It’s Not Over
I had smugly thought the above paranormal/psychic events spanning January through August 2001 had concluded. In fact, I was so confident of the big bad’s demise that I had begun talking to my friend Joel about developing our family’s harrowing tale into a play. Hoping the calamity that had befallen us might help others faced with the same dilemma, I contemplated turning our disaster into a dramatic work from which others might benefit. Since I felt too close to the subject matter to be completely objective, I approached Joel about a collaboration.
Because we kept in touch over the phone occasionally, I had generally kept Joel appraised of our ongoing war with the demons—but he really didn’t know the details. After reading the journal I’d kept, though, Joel was basically spellbound by what we’d been going through. Having known him for years and been in a play he directed, Brittany also considered Joel a close friend. She was eager to see him get involved, I wanted to get the story out there, and he was quite eager to help me develop the material into a play. We had several meetings in which we discussed possible approaches.
Brittany was living with Sheila full time, except for the week we went camping in mid-July. Other than a few phone calls a week and an occasional Saturday spent at my house, Britt and I had had very little contact until mid-October.
It was the most extensive period I’d been separated from my daughter since her birth nearly sixteen years earlier. It was very hard on me, and I was quite depressed about it for the first month or so. But Britt and I had had some pretty rough anti-bonding times during the final two months she had stayed exclusively with me. The new boyfriend, Dave, was nearly two years older than Britt, and looking back I guess I should have seen red flags go up simply because of that. I didn’t discourage them getting together, because after all she had been through with the possessions and wrangling with psychiatrists and therapists, I really felt like she deserved a good time for a change.
But the closer Britt and Dave became, the more my relationship with my daughter deteriorated. I suppose it was natural that the two of them would want to spend as much time together as possible.
But Brittany and I were arguing more than we’d ever done. So, when she announced she was ready to go back to her mother’s and stay for a while I wasn’t really surprised.
At this point, I was the “bad guy” who made rules—rules that Brittany didn’t want to keep.
I blamed myself for her alienation, but I know now I was just fulfilling my role as a parent. Brittany had never had many rules. I suppose Sheila and I had always been too lenient on her. We were in our thirties when she was born and hadn’t really expected to have any children. Then we divorced when she was four, and both of us were too easy on her in a misguided attempt to win Britt’s favor. As a result, Britt never really had chores like many children, and we both catered to her far more than we should have.
So it actually was quite natural for her to rebel when I finally did place rules and restrictions on her.
Britt and I probably had more arguments during the three months since Dave entered the scene than we had had during her entire existence up to that point.
I tried very hard not to let my dejection show when she chose to move in with Sheila—possibly because Sheila had already gotten the cold shoulder from Brittany for nearly five months. I didn’t whine about the situation, because I was just getting a dose of what Sheila already had.
By October, though, my relations with Britt had improved quite a bit. We were spending more time together, and the arguing had almost ceased altogether. Her mom had a second job on weekends, so occasionally Britt would stay with me while Sheila worked.
Sometimes we’d go see a movie or maybe just hang around the house. Naturally Dave was still in the picture, but I tried my best just to accept him—knowing that the quickest way to turn my daughter against me would be to openly reject her choice of boyfriends.
Brittany got a part-time job as an actor in a local haunted house called Shocktober. She seemed to really love this, getting to dress up, portray various demented characters, and exercise her acting legs.
But it was about this time that Brittany told me she felt like the demons were “trying to come back.” She said she could hear voices calling her name. She also said she had started seeing apparitions on a more regular basis over at her mother’s house. I asked if she’d told Sheila any of this, and Britt said she “didn’t want to upset her” and didn’t think Sheila would believe her anyway.
With demons potentially at the proverbial door again, action had to be taken immediately. Everyone involved was emotionally frayed around the edges, and the wicks of our candles had just about totally burned out. But because we had already been tested by fire and survived the initial onslaught, I didn’t feel quite as helpless as I had back in January. Under Laurel’s tutelage, I had learned more about demonic possession than I had ever anticipated I would in this lifetime—and had learned more than I certainly ever really wanted to know.
Laurel Leaves the Picture
However, I couldn’t depend on Laurel anymore. She said Sheila had called and told her to “stay away from my daughter.” I suppose this would have been during those months when Brittany wasn’t having anything to do with her mother—but I don’t know for sure. I was quite upset that Laurel was refusing to help. The woman who had exorcised the original demons and freed our daughter from their grasp had been supposedly forbidden from offering any more assistance. I did my best to get Laurel to overlook this banishment, but she regretfully said she had to honor Sheila’s request. She was, after all, Brittany’s mother.
I had hoped Laurel would be able to work with Brittany and help her develop her gift—to help her not be afraid of the things she saw, and to learn how to manage them. Although, of course, I didn’t agree—looking back, I can at least see things from Sheila’s perspective now. We were all dealing with unseen forces we’d never had to handle before—and we all had to deal with them from our own spiritual vantage points. Sheila’s vantage point was traditional, evangelical Christianity. Laurel herself was Christian, even if a bit of an unconventional one, and she had tried to tailor Brittany’s cleansing/exorcism with as much of a Christian spiritual slant as possible because she thought this would help Sheila better relate. But in the end, her exorcism probably had a bit too much of a New Age slant to it for Sheila to accept.
But none of that was helping me now. Laurel had been my first line of defense against the entities trying to possess Brittany, but now that option was off the table. Laurel’s help was no longer available.
I was angry at Laurel for refusing to help further and terribly, terribly confused about what to do next.
My daughter was again being assaulted by evil, unseen entities and I had to find someone to help.
I called several local metaphysically oriented people I knew just to get more than one opinion. I first rang up an old friend of mine named Marian “Daystar” Bustamonte. Daystar was her spiritual name, and that’s what everyone in the Nashville metaphysical community called her. She hated being called Marian. Daystar was, in fact, my teacher for the class in Wicca. She is also a Native American shaman.
My six-week course in Wicca taught me lots about things I’d never been exposed to before, and I came to regard Daystar as a good friend and trusted spiritual adviser. Although I finally returned to my own form of Christian faith, I developed the greatest respect for Pagans and those who utilize this belief system in a sincere attempt to access the available power of God to accomplish good in the world.
I hadn’t burdened Daystar with the nightmare we’d been through nor told her about Brittany’s possession when it happened. There was just too much going on for me to wrap my head around everything I should do and everyone I should tell. But on that October morning, I called Daystar to see if she could offer any advice. By this point, I was desperate and didn’t much care about offending anyone’s religious sensibilities. My daughter was begging me for help, and I went to the best source I knew of.
Her roommate answered and told me Daystar had moved to North Carolina and gave me her cell number. I called, but she was busy unpacking. She promised to call later.
True to her word, the next day Daystar phoned. She asked me to email the narrative I’d kept in my journal to her. She said she’d look it over and get back to me with a recommendation.
By then, it was the last week of October. We had returned to the every other week schedule with Britt rotating between Sheila and me. So for the first time in three and a half months, Britt returned to my house. It was the week before Halloween.
The events of the previous nine months had had a profound effect on all of us and caused us all to do a great deal of soul searching. Sheila took refuge in an evangelical approach to Christianity, while I delved more deeply into things I was reading and learning about metaphysics. I was desperate for some divine power source that could protect Brittany from the demonic entities that were trying to repossess her body, claiming they wanted to steal her soul.
I don’t believe the method used to reach out to and contact Divinity is as important as the actual link or hook-up to Divinity, the Universe, or God. I am firmly convinced that whatever works well for you in your spiritual quest is what is best.
My study of Wicca and Paganism in general focused very much on their important holidays, the most important of which is Halloween—the Celtic New Year. According to Druidry (a religion or spirituality based on the priests of the Celts, called Druids), Samhain (Halloween) is the time of year when the veil between this world and the otherworld is the thinnest.
Now Brittany had always celebrated Halloween in a big way, just like all kids. It was always a huge holiday for her mother, too. Back when we were married, Sheila always made a really big deal of decorating the house for Halloween and preparing for the big Halloween parties we’d have. And that was back before I cared very much about it one way or the other.
But Halloween was upon us, and Britt was extremely excited. She decorated the house and prepared her costume. (She and Dave were going trick or treating in the neighborhood.) Things actually did seem to be getting back to normal, despite Brittany’s claims of demonic entities trying to return.
Then she started channeling again for the first time in months (with the exception of a couple of visits from Spence). The night before Halloween, we were preparing to go to a sort of staged haunted house at a theatre. Billed as a “séance to summon the Bell Witch,” it was actually a play about a séance to summon Tennessee’s most famous spirit. Anyway, we sat in the kitchen eating dinner before the show, and that old, familiar, spacey look came across Britt’s face. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she sort of zoned out for a couple of seconds. When she came back, she looked at me like she didn’t recognize me, turning her head from side to side as if trying to figure out who or what I might be. Then she made the gurgling, giggling sounds a baby makes and began playing in her food instead of eating it.
If I’d never seen her channel before, I probably would have totally freaked out. However, from my experiences with Britt channeling months earlier, I knew to remain calm, be friendly and loving to this new entity, and perhaps try to communicate with it.
Apparently this was the spirit of a very young baby, so I got up and hugged it and told them that I loved them. After a few moments of attempted conversation, I realized the entity didn’t really understand me—although the hugs seemed to comfort it. But it was unable to communicate verbally. Still playing in the food, Brittany attempted to throw a few green peas; however, I gently demonstrated that this was not acceptable and would not be allowed.
After a bit more clowning with the food, the baby stood up in her chair. Afraid she might hurt herself, I gently coaxed Britt down. Then she giggled and ran into the living room, stopping at the foot of the stairs. She eyed the top step as if to toddle up, so rather than let her dash up the stairs in a wobble, I stood between Britt and the stairway. Then she did a perfectly natural thing for a baby to do, but it was an action that took me totally by surprise—and totally embarrassed Brittany when she came to.
Our infant guest stood there in front of the living room door and urinated. With urine streaming down her leg, Britt/Baby laughed and giggled—even sloshing her feet in the liquid. Luckily, she stood on a 4' x 4' entrance area between the front door and the stairway that was covered in tile rather than carpet.
By now my mother heard the commotion, came into the living room, and held Brittany still while I ran upstairs for some towels. After cleaning Britt and the floor, I asked the entity in my most pleasant voice (although, I admit, I was a bit shaken) if Brittany couldn’t come back—always being careful to assure the entity we loved it and enjoyed meeting it. Britt/Baby nodded in the affirmative (was a part of our communication telepathic?), and my daughter slumped to the ground.
When she came to, I told Britt what had happened: food slinging, urine and all.
“Oh, gross!” she exclaimed and was totally mortified by the incident.
After she’d had a bath, we proceeded on to the Bell Witch séance play.
It occurred to me that with the veil between dimensions being so thin at that time of year, Brittany was going to be very vulnerable to entities wanting to pop in and have their say. I had figured Britt would feel much safer if I could get a shaman like Daystar to cast a protective spell to keep wandering beasties from jumping onboard during Samhain, much as the baby entity had. But it was already Halloween eve, and there was no time to find anyone to do this. So with very little practical experience or knowledge in witchcraft, I decided to cast the spell myself. I had had the beginner’s course in Wicca, had read books, and had started my own Book of Shadows (a sort of personal manual, including historical facts about Paganism, definitions, and spells). I did not truly feel qualified to do this, but it seemed to me at the time I had no other alternatives.
I took a deep breath, composed a spell, cast a magic circle, and cast the spell before we left the house. The spell I designed follows:
“Mighty Goddess, protect thy servant Brittany this night from any who’d try to enter her Light.”
Britt seemed a bit surprised at her old dad casting spells, but it definitely pleased her that I’d go to this extreme to help. She was noticeably relieved. After the incident with the intruding baby entity, she had been anxious and apprehensive—dreading, no doubt, a recurrence of the events of the preceding January. However, the spell seemed to give her confidence, and a peace and calm came over her that I hadn’t seen lately. I sincerely believe that in this case, the intent is what really mattered and not the act itself. So if all the spell actually did was to encourage her to keep her guard up, then it was worth it.
On Halloween day itself, there were no further incidents of channeling. Britt and Dave prepared their costumes for their evening of trick or treating.
Before they left with Dave’s friend Anthony and his girlfriend in Anthony’s car, I took their photos. Then off they went, with Britt seeming to be in a very good and relaxed mood.
The next day Britt confided in me that several times during the evening’s merriment, she had strongly felt the tug of the demonic forces that had so tightly gripped her months earlier. But she resisted and said she felt the protective spell had really worked.
That Sunday, Britt returned to her mother’s to spend her week. Meanwhile, I had been contacted by a local theatre group about taking a part in a holiday play, An O. Henry Christmas. Rehearsals were to begin that week, Monday through Thursday, 7:00 to 9:30 p.m. I hesitated about taking the role, because I was worried about leaving Britt alone if the channeling and/or possessions resumed. But when I learned this was going to be a short rehearsal schedule, I decided to give it a shot—after I asked Brittany and Mima both if they thought they could manage. Britt loves theatre, and she was eager for me to take the role. And she would only be at my house two of the weeks I’d be rehearsing.
Daystar did call me back after she’d read the narrative. She was very supportive and wanted to help in any way she could. And she was particularly put out with me for not telling her about the possession back in January, insisting she would have been happy to conduct the exorcism. I should have contacted her, and I wish that I had. But I tried to explain to Daystar about the importance of including Sheila’s belief system into the exorcism and my apprehension about her disapproval of Daystar’s avowed Paganism. I was certain that Britt’s mother wouldn’t have condoned an exorcism performed by a non-Christian. Laurel had been a compromise candidate in many respects, but now it seemed that what she had done hadn’t been entirely effective.