Here is an exorcist’s take on your incubus problem. Well first off let us gets some definitions straight. I have been dealing with succubai for 8 years now, usually when I am most afraid of them then I am at my weakest and they drain me of my exocrine secretions, now where it has got to the point where it has begun to drain me of my endocrine secretions. Exocrine are juices that flow outside of the body, endocrine is inside. Endocrine makes the body work. The exocrine eventually gets tapped out and the endocrine gets sucked dry leaving you and empty husk like a spider just sucked out all your marrow and everything else. Succubus are witches that drain energy, so they are like vampiric witches that ride me when I sleep. An incubus is a male form of a succubus. I am not allowed to participate in normal sex because of the exocrine gland sex suction has got to a point where the endocrine is being tapped and I am being killed by supernatural sex. If I don’t participate in some sexual act, then I am more apt to have a wet dream, so I have to go through various forms of fetish play through the day, either reading erotic stories, acting out parts in videos, downloading what I am surfing, doing advanced S&M, or going to a strip club getting lap dances, whatever, anything to visit areas of my brain imagination to sap that sexual mental energy before the succubus arrives to further deplete me.
The succubus can change shapes, they can arrive in any form of your desire to steal your juice. They know what clothes to wear for touch or look to drain you, what cologne to wear to make them irresistible, what to say to make you defenseless. Demons are all figments of representations of the devil, they wear different masks so we think it is not the devil, but there is only but one devil, and he is like Santa, all over the world in one night, terrorizing the skies, except every night is Christmas eve for this character, spawning a new anti-Christ every night.
GHOSTS, are humans, they aren’t quite dead yet. There is no such thing as ghosts as in the Hollywood version. It is not true that ordinary people can’t see through ghosts, the reverse is true, ghosts see through life, and that is the ability that comes with the living, when they have died from life, their character, who they once were, their jobs ending, being excommunicated from a social group, or have become a pariah ostracized out from being a part of life, they see through life when they have died this social death. When you see through life, you can no longer be a part of it, and you haunt your old haunts where you used to go, looking up old characters to some deed for you, because you need help in getting something done so that you can open the trap door of time and fall through to the next level of existence. Ghosts have one mission in them to do before they can move on, they have to face the demon that killed them, so to speak, and then they are free to go, towards that resting in peace aspect, RIP.
So that is what incubai, succubai, demons and ghosts are by the definition of hollywood with the hollywood sucked out of it. I am talking about the supernatural forces which exist that need a true definition, they way things are in real life, not the silver screen.
I think if you do do a search on the history of the plot of land you will find nothing, ghosts move on shortly, they don’t stick around for long, unless they are stupid ghosts and do not know what is preventing them from reaching their next form, then I assume they can haunt an area for a very long time. But, let’s say the ghost was an Indian, or it was a disturbed burial ground, these spirits aren’t strong, it depends upon the amount of wrong done to them that give the ghost a more ballistic mission. A spirit of a body that was laid to rest harmoniously, and after they reach heaven, it is not very likely that their spirits are going to come back after their corpse has been burned. The Indians also liked to have their corpses ontop of like bunk beds with their shields and spears and feathers all over their “ceremonial death beds” so, it is not like there was an actual burial ground that was disrespected ala Poltergeist style, for their bed bunk was removed long before the house was built, and they would have qualm with who bought the land in the 1950’s when suburbs began being built, not in the 1990’s when your house was built. You must find out what was the burial practice of the tribe that lived where you are at, and then find out what ceremony puts to sleep that particular Indian ghost. But anyways, ghosts do not exist in these forms, but you think they do, then they do for you. That is the power of the mind, what ever you believe exists does, you can will anything to be, or will anything away, it is your choice your reality, your head, you own your head unless you want someone else in there….
Which is I suspect to be the case with you. The problem with you, I have analyzed is you have no problems. Your demon is having no demons. That is why you desire one, for the intrigue, for the complex of having one. Just as your house had no previous history, as it was built for you, the walls had no ears, so the walls cannot talk, unless, as is the case with most construction being done by thugs, they hide guns and bodies in cement or behind walls. Each gun I find when I break ground I know the gun is hidden because it was used to kill someone. No gun hidden has no body attached. You can tear down some walls, especially the closet where you feel all this paranormal energy coming from to find this gun, but bodies in cement are impossible to be exhumed. Fortunately, guns found in this powerful closet of yours would be linked to a crime, for bullets get caught in bodies, and each bullet has a hammer marker on them so with all the latest forensic science done for each murder (for the past 30 years they’ve been collecting DNA evidence – they knew ultimately they would be able to trace people through DNA), if you find the gun you can find the body, and understand the crime, to unmask the demon.
But I believe there is no crime. You have an amazing brain, a good brain chemistry. To feel touch in dreams is the ultimate sign that you have an incredible golden mind. You were not just placed in a room built for you, your whole origin was a well placed seed. There is nothing under all that pink paint of your first room, the room knew you were coming, they knew it would be a girl. That room was designed for you, it knew of your impending arrival. Of course the nature of people born on such a red carpet want to take magic carpet rides which take you to different realms. The trip within the body takes the trip without the body. That is why magic carpet rides are thought to fly, they do take you paces, but that is just the Hollywood rationale behind it, the real magic carpet ride has knee dimples and rug burns, and you do fly to other worlds in this world, as states of minds change receiving states of experience the planet you are on at this moment as you read this before you change on your next magic carpet ride.
The desire of the fortunate son, or daughter is to become a victim. Things so carefully constructed need to be destroyed. For thousands of years before the first pharaoh was placed in the first pyramid, their beliefs and arts of mummifying immortal eternal sleep had been worked on to a science. For thousands of years they perfected the whole religion and manner of making eternity undisturbed. They have never found one body of any pharaoh in any pyramid. The Egyptians knew the nature of man is to open the onion women of man to make him cry, to unravel things, to disrespect things that must be respected, to take the perfect Rubics cube and mess it all up. And eventually in time entropy and entropy alone will exhume the first pharaoh, but not man. Man will never find any body in there, for the Egyptians understood walls that were meant to keep people out are merely attractive nuisances to be leapt over. Succubus rape me all the time. Having been born without demons, I need to be a target, I need to be raped, I need the demons to give me a complex, I must be worthy of pursuit I think to be taken from because I was born with it all. It tickles my mind that there is something inside me worthy to be drained of. It is the natural fear to have inside a fort to fear attack. A homeless person sleeping in the street for ten years, is going to dream the opposite, when they dream they dream of being in that house built for them, the blankets that only had their smell, remembering the time when fortune was so good the world had to gang up on them to turn them into a street person. You desire to be an object of attack, or ridicule, your desire to be raped, to have a complex, because you are whole and have a golden mind. Accumulations have the fear of loss. When I had my fantastic jeeps, I could never lock their doors, and I would have nightmares that the jeep was being broken into all the time, even though I had state of the art alarms. Our sexual parts are like jeeps, they are outside the body ready to be ravaged by these vampire witches, they cannot be locked, jeeps have no doors. Chastity belts do not work either. They get inside our minds and drain us with touch that isn’t there but we feel it anyways, sucking the life blood out of us, and though we fear it, we like it at the same time, for the perverse thrill of it all. Ultimately, when all the other fluids are drained away, then the blood is last, and then we die.
Things like the world train center or a subway tunnel going under the East River are targets because of vulnerability, vulnerability is based on something worthy to protect, a cache, a stash of soul, your presence of mind, or 800 subway passengers under water travelling at 40 mph. Living a life without the aspect of the supernatural is boring, that is why people need the drama of demons. We need demons. All great artists have demons, if they don’t then they are like Andy Warhol and their art is diluted. Demons stuff our christmas stockings with a complex, and these complexes give us a soul. There is no development without soul. You need to develop, you need to have a soul, demons give us an identity, we are nothing without having some strong attachment to life be it good or bad. You’ve had good, you’ve never been raped, or physically abused by people, yet you don’t dream of monsters, because you suspect that inside people’s smiling faces a monster lurks behind a mask. Everybody has a skeleton in the closet, and these skeletons or ghosts have demons to fight, but they lose, and the demon infests, and they do the wrong done to them to others. Monkey see monkey do. That is why people can’t be trusted we all get turned into demons, being the devil’s puppet, possessed punching human punching bags that need to be punched to feel connected to life. People confuse pain with pleasure because if they feel pain they feel alive, and if there is no pleasure, and there is nothing, then they must feel something, anything, even pain to feel the symbiosis of pretend niche in life. It is a warped sense of Jung’s participation mystique.
The older you get the more in touch with your dual needs in life become apparent. If we are hot we turn the fan on, hungry we eat, lonely we drink at the bartender’s side, if we have a hole in our heart we look for a suitable companion to fill it, if we have a heart whole we desire cupid’s arrows. Life is at different stages. It takes the opposite situation of circumstance from where we are at in life to find the middle where we were meant to exist in, for life is not as we thought it to be, states of existence are an estimation in between our ideality and reality, and this is where we belong, the comfort zone in between.
If you find yourself breaking down the walls to search for the guns or the bodies in cement, it merely represents your desire to break out of a sheltered existence and experience life. Your fine vessel will have it’s chrisTENing, and your sea worthiness must be tested when you leave harbor on your maiden voyage. Your spirit is at unrest, not a ghost or a demon, life experience drains us like incubus, but at the same time, the draining of power transforms the body and mind to have soulful hearts. Life is about experience, that is why wrinkled skin reads so much, tattooed by what we touch, and who touches us in the night, in the mare (sea) of dreams.
Shiny happy people are dead inside. They make terrible lovers because they have no soul. Souls evolve from torment. Torment confronts perfection. You have had a privileged existence, worthy of walls to construct to defend your interior mind. You desire the incubus to turn you into the vampire, because you know vampires are the best lovers, and you want to be a great vampire lover, only because you want to be loved. No one wants to love anyone, no one is sick enough or twisted enough to be that normal. We all desire attention, even the best of us. So we learn how to love good to attract love back. That is what this all boils down to. The process whereby love is drawn into your fold is based upon your ability to love back. If you have the powers of seduction like a creative vampire lover then you will have this love, forever. People will stalk you for your powerful eternal love power.
The stabbing in the back nightmare you had after witnessing the suicide, is the portent of an omen of a potential future for you, because all this desire to get taken will lead to a back stabbing, your own back by the ones you trust. Backstabbings lead to suicide because it is only the ones in our life that betray us. We can’t live life with broken trust, because life is the inclusion of others, and if you don’t trust anybody, then you are dead and you might as well kill yourself. A stranger can’t ever betray us because we never put any trust in them. Never a stranger hurts us. There are very few serial killers. Everything (over 90%) is a crime of passion or revenge. Someone you know well and trust 100%. You have watched on TV all the evil men do, and so you fear these monsters with pleasant face masks, the path leads to suicide, willful suicide, wanted suicide to remove us from life because they only strokes us wrong with knifes in our backs. They never twist the knife, they leave that up to us. Either twist the knife to cause irreparable harm or to just for us to pull the knife out to bleed to death. Your mistrust of human nature, and the apparition of the figment of your incubus are in human forms, because people you feel in your heart and bones are not what they appear to be, golden as you are you suspect others to be affected by wrong, perverted by wrong, turned into monsters by wrong, doing the devil’s work by being wronged. That nightmare about the back stabbing is your subconscious telling you, that ultimately your desire to be taken will end up in being betrayed, and it is actually a betrayall by yourself, because you desire to be undead, to be a ghost, to have purpose to undo injustice. This is why we lower our guard, to let someone inside so we can be stroked wrong, we like that, succubus and incubus only attack masochists. There is nothing worse than to have no destiny, we all need a mission to resolve past lives, past incarnations. We die to be reborn in a better form, a more permanent form. This is your intuitive desire. You don’t know why you desire all this. But I am telling you from the vantage of time travel, what a 39 year old thinks at the end of the trip.
You fear all this, but we only fear what we want, and what we fear happens, because we don’t allow what we need to ferment for being content and being happy, and satisfied is empty. When with the muse the poem never gets written. The movers and the changers change life because they have a mission to swim against the stream of injustice. If there is nothing wrong in life we have no electricity, for it is the resistance in the wire that makes the electricity flow. Humans need to be in a state of need to have desire, and it is desire that makes us get out of bed in the morn, makes us comb our hair to attract, and makes us eat at the counter instead of the diner booth to be seen, we need to be hungry to eat, to devour, we must have an appetite in order to live, or as guns and roses sang, an appetite for destruction.
