MagnetMan
Jan 27th, 2009, 11:51 AM
I posted this haunting on another thread a couple of years back, It fits better here.
I was resting in my bed one morning with my eyes closed. Without opening my eyes, I sensed some being enter the room. I thought it was my dog, come begging for a walk in the park. So I felt no alarm. There was pressure on the mattress. Again I thought it was he, about to give me a lick. So I remained open to his affection. Suddenly there was loud animal snort/growl right beside my ear. Every muscle and sinew suddenly went rigid. It felt as though I was being gripped from within by iron bands. For some unknown reason I remained calm. I thought that if I could move just one finger, I would triumph over whatever the force was that had entered my body. I struggled with all my might. The finger began to move. The iron grip then suddenly switched to my throat. I was being strangled from inside my body! Now I got frightened. Without any thought, I gasped out a phrase.
"I KNOW JESUS!" (Why I said that I do not know, since I did not know Jesus.)
No relief. The grip just got tighter. The room began to spin crazily. I was desperate. An idea flashed into my mind. A yogi friend had told me that he had once used a certain battle mantra to ward off a psychic attack. I remembered the mantra and managed to gasp it aloud.
"OM NAMO SHIVAYA!" -
Instant relief. It was as though nothing had happened.
A long-forgotten incident entered my mind. I had once shot a male baboon out of tree for no reason at all except target practice. He fell dead, face down on the ground, his arms outstrethed. When I came over to examine him, I was struck at how much the muscular structure of his back, shoulders and arms made him look like a dead human. I felt a twinge of remorse. That shameful old memory made me think it was his spirit that had come for revenge.
Several months later, I was busy on documentary television special that focused on the training of Shamans. I made a friend of one of them and invited him over to my house for a cup of tea. The Zulu shaman shivvered violently as soon as he crossed my thresh-hold.
"You have an angry spirit in your house."
"Who?"
"Baboon."
I had never told anybody about the psychic attack, or my shamful story of the baboon.
The shaman came back a week later with a gourd filled with a potion he had made. He used a wildebeeste tail as a switch, dipped it in the gourd and went around the house, from room to room, sprinkling the walls with the potion.
I never had another attack in that house.
I was resting in my bed one morning with my eyes closed. Without opening my eyes, I sensed some being enter the room. I thought it was my dog, come begging for a walk in the park. So I felt no alarm. There was pressure on the mattress. Again I thought it was he, about to give me a lick. So I remained open to his affection. Suddenly there was loud animal snort/growl right beside my ear. Every muscle and sinew suddenly went rigid. It felt as though I was being gripped from within by iron bands. For some unknown reason I remained calm. I thought that if I could move just one finger, I would triumph over whatever the force was that had entered my body. I struggled with all my might. The finger began to move. The iron grip then suddenly switched to my throat. I was being strangled from inside my body! Now I got frightened. Without any thought, I gasped out a phrase.
"I KNOW JESUS!" (Why I said that I do not know, since I did not know Jesus.)
No relief. The grip just got tighter. The room began to spin crazily. I was desperate. An idea flashed into my mind. A yogi friend had told me that he had once used a certain battle mantra to ward off a psychic attack. I remembered the mantra and managed to gasp it aloud.
"OM NAMO SHIVAYA!" -
Instant relief. It was as though nothing had happened.
A long-forgotten incident entered my mind. I had once shot a male baboon out of tree for no reason at all except target practice. He fell dead, face down on the ground, his arms outstrethed. When I came over to examine him, I was struck at how much the muscular structure of his back, shoulders and arms made him look like a dead human. I felt a twinge of remorse. That shameful old memory made me think it was his spirit that had come for revenge.
Several months later, I was busy on documentary television special that focused on the training of Shamans. I made a friend of one of them and invited him over to my house for a cup of tea. The Zulu shaman shivvered violently as soon as he crossed my thresh-hold.
"You have an angry spirit in your house."
"Who?"
"Baboon."
I had never told anybody about the psychic attack, or my shamful story of the baboon.
The shaman came back a week later with a gourd filled with a potion he had made. He used a wildebeeste tail as a switch, dipped it in the gourd and went around the house, from room to room, sprinkling the walls with the potion.
I never had another attack in that house.