The Cassie Clay Story: Part One

This is the narrative of the life of Cassandra Clay.
I have not had an ordinary life: and so I am posting this in the Paranormal Studies section.
It's a little long, and you might find it boring.
It's a little creepy, and you might feel creeped reading it.
Recent events in my life have convinced me that perhaps I really should be writing this all down and try to publish it. So here is an outline; all rights reserved.

Remember the first rule: everything I write in these posts are false!

When I was a baby I was dropped on my head onto the floor and lost consciousness for a period of time & my parents were afraid that I was dead. As a small child I was in communication with what I described to my mother as a 14-year-old African boy named "Eo" (Eyo?). He would sit on the ceiling and we would talk at great length. He would ask me to write certain things and leave them on the window-sill so he could retrieve them. I also had OBEs where I would simply float out the window and check out my neighborhood. I also had quite detailed memories of being abducted, strapped to tables, examined, all that (what I found out later to be) alien-abduction bull#--I cannot say such memories terribly hurt me as much as they playfully warped me sexually. In such memories, there were other others in a simular situation as myself--and that there were others truly hurt far worse than myself. I had strange marks on my body, especially in my genital region, which led to many trips to the doctor's office and many sexual-abuse accusations by my mother against my dad (which, though my dad was a bit of a child-beater, were not true). My father became obsessed with the idea that I was going to get kidnapped and gave me the whole talk about "strangers with candy" and if anybody tried to molest me he'd "smash their brains out." He was also very paranoid that something would try to get in through the windows and he'd set up elaborate devices to alert him to intruders.

Then I entered kindergarten and lost contact with Eo--it really did feel like a part of me was gone. I had an above-average IQ and was sitting in a corner of the classroom reading Little Women while the other kids where learning to write the letters of the alphabet. My level of seriousness was both a source of wonderment & concern for the teachers, and I was analyzed by counselors & psychologists up the wazoo. I could only make friends with adults because they were the only people who gave good conversation. I also could talk to plants, animals, and things that apparently were not there.

Finding school to be a bore, I began taking up what I realize now was a method of shamanic trancework. I would listen to the radio and start entering another world--the contents of those journeys are now things I guess I should start recalling and writing down. I also had a drive to spontaneously build altars everywhere. I wanted to grow up to be a nun, and believed that I had a rapport with Jesus, Mary, and the Saints (Ultra-Catholic household). I remember one Easter night, walking home with my family, one hand subtly clasping an invisible hand--I believed I was literally walking hand-in-hand with Jesus. I was so enraptured with the Bible that I wanted to preach from street corners. During a school art project my teacher looked at my work and said "very nice," and all that, and asked me what it was: I said it was the Apocalypse.

My father died on Halloween when I was 12; I knew (knew!) he was going to die on that day and faked being sick so I could stay home and hang out with him (he worked at night). I remember being told he was dead, as all the skeletons and cobwebs and witches and vampire decorations were draped across the house; I was left home alone as my mother went to the hospital, and I watched the all-night horror movie marathon of Universal Horror Films all through to the dawn.

I had my first period during my father's funeral. The teenage years were unbelievably hellish. I used my shamanic trancework extensively to escape my reality. We were having weird poltergeist-like things happen all over the house, like jewelery boxes being thrown across the room by themselves, something that looked like a hand trying to push its way out of my bookbag, pictures flying off of walls, etc (some of these things were observed by other family members besides me). My mother had two abusive boyfriends and she also (inexplicably, as if she was possessed) would fly into violent rages as well. One of my mother's boyfriends tried to strangle me to death in my own bed. My mother's other boyfriend was a former agent for some sort of CIA-type of thing and the stuff he was into was beyond AboveTopSecret. He audio-taped all our phone calls and only tried to kill me by pushing me down a flight of stairs, so I guess he wasn't all bad.

I moved out when I was 16 & managed to find a job, roommate, and apt. My roommate was a sweet sweet man who I will always consider to be "Giles" to my "Buffy." By this point, paranormal things were popping up all around me, but I was a bit dense about it. All I really wanted was sex. And the more I had sex, the more kooky things started happening around me. I think I might have been really coming into my own in terms of magic or shamanism or whatnot--the reality of my trancework shamanic world was beginning to leak through into my everyday, and it was all such a gas.

It was at this point that I began to converse with other entities through my dreams. One such entity was a famous beat poet and our communications were short but very informative--at the time he was not dead yet so it must have been an astral thing. Another entity was a male of great power who I will refer to as Malcolm Dust. Malcolm was not a supernatural entity but a man who had great occult knowledge who had passed on about maybe 60 years ago. He first made himself known to me by the name "Black Scorpion," and referred to me as "Crimson." I was also communicating with African ladies who were very powerful and reminded me of the entity Eo I had conversed with many years ago. These ladies also seemed very stern and teacherly and wanted to plant me firmly down the "right path."

At the time I was very much not on the right path--I was drinking, whoring, doing some drugs, and getting involved in a whole maelstrom of freakiness. Some of my friends/contacts during that time were warlocks, gypsies (actual gypsies), and total maniacs. I was almost 18. Somehow, on one Halloween night, dressed as The Joker (some people in my neighborhood still call me "Jack"), it all came to a head--the next thing I remembered, I was on my mother's doorstep, meek and contrite, expressing an interest in entering college so I could become a paralegal.

I was your average college student and all that occult/dungeons&dragons/gypsy/craziness was forgotten. It was like a bad dream. Then I was singled out as a "special student" by a very charismatic teacher who was the head of a "special program" funded by a "special group." This coincided with the start of my ability to dream the future. I was granted the ability to dream the future in 1994 by a beautiful white-haired lady--which sounds totally kooky but there you go. This lady said that I reached the state of evolution called "Hannah." Whatever.

In the "special program" I met a young woman who was a Wiccan; the level of paranormal activity and contact she had was about on the level of mine, and it was wonderful to connect with somebody who could understand me. We became very close friends. She taught me all the basics of the occult. We seemed to set off each other's paranormal abilities, because we were both having tons of OBEs, shamanic experiences, etc. I'm talking like, every day. To compound matters, the leader of our "special program" was also seeming quite warlock-like, and took a very special interest in the both of us. Those were times of great learning, great creativity, great adventure.

Then the witch-wars began. I don't know how they started. But they did. I was graduating a year before my friend and maybe she was feeling abandoned. Or maybe I was becoming so fascinated by my ever-increasing abilities that I was becoming an egotistical #. The last straw was when she made me an occult item for my birthday and I used it to get the guy I liked at work to bone me. She said that the corporate world was throwing me off the true path, that I was becoming corrupted, all that Anakin Skywalker #. And that was that, no more friend. But that was ok...I had a whole bunch of new friends now. I was going to make it in the high-powered world of publishing. Everything was going my way, and the future was bright.

Erm, riiiiiiiiiight...

To Be Continued In Part Two, tentatively titled:
"Cassie Clay: The Crap Years"

You certainly seem to have had an 'interesting' life. I know you said Remember the first rule: everything I write in these posts are false! but the things you describe, such as the abuse followed by poltergeist activity, have occurred in the same way to others.

Could Malcolm Dust have been Aleister Crowley ? I know he died in 1947 - not quite 60 years ago, but close enough ? He was certainly powerful in his own way, although he considered himself to be a practitioner of the 'black' arts. I drove near his old house of Bolskine some years ago - very spooky.

I was fortunate enough not to be involved in the 'Witch wars'. To me, it just seemed to be a group of puerile people throwing imprecations and the occasional curse at each other. I never understood why this happened. The whole point of Wicca was to have a religion free from dogma and 'leaders'. I find those who call themselves the 'King' and 'Queen' of all the witches to be quite amusing. But then, I would, having a 'Pixy' turn of mind.

Finally, the corporate world throwing you off the true path. Fair enough, since the corporations and their materialistic outlook are the exact opposite of spirituality.