary and an Our Father. I also said to apologize for taking pictures without first asking for permission. All these things worked. My friend also blessed themself with holy water and the sign of the cross. The cats got the same and calmed down.

I can’t see a way to be rid of the dolls because if destroyed, the spirits may stay in the home and grow extremely bellicose. Someone has to knowingly and willingly take them. The Zaffis or Warren museums may take them. But until they are gone from that house, misfortune will continue. These things are cursed which is why spirits attached in the first place. If not removed, then they, as with all cursed objects, will cause misfortune. This includes problems with health and finances that don’t appear to make sense. Relationship troubles that cannot be repaired. And it isn’t usually just the person who made the initial purchase and brought them home that’s affected; everyone in the house will be treated to their own share of misery, and yes, people who are living in such conditions can die. For instance, anecdotal evidence has shown repeatedly that cancers and other maladies seem to be affected or made worse by cursed objects. All cursed objects have a demonic attachment. Otherwise the curse doesn’t work. Whoever casts the curse or no matter how it comes to be attached, an object so haunted has an attached demon who will not quit. It does not need sleep. It does not eat. It is not from the realm of the physical. And it hates all humans equally in the end even if, for a time, it can be pacified. And I wouldn’t count on that.

I also don’t recommend pacification because a demon with a fixed nature may strengthen if it prefers to affect a particular person in a household.

In both of the above cases where I tried to help, I paid for it. The attack in my bed almost immediately came after I advised against buying the house. While engaged in the ongoing attempt to see what was in there, something shut me out and it was as if I had a door slammed in my face. Whatever it was, it was very angry and very strong.

Then the attack came. Why the delay? It is normal for me to fall asleep watching TV while lying on the sofa. The attack came on the one night I slept in my room (the one with so much electricity in the wall the attack came from).

They do love revenge. Oh, demons are happy to mess with anyone from babies to seniors, but all who interfere in their affairs will eventually face their wrath, and that’s a terrible thing. Depending on the type of demon and how much power it can pull from causing fear or from electromagnetic fields, these experiences can cause deep trauma.

Following the conversation about the dolls, retribution came to me in nightmares, each worse than the one before. I’ve discussed nightmares before; some I’ve described as fever-induced, others brought about by PTSD, some contained warnings, and more. Demons torment lots of people in dreams because they are not of flesh and can easily get into one’s mind.

In the first place, I have to note that I was weak. Not prayed-up, which leaves us on our own. I was also under stress because of the pandemic and looming election. This stress kept me up late and I missed my chance to get a ride to early voting. That increased my stress because now I had only election day. I’m in a blue state, but I wanted to vote anyway. I believe it is a duty. A privilege, and an honor. But because of PTSD, stress comes from the most simple of things. So I was predisposed and open to attack. That’s my fault, and I didn’t even think about it.

The first dream involved me trying to protect someone who did not want my help. At first she looked like my youngest sister, but she became faceless. Dreams leave out details as the focus shifts to the need for other details. In this case, a punk she kept going to despite his being no good. At one point I was aware I spoke out loud, as in, talking in my sleep. Back in his bedroom my housemate heard me scream, “Why don’t you unlock the fucking door?” as clearly as if I were awake.

I was screaming at her (this woman I was trying to save) from outside a sliding door, looking right at her. She was in his house. But she was afraid not to open it because my anger was towering. I went in and the guy had this stupid look on his face. He was scared but defiant. I beat him so badly that he went down. His nose was flat to his face and inside his skull. Blood was everywhere and he choked on it.

I pulled a large hunting knife from a belt sheath and held the point to his throat. I was amazed that he was still conscious. The blade went into his throat a little bit and I screamed hysterically, “Touch her again, you will fucking die!”

As I awoke, feeling pretty horrible, the words popped into my mind: “Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me.”

Had the punk represented Jesus? I couldn’t figure it out.

The next night was worse. I was watching a weird car shaped like a triangle, a pointed nose bearing decals like green flames over a cadmium yellow paint scheme. I saw it swerving all over the place. I knew the driver wasn’t drunk; trouble was at hand. Sure enough it eventually crashed. A bad wreck with a rollover. I ran to see if I could help. The door was gull-wing, opening upward. A black man stumbled out and his right arm at the wrist was inside his ear! But when he withdrew it, with no display of pain or any emotion at all, he had no hand. His lower arm narrowed and was lobed, like an asparagus spear!

He was not alone, either. After he had removed his arm he just sat on the ground, glassy eyed and still. Behind him at uneven distances were others, also glassy eyed and motionless, but alive. What the hell was going on?

Images like these are normal in nightmares, but I could tell this dream was another one induced by a vengeful spirit, with torment its only intention. Demon dreams have two elements not found in other nightmares: they’re more vivid and detailed, and they are unforgettable. I remember every single one I’ve had. I knew something was there with me. The dreams get vile, to a degree of causing trauma and leaving me a shambles when I awaken.

I don’t want to sleep tonight.

But I must pray for redemption and forgiveness, and I must ask for protection by the Holy Trinity.

I can’t go any further, but I do want to leave you with the little bit of advice that I can after 40+ years of studying the supernatural.

First, pray often. Confess your sins and ask for protection, for deliverance from evil.

Second, obey your gut, your instincts. If something seems amiss, whether you are a believer or a skeptic, then avoid an investment like a house, something you’ll be locked into for a long time. Check the history of the house. Talk to neighbors. Previous owners.

Third, avoid antiques. All antiques, and especially anything without a known history. Avoid yard sales, garage sales and used items on Ebay. Just trust me.

Fourth, no dolls! Not only that but figurines, curios, action figures, sculptures. Both new and old. Giving a kid a doll is asking for trouble. There have been too many cases of entities attached to them attacking kids. No dolls.

Avoid heirlooms. They may not be attached, but can carry and hold residual energy from the past. The older the heirloom, the more it holds. The owners did not always live lives of strawberries and cream. You don’t want negative energy around you.

This includes the clothing, jewelry or anything else the dead leave behind. Avoid crystals and the trappings of charlatans who claim to hold your answers. Obey your gut; second guessing yourself will always lead you in the wrong direction.

Lastly, avoid all dark arts. Calling forth spirits to do your bidding will never end well. I’ve personally known people who did this, and they had to abandon their house. As in, flee from it. And once it was vacant, even a guy running a snowplow avoided that street.

Do not ghost hunt. You Tubers do this often, copying TV ghost hunters. It’s not for novices or casual fun. For my prime example I’ll use the dreadful “Ghost Adventures”, a long-running series on Travel Channel. They go in with equipment, all serious, and as soon as something goes bump in the night, they scream like adolescent girls playing at a ouija board. The rest is acting, all of it bad. Something, without fail, always attacks Zak or another one in the group. Drama queen stuff. All the while, Zak narrates in a sanctimonious voice.

It’s funny, but at the same time, dangerous. You go looking for something, you’ll eventually find it. Then you get to find out that the something didn’t want to be found. They’re silly, ghost hunters, but they take awful chances. You can be saved a lot of misery simply by not going on ghost hunts and asking for spirits to show themselves.

As for me? I’d rather not sleep anymore.

UPDATE: The friend with the dolls failed to find a place for them. Terrible things happened including a death in the apartment. Finally she left, leaving the dolls and just about everything else in there, and since then has done very well. She had an infection that cleared up after 4 years of suffering from it, and a few other things have been resolved. I know I was right about the dolls and yet she was too; she would never have wanted help if she had thought them harmless.

I take no joy in knowing what I do.

So, yeah, it’s official. I’m never sleeping again.