My life story. Ulog #2 (part 11)

dynamicgreentk (65)in #ulog • 6 years ago (edited)

George

"Hard liquor brings out the spirits, get it?" Mike Leras, the tough, organic dairy family farm owner of Leras family farm, proclaimed to me after he had loaded me up into his truck up to make his rounds around Santa Rosa. He was explaining himself and his actions earlier. He felt guilty for kicking and yelling at objects after his wife added more stuff to his honey-do list and wanted timelines for them to be completed. He had just confided in me that he used to drink hard liquor and couldn't anymore because of the 'spirits'. He no longer had a way to self 'medicate' and 'unwind'.I found his explanation funny as he had just taken me back 20 years in my past and beautifully tied in my Fathers alcoholism and my experience with ghosts into a statement or rather proclamation.

Source

Ghosts and demons were never something I had thought too much about as a 10-year-old or at any point in my childhood for that matter. I had many interests growing up, most was just myself trying to find something to be when I grew up, as that seemed to be everyone's question to me, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" My answers consisted primarily of "I want to be a paleontologist" or "An airforce pilot" but really I just wanted to roam the desert and escape my household into an imaginary world where snakes, tumbleweeds, and rusty old abandoned cars provided the perfect canvas to paint my imagination onto.

My Father had now in his possession, an antique shotgun circa the 1800's. It was a family heirloom named George. He had just used his own kids in a simple but elaborate blackmail scheme against his own mother and half-sister( please see part3 ). The importance my father took on the gun was not apparent at first to me. He stored it in the walk-in closet of my parent's master bedroom at the beginning of his ownership. That quickly changed, however.

I can remember one day my mother was pissed. She was yelling at my dad. She was going on about playing with 'George' in the house and leaving it laying around for us kids to play with, he always denied doing so. My Father was a cop and no matter how drunk he ever got he never left his sidearms laying around. It was perhaps the only thing in his life he was ever responsible with other than his job, seeing as he was always being promoted. My Father's drinking was ramping up around this time and my mother at first started to blame the weird events around George to my fathers now rampant drinking of vodka. Little did we know that this was the beginning of our house becoming haunted or rather occupied by a demon.

Sleepwalking and nightmares would become synonymous with the events surrounding the acquisition of George. I would find myself in the middle of the night just standing in the hallway awoken for no reason typically. Nothing other than the pitch black house was there to greet me from my sleepwalking episodes. Typically dreams of my father and I fighting ghosts in our house ghostbuster style with photon blasters in all would proceed my sleepwalking.

My mother would start hiding the gun from my father to no avail, George would still yet find his way around the house. This started spooking my mother as my dad would be at work at key times in her attempts at hiding George from his drunken self. I can remember her hiding George one morning while my father was at work, as it was laying around the house again one morning when we woke up. She took us, kids, somewhere that morning and on our arrival back home, George was outside of our house at our front door, this freaked my mother out. She really let it be known of her fears that George had some kind spirit attached to it, particularly these grievances were aired to my father. His response was, "Well we need to give it a mantle." He felt it needed to be put up high and have it look over us. This was not effective as it always would fall off the mantle above the fireplace that my Father had installed just for it.

It was around the time that my mother had realized that this gun my father had unjustly ripped away from its rightful heir was the root cause of the shenanigans happening now. Our Fathers alcoholism was at an all-time high as every time I saw him from this point on, vodka and tobacco was his smell, sleepwalking was now the norm for me and now my brother, sister and I started having screaming spells in our sleep. I can remember her taking us kids to Mt. Charleston, which is one hour away from Las Vegas, to her Native American friend's house Jeanie. I'm not sure if she was native American or more a paganist as she held many beliefs close to Native Americans but heavily focused on paganism and 'white' witchcraft, she was light skinned. I can remember them discussing charms and protective spells more often than not and of course her two big huskie dogs.

Things eventually climaxed when I started having to sleep in my parent's bed at night because the nightmares were so bad my sleepwalking became vivid waking life dreams that left me wide awake but paralyzed. I would see people in my house actively robbing the house. They were as scared of me as they noticed me noticing them. These people were vivid with bright colors which were uncanny as most of my 'ghost' dreams were not vivid and typically were black and white.

Violence, anger, and a general overall darkness had completely enveloped our household and each person in it. My sister even had started stealing my money and parent's money around this time when she was a 9 or 10-year-old. My brother was having tubes put in his ears even. Money was a huge issue in our household. Having a mischevious spirit only amplified things. I only vaguely connected George with everything going on when I saw my dad with a hammer wrestling an invisible thing. It was throwing him around and he was hitting it with the hammer. After my Dad passed out from that battle my mother had started to tell me that its why we left Utah when I was a newborn. This was common in Utah when my dad found the demon in the temple at Ceder City, Utah in 1984.

Once my mother passed, it was like a trip code had been set off. Sleepwalking was no more for me, my nightmares went away and things were strangely a little brighter. It was like a giant weight was lifted from my shoulders. I'm not sure what it was but this energy had stopped attacking myself and seemed to focus all of its attention on my father. His madness and insanity were exceptional in the months following my mother's death. With only my vision of my mother and the abrupt loss of the nightmares and sleepwalking, I could sense my brother, sister and I was now off-limits to this entity that had been plaguing our family. It was now my Father's turn to deal with its focused wrath.