- Joined
- Oct 12, 2022
- Messages
- 10
- Reaction score
- 4
Its been a while since I've posted here,
I wanted to ask the community,
hopefully some people more experienced with otherworldly encounters,'
to lend some interpretation to something (
or I should say 3 things that happened to me
)
which occurred a few years back.
Some context:
During this time, I was embroiled in personal crisis, and I turned to this forum specifically in an attempt to gain spiritual clarity.
It was an effort to know beyond what I saw before me.
Solomonic Magick immediately grabbed my attention.
The structure of the demonic court, and its relationship with early Abrahamic belief systems made the practice feel accessible.
Murmur, as I'm sure many of you know, is the demon of the arts and philosophy.
The idea of harnessing an ancient and unknowable power enticed me; its sigil was and remains striking.
In my Murmur induced semi-psychosis, I was convinced that his sigil would make a cool tattoo; I made an appointment with a girl who essentially needed willing canvases, as she was an apprentice at a local parlor.
The night before the appointment, I was drinking heavily, and around 3 AM I walked from my friend's apartment to mine.
It was the dead of winter, and the walk was 37 minutes.
I felt uneasy, perhaps because of my inebriated state, but the distress I felt was bigger than the regret I feel after I imbibe excessively. I felt fear.
This terror was heightened when the first "horseman" appeared before me.
As I walked down a major thoroughfare, I noticed a child, maybe 14, keeping perfect pace with me on the other side of the street on a Lime scooter. He was hooded, his face completely concealed. He said nothing and moved at a pace that felt glacial.
Palpitations in my chest guided me to a side street to avoid this pseudo-demonic being. Instead of calm, I was greeted by distress and chaos. A couple was screaming at eachother. "FUCK YOU WE'LL TALK ABOUT THIS LATER" 'DON'T WALK BY ME, STAY BACK THERE" it was an aggressive, and possibly relationship-ending argument. The man frustrated and belligerent, and the woman saddened and desperate for a resolution. This, and the scooter event compounded made the night feel planned------------- by something beyond my control.
I make it to my street. I think I'm out of the woods.
Instead I am greeted by two men, who look mobbed up. Waiting for me, in a Mini Cooper. Characters from a bygone era. One is a mountain, donning a leather jacket and a completely bald head. He's in the driver seat. The other, thin with slicked back ginger hair; a la a 50s greaser. Also sporting a leather jacket. I walk quickly by. I'm stopped by the slicked back man as he gets out of the tiny car. He felt 7 feet tall. If this was the devil, maybe I'm meeting him now.
He says: "HEY! YOU KNOW WHO I AM. DO NOT ACT LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM. STOP NOW. STOP NOW. YOU KNOW WHO I AM."
I run through my building's gate and sprint up my stairwell after I fumbled with my keys. Once in my apartment, I stare in the mirror in shock, I start to laugh, I feel like crying. I survived something. Those three vignettes felt planned. I felt God.
I cancelled the appointment the next morning.
Was this a force telling me to not get Murmur inked on my body forever?
Let me know.
I wanted to ask the community,
hopefully some people more experienced with otherworldly encounters,'
to lend some interpretation to something (
or I should say 3 things that happened to me
)
which occurred a few years back.
Some context:
During this time, I was embroiled in personal crisis, and I turned to this forum specifically in an attempt to gain spiritual clarity.
It was an effort to know beyond what I saw before me.
Solomonic Magick immediately grabbed my attention.
The structure of the demonic court, and its relationship with early Abrahamic belief systems made the practice feel accessible.
Murmur, as I'm sure many of you know, is the demon of the arts and philosophy.
The idea of harnessing an ancient and unknowable power enticed me; its sigil was and remains striking.
In my Murmur induced semi-psychosis, I was convinced that his sigil would make a cool tattoo; I made an appointment with a girl who essentially needed willing canvases, as she was an apprentice at a local parlor.
The night before the appointment, I was drinking heavily, and around 3 AM I walked from my friend's apartment to mine.
It was the dead of winter, and the walk was 37 minutes.
I felt uneasy, perhaps because of my inebriated state, but the distress I felt was bigger than the regret I feel after I imbibe excessively. I felt fear.
This terror was heightened when the first "horseman" appeared before me.
As I walked down a major thoroughfare, I noticed a child, maybe 14, keeping perfect pace with me on the other side of the street on a Lime scooter. He was hooded, his face completely concealed. He said nothing and moved at a pace that felt glacial.
The discomfort I felt was jacked up 10 fold when I watched him slowly crash into a tree, and start to twist his neck and torso into unholy positions.
He rotated, and contorted slowly and intentionally, as if he was performing a dance to summon something, or maybe he was possessed, or maybe he was just high. Palpitations in my chest guided me to a side street to avoid this pseudo-demonic being. Instead of calm, I was greeted by distress and chaos. A couple was screaming at eachother. "FUCK YOU WE'LL TALK ABOUT THIS LATER" 'DON'T WALK BY ME, STAY BACK THERE" it was an aggressive, and possibly relationship-ending argument. The man frustrated and belligerent, and the woman saddened and desperate for a resolution. This, and the scooter event compounded made the night feel planned------------- by something beyond my control.
I make it to my street. I think I'm out of the woods.
Instead I am greeted by two men, who look mobbed up. Waiting for me, in a Mini Cooper. Characters from a bygone era. One is a mountain, donning a leather jacket and a completely bald head. He's in the driver seat. The other, thin with slicked back ginger hair; a la a 50s greaser. Also sporting a leather jacket. I walk quickly by. I'm stopped by the slicked back man as he gets out of the tiny car. He felt 7 feet tall. If this was the devil, maybe I'm meeting him now.
He says: "HEY! YOU KNOW WHO I AM. DO NOT ACT LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM. STOP NOW. STOP NOW. YOU KNOW WHO I AM."
I run through my building's gate and sprint up my stairwell after I fumbled with my keys. Once in my apartment, I stare in the mirror in shock, I start to laugh, I feel like crying. I survived something. Those three vignettes felt planned. I felt God.
I cancelled the appointment the next morning.
Was this a force telling me to not get Murmur inked on my body forever?
Let me know.
