Halloween Season! Ghost posts all month!
Some years ago, Hubby and I were vacationing in Rome. While touring the summer home of the Pope, Castel Gandolfo, I was attacked by a very powerful male spirit.
Not my first, but definitely one of the most lengthy, disturbing, and powerful psychic attacks I’ve ever experienced.
Whenever I come up against an unhappy or vengeful spirit, I’ve found my best “defense” is to project calm, loving energy. It’s the most effective means of protection AND spiritual assistance to that angry being.
I always wondered though; just how effective would Love be against some really Big Baddie?
In Seattle, it’s rare for me to run into much more than very angry dead people. Occasionally I’ll encounter nasty non-human critters but it’s not the norm. I know there’s bigger baddies out there than I’ve run across, and so the question has crossed my mind more than once.
I was answered on that trip to Rome.
Castel Gandolfo is perched on the lip of dormant volcano. Until Pope Francis, the tiny hilltop community has been home to the Pope during the sweltering summer months. Pope Francis though has declined its use, and now tourists can visit the palace and extensive gardens. When we were there though, this was fairly new, and our group was one of the first through those historic halls.
It was while wandering this light, airy building, filled with some really spectacular antiques and paintings, that I was confronted by an angry male spirit.
I was not given a name. I was told “Pope” but that could mean anything considering where I was. I was also told, “not human” by my Spirit Team. They didn’t say more than that, although what I saw was a large, heavyset human male in long white robes with gold and red embellishments.
He certainly considered himself of primary importance in the church. Swelling with righteous indignation he swirled around me, arrogant and commanding.
“You don’t belong here. This is a holy place. You defile it! Witch! Evil!”
He did not like me.
Apparently my form of Love and Light was not to his taste. There was more, in increasingly rude and vile terms.
Heat too; I was swamped in it. Yes, it was late summer, but we were above the hotter temperatures of Rome itself. Hubby and I had commented on how the rooms were pleasantly cool.
Now, sudden, thick heat swaddled me. Dark tentacles of negative energy wrapped around my auric field, probing, seeking to pierce through my shields to attach to my physical body.
A headache started to throb. I pulled out my selenite disc, holding the protective crystal to my solar plexus. The pressure of his hatred eased, pushed back by the cleansing crystal, but the headache continued to grow. He poked and tested at my shields as I walked.
“Begone! Leave my home! I will not tolerate such foulness polluting my chambers!”
So we traded, back and forth.
I would push him away, or he would back off, judging how next to strike. The full pressure of his aggression eased when I got out of the palace but the headache continued to grow. He followed – sometimes closely, sometimes distantly – as we continued on our tours to other destinations around the countryside.
Our last stop was the Catacombs. They don’t even know how many are buried there.
I heard the screaming before I got off the bus. I’m usually pretty fearless and ready for anything in the paranormal, but that day, discretion was the better part of valor.
I’d already told my husband I couldn’t go in. I wasn’t up for it. He wasn’t either, although for non-paranormal reasons. We called for a car to take us back to the hotel.
While we waited, I gritted my teeth, waves of nausea and cramping rolling over me. The spirit grinned nastily.
Ordinarily I would ground and use the Earth’s energy to augment my shields and energies, but this path was closed, horribly so. The ground, even outside the Catacombs was saturated with death, grounding just tapped into the energy of all those souls.
My Spirit Team gave me their love and support, helping keep the physical symptoms tolerable. My psychic senses dimmed. The angry spirit’s malice faded in the noise of the overwhelming energies of the Catacombs behind my psychic shielding.
As we sped back to the hotel, the heavy emotional pressures eased, as did the headache and the nausea. Feeling much better, Hubby and I went out to stroll in the late afternoon sun.
All was fine until night fell.
That angry spirit was back. He was not used to females walking away from his attacks, not in life or death. He was a powerful being, and my “defiance” deserved “eternal punishment delivered by his righteous hand.” I was an affront to his Divine Presence.
Um…yeah, if you could tone down the scary dance? It’s getting old.
Sarcasm was not used around him back in his day.
His energy levels were stronger, and he was relentless. Heavy black limbs struck again and again, wrapping around my shields and squeezing while trying to worm in toward my body.
I was in an astral fight, while trying to look and act normal for my husband as we wandered the streets of Rome.
Reinforcing my psychic protections, I again pushed him away. I’d recharged and was away from the death-tainted Catacombs. I was ready for him. He slithered away, muttering. Back at the hotel, exhausted, I immediately fell asleep.
Only to bolt awake around 1:30 am. Crushing fear and anxiety had my thoughts racing and my heart pounding from the swiftly fading nightmare. Gradually it slowed, even as the consuming fear grew with the increasingly heavy atmosphere in our hotel room. I’d left certain lights on, but his darkness swamped my sight and I couldn’t see anything in the pitch dark.
He was back. He wanted to kill me, telling me so over and over. He was the source of the fear, proud of the anguish he inflicted, grinning as he drove harsh waves of negative energy at me. Which to his twisted thinking was fully justified.
Nausea and pain rushed over me in waves. “Fear me!” He demanded.
Again, I was ready for him. His hatred hammered at me, but my grounding was secure, drawing the loving, healing energy of Mother Gaia up into my physical form.
It washed through me, soothing, and energizing. My Spirit Team too was close, and lent their loving support. I took it all in, and the darkness and fear fled from my being, shrinking from Love.
I offered this loving compassion to this frightful, fearful Being. I offered to help him cross over, and be healed of his hate and anger. I showed him the path. The room filled with the loving energies of myself and the many astral allies and psychopomp beings, there to assist with healing transition.
He hissed at me, and vanished completely.
Nausea and dizziness from his attacks dissipated like mist in the sun. I was whole, and my heart filled with bliss, banishing any lingering shadows.
“He’s truly gone this time.” My Spirit Team whispered with absolute assurance. I slept peacefully through the rest of the night.
You might never be in an astral fight, but at some point in your life, you are going to face Love and Fear. Probably more than once. Each time you choose Love, you heal yourself. Maybe just a little, maybe a whole lot at once, but the healing is real.
Let yourself feel it.
Have you had ghostly encounters? Do you live in a haunted locale?
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