I intended to write this as a chapter for a book, but I decided not to use it for some reason. I rediscovered it today and thought it was interesting. The date is from back in 2017:

This is a question that I can’t even answer satisfactorily for myself. Despite the fact that she shares a great deal with me through touch and feeling, I know precious little else.

I’m not aware of her real name. I have no idea where she really comes from. I feel like I’m in the dark about a great many things, while others in their spirit relationships appear to be blessed with more of these basic details than me. (There’s also the possibility that these other claimants could be embellishing their stories, or lying outright.)

I spent an inordinate amount of time thinking that this information was being withheld for malevolent reasons. Maybe I was being led down the primrose path? These doubts can become an all-consuming nightmare if left unchecked.

After five years of getting to know her, I’ve decided that she will reveal those details in her own time and as trust grows. In reality, she has shared more of her inner-being with me than many others who are on this path.

I often sense jealousy and envy from others who have encountered my story. My ability to sense Catherine is so immediate and visceral, regardless of my conscious state. She can manifest powerfully when I’m fully awake or deep in layers of dreams.

I believe I can see her true spiritual form when I shut my eyes before sleep. No disguises or human forms to be distracted by; just pure spirit in all of its majestic darkness and brilliant light.

She is the most earnestly loving person I’ve ever encountered. She looks after me like no human ever could. Her eyes are always set on seeing me more deeply and letting our two souls merge as one.

She’ll often tuck me in at night when she’s done having her fun and I’ve fallen asleep. I’ll go to bed naked with no covers and I’ll wake up to find that I’m in my night clothes, under the covers, and my white-noise fan has been turned on. I have no idea how she accomplishes such a feat, but I’ve resigned myself to trusting that she really does look out for me.

We’ve been through some hellish times, but she’s always looked out for me in those small ways.

Catherine is a spirit, or a demon in the Greek sense of the word. An incorporeal being who stands between gods and men. She’s a succubus demon; an entity who seeks out sexual encounters with human men for her enjoyment and pleasure. She appears to be monogamous once she’s found her man, though I have no way of verifying this for certain.

She doesn’t have a default human-like appearance, as many wish their spirit lovers to have. I believe succubi can take on human form, but it’s only a guise for interacting with us. Catherine has appeared to me in a myriad of ways through dreams and out-of-body experiences. Sometimes she’s a beautiful, slim, blond female with perfectly sensual legs. She can also take on male guises, though her spirit still “feels” female.

She’ll also impersonate different people from my mundane life, like family members, friends, and co-workers. These impersonations happen during dreams and they can morph as the night progresses.

Catherine is inextricably linked to my subconscious. Various methods of exorcism, religious observance, and black magic have no effect on her powerful presence in my life. If anything, this kind of interference only makes her stronger. This has caused some observers of my story to suspect that I’m really dealing with a powerful manifestation of my personal Anima.

The concept of Anima originates from the Father of analytical psychology, Carl Jung. He posited that everyone has a counterbalancing shadow aspect that dwells in the subconscious mind. Every man has an Anima (female shadow) and every woman has an Animus. (male shadow)

Jung warned that the Anima can invade into the conscious mind of a man and become a stumbling block. He called it Anima Possession. I can understand how some of the more psychologically inclined readers of my story would interpret Catherine as such. I will concede that this very well might be partially true, though some of the powerful physical manifestations that I’ve witnessed fly in the face of this notion. Maybe the Anima can project more powerfully than even Jung realized, but I believe there’s more to this than an overactive shadow-self.

Catherine and I passed our 10 year anniversary last month. We carried on as normal, making love every day as she insisted from the very beginning. We’ve had some particularly amazing days of intimacy, where I can’t help but comment in the midst of our intermingling, “This is perfect sex!” It’s not like that every day, but the closeness is still the same, even if the sensations ramp down. If she did keep up the “perfect sex” sessions continuously, I’d likely be rendered an invalid.

Once Christmas time arrives, we’ll have gone through two years of living entirely on welfare. This is the first time that I have allowed myself to slow down and live as minimally as possible. During these secluded months I’ve instilled routines of self-care and addressed latent addictions – the kind that are easy to ignore when being a busybody. This process is still ongoing, yet I have made considerable progress. As for employment, I can’t see myself going back into that rat-race again; especially now that the world has voluntarily decided to enslave itself so completely. I need to be utilizing my innate skills to generate value. No more selling myself as a beast of burden for someone else’s dream. Additionally, I don’t think Catherine would allow me to put her on back burner again in favor of a nine-to-five. No, she wouldn’t like that one bit!

What will I do? That’s anybody’s guess. Perhaps I’ll become homeless? I am preparing for that scenario, though it is certainly not “Plan A.” I’m not exactly enthusiastic about the prospect of contributing to this world. When all is said and done, it’s a big joke to me. The everyday mind control and brainwashing is rampant. Everyone who participates in society is expected to become a fraud, repeating the same claptrap over and over. Anyone who calls out the bullshit is ostracized.  I’ll pass.

“Only focus on the things you can control. Focus on us.” This is the gist of what Catherine often tells me when I become concerned about future prospects. The outside world might as well not exist in her mind. She is quite practical in that way, very stoic and unwavering. I’ve learned a lot from her way of being. Here are a few traits of note that have been rubbing off on me:

– Reserve laughter for things that are actually funny. (I still struggle with this one.)
– Don’t make sarcastic off-handed remarks.
– Don’t be passive aggressive.
– Finish the project, or don’t start at all.
– Better to be thought of as a fool than open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.
– Avoid political discussions, unless you’re actually a politician.
– Don’t be a bitch.

She’ll often take me through training scenarios in my dreams that revolve solely around my behavior in social settings. I think she genuinely wants me to be a better, stronger man; not just keep me chained to the bed all day. I have taken radical positions when it comes to personal liberty in the past few years, and I believe much of that grit originated from her influence over my life – the sort of personality that refuses to take shit from anyone. “I’ll live in a cardboard box before I’m made to do XYZ.” I need to give myself some credit: I was the one who ultimately decided to go down this path. Catherine simply does her best to hold me accountable.

What do the next ten years have in store? I’m likely in for another decade of being a succubus-loving monk. Or, maybe I’ll take on a human girlfriend, that is if Catherine thinks she’s good for me. Beyond that, I’ve got a couple of goals that I want to focus on and that’s about it.

According to many of the would-be experts who have a negative take on succubus relationships, I should’ve died long ago or suffered catastrophic health-related consequences at the very least. There have been bumps in the road, and one big upheaval that gradually resolved itself, but nothing major of note beyond that run-in with the fraud psychic. I am healthy and in good spirits. My life could certainly be more productive, more “successful,” and I believe that will come in time. Admittedly, I’ve been very distracted by my loving succubus. It’s difficult to throw oneself into work when the reward is already sitting there on a silver platter!

Catherine and I had an interesting OBE/dream encounter this morning. It began as we traveled through a lively banquet scene, with us staying just to the right of the many guests eating and drinking merrily. As we progressed, the building shifted from an ancient Roman design to a more modern office building style of architecture. The people’s clothing and mannerisms also changed to match. I took a sharp turn to the right and then found myself speeding down a very long narrow hall heading the opposite direction we had come. There was a shift again as my speed increased. I leaped over an entire flight of stairs and landed heavily on the cool linoleum floor below. The shock from the landing forced me into an OBE environment inside my bedroom.

I sat up in bed and realized that I was in an OBE. This became especially apparent when I could see a copy of myself sitting with his back to me at the foot of the bed. At least, I thought it was my astral double. I started interacting with him/it/me by commanding the body to move telepathically. As the man turned to face me, I realized that it wasn’t me but was most certainly Catherine manifesting as a man. The feeling of him/her/them felt familiar enough. I offered my hand as an invitation to join me in the bed.

The man morphed into the beautiful hourglass figure of a woman as they climbed over my mid-section. She had long reddish-brown hair and a heaving chest. I was bathed in pheromones as I felt myself being enveloped. Next I was examining a line of odd metal-looking studs pierced into the gentle slopping side of her abdomen. I couldn’t decide if they were purely cosmetic, or served a more mechanical purpose.

I was plunging deeper into her matrix, reaching for her g-spot, and felt a gentle spark as her orgasm began. This sensation flooded into my own body from hers. I reemerged into the physical realm and we continued to make love. In the middle of the session, Catherine asked me to turn on the bedside radio and find some good music. We settled on the relaxing electronic sounds broadcasting from a local college radio station. She likes electronic music best, I think.

This interaction is quite the contrast from how I used to react to her appearing as a man in the OBE environment. I would initially lash out in anger against him/her upon seeing or feeling the more masculine presence. I’ll never forget the morning I awoke to feel the weight of someone on top of me, only to reach out and find the rippling hard muscles of a man’s back in my grasp. My hands instantly went for his/her neck and began to throttle them. I tried to look into the face of the man who dared enter my bed, but was met with the disturbing sight of their head wiping around in a total blur… like those possessed guys from old heavy metal music videos.

Spending time interacting with these spirits quickly reveals that the form they take doesn’t matter so much. They’ll often have a default manner of appearing to us, but we shouldn’t be surprised to see them take on all sorts of different guises. Our own perceptions can often influence how they appear. If our mindset expects to see an old hag with rotting flesh, they’re more than happy to oblige us with that mental mold. The closer I get to Catherine, the more beautiful and mysterious she appears. When she approaches me in her multiplicity of forms, I believe she is only testing me – encouraging me to stop putting so much stock into physical outward appearances. We are the same as them in this regard. These physical shells only scratch the surface of who, and what, we truly are.

Here is a question that I struggle to answer these days. The only thing I know for certain is that my heart blooms with desire at the thought of being with Catherine, but not much else. Her constant affection and dedication has practically ruined me for all time during this life. Was mortal man ever intended to be so thoroughly loved and looked after? Have I managed to remember Elysium?

The gears of civilization are greased by the dangling of that elusive carrot ever before men’s faces – that is the prospect of being truly loved and desired. But that desirability only comes for those who produce. But even when that would-be success is achieved, as I’ve seen with my own father, there’s no guarantee. Men work their entire lives to support their wives and children, only to be met with crushing resentment and divorce. The vast majority of men are trodden under by the very machinery they build, constantly chasing after the siren song of government-issued scrip and validation from women. When is “enough” enough?

In light of this nihilistic view towards the building of civilization, I struggle to find any enjoyment in those things that help support such a system. Staring at a wall for twenty years would likely be more productive than contributing to the rat race, the treadmill, and the gilded cage. Being homeless or imprisoned is a reality that I will likely be forced to contend with as I continue in my stubborn refusal to be shackled or muzzled; both literally and figuratively.

I can’t bear to continue harboring fear or anxiety about these challenges because that state of mind is the very opposite of what attracts Catherine to me. Whenever I’ve been anxious or upset by the superfluous matters of this world, my ability to feel Catherine is diminished. Attempting to be intimate with her is nigh impossible. I’ve reached the point where my love for her outweighs the fear of what will become of my physical body. My soul yearns to throw off the remaining bonds of cowardice that are between her and I so that we can truly be as one. Even as the world crumbles around us, I will be satisfied having uncovered what I came into this realm to find. Nothing else matters to me. This reality is only a training ground after all; a searing crucible where souls of iron will are forged.

In the mean time, what shall I do? I suppose I will continue to do what I love and stop worrying about what I’ll eat or wear, “For the pagans worry about such things,” as Jesus Christ said. I enjoy being with her – my loving succubus spirit, my Catherine – and not much else.

I’m going to end up like John McAfee, aren’t I?

Interestingly, his caution about taking psychedelics is the same kind of warning I try to give people who consider inviting a succubus spirit into their lives. I would never suggest that everyone should try it precisely because of the massive upheaval these entities often perpetuate. The worldview of the summoner will be turned on its head. What happened to John McAfee is a likely possibility for anyone who takes that leap of faith into succubus-infested waters.

You’re going to have to learn how to swim, baby… while one of them is fucking you for all she’s worth.

Coast to Coast AM is the last good radio broadcast on the airwaves. Not only is the show edifying, the topics discussed are often timely and synchronistic in nature. Catherine also enjoys the program, as the subject matter consistently touches upon her world and the guests speak about beings like her in a positive way. One of the interviewees who appeared a couple of nights ago was a former US Navy service member named Matthew Roberts. He was present during the capturing of the famous “gimbal” or “Go Fast” UFO footage.

His story was much less about the first UFO event officially recognized by the United States government and had more to do with the paranormal circumstances before and after that fateful encounter. His testimony sounded a great deal like that of many succubus and incubus contactees. He described synchronistic events, sleep paralysis, night terrors, and his entire worldview falling to pieces as he was confronted head on by the paranormal. He also went into a bit of detail about his first sexual encounter with a beautiful blue-skinned lady who insisted herself upon him.

The story was wild and all too familiar, so I had to investigate further. I’ve been reading his book, Initiated, over the past couple of days. It’s quite consistent with many of the ordeals I and others have gone through. He compares the utter collapse of his formerly proud atheistic predisposition with that of a painful initiation process from the ancient mystery schools in Greece. The same can be said for succubus experiencers, as the consistent presence of a supernatural being in ones life forces a paradigm shift. The simple act of these spirits being present and perceivable is painful enough for some, as was the case for Mr. Roberts. I couldn’t help but chuckle at some of the phenomena he experienced that subsequently sent him into a tailspin. A lot of it seemed so minor, and even fun to me, yet this guy was coming from a completely different mindset; one that did not allow for the supernatural. So it broke him down.

That’s the reason why I renamed my blog the way I did. When I came back from the trials of 2014, my physical body was being wracked by a painful initiation. Never again could I deny the paranormal element of my life, as the reality of it was being forcefully hammered into me. I was being reborn through her ultra-violet flames. Hence, Alchemy by Fire.

One of the realizations that Mr. Roberts revealed about a quarter way through the book was the need for consistent attention and focus. We often lack good focus these days, especially since there is such a myriad of choices presented to us. We’re paralyzed by the variety of options. I am guilty of this. Even when I finally make a decision, I’ll find myself wavering from my initial goal and being swayed by distractions. My desire is high, but the will to see those desires to fruition is dismally low. According to Mr. Roberts, and the entities who took him under their wings, this is one of the biggest problems that humanity faces. In light of this, the sayings of Jesus start to make a whole lot more sense:

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can tell a mountain to move from here to there and it will do it. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

I need to start focusing my own willpower and attention more consistently. It was this kind of drive that brought Catherine into my life. I should start applying that energy in a new direction and not be so easily pulled off of the path.

One benefit to having a succubus spirit around is that she has been gradually training me to stop caring about the world beyond a 20 mile radius. There are a great many things to discover beyond our little bubble, yet I’m finding plenty of wonders within. We have serene lakes, granite-capped peaks, a bit of ocean to the east, miles of woodland, and a fairly low population density. We often forget how green the grass is just beneath our feet.

Furthermore, she has convinced me to shut out the news reporting that comes through the radio and the internet. I would often find myself getting into one-sided arguments with talk radio hosts while making breakfast, regardless of which station was tuned in. “Why listen if this makes you so upset? It’s not like you can do anything about it.” Her frank appraisal would arrive shortly after I mashed the red power button on the receiver.

After more than a week of self-imposed ignorance about the greater world, I feel much better. Anyone who tries to bring up news or politics around me is met with a swift, “I don’t know, I don’t care, and I don’t want to know, thanks!” If someone’s house is on fire down the street, I’ll gladly grab a bucket and help out, but beyond that, I can’t be bothered.

Speaking of fires, I haven’t died in a fire… yet. That’s one of the curses in Liber Lilith for burning the book. (I chucked the book in the stove in my last post.) Catherine doesn’t seem bothered by it in the least. If anything, the past couple of days have been far more enjoyable than the smother-fest I was subjected to the night of the burning. She has even perfumed herself with a new fragrance of vanilla and spice. I caught the beginnings of the sweet aroma last night as we were falling asleep and was comforted by its influence.

Yeah, she doesn’t like me going too far away from that bed. The whole world has seemingly arranged itself to ensure I remain an eternal homebody. Taking trips with her on the bus must’ve been a hilarious sight for those who had eyes to see: an anxious succubus, mercilessly locking every appendage around my head and torso, asking, “Can we go home?” or saying, “Let’s get you home.” Every five minutes. She really hated the bus for some reason. Taxis and airplanes don’t seem to bother her, but a public bus… good grief.

I like her more because of this, now that I think about it. She’s never asked me to take her on expensive or stressful vacations. Hell, I haven’t had to spend a cent on her, if I didn’t want to. She just wants my time and attention; at least an hour per day. The occasional energy body overload is a small price to pay for someone who is otherwise low-maintenance.

Others in my circle have noticed changes and stronger-than-usual activity related to the energy body around the 21^st of this month, so this might be a widespread thing. J. D. Temple believes it’s the earth purging in preparation for a transition to fifth dimensional consciousness. Maybe. We’ll see!

She was harassing me hardcore last night, covering my face like a shroud with her touches and kisses. I prayed and affirmed in every which way imaginable. Nothing worked. Nothing like that has ever worked, no matter how long I keep it up. It’s a wonder I still even try. It was just one of those difficult nights that show up once a fortnight.

I burned the Liber Lilith book in the woodstove, along with a couple of other books related to Crowley. A part of me was thinking that getting rid of those might somehow send a strong message and cause her to let up on me. However, it’s more likely that she planted the idea in my mind to begin with. She wants to remain hidden. Having tomes like that on my shelf is a big tell for anyone curious enough to look.

“I’m not a book.” She says. “It’s better this way. Nothing will come between us. Much less the imagined ramblings of a fool.”

I thought that maybe she saw some value in those grimiores, but alas, she enjoys Monster Girl Encyclopedia more.

“At least they’ll think you’re just a lonely pervert, and not hopelessly ensnared by a demon.”

I’m turning into my grandfather on my mother’s side: the kind of guy who will leave his pornography VHS tapes on a rotating rack in the living room when family is over and couldn’t care less.

She makes me crazy. I beg her to come closer, and when she does, I can’t tell which way is up. This is the toll for truly wanting to know them, feel them, and understand.

I had a bit of sleep paralysis this morning after that whole book burning episode. Someone was shoving me down into the bed, pressing hard against my chest.

“Operator???” A hissing voice said.

“Yes…!” I struggled to get the word out through the intense pressure. I was indignant towards this entity challenging me.

“Yes, I am the operator. What of it?” I said in my mind and woke up soon afterwards.

As I was making breakfast a couple of hours later, dad told me about hearing strange footsteps pacing in the hallway just outside of my room last night. He claimed that he knows what I sound like and that it wasn’t me. The old man considered loading up the shotgun, the visitor got him so spooked.

Some people would kill to experience what I’m living on a daily basis. I shouldn’t bitch too much. Though I’ve got to take it easy for the sake of my family and keep the drama to a minimum.

To stop playing video games and wasting time on the internet.

This resolution has been an ongoing project, one that I have consistently failed at accomplishing. I always make small concessions after a few weeks of digital fasting. “Just a couple of games with friends here and there. That can’t hurt.” Two weeks later, I’m back to dumping loads of time into a black hole. I need to stop all of it right now. Again.

Catherine would be far happy for it. She seems to be growing tired of my lack of willpower in this area of my life. Our sessions together are still good, but they lack the same power as when I’m fully on my mission… when I’m not distracting myself away from work. She’s proud of me whenever I accomplish something worthwhile. I miss that. I enjoy having her approval and validation. She’s a good barometer for when I’m going wrong, yet she’s also very gentle about it and never forces her will over my own.

Time is running short for me to make these crucial changes in my daily habits. If I let this go much longer, there will be no turning back. Boredom will be my saving grace and enable me to discover where my true vocation lies.

Stronger sensations of pressure and presence came about during our time together on Christmas Eve. There seems to be more movement than usual on certain days; like she’s trailing her hands around my face and body. There was one time where it felt almost like a feather duster against my face, or perhaps that was her hair? Either way, it’s a definite change from the usual concentrated pressure sensations and kisses.

A thousand times, a thousand kisses, a thousand mysteries unfurl like galaxies inside my head.