When I originally began to outline the Lost Decade series I thought this entry would focus on the subject of possession and I planned on entitling it; “More friends possessed.” As I began to think about it, I realized I wanted to discuss the matter at length and not just limit it to the 1996 through 2006 time-frame.
I am sure there are plenty of people in the world that do not believe in angels and demons. There are many who consider them to be abstract concepts, things that were devised by people with an unsophisticated understanding of the world around them. These types of entities must have been a means of explaining certain phenomena that was beyond a much older generation’s ability to fathom events that confounded their crude understanding. Nothing could be further from the truth. As the one and only man that has his lived his life in the intersection of worlds where the preternatural and non-corporeal battle, I can state without any reservation that angels and demons do exist and there are many levels of entities in between the most good and the most bad extremes. As I said back in 1996, “There are levels of gray.”
I coined the term “inhabited” before the Lost Decade began, when my words and actions saved all of you from the first Bible Code anticipated “end of the world. ” This word was intended to be a neutral term that encompassed “possession by evil” and “enrapt by good” categories of beings. I also want to let you know I’m always offended when people use these terms too loosely. I don’t think any type of psychological phenomenon even approaches what happens when someone’s soul is completely pushed aside and another entity takes control of the body.
This has happened so many times I’m not sure which examples to cite here: to go through all that have happened in my life would take an extraordinarily long time. Here I will cite some of the most memorable, most disturbing, and most significant events.
The first example I would like to mention: the blue-haired lady at the church.
Sorry if that sounded derogatory, it was meant in jest. This occurred in 1980, during my senior year at Beverly Hills High School. Joel Pressman had arranged for us to attend a church function around Christmastime. I don’t remember much about the place but it was about an hour or so south on 405. It could have been Redondo Beach or somewhere else near where he lived. I had traveled there with Richard Llewellyn and Shelly Albaum in my Volvo. It seemed like an odd kind of event; the Madrigals were not the main focus, we would sing a bit, enjoy the refreshments, and looked at some paintings that had glow-in-the-dark paint accents.
I was standing and chatting with my fellow Madrigals when an older lady, maybe as old as seventy, came up to me and spoke to me in a very childlike voice. As best as I recall, the conversation went like this:
Her: Ben, do you have the Glowing Beads?
Me: (Trying to remain calm as I realized something was very much out of the ordinary. To begin with, how did she know my name?) What? No, I don’t.
Her: Can you make the Glowing Beads now?
Me: No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I don’t have the beads with me. I don’t have the beads at home.
Her: Can you get them?
Me: (Hesitantly) Yes, I can . . . I’ll get them soon.
Her: But you’d want them, right?
Me: Yes, the Glowing Beads would be nice. The Glowing Beads, would be good!
At this point, seemingly satisfied with my response, she walked away and my other friends joined the larger group around me and asked me what that was all about. I told them I had no idea. When I mentioned that I tried to remain calm, I can honestly say that when she approached that I felt something so bizarre was happening part of me wanted to run from the place, screaming.
As this event was winding down, there was a signal to switch the lights, the normal lighting switched for black lights, and all the paintings on display revealed small green glowing dots that were in different circular and looped shapes. I recall studying these paintings quite intently.
Near the time this event was winding down, some ladies who were friends with lady that came over to me told me “She’s okay, now.” They were letting me know she had returned to normal but didn’t remember what transpired. At this time, I’m a bit unsure if she was the artist that painted the Glowing Bead pictures. I walked over to speak with her and remember she was very embarrassed by what happened, or at least what her friends told her had happened. I assured her it was all okay, as she averted her gaze from mine, and there was no harm done.
Just like her, I suppose I wanted to put this episode behind me as soon as possible. I tried to dismiss the whole thing as not at all that strange on the drive home and hoped my friends would forget about it, too. However, just as I thought we had put it behind us, Shelly started in from the backseat with the same voice that came out of the old lady, “Can you make Glowing Beads, NOOOOOOW?” Richard found this hysterical, coming close to kicking out my windshield with his hysterics and I remember sighing heavily, begging both of them to “Please, knock it off.”