Post by poseygilbert on Feb 18, 2014 22:37:36 GMT -6
Butch's Ghost It Was Done With Mirrors
By: Posey Gilbert
I am kind of shaky about adding this article because I know there will be those that despite my warning not to do so will copy my actions and may be as lucky or as unlucky as I was.By: Posey Gilbert
What I am to talk about here is not a game or something to be played around with
To this day I feel I am still suffering repercussions from these very actions.
Maybe if I was raised in another culture I would have been able to realize the full potential of what I was allowed to experience but I was raised in this culture and cannot understand why anyone would choose this as a path to walk.
I walked this one in igannance and maybe that alone is what saved me that I had no idea of what I was doing.
If however you choose to do this now after hearing of my experience then you do it willingly and your fate is of your own doing or undoing...
I submit it with hopes that their may have been others out there that may have had a similar encounter and will after reading this get in contact with me.
When I was about a year plus some months old I awoke to find myself alone.
I know I was about that age at that time for my brother Ralph had not been born yet
Finding myself alone in the house I decided I wanted to finally see what I looked like.
So I took off all my clothing and was jumping up and down on my parent's bed trying to see me fully in the big mirror on the chest of draws across from their bed.
Just as I made my third bound I saw someone else stepping into the reflection in the mirror that, needless to say, immediately confused and frightened me.
Simultaneously at that point I heard, "Ouuuuu, you nasty little boy you stop that and put your clothes back on!"
It was Mrs. Jones an old lady that lived across the way from us she had been watching me.
I did not know at that time that my mother had been called to school for an emergency and had asked her to watch me for she did not want to awaken me.
The combination of what I had seen in the mirror and Mrs. Jones's scolding me from across the yard frightened me and I remember trying to put my clothes back on and having a hell of a time doing it being so young.
Thank goodness for that for it was my intention to leave the house and go in search of my mother.
But buttoning a shirt that was on inside out was more of a task than I thought it would be not to mention trying to tie the strings of shoes that were on the wrong feet.
Half zipped half buttoned I headed for the front door as I reached it, it opened and Mother came in.
I was so happy to see her that I forgot about what I had seen in the mirror.
It would be fifteen years later that I would again see that image that so frightened and confused me.
It was as I stepped from the shower I was sixteen and had pubic hair.
Now understand of course I had seen myself naked before then but it was just the way I looked that one time that I recognized the image I had seen and I flashed back to that little boy bouncing on Mom and Pop's bed.
Then as I thought about it I said well if the mirror can show you the future could it show you the past?
So I took the mirror in my bedroom and sat it on the night table and lit a candle and placed it in front of the mirror.
I had Ralph's Emeny organ on my lap and as I played an eerie piece of music I had written to "Open the mirror" as I called it.
I'd look fixedly on the flame of the candle while concentrating on the image beyond it in the mirror.
Now understand I know these days this is called "Scrying" but understand this is just something I just knew to do then.
My term for it then and now is "Calling into the mirror."
As I repeatedly played the tune I said aloud "Show me my past, show me my past."
To my amazement the face that was mine became that of a pilgrim a Native American an African and then returned to my face.
Astounded at what I had just witnessed I jumped up and turned on the light blew out the candle and went to my mother.
"Mother" I asked "do we have Indians blood in us?"
"You do,” she said not turning away from her work in the kitchen.
"Its from your fathers side your Grandma Roxy was Cherokee..."
"You don't have any Indian blood in you?"
"No," she said, "Your Grandpa Posey was white though."
She went onto tell the story of how my grandfather had to take my grandmother and run for their life, into the mountains of Danville Virginia, because interracial marriage was illegal, and both risked being lynched by the KKK but her story fell on un-listening ears for my mind was now filling with what other things could be done with mirrors.
My next "Calling Into The Mirror " was to be my last.
I had been thinking about what I had done and said to myself
"Well you were looking into the flame of the candle so your vision was off and of course being of mixed bloods you would have features of all the bloods with in you, you may have just focused on each of these features as you were looking in the mirror that's all."
So I decided I would try something so different the next time as to leave no room for questioning.
The next time I did not use the candle but put a green Christmas light bulb into the Emeny and turned it so that the light would shine upon my face.
Like this I would not have my vision of the mirror obscured by the flame of the candle.
I again darkened the room and began to play the organ but this time saying only,
"Come to me, come to me, come to me..."
I deliberately did not put any image in my mind for I thought it might taint what I saw if I was to see anything at all.
I was swaying back and forth with my eyes closed, mainly because of the glare of the light in my face calling aloud, "Come to me. Come to me..."
When suddenly something banged the window, we lived on the tenth floor.
Then fell behind Ralph's bed and then in the closet across and to the left of me.
"They're here!"
I thought as I sat up alert to what had just happened.
Then I thought, "But, who's here?"
I looked to the mirror...
There outlined in green light was a face not my own, and defiantly not human.
It had one large glaring eye over a wide flat pointed nose over a down turned gapping mouth.
I screamed and threw the organ up into the air as I raced for the door.
I pulled it open only to have it spring from my hands and slam shut.
"It's trying to get you!" I said to myself as I again grasped the doorknob and pulled the door again was trying to spring out of my hand to shut but I would not let go this time.
As I stood there having this tug o war with the door it dawned on me,
"Maybe if you got your foot out of the way the door would open up
I looked down and it was my own foot that the door was hitting that caused it to rebound and slam shut.
My throwing the organ broke it and I was unable to play the closing ceremony piece to "close" the mirror.
That was the last time I called into the mirror.
It was to be in the early eighties that as I was reading the book called
The Wounded Healer Shaman that I came across a description of the creature I had seen in the mirror.
Its name was Burgestez-Udagan.
The following definition is taken directly from the book "The Wounded Healer"
And it is not my intention to infringe on copy write and I hope this does not cause me trouble I use it to impress on any who may read this the why this should not be done by fools such as I was.
This wondrous creature places her charge in an iron cradle, rocks him, tends him, and brings him up on pieces of coagulated blood.
When he has attained proper age, his shaman mother turns him over to three horrific black and gaunt spirits who hack his flesh to pieces, place his head on a pole and scatter his flesh in all directions.
In my panic I had not "Closed the mirror " as I call it and after that, that bedroom became a hot spot of paranormal activity in the house.
So much so that I demanded to be moved into another bedroom, which I was, but the activity followed.
My bed would shake and tilt up on one leg and wildly swing about.
Sometimes I would hear loud but muted music playing as if it was coming from all the walls of the room, the ceiling and floor at once.
Thumping would come from with in the concrete wall by the window.
The six separate panes of the windows in the room would suddenly bang all at once in a way that cannot be done physically without breaking them.
Screwed on bottle tops would just start popping off like corks.
This continued for years and Mother came to call it Butch's Ghost.
Pop did not believe it until one night because of my continuous slamming of the dresser draws in my room, awoke him,
He came raging into the room to only find that I was not there and in fact was staying at my Godfather Wilsons' home in Queens.
This Quantum Phenomena continued up until, and after I was forced by Pop to move out some years later.
When my parents moved to Virginia I took over the apartment for a short time and heard it once or twice but I would not sleep in that room again.
Because of my four dogs Shadow a wirehair pitbull mix, German shepherd Lady, two Malamutes Luna, and Teeka and my cat Cagney I moved to Brooklyn a month later and do not know if it is still there.
I do know that the paint on the wall where the knocking came from started to peel off it all the way down to the plaster.