Walking Through Walls (33 page)

Needless to say, my father was very concerned about Ruth's well-being and directed his full attention to making sure that she survived her elective surgery. Toward the end of the first week, my father called Ruth and let her know that we would be stopping by to assess her condition. As we made our way up the stairs of the catwalk apartment building, Pop and I were talking about where we were going to go for dinner afterward. I voted for Cuban food on Eighth Street. As we approached the apartment door, I heard through the open windows Ruth softly moaning, “Oh please, stop. Stop, it hurts. Yes, yes, I am receiving the knowledge. I see the light. Ahhhhhhh…” When we knocked, Ruth told us to come in, that the door was open. We couldn't see anything or anybody other than Ruth lying under a white sheet with her eyes closed, looking very ungoddesslike. Pop touched her hand, and Ruth slowly opened her eyes. “Oh, Lew, thank you for coming. I'm in so much pain. But I know this is something I have to do, no matter what it takes.”

My father smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Everything will be fine. I'm watching over you and have my spirit guides monitoring the surgery.”

“Oh, thank you. Where would I be without you?” I thought I needed to give the two brave psychic soldiers some privacy and left to wait in the car. On the way out, I noticed that her kitchen garbage can was overflowing with empty boxes of cookies and bags of Doritos. This didn't look like the garbage of an enlightened spiritual being.

I felt terribly guilty about disliking Ruth so intensely. After all, my father had often presented me with ideas and events that I thought were crazy and disapproved of, but later I came to accept and respect them. Perhaps I just needed to be more tolerant and open to something new. The important thing I had to remember was that my father was happy in this relationship, and that's what mattered. He really enjoyed having a partner to share his ideas and work with. That Ruth was more than thirty years his junior made him feel young and energized. A lot of women hung around my father, and I would have preferred that he had chosen any one of them over Ruth. But perhaps it was my karmic issue to come to accept Ruth and share my father's happiness. I knew that I was being overly judgmental, which according to my father was a major sin and prevented me from seeing the world in an objective manner.

About fifteen minutes later, my father came downstairs and got into the car. It was still light out. He was shaking his head in disbelief and grinning from ear to ear. “Isn't spirit amazing? For over a week now, Ruth has been living off only the prana in the air, with no solid food. Spirit forbade her to eat, as it would interfere with the surgery, and now she is suddenly gaining weight.” He laughed. “Did you ever hear of anything like this? Ruth must have gained at least ten pounds since she started the operation, just from breathing. It's really amazing. That prana must contain some powerful nutrients. She is so advanced that she can just live off the air like that.”

“Wow. That's really amazing. I hadn't noticed that she had gained so much weight.” Prana indeed. I hadn't realized that prana could be purchased in boxes and bags at the 7-Eleven. It made me wonder if I was missing something or if something else was at work that I couldn't understand. I knew better than to burst his bubble. My father wanted to believe what he was telling me and himself. If dumb-old-humanoid me could see Ruth in all her fraudulent glory, why couldn't he? Pop had clearly turned off his psychic fraud-o-meter so that it wouldn't ring every two minutes and disturb his sleep. He was acting like a pathetic mortal, powerless in the face of love and completely willing to ignore the warning signs that were in full view lit up in neon.

During the long days that followed while Ruth underwent her transformation, my father would receive messages from his spirit guides indicating the progress of the operation. Chander Sen checked in with “We are working on the testings to see that everything is perfect. We are sorry that there is pain associated with the tests. This is due to the openings of new memory implantations, and the pain will soon be over. Lew, we will begin our work with you when we are through with Ruth. There will also be changes in your memory bank. We promise to complete with you as soon as possible, as your work will be minimal. You will both be happy with the results and gratified with your help toward others. Meanwhile be gentle toward each other. This is truly a rough period.”

Days turned into weeks as the couple waited for the procedure to be completed. Ruth stayed in bed constantly as the work progressed. In another message, Arthur explained, “You are being kept inactive so that there will be no difficulty with the completion of the work on your head. The time is drawing close now, and there should be no hindrance to the final outcome.”

A week later Arthur communicated again with yet another explanation of the delay: “Your head was not quite ready last night, hence the last-minute delay. I thought all was in readiness, but I was wrong—my apologies. I hope it won't be long now.” As I read this, I wondered how Arthur could have been wrong. I didn't think that there was any such concept as “wrong” on the other side. Later that night Chander Sen reiterated what Arthur said: “We are very sorry. This is something new to us, and we can't be certain as to time. We are still testing, and we want to be absolutely certain that nothing can go wrong.” Now this technique is
new
to them? Something was not right in spirit land. In all the messages that I had read, spirits always seemed to be living in a perfect world where everything manifests through thought, and they are able to travel light-years in a blink of an eye. So why all this uncertainty?

Ruth's condition took a turn for the worse. She was becoming irritable and depressed. My father seemed unable to help her. Chander Sen explained, “Ruth's depression is due to our working on that emotion at the present time. Whatever is happening to her will have no ill effects on her mind; all this is part of our testing. We are very concerned with what is happening to her, and in no way will we drop her. She should ease her thoughts on that score. Her dislike of you at this time is due to her inability to get out and do things, and your activity seems to upset her. Both of you may relax and know that all is going according to schedule.”

A few days later, there was an unusual Q&A message at 3:03 a.m. from Chander Sen in which my father became very confrontational with the Tibetan monk. The transcript reads:

Like Arthur, Chander Sen always had all the answers. This was indeed a strange communication from spirit.

Finally a message was received from Arthur that indicated the process was complete. “Ruth received awareness this morning at one o'clock. She can start her lecturing at any time now. The words will come. All her head work has been completed. We are very proud of her, and we will be with her when and as she needs us.”

Apparently the procedure was an outstanding success. Ruth was now supposedly having visions, seeing into the body with X-ray vision, and reading auras. She never made it back to work at Eastern Airlines—there were more important issues in life than making reservations to Nassau. After the operation Pop spent more of his days away from the office, consulting with Ruth on psychic matters. They planned how to heal the planet of anger, disease, war, and hatred. Ruth continued to show up on my father's arm at every function, glowing and readily dispensing sage advice. She had adapted quickly to her new goddess position.

Several weeks after the operation, the goddess began to have a little problem. Perhaps one of her newly rewired circuits had not healed completely. I read about this incident in one of Arthur's messages to my father afterward. Ruth was experiencing the unsaintly desire to throw and break things, not unlike a two-year-old. Ruth's carefully crafted peace-and-love veneer was cracking around the edges. Her nirvana shtick was giving way to a burn-in-hell bitch routine. Without any warning, Ruth exhibited an uncontrollable rage that had the velocity of a Category 5 hurricane. She was cursing, screaming, throwing things, overturning chairs, and beating on my father with her fists.
The Three Faces of Eve
was being remade into
The Two Faces of Ruth.

Seeking help and an explanation, Pop pulled out his pendulum and discovered that the cause of this erratic behavior was possession by some dark force. Using his diagnosis chart, he attempted to raise her vibrations so she could dispel this possessing entity. It wasn't working. Every time he pulled her vibrations up to the divine level, she slipped right back into the lower depths of darkness. No two ways about it: Ruth was deeply possessed by a powerful entity that was unwilling to let go. Usually my father could dispel an entity within a minute or two. But not this one. This dark force was prepared to give my father a run for his money.

Even though I was not the official psychic in the family, I would have bet that this was not the first time that Ruth had been controlled by dark forces. I never felt comfortable with her, and I would not have been surprised to learn that she was either psychotic or possessed by multiple dispossessed entities. Most likely, I believed, Ruth had used what little intelligence she had to aggressively conceal her true mental condition. With great foresight and planning, she waited until she had settled herself nicely into my father's bank account to reveal who she truly was. I would have bet even more money that the possessing entity had never left; it was just taking a little nap while Ruth worked her way into my father's life. For whatever reason, my father had never really done a proper scan on Ruth. Something was always in the way of him really seeing the true Ruth, unlike his ability to instantly see through anyone else. Instead he let his emotions override his brilliant psychic ability and allow this witch to become a part of his life. Or perhaps he had scanned her and decided, “What the hell, I'm lonely, she's not bad-looking, what's the harm?” Whatever the reason, this was the first time in decades he'd acted perfectly human.

In most cases of possession, simply raising Ruth's vibrations to a higher level would have made her body an inhospitable environment for the possessing entity, in the same way that heat kills germs. Dark souls cannot operate in a high-vibration environment. They are repelled by the intense energy of a person vibrating in the 500,000-to-800,000 range.

Since the vibrational approach wasn't working, Pop tried talking directly to the entity. Sometimes this was effective. Pop would reason with the possessing spirit, suggesting that it would be happier being released from the host's physical body. He would explain that it was dead and needed to move on to the next plane; it would never evolve if it remained in this parasitic relationship with a living body. Usually, after this little heart-to-heart, the entity would skulk off, and the possessed person would suddenly recover and reclaim his or her original personality. As horrible as these dark forces were, they were generally cowards at heart. They just didn't want to accept the fact that they were dead and, as a result, acted out like spoiled children, causing all kinds of problems.

Pop opened his attempted dialogue with Ruth's possessor: “We come in peace. I can help you transition to the next level. Let me guide you through this.” There was no response, but at least Ruth was taking a breather from turning over tables and breaking glasses. She was lying on the floor and making noises as if she were trying to speak but someone had a hand over her mouth.

Since the dark spirit would not communicate, Pop decided to tap into the entity's identity and learn what he could about this invader. He began to silently ask questions while watching his pendulum for its response. After a couple of minutes, he turned to Ruth and speaking directly to the entity said, “I know who you are. You're Michael Trainer, born 1823. You died in a fight in a bar. You were shot. Ruth can no longer host you. This is not the place for you. You will be happier on the other side. It is only there that you will be able to realize the full lessons of your untimely death. I am asking you in the name of the Holy Spirit and the Star of David's healing light to please leave. May God bless you.”

As soon as he said these words, Pop attempted again to raise Ruth's vibrations. He figured he had an open door. Using his plastic ruler as a scale, he began rubbing the fingers of his right hand in a circular motion on the tabletop. Pop had psychically adjusted the scale on his ruler so that every inch was equal to another 100,000 increase in vibrations. His goal was to reach eight inches, which would bring Ruth's vibrations up to 800,000—the cosmic level. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get beyond the four-inch mark; his hand would stop, as if it were pushing against an unyielding force. This Michael Trainer was a powerful bundle of negative energy. Clearly, Michael did not want Ruth's vibrations raised to a higher level, since that would dislodge him from her body. Pop kept trying to push his hand up the ruler. After several minutes of struggling, his hand finally reached the eight-inch mark; he had broken through. When Pop looked up from the desk, Ruth was suddenly reanimated. Her classic may-I-help-you? smile had returned.