Things go wrong here. “An apple gets the blight. A parcel is delivered to the wrong address. A child is born with deformities.”
Magic comes up, dark magic. We felt drugged, half seduced and half abducted. “Suspended magic comes up. It is not penetrating anything, it is suspended, brewing in itself.” – “A clown face appears, or is it a lady with a bad make-up? I need to follow her. She leads me into a circus. I do not really want to follow. Deeper into the circus tent the orange turns deep red. I hear her calling: ‘Follow me! Follow me!’ I tried to back out but I have come too far. The tunnel walls are red and slippery. There is a sense of seduction, imposing and persuasive. I see the image of an insect trapped in a red and demanding flower. I get sucked in and darkness is floating through the starry sky. It is a dead, dry daisy. Being trapped in non-existence is confusing. Then I feel self-contained, like a flower basking in sunshine and singing to myself. Isolated, content, selfish and oblivious.”
“I see a body decaying, it is like shedding a skin and at the same time liquefying. Just like magic. Everything is in a grey mist. I see black and white bleeding into each other. Then it is all grey. The decay feeds this grey mist. Then something stretches out and fingers come out and touch everything. Like wizard’s hands.”
“There is enticement, entrapment and deep deception. A small taste makes you want more.”
“I feel drugged.” – “I am infatuated with this sensation of tingling in my whole body. It is an obsession, like being in love. It almost feels like I am high.”
“Naked women standing in the doorways of opium dens. Euphoric smoke clouds hover with the promise of ultimate pleasure. Their eyes are distant. They give away their soul in detachment.”
“I feel pliable and fooled and taken off course. Humanity is so gullible. I see a man promising a woman a ride in an airplane that he owns and the seats are black. I thought about addiction only stopping when the body begins to break down.”
Children themes show up again, both as children songs but also in a dark and threatening context.
“I have dreams of murders, I see stab wounds under breasts. Babies drinking milk from voluptuous breasts. In the next round I have an image of crying babies lying on the ground. They are naked and wrapped loosely, not lovingly, in muslin blankets. The bowls sound eerie now.” – “A baby is put on a road to be killed. Surprisingly I did not have any particular emotional reaction to it. The area the baby was put in was enclosed by an orange fence.”
The loss of emotions is here seen as the killing of the child, of our inner child. One participant remembered a fairy tale from his childhood, “The Snow Queen” by the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen. A little boy is hit by a tiny glass splinter of a devilish mirror, his heart turns ice cold and only the love of his little sister could eventually save him. The story shows many parallels to our Shameeah experience: The loss of feeling, the obsession with snowflakes, numbers and mathematics, and finally the solution in our childlike purity of love.
C2 is in general the most emotional level. Here it was the complete lack of emotions that was striking. We were detached and deeply disconnected to what was happening in our inner world, some even felt comfortable and peaceful in this separation. Nobody described the aloneness as forsaken feeling, as emotional pain.
In C3 it feels as if a façade is all that is left of us. “I am in a lighthouse tower, the waves crashing into its base. There must be light inside, some purpose. But there is nothing in there, no purpose, nothing.” “I am stuck in this nothing space. I do not understand what is going on here.” – “I can see an empty female energy, where the core has been sucked out. She is devoid of soul. Fuck! Devoid of soul is so nothing, it feels so lifeless, pointless, useless, so non-existent! I want to scream!! I want to scream – but nothing. Somebody stole my voice but there was no bargain, nothing lost and nothing gained. Nothing. I am stuck in this empty eternity. It is still here.” “I am stuck in this nothing space. I am numb to life. I want to bang my head on the piano and fall to the floor! I would just lie there, feeling pain is better than feeling nothing.” “There is a crack in the universe, an opening for escape. I am stuck in the crack. Accept that there is no purpose. I am drawn to the darkness and vastness of shining sparkles suspended in blackness. The stars, suspended in space and time. Their coordinates all reveal patterns and structuring, there are gases, molecules, reactions, implosions, explosions, violence and peace. There is no purpose and no feeling. Things are decomposing. Who cares? They are breaking down into smaller particles of solids, liquids, gases. Who cares? I am broken into smaller pieces too, split up into micro-fragments. I am not concerned about it. I am spread and thrown out by the whim of the universe. There is no feeling that goes with this destruction. It just is. It is strange not to have feelings about being violently broken by a force larger than yourself. I have acceptance for what is, and no will. I would go wherever I was told. I would be seduced by either light or dark without concern for the consequences, playing a part of a larger design to which I have no say, no will and no desire.”
“Black smoke is swirling upwards from the prairies. Black is the sum of all colors but this blackness pulls all colors in, it has a pull. Then I get this image of a mother in her depression having stabbed all her children after the dust has caked (caped?) over the …. butter (8.44). Little pockets where sadness leaves a hole and madness enters. When we wake up, these influences cannot reach us. When we know our creativity and power, we do not get taken over and disempowered. Someone I knew well thought that an evil spirit was after him and his family and he even brought an exorcist.
Some years ago a fake lama blessed my business and I lost everything. He had cursed it. I did not want to believe in cursing. I never wanted to believe in darkness. It is Old Work black magic with some reality deep in the psyche.”
“I feel cursed. Something penetrated into me without leaving a scar. Now life seems to be merely a mechanical process that needs to be figured out. Once I thought life is a mystery that wants to be loved but this is not the case here. I am sitting in a prison that I cannot even see. So I cannot get out. I am helpless, trapped but not really aware of it. I cannot ask for help because I do not feel that I need help. I not only do not have the answer, I do not know which question to ask. But answers can only come when there is a question. There is no movement anymore. Time stands still. Without a loving heart beating the rhythm of time, life itself is frozen. I am isolated in a prison of timelessness. My prison is full of the cold light of mental clarity. There is no sign in my mind that anything would be missing.”
The colors orange and red came up strongly and repeatedly. Knowing that the plant was used to create a red dye, this seems to make sense. Especially beautiful was this observation of a participant: “I see a red poppy flower turn white.” We had mentioned the red dye which was gained from the seeds. In the Jewish tradition the leaves had been used to bleach wheat in order to make a pure white flour for bread.
The situation was very clear now. Some invisible force had hit us and disconnected us from emotion and body. What was left was an ice cold mind that was initially still clear. However, in the absence of feelings and the stabilizing connection with the body, things necessarily do not make sense anymore. The result was confusion and loss of meaning. We touched areas close to insanity.
Negative influences whose origin could not be seen were often called curses in older times. Today we know that most invisible energies that make us sick are either collective energies or transgenerational energies that have been passed on. Both are very hard to become aware of because they both feel for us like the water for the fish: We are born into them, we live in them, they feel so natural that they can hardly be recognized but most often are accepted or lamented about as fate or destiny, which are only other words for a lack of clarity.