July 1, 1998
I did "The Parts Party" exercise tonight. I made a tape of it and then did the meditation. I think I went too fast on the tape, but I was having trouble concentrating in the first place, so that may have been the problem. I think I'll try it again tomorrow and then write about it.
I take a deep breath and clear my mind. I take another and imagine myself in my valley. I put my hand to my heart and pull out my younger self. She is still dressed up.
"Hello, little one," I say. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine," she says.
I frown for a moment. "Are you tired of wearing the dress?" I ask.
She looks down at it and shakes her head. "Not yet."
"What do you want to do tonight?" I ask.
"I want a castle," she tells me, "with tall towers, a draw bridge, and a moat."
I nod and close my eyes. In my mind, I imagine a castle of grey stone, with three tall towers, each a different height. I imagine a wall around the castle with a large black iron portcullus. Next I see the draw bridge and the moat. On top of each tower is a flag. There is a purple one on the tallest tower, a grey one on the middle one, and a dusty rose colored one on the lowest. I will the castle into our little valley and open my eyes.
"Is that what you wanted?" I ask.
"Yes!" she exclaims. "It's perfect. Can we go inside?"
"After you," I bow.
We walk across the bridge and into the main court yard. There are roses and lilacs everywhere. White doves flock around the large marble fountain in the center. The fountain shows a pegasus rearing, with water streaming from its mouth. Behind it, is a large stone archway with two large wooden doors. We walk around the fountain and pull the doors open. Inside is the Great Hall, a large and very long room, with sconces standards hanging from the walls and long tables set up for dining. Near the head table, is a huge fireplace, with logs waiting to be lit. Off to the left is a normal size door. I am about to walk towards it, when she stops me.
"Can we give a party?" she asks.
I blink in surprise. "Who would we invite?"
"Your friends with the colored glows."
"I guess we could, but I would have to give it some thought." I am not sure how to honor this request. Should I just imagine my friends at the party, or should I actually ask them to be involved in some way. My brows crease as I consider my options.
"That's fine," she says. "That way we can plan it right." I nod in agreement. "Why don't we call it a night?" she goes on. "You look tired."
With that she spins herself small and hops into my hand. Still troubled by her request, I place her back into my heart and walk out of the castle.
July 2, 1998
Well, I didn't redo the meditation exercise. I had to wait for a phone call which didn't come. Blah! Real life can be a pain.
I think I may have an idea for how to do a party for my younger self, but I need to check some things out first. When I finalize everything, I'll post the details here, so anyone who actually reads this can join too.
I close my eyes and breath slowly, relaxing my muscles. I am back in the valley, in front of the castle. I study its ornate carvings around the portculus. Taking another deep breath, I put my hand to my heart and bring her out. She is grinning. I explain my idea to her. She doesn't quite understand, but she is happy just the same.
"Then you need to do some stuff now," she says.
"This is your time," I tell her. "I will not short you."
"But you will being doing this for me," she points out.
"But not with you. Why don't you tell me what type of party you want?"
"I want a fancy dress-up party, where everybody looks the way they've always wanted to look. With food and beautiful music. We can have everything decorated with candles and shiny garland."
"Sounds like a grown-up party," I say. "I thought you didn't like that type of stuff."
"I don't like the type of grown-up party that Dawn and her sister played with their Barbies - those are boring! I want it to be a fairy tale party, where everyone uses their imagination. We can make everyone wear masks and pretend to be other people."
"You want a masquarade party, then?"
Her face brightens. "Yes! One of those! It will be fun."
"All right," I say, "we'll have one of those. While I work out the details, why don't you think about what else you want for the party?"
"Okay," she said.
I hug her and kiss her forehead. She hugs me back. Then we step apart and she twirls herself smaller. I put her back into my heart and go off to do some research.
July 6, 1998
We've been busy putting together our masquerade party. We are ready now for people to join us.
I have been getting some stuff taken care of this weekend. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll have things more under control. I have not neglected my younger self. I know she loves how this party is coming together.
July 7, 1998
I still need to redo the "Parts Party" exercise, but the meditation route is not working. I can't concentrate well enough, unless I'm writing. So, let's write it . . .
I see a stage door slowly opened before me. I walk through and enter a beautiful little theater. The walls are panelled in mahogany, with intricately carved details all over. Dark maroon velvet curtains are hanging in stategic places. I walk down to the front row. The chairs are upholstered with midnight blue satin. I sit down and get comfortable. The lights dim and the stage curtains open. The stage sign says that it's my part review.
I think of a part of me I truly like...my ability to program. I imagine MN, an old colleague of mine, to represent this aspect of me. I see her walk across the stage, dress smartly in navy suit, to the right side of the stage. Loud applause sounds for her. Next comes the representation of my nuturing, DI, an older woman who befriended me in college. She, too, is dressed beautifully and accompanied by applause as she walks over my work colleague. Now, my humor comes forth, represented by another woman (DW) who befriended me in college, but about two decades younger than the previous one. She is wearing the dark sweater and pearl earings I remember so well. Her face is bright and smiling at the applause given her as she crosses the stage. Next comes my creativity, represented by one of my highschool english teachers (W). Applause follows her petite form as it goes to stand next to the other women. Lastly, comes my love of learning, represented by my teacher of early world history (SB) from highschool. She is dressed casually, and though the years of archealogy and world travel shows on her face, she beams brightly as she joins the others.
Now for the parts of me I despise. First, I call forth my fatigue, which walks onto the stage represented by a friend of mine (TK), who never seems to have enough energy to do even the basics sometimes. Boos and hisses follow her as she walks to the left end of the stage. Now, my fear which walks onto the stage in the form of a younger friend (HM), who nibbles her nails as she go next to the first one. Her eyes dart this way and that. Next is my inability to concentrate, which comes on the stage represented by small child I use to babysit. He wanders this way and that, before finally going to his spot on the left. Now comes my anxiety, represented by an old coworker of mine (TP). She timidly walks to her spot, looking around to make sure she's in the right place. Last comes my need to escape into fantasy, personified by Buttercup of "The Princess Bride". She has a vapid expression on her face, as she goes to her spot.
As I look over these parts, a brightly shining woman comes onto center stage and smiles at me. She comes down and gets me, taking my hand in hers. "Come, my little one," she says. "Let us have a closer look at these parts of you." I feel my chest tighten and the tears welling up in my eyes as she brings me onto the stage. As we approach MN, she gives me a big smile. The glowing woman speaks, "This is a skill which gives you much confidence and satisfaction." I nod in agreement. We walk to DI and the woman says, "This part gives you great joy, but sometimes you forget to nurture yourself." We go on to DW. The glowing woman states, "This is your greatest weapon in battling the demons inside you. You should use it more often." W is next. "This is your second greatest weapon," I am told. Now, we stand in front of SB. "This, too, has helped you greatly in the past, but you need to act more."
Now we cross over to the other side of the stage. TK stand before us. "This part is trying to tell you that something is wrong. You have a sleep disorder, whether you are willing to face it or not." We go to HM. "This part you have shoved deep inside yourself too many times. You must deal with it before it destroys you. Then it will be able to look after your self-interest." We go to the child. "This part of you tries to keep you in touch with the world around you." We went onto TP. "This part of you has done much for you in the past. It keeps an eye out for potential problems. We must lessen the strain on it." We finally stand in front of Buttercup. "Some people have critized this part of you, but it has given you the release you have needed to stay sane. It can be a crutch, that is true, but you haven't given it enough proper expression in the past. Used correctly, it can help you to heal the earliest hurts of your psyche."
A table is brought out onto the stage, and we all sit at it. The glowing woman sits at the head and addresses all of us. "We will now discuss (Fribble's) fear of standing up for herself." She nods towards MN. My programming skill clears her throat and speaks. "I know she is capable of doing this. In the past, she has faced her own managers to protect her corporate reputation. She has the skill to do this." My nuturing part nods and adds, "She sticks up for others. There is no reason why she can't do it for herself." My humor smiles. "Besides," she says, "think of the look of surprise on the faces of those who are trampling over you." My creativity adds, "It will allow you to express yourself freely." And SB says, "It will open more knowledge to you." My fatigue sighs, "You could your energy more efficiently, if you asked for more help and stopped people from putting more responsibility on you." The glowly woman looks at my fear. "I don't know," she starts, "but it would give her a chance to get rid of some of the things that make her uneasy." The child looks up. "I think she can do it," he says. "There is a lot to see out there." My anxiety sighs, "Well, when she feels more in control, she is capable of doing a great deal, but what if she blows it and makes things worse?" "She would still being do more than she is now," points out my fatigue. "And she has friends who can help," says my nuturing part. We look towards Buttercup, who finally seems to take an interest in this discussion. "She will be able to achieve her dreams," she says. "She should imagine herself standing up for herself, until it becomes part of her. Then she can work on another dream."
The glowing woman look at me. "How would you change each of these parts you wish to reject, to make it more a benefit to your life?" she asks. I look at TK and imagine her resting in shorter, more frequent periods. She seems a little less hopeless now. I look at HM and imagine her a bit wiser and louder, so that I can hear the warnings I need. I make the child less frustated and he begins to relax and enjoy himself more. I make my anxiety take a deep breath and relax her muscles. She becomes a little less haggard. I team Buttercup with the child. Both seem happier with the pairing.
"Now, walk up to each part and let it melt into you," instructs the glowing being. I do as she says, and let each of my parts melt into me. I feel my body relax as each part enters me. I am now alone on the stage with only the shining being beside me.
"This theater is your life," she says. "Come here from time to time to review your many selves. As you learn to accept these parts, you will give your psyche balance, and release the power inside you to enjoy your life. I will always be here to help you."
I thank her for her wisdom and watch as she leave the theater. I look around myself and vow to love myself more. I repeat this vow to myself as I walk out of that theater.
I think I'll go and see how my younger self is enjoying her party . . .
July 9, 1998
Well, Tripod is back online and I finally sent off most of my personal invitations to the masquerade party. Things should start to get interesting now. As for myself, I am going to start keeping a dream journal. To quote the Talmud, "A dream is an unopened letter to yourself."
My fibromyalgia is acting up really bad today. My right hand hurts, especially at the base on my thumb. I have a workbook on it that someone recently gave me, but I want to finish Bradshaw's book first. I may have to switch back and forth, if things get worse.
July 11, 1998
It's two days since my last entry and my fibromyalgia is worse. Even with all the ibuprofen I have taken today, I still feel as if I have been hit by truck and left to die. It's hard to work on this mental stuff, when you're in pain.
Still, something has happened to me this week and I'm not sure what to make of it. I picked my children up from a birthday party last night, and when we were leaving, I hugged the mother who gave it and kissed her on the cheek. I don't normally kiss people, and I didn't realize what I did, until we were walking out the door. She is a very sweet person and usually gives me a hug at church, but I still can't believe I kissed her cheek without a thought of what I was doing. I know it was just an innocent expression of graditude, but I really have no idea what came over me. One theory a friend and I came up with, is that maybe it was an act of my younger self. One of the strangest things I have discovered about myself is, that left to my own devices, I am a extrovert. This is quite a shock considering the extreme level of introvertedness I exhibited growing up. even before I realized this, I noticed something else about myself. For someone who rarely hugged members of her family and only kissed the infants, I had no problem whatsoever with showing affection to my own children. I hug and kiss their cheeks and foreheads constantly. Yet, until last night, the only adult I would kiss was my husband.
It as if a stranger is waking up inside me. I really don't know her, but she seems very sweet and friendly. I think I will like her.
July 13, 1998
I have been reading "The Fibromyalgia Help Book" to help lessen the pain I have been experiencing these past few days. I hope through my normal medication, ibuprofen, and very warm showers, that I may be able to bring this pain down to a managable level.
The masquerade party is going rather slowly, but perhaps that will change with time. I think I owe my younger self a visit . . .
I imagine myself on the mountain path, leading to the valley. I walk past the castle and over to the firepit which I had made several days ago. Sitting on a nearby log, I put my hand to my heart and pull my younger self out.
"Hello, little one," I say.
"Hello, big one," she smiles. I chuckle at her little joke.
"Shall we do something with just the two of us tonight?" I ask.
"It's your turn," she says.
I nod and try to think of something to do. Finally, I have an idea. "Let's go on a nature walk," I suggest.
We get up and walk further from the castle. We enter the valley's forest of pine and aspens. Twigs crack beneath our feet, as we tread up the mountain side. We examine rocks with moss and fallen pinecones. A chipmunk runs towards us, chattering excitedly, before running away. We don't speak a word as we make our way around boulders and fallen timber. The fact we are doing this together seems to be enough for now.
Before us lies a boulder with a level top. I place my younger self on top of it before climbing up myself. We sit, legs hanging over its edge, and look back the way we came. After a few minutes of being quiet, the animals of the forest start to appear, going about their busy lives. A couple of squirrels chase each other up a tree. A few moments later, a deer walks past, sniffs the breeze and looks our way. We stay frozen in place as it decides whether we are a danger to it or not. Then it walks off, leaving us to wonder as to its decision.
The sky darkens and I decide it is time to go back. I climb down the boulder and catch my younger self as she pushes from it. Hand in hand, we carefully make our way back down the mountain. We clear the trees in time to see the sunset. I hug my younger self and before I can utter a word, she is back in my heart.
July 16, 1998
It's no use. After a week of waking up every morning stiff and in pain, I finally got a muscle relaxant. Hopefully, I will wake up better tomorrow and better able to work on my therapy stuff.
One strange thing I noticed while I was doing my grocery shopping, I caught myself looking at those silly cheap little toys they have there. At first, I thought it was my subconcious reminding me of some birthday party I must have forgotten. But when I stopped and went over our scheduled events, I could not remember any parties my children are invited to go to anytime soon, nor could I remember any special event we would need a toy for. It finally occurred to me that maybe it wasn't a toy for my children I was looking for, but myself. I shook my head and went on. I just couldn't justify such a frivolous purchase.
Perhaps I could find a "toy" more appropriate to indulge my childlike side with. Something with a little more class. I will give this some consideration.
July 19, 1998
Yesterday, my friend and I went to the second hand stores to get some clothes. We had a great time. I was never really a child and she was never really a teenager, so in her words we were "a fifteen year-old, picking out clothes for a five year-old to dress up in". We found a lot of stuff for her too, but she seemed to have more fun looking for stuff for me. I had the final word of course...
Today I heard a story about a pediatrician that touched my heart. I wrote a poem about him. It helps to remember that there are angels like him in this world.
July 20, 1998
I feel lost today and confused. I feel as if I'm being split in two. The muscle relaxant is making me fuzzy, but the pain has lessen. I hope I will be off them in a few days. Maybe things will seem clearer and I will have a better idea of what road I should take in my life. It will probably be the same one I have always planned to stick with. The alternative may only seem attractive now because of my confusion and pain. In a few days, I may not even remember how I feel right now.
July 22, 1998
I mentioned awhile back that I was going to keep a dream journal, but with my fibromyalgia the dreams have been chased away with the morning pain and stiffness. This morning, when I awoke in the middle of my dream, I forced myself to review as much of my dream as I could, before I even moved a muscle. Then I wrote it down. It was hard because my thumb and fore finger on my writing hand was numb.
I vaguely remember the dream started with me and a few others shopping for fabric and supplies at a mall, for creating historical costumes. I felt that these people were family, though I couldn't identify who was with me. I was leading them around and explaining what we could get at each store. They didn't seem to be very interested in joining me in my endeavors.
We went back home to a house that had dark paneling and dark carpeting. Light came from a few picture windows scattered around the house. I was given a shoe box with a very sick thing inside it. I really can't describe it, it was rather brownish red and mushy looking, but I knew it was very sick and in a lot of pain. There was more "family" at the house, and soon they all left me to take care of this sick thing, while they went out for the afternoon.
After tending the thing for awhile, I realized that I needed to get some things to cure it of its disease. So, I made sure it was comfortable and went back to the mall. Among my purchases was a very large incense/candle, scented with artificial rosewood (it said so on the label). I lit it and it burned in spiral layers. I felt a lot better as I smell its scent, and when half the incense was gone, I beat out the embers so I could use the rest back at the house.
On my way back, I took a detour and looked up an old friend of mine. We chatted as we got into a small plane and flew me close to the house. I get off with my stuff and he flies away. I enter the house and used the stuff to try and cure the thing in the shoebox. I had it sleeping fitfully, when my family returned. Then I leave the box and go outside with my younger family members. We are standing around out in the sun, just talking, near the street. Suddenly, a being who resembles Lord Zed, a villian from the Power Rangers (yes, I have kids), comes up and singles me out of the group.
He takes me by the arm and drags me away. For awhile, we are travelling towards the area where my friend lives, and I begin to imagine myself escaping from the villian with my friend and his plane, but then the villian turns left and we are picking our way through a highway that is under construction. When we get to the partially constructed bridge, he forces me to go underneath it with him. There, we find a room with one stairway going up to brightness, and another stairway next to it, missing its lower half. We have to jump and swing to get to that broken stairway, which leads to a dark attic room filled with cobwebs. He pushes into the attic, and I gingerly start to remove cobwebs. I can't make out much else in the room, and I feel very uncomfortable being there.
Next thing I know, I'm in another room, at the foot of another staircase. Zed is no where to be seen, instead Steve Thomas, Norm Abrams, and Tom Silva from "This Old House" show up, and we walk up into a different attic. There are still lots of cobwebs, but there is more light and I can make out things, like a porcelien doll in a shoebox, a bunkbed with a metal tube structure, nice things carved from wood, and other fancy things that would delight a little girl. I start cleaning away cobwebs, while the three men go to another part of the attic and start doing some major renovation work. While I am cleaning off cobwebs, a young person comes and helps me. I stop and take off my shoes because my feet hurt. When I look at them, I see that there are open sores on my little toes. I grab a random pair of shoes and put them on. They are a pair of turquoise pumps I use to own.
I entered a clinic and tried to find someone to help me. There were people there who tried to persuade me not to get help. Some said I didn't need help. Others said I didn't deserve help. I duck past them and find a pair of doctors. They set me up on an examination table and look at my feet, after giving me a disapproving look for wearing heels with foot problems. They frown as they look at the sores and say things like "genetic origin", "looks serious", "should have come in sooner". They then say that the sore would heal immediately, once I relieved the stress from them.
Well, that was my dream. Now to decide what my subconscious is trying to tell me. I like the method of dream analysis that John Bradshaw uses in his book, because different symbols have different meanings to different people. For example, I have one friend who absolutely loves yellow. It represents all sorts of good things to her. On the other hand, another friend of mine hates it with a passion because it represents the extreme abuse she suffered as a child. I am rather lukewarm to the color myself, but it makes a nice contrast against blue. So, I have listed possible symbolic objects from my dream and wrote down descriptive words and phrases for them. Then I went back over and highlighted the term(s) which gave me the most intense feeling in connection to the symbol.
|Mall||Family||Costume||Sick Thing||Place to find many things||People who are close to me||Fun||Illness|
|Fire||Relaxing||Good Person||Above Everything|
|Younger Family||Lord Zed||Highway||Stairs|
|Siblings||Evil Person||Road to somewhere||Transition|
|Peers||Own needs come 1st||useful||Upward|
|Attic||Cobwebs||Steve, Norm, and Tom||Young Person|
July 24, 1998
Yawn! I am tired. I felt a little better yesterday and tried to get some stuff done. I guess I over did it. =(
I walk down into our valley and stand next to a stream. I bring my younger self out and set her down next to me.
"You feel better now?" I ask.
She nods and sits down. I sit next to her. She frowns. "I don't like those numbers we saw last night," she says.
"I understand," I say. "It's sad to think that there are that many children are abused in that way. But the young lady meant well, she wants other people to know how bad it is too. She gave a lot of good information."
"My friends are not numbers," she pouts.
I give her a hug. "Of course not, precious. We love every one of them. As long as they know they are special to us, we have given them something to hold on to when things are rough. We need to get stronger too."
She nods and picks a piece of grass. "Thanks for bringing Rendel to the party."
I smile. "You needed someone to play with. I figured a fictional character might help. Of course, Kathy, Shanon, and Sammie have joined us now. We don't need Rendel anymore."
"Let her stay, please," pleads my younger self. "I feel better with her around."
"All right," I say. "So, is there anything you want to do tonight?"
She shrugs. "I've been coming out on my own," she says.
"Can we get a toy?" she asks.
"What type of toy do you want?"
She thinks for a moment. "I want a doll - a very pretty one."
I sit back in surprise. "But we never really liked playing with dolls!"
"But this will be a doll we picked out," she says. "Not one she picked for us."
Now I understand. It's true - Mom always picked our dolls for us. We may had been given a choice of what color of clothes they wore, but she always picked out the type. I remember the dolls she once picked out for me and the sister just younger than me. They had really big eyes and black hair and wore go-go clothes with white boots. Mom kept telling us how cute they were. I said something about the eyes, but she just told me that they were very expressive. I hated them, but I was afraid to say anything more, because she would get mad when I disagreed with her taste in things. I wanted to cry because I didn't want that doll, but I bit my lip and kept my eyes looking out of the car window, so know one would notice.
I hug my younger self and promise to look for a doll we would want. She kisses my cheek and returns to my heart.
July 27, 1998
I got my doll. She's porcelain and just beautiful. I named her Elizabeth because she resembles a lady named Elizabeth in a re-occurring dream I had in my late teens and early twenties. Never really did try to analyze that one. I guess with that said, I'll have to write down that dream...
I am a volunteer for an experiment dealing with people who have existed in a coma state for decades, without any life support or signs of decay. The duty of the volunteers was to do a Vulcan mind link-type connection with our subjects and go through their memories to find a clue to their current state.
My subject is a male from the Victorian era. As I go through his memories, I see a very spacious house, decorated with Persian rugs, overstuff furniture, and velvet curtains. But unlike most of the rooms of that time, it was very sparcely laid out. There is a woman who walks these rooms. She is his wife, Elizabeth. Her dark blond hair is up in a Grecian style, with ringlets on the back. She usually wears elegant dark green dresses. He treats her as if she is just another furnishing of the house. She is a very quiet woman, and seems very sad behind her statue-like expression.
Suddenly, I feel a consciousness discovering my intrusion. It has a very evil feel to it. I realize that it is the man I am linked to. I can feel his glee as he discovers another life force in his mind. He grabs me mentally and tries to take my life energy, stating that once he has taken my energy and killed me, he will be able to fully awaken his body and then feed upon the energy of others.
I fight back and try to pull myself away him. I state that I would never let him do it. He laughs at me and takes more of my energy. "What about Elizabeth?" I challenged. He is taken aback. "She deserved better," I sneered. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growls. "You never paid any attention to her," I accused. "Stop it!" he shouts. "You can't even say her name," I say, feeling him squirm. "Say her name!" I command. "Say her name!"
It was usually at this part where I would wake up in a cold sweat and force myself to forget the dream. I'm not sure how many times I dreamed this part, because it is only when I am dreaming it that I remember that I had dreamed it before.
It's late and I need to get to bed. I will write up the second part that I dreamed that last time I had this dream tomorrow.
July 30, 1998
Sorry about the three days lapse, I've been very busy.
The second part of my dream only happened the last time I had this dream.
I jerk back as I break contact from my subject. Shaken, I walk past the other tables, with their sides that suggest supermarket bins, and out into the hall. There I sit in a chair and try to explain what happened. One of the other voluteers is Sue, a lady that worked for the same company I did once. She is a very sweet and caring person. Everyone tells me that there's nothing to worry about, and leave me to recover from my shock. I watch the clock on the wall as its hands slowly tick off the minutes.
I can't sit still any longer. I go outside to a level field with children playing in the sun. I watch them until the sun begins to set. I shout to them to go home, before it gets dark. I go to the trench beside the field, where a line of trees are growing. As the sun sets, fire flies zip around me.
In rememberence of my childhood, I catch one in my hand. It is freezing cold. I release it and look back at the building in horror. I knew my subject was now awake. I release the fire fly and run back. I am gasping for air as I run up to the people in the hall.
"WHERE IS HE?" I ask. "Where is he?"
They look at me in confusion and one tells me to calm down. I try to explain what is going on, but they think I am hysterical. Sue then comes out of the room of subjects, screaming. Her test subject had been strangled to death. I am certain that my person did it, but everyone tells me to calm down again. Before they can stop me, I run in and look. The table where he was is empty and only a few yards away from Sue's person. I begin to shake and swear that I would stop him.
The others take a hold of me and set me back into the chair in the hall. They tell me to stay there and let them to take care of it. I wait until they leave and then go looking for him, because I know that I am the only one that can find him.
I go through large metal double doors and enter a world that looks like it has been wrapped in newspaper. I run down dark corridors and between buildings. I come across a large dark door. I can sense him behind it, but before I can open it, I find that two of my sisters and some of their frineds are behind me. My heart stops for a moment. I can't let them be hurt. As I try to shoo them away, he comes through the door. He is living darkness in human form, his features indistinguishable. He sees the young women behind me and laughs.
We run. I shout out directions as we traverse the newpaper maze, only steps in front of this demon. We find another set of double doors. We enter a lit stairwell, with its steps going up in a square spiral. The walls and stairs are concrete and along the outer wall is a line of newspaper with ceramic greenware pots on top. We bar the door and start to run up the stairs. We are only one turn up, before he crashes through the door and comes after us. I wish for some Elders to get rid of him, as I start throwing greenware at him. I yell to my sisters to get their friends further up the stairs and away, but everyone is frozen in place as the demon comes for me. He tells me that he will get them too. They start passing down more greenware for me to throw.
I am out of greenware and he is only a few steps below me. He chuckles his glee as he reaches for me. "What about Elizabeth?" I shout. We have the same exchange we did before, but this time as I command him to say her name, I put my hands on his jaws and actually try to force him to say it, while he is trying to subdue me.
This is where I woke up, but I believe I won that battle....
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