I’ve been asked to help the niece of a friend. There is a visitor at her home, that no one but her can see. He used to be ok, she didn’t mind him sitting there overlooking her space, but now she was getting distressed and he wouldn’t leave.

I tune in to their home, a solid older place in the suburbs surrounded by mature trees. I see a third story which I haven’t noticed before. It must have been removed or overgrown with trees. Moving through the little window at the front I find myself in an attic. An stark empty room with a wooden floor and plain walls.

The emptiness is broken only by a little boy upon his knees on the floor, crying uncontrollably. I follow his devastated gaze as he looks to the ceiling. His uncles’ body hangs limp as a rag doll, a noose cutting deep into his nick, life long gone from his broken body. I sense this has been the boys’ guardian, and he has taken care of himself ever since this miserable discovery. I’m not sure if it’s the boy or his uncle who is haunting the place, I don’t think to ask.

I move downstairs to the first floor where the girls’ bedroom is. Something catches my eye before I move inside. A black knob on the wall next to the bedroom door. Like an oven dial, a shadow of a thing as if in x-ray. For some reason I am compelled to turn it. Big mistake.

I am on the ground in an alien landscape. I look up to see a group of children watching me vacantly, seemingly innocent, yet a terror hovers in the air. The children are still, frozen in time. Their eyes in my direction, their souls long gone. Their skin is paper thin as a cicada shell. The tiniest breeze would crumble their skins to dust and blow them away. A memory of themselves no longer dwelling hauntingly in the shadows, just here and now in these crusty remains.

Terror grips and I retreat immediately. Back to the room. Back to the street. Back to my body.

That night I am enslaved by nightmares. Visions that shake my core. Visions that invade sight and sound. Heart pounds so hard I am terrified but too exhausted to tune in and see what is going on energetically. Eventually slumber grips me for a moment before I am physically dragged a few inches in my bed, and sleep promptly leaves to make room for fear.

The next day I find the courage to go back. The first thing I notice is the dial, which seems to be a portal, is still turned sideways. It appears to be a gateway to that other realm of empty beings, who are now making a steady entry into this realm. Oh… fuck.

I turn the dial again to close it, then step outside to survey the damage. Thousands of entities have moved through overnight. I stand on the street and call down the white light of great spirit, and its’ familiar pillar of light descends before me. I call on the entities as I sense that reconnecting them to source will eliminate their need to be here. They are attracted to the white light, and as soon as they make contact with it they release themselves easily into the upwards flow back to spirit.

I look around and feel like I’m in a war zone. You know the bit in the battle where it’s nearly done and suddenly thousands of extra troops emerge over the horizon? This is going to take a while, I think to myself. I remember a conversation in Theta healing where we talked about the soul splitting when part of self is needed longer term for some energy work. Now seems to be that time. I step outside of myself. Other me is calm and confident, holding open the portal for the relentless onslaught of souls. We nod to each other and I find my way back to my body.

A few weeks later I speak to my friend. The house where her niece lives does indeed have a third story. It’s hidden by trees outside, and the inner stairway is hidden in a cupboard. I ask how her niece is. Apparently she is happy to have her bedroom back to herself.

A year later I remember to check in and check my progress. The street is clear, the other me is fine and we re-merge.