1. Wednesday, May 5, 2021
I was in the prayer room at […]. This probably took place about 5:50pm today.
I was doing some spiritual reading, some biographies of Saints.
Then memories of the conduct I have seen of satanists/witches in this city came to mind.
December 6, there was a pro-Trump Stop The Steal rally (hosted by Christian patriots) at the Ohio Statehouse. I was present for it. A young man came, sunglasses and mask, carrying a big sign with words on it hailing Satan and invoking Lucifer’s blessing (HA!) on the country. He was a bit rude, but not so overpowering about it.
Next, I think some are aware of the pro-abortion activists who stormed St Joseph Cathedral at the Respect Life Mass? The one who organized it is named MLD* (privacy-sake), she and Father Joseph Klee have gotten into it a few times within a Diocese’s borders… She is, if her suggestive social media presentation is honest, a practicing witch. (If you would please pray for her.)
The memories were not so oppressive anymore, but they were distracting me and that frustrated me a bit.
Then Satan appeared standing next to me (I was sitting on the left side of the furnishings in the room while reading). And she asked me what what I would like done about the Satanists etc here.
(Yes, I said “she”… It’s complicated. The specific demon named Satan tends to prefer a more feminine appearance/manner. They do not appear to me as ugly or terrifying – they could if they wanted but, as explained to me years and years ago, doing so is not conducive to their purpose/meaning… They almost seem to prefer to be as “humanly relatable”, and communicate in more melodious tones… And to that end, I do not know if it is them or if it is me or if it is God who makes them recognizable to be identified in these encounters; I know that how I perceive them/about them in mind is more likely not as they would literally appear if my soul were outside of my body.)
She asked me in that same manner, like what the devil-Seraph used to do when he and I used to communicate more privately about more “complicated” interpersonal interactions those years ago. Most times when someone was rude or highly disrespectful toward me, he used to ask me similar like an offer to intervene or counteract, move things about in the world etc.
But I responded to Satan, “It is not something given to me to determine punishment or the fate of other people. Go to the foot of the Cross, consult my Husband there instead.”
(In my mind I perceived her leaving as if through a portal into a mysterious land with skies touched with a pink and orange golden hue, as if she could not keep herself here anymore, and her expression was full of worry/anxiety/fear. I do not know anything after this.)
2. May 15, Saturday
I was minding my own business during 9am Mass, very happy to have made it to Confession beforehand.
This occurred during a part of the Mass when I was already kneeling and facing the Tabernacle and Altar.
A few greater devils approached me from the front, positioning themselves as between me and the inner-sanctuary. They stood around me (these were *not* AC), and their presence was palpable to me. And they asked me a question, another one, something relative to asserting my own will and their yielding to whatever I determine.
I replied, “I defer to my Husband. Go ask Him.”
And then an unseen force forced them to collapse down into a prostration in front of me. They were screaming in fright almost non-stop, to be “robbed” of their mobility and to be pressed down and unable to leave.
I didn’t feel or identify that unseen force, and if I were not already kneeling during Mass I probably would have stumbled backward either at the unknown or at their actually prostrating while facing me.
3. May 31, 2021
I was in the prayer room in the evening (7:30pm or thereabouts) when my imagination became flooded by AC again. (I had been reading a comic book online and had found it relatable to the drama that went on between he and I, so maybe it was that which tipped the scale for his being able to do this more freely after I had come to a “break” from it prior? I am not sure. A girl thinks she might be improving, and then it happens all over again. What’s she supposed to think about it all?)
I was put in a dungeon cell. And he had my Eucharistic Jesus forcibly removed from me.
So in haste, I begged Jesus to so unite me to Himself that I share in all manner (including bodily) every desecration He suffers in the substance of the Eucharistic Consecrated Host. And that this union be visibly manifested.
The next thing I know, I am a pained bloody mess in the dungeon cell. But they hear my scream in pain as it manifests, and rush back.
He demanded to know what happened, as he did not authorize my present physical state, though I suspect he already had an idea. His servants were clueless. I doubt he was like them in that respect.
I could only utter the words “Your sacrilege” before falling unconscious.
And so he was faced with two ideas of options if he was to prefer I continue to live:
1. Have me sent away to a place where He would allow the Eucharistic celebration to take place without sacrilege/desecration, in a very restricted manner (if my experiencing this was based on a proximity of location to the act, which was also unlikely).
2. Cease his persecution of the Church entirely
3. … or he could just finish my martyrdom…
He hated all those options. I dare say he was so angry he probably would have throttled me as I lay on the dungeon floor a bloody mess. I had put him into an impossible position. The only reason he would not have killed me right then and there would have had to be restricted to (redacted).
4. (Backtracking) Tuesday, April 13, 2021
I was in the prayer room at […]. At 3pm, I decided to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet for the leadership in the Church. When I was praying the last two decades of the Chaplet, an interactive scene* played out in my imagination.
(In the olden days, I used to call them “daymares” throughout my educational years, and later “scenarios” to better distinguish them for the very limited ‘social media friends’ audience. Apparently calling them “daymares” suggested to people that I was asleep and dreaming all of these interactions… I was indeed awake.)
I was standing at the base of a round dais, and there were many steps* to go either up from where I stood, or down from the top.
(I did not count them, but it would not have even been 50; it seemed to me to be somewhere between 7 and 20.)
The surrounding walls* of this royal hall were cylindrical and solid metallic gray, with a slightly domed ceiling*, with a single large set of doors by which to enter and exit, and no windows or visible signs of any artificial light even though everything could be clearly seen in it.
(It would have resembled the structure of the Shakespearean Globe theatre in its basic architectural shape. I had to look this up online to find a comparative description. The walls seemed to be made from neatly fitted panels that were similar to what one would find in the planetarium exhibit at COSI, or what lined to walls in Xavier’s giant telepathic room in the X-Men franchise. It seemed as if the walls were so technologically advanced that everything of this royal hall served the purpose of televising messages to the whole world as much as it could be used to eavesdrop and spy on anything or anyone within its boundary. I sensed I was being watched, despite being a solitary figure in that space, either by one or many or a great multitude I know not.)
I had been summoned to ascend the dais*.
(This is something characteristic of Antichrist, to do this or use that terminology. Back in February/March of 2007, I was then 18 years old; he had composed and communicated a lyrical poem of sorts in a non-existing language, or no longer existing language that was merged with some English words. After I then requested of another its “clean version” translation, as everything that came from him was filled to overflowing with impurity, that was something directly translated. I personally want none of that, as even prior to when the devil-Seraph began trying to court me in Spring of 2018, Our Good Lord had by then already instructed me directly and unambiguously to not accept any position of authority/power – hence, also prior to June 26 2020 when I met with the Bishop, whereupon I loosed my wholly valid complaint and criticism was interrupted and asked by “his camp” the question: “Do you want the Bishop’s job..?”, to which I took offense but didn’t fault for natural ignorance of my past and private instruction I had been given. No, I don’t want the Bishop’s job.)
I did ascend the steps of the dais. What I came to at its top was a single large throne made of stone.
I immediately began to understand that even on the original “Palm Sunday” when Christ was processing into Jerusalem, the crowds of Israelites were already rejecting Him as they were still rejecting God as their only king, just as their ancestors had when first they clamored to the Prophet Samuel and God to give them an earthly king (Saul) so that they would be indistinguishable from their pagan neighboring kingdoms. All despite celebrating Christ with all the festivity in the streets, they were already still rejecting Him; this insight filled me with bitter grief, indignation and conviction. I said in my heart secretly, “I will only ever know grief.” At first, I was the only person there, and there was only one throne. I held in my hand a scepter that also held the shape of a dagger, and turning to face the walls, certain interiorly of an audience, raised my voice into the silence, “Yield to Christ the King!” and then dropped the dagger scepter to the floor of the dais, and left the hall.
The scene was refined, as if whoever was playing on my imagination would not let me leave it. I was then immediately back, standing on the floor, in the room I just left, facing the dais again from where I had begun prior. This time, I called faithful friends to come up with me, and we smashed and toppled the throne over the side so that it fell upon its side on the side of the dais steps. It was in shambles, but it did not break upon its fall.
The scene was refined again. I was back to standing as the solitary figure in the room. I decided to go up the steps, and this time when I stood beside the throne at the top of the dais, I pushed it over the edge myself so that it fell on its side and broke.
The scene was refined again, but this time there were two stone thrones. I stood solitary, and so I pushed them over and both toppled, fell, and broke. First the one on the left over the left side, and then the right over the right side.
Refined again. I ascended but would not sit. There was only one throne. I whirled around, and shouted a televised message which I intended to reach those of the Church and those of the State alike, shouting angrily at them all to “Stop rejecting God as the only king”, and then turned and toppled the single throne. Upon witnessing me knock over the throne so that it fell, the Jews converted.
Refined again. This time, there were two thrones. However, he was there this time, looking somewhat like a mortal man and somewhat not like one, standing as I stepped up, and stood there smiling gaily and watching me. I held a strong hammer, intending to take it to both thrones, one after the other (what was intended for me was the one on the left, his on the right). While I took it to the one, he surprised me a little and made me feel very suspicious by his beginning to break away at the other. Interiorly I sensed he and I were breaking the thrones simultaneously, signifying a new era with extraordinary phenomena of unions on both sides of the field (true complete demonic possession, and living in the Divine Will), but he was breaking his throne faster.
Before he finished breaking his entirely, the scene was refined again. He was there too, this time, looking entirely like a mortal man, smiling at me and acting the ignoramus about what I was surely going to do in that room. I looked at him, and quickly snatched up his crown and removed my own, and threw them both down the dais steps, and they landed at its base. He acted surprised (what a façade!), like he were some innocent spurned lover who could not fathom what had just come over his “wife”. He was of very goodly speech and tried to have guards restrain me of my perceived impulsivity. So I struck him, and grabbed him by his hair and face (using both hands), and made him go down to his knees by force. Then I let go, turned about, and began to push and topple over the two thrones, to break them, as he cried out to me, “No! What are you doing?!?”
Refined again. This time I was summoned again and began at the base of the dais. This time, he was there too, but already seated on his throne, and looking down at me. Gone was any façade to conceal any of his arrogance and self-assured attitude. I did not resist any summons but stepped up and was ready to break those two thrones again. However, this time when I got to the top, I saw that the thrones were not made of stone but of iron and were bolted securely to the floor of the dais. I was at a loss, so I turned to descend again in order to leave, thinking I was going to go retreat, brood, regroup, and then destroy the thrones again. He caught me by the arm before I descended even one step and making me face him, he then used some demonic effort to make me fall unconscious.
From within my mind, I rejected what he was doing and playing at then, and it broke and ended there. Had I allowed it to continue, I already know, after having experienced this in piecemeal for years of his doing this sort of thing, for some reason permitted by God in all His impenetrable mystery… he can self-sabotage (a consequence of hubris/Pride), but he doesn’t quit.
Part 2 – during 7pm Mass
The scene begins with me standing in an open room, a sort of privatized public forum, as if taking in my surroundings, surveying, exploring and studying. The room was very well lighted, both naturally and artificially.
There was a small, round aluminum patio bistro table stationed against a wall, with two matching ornate chairs. On the table sat a modest ~6-inch clear glass vase with yellow and white flowers* in it as a centerpiece.
(Yellow and white flowers… The colors of the Roman Papal flag. Obviously hinting at his intended point of dispute.)
Antichrist was standing casually some 2-4 yards away, watching me thoughtfully (he was oddly quiet). He finally said to me, but almost as if musing aloud to himself, “I know you would not let yourself go inside, let alone near my borders except to try to undo it from within.”
I bore such enmity toward him that I wouldn’t respond for a while, but eventually I was able to squeeze out, “If so, that will have its appointed time… We shall see.”
The scene ended.
Later, I was seated in the pew on “Mommy Mary’s side,” and could hear him appeal to me that I come and destroy it. He even almost sounded sincere, as if he didn’t like the monstrosity he had worked to establish in the world (I think he was also just trying to tempt me to get caught up in a trap). I experienced the sensation of a magnetic warmth and pull from my belly. And for the sake of unabashed honesty, I wanted to go if only to destroy what he had built up. However, I haven’t even beheld the monstrosity yet, I do not know what it looks like, or how to identify it, I would be going at this completely blind and that is not good. But I know it’s there somewhere. I can’t afford to let him lead me or my actions.
For all of this, only one passage of Scripture seemed to penetrate into my mind while I was reflecting on this, and everything else that has involved my trying to resist and oppose and finally overcome Antichrist specifically, and especially considering the part where he and I were both destroying the stone thrones (but to very different ends)…
P.S. This is “normal” harassment. Years… and years… and years… and years and years and years…