My Journey Through Magical Spirituality (Part 1)
Hello everyone, I hope you’re all doing very well. Today, I want to share a few things about my journey through the spiritual world. I’m doing this because I’m at a very unique point in my life, and I want to share this part of my story with you. I hope I don’t bore you with what I’m about to tell you.
For those who don’t know, I’m 44 years old. I was born in Argentina, where I spent most of my life. Ever since I was little, I had strange nightmares. For years, I was haunted by something I didn’t know how to explain to my parents: I would dream that I was inside television static, like on the old TV sets. There was no up or down, and time seemed to pass in a strangely slow way. I would wake up drenched in sweat and terrified, so I would go to bed with my parents and tell them my stomach hurt, because I didn’t know how to explain what was happening to me.
It was awful. I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. But that wasn’t all: I would also see long, shadowy figures moving back and forth through the hallways of the house. Because of that, I was too afraid to get up and go to the bathroom, and whenever I had to make my way to my parents’ bedroom, I would gather all the courage I could and run as fast as I could.
This went on from the time I was four until I was eleven. When I was that age, my grandfather passed away, and I loved him more than anyone. He was my friend, my companion, my mentor. Not long afterward, All Saints’ Day came around, and it was customary to light a candle in front of his photograph. I remember standing there, watching the candle my mother had lit, when the flame began to behave strangely and completely captured my attention.
I started talking to him. I asked if it was really my grandfather, if he had something he wanted to tell me. He had always told me that, when the day came that he was no longer here, he would find a way to let me know whether there was life beyond the body. I took what was happening with that candle as a sign.
I don’t remember whether it was that same night or some time later, but I dreamed about my grandfather. It was one of the most vivid dreams I had ever had. He was there with me, and he told me that yes, life went on. For me, that was the beginning of everything.
From that point on, I started holding homemade séances. I would “play the glass game” and call on my grandfather. At first, it seemed like it really was him, but then I became more and more fascinated with the whole thing, almost to the point of obsession. I began calling on all kinds of spirits, and any occasion, any moment, seemed like a good time to hold a séance: alone, with friends, and even with some members of my family.
Since I was a good kid, did well in school, and didn’t cause much trouble, my parents didn’t pay too much attention to it. I would go to the library looking for books on Spiritualism, witchcraft, magic, and anything else I could find related to those subjects.
Of course, all of that came at a price. Before long, I started seeing all kinds of things: shadows, figures, people who seemed to move from one place to another. I remember one time I was walking as night was beginning to fall when I started to feel that someone was following me. Suddenly, I heard something unpleasant whispered into my ear. I turned around, but there was no one there. I ran home as fast as my legs could carry me.
I also remember that sometimes I would look at myself in the mirror and feel afraid of my own reflection. I knew the image staring back at me was mine, and yet there was still something about it that deeply unsettled me.
My parents began to worry and took me to see a psychologist. After some time, she told them that there didn’t seem to be any mental health issue and that, instead, it was possible I had some kind of sensitivity or ability to perceive things beyond the ordinary.
It was a very difficult time for me. I was bullied by my classmates at school; I was “the weird one.” Little by little, I found myself with fewer and fewer friends, and eventually I became quite withdrawn.
One day, I happened to walk past the Escuela Científica Basilio and finally worked up the courage to go inside. I spoke with the people in charge and told them what had been happening to me. It was a Spiritualist school, and there were supposed to be mediums there, along with people who had gone through experiences similar to mine.
I have to say, they helped me quite a bit. They taught me how to shut myself off from those spiritual beings, and although my father hated the idea of me going there or continuing to get involved in “all that weird stuff,” he could also see that it was helping me sleep at night.
I stayed with them for at least a year, but I had other curiosities. I was interested in what I understood at the time as black magic, and I was fascinated by the figure of the Devil. The problem was that reading tarot, practicing magic, or using mediumship for anything outside the framework of what they believed and taught was considered wrong.
So, one day, I stopped going. After that, I spent some time at another Spiritualist school, but it was more or less the same. And that was when my search began—for black magic, for the Devil, and for a pact…
I hope you enjoyed this first part. There will be more posts soon, where I’ll tell you what happened next.
Best wishes,
D.B.