Ghost Writers

Chapter Three: Fearlessness

For over forty years now, William Friedkin’s classic horror movie, The Exorcist, has terrified movie fans all over the world and consequently instilled the widespread notion that anyone who typically displays a rather neurotic temperament should seek the services of a religious liberator. And even though the star of this film, Linda Blair, was seen to rotate her head a full 360 degrees, whilst implying that the visiting catholic priest’s mother was engaging in sexual favours with the Devil, viewers still wondered if this complete idiocy really did happen. It didn’t! If her head had rotated then it would have killed her and if the priest’s mother was swinging with Lucifer then I’m as sure as hell (sorry!) that she wouldn’t be advertising such a fact to a young girl in her nightie!

But it was a scary film – no doubt about that, since it was apparently based on true events. It was also nominated for several Academy Awards as the acting was superb. But it was pure Hollywood. In fact, the true events actually centred on a young boy who was suffering from horrendous nightmares but his head thankfully didn’t spin round, nor did he imply that Satan was holding a porn fest in his bedroom.

And here lies the problem with horror films in general. People assume that, because these movies are often based on actual events, what they witness on the big screen actually mirrors true life. In actual fact there is often little resemblance. Film directors have a duty to scare and entertain their respective audience and they won’t let a little thing like honest facts get in the way of a great story. So, by all means enjoy the latest version of Paranormal Activity or The Conjuring but please remember that it’s all just a bit of fun and shouldn’t be taken too seriously.

I’ve been psychically aware of the spirit world since childhood. I’ve been physically aware of spirit energy for over six years. In all that time, I have never witnessed anything remotely similar to what you can view in this genre of film. I’ve been asked to assist with supposedly haunted houses many times. I have also been asked to remove negative energies from places where Ouija boards and the like have been misused. And as yet, no demons, devils or rotating heads. No mad people climbing up walls backwards; no beds rocking as if they are aboard a North Sea ferry; no comatose children levitating up to the ceiling, nor any priests jumping out of bedroom windows (although I have heard rumours of this last one!).

The key factor in all alleged exorcisms is fear. Remove fear from an individual and ideally you will have exorcised their demons. Note the word their demons. Fear causes us to act in a manner that defies convention. If we fear something or someone then our behaviour often becomes irrational and we suddenly develop an acute ability to cause severe harm to ourselves or those who may try to help us. The only solution is to either swiftly remove the cause of the offending fear, or refrain from being in the vicinity of the actual fear itself. Therefore, if a conscious mind should inexplicably erupt like a baboon with toothache, then the benevolent subconscious mind will automatically search for the nearest dentist — or help us avoid going near the monkey-house in the first place!

There are many fears affecting ‘twenty-first-century homosapien’. My own personal fears include knives, spears, deep water, heights, patterned wallpaper and sharks. I’m pretty sure that deep water and sharks are fears resulting from relentlessly watching my favourite film, Jaws, so as long as I don’t go swimming off the coast of New Jersey with a drunken student strapped to my back then I should be relatively worry-free here. Patterned wallpaper would often hypnotise me as I lay in my bed during my childhood, which resulted in severe hallucinations, so, naturally, I now avoid at all costs anywhere that houses the elderly! My fear of heights stems from the time as a seven-year-old when I tried in vain to climb up a steep hill, before suddenly plummeting faster than the Greek economy. But, knives and spears, well, those are a different breed of terror that go way beyond anything that Steven Spielberg’s movies or Aunty Senga’s nursing home could ever throw my way.

As you may or may not know (depending on whether you have joined this expedition before this stage), I am a huge fan of Past Life Regression. Now, I know what you’re thinking – ‘I’d really love to find out what my past contained’. Most people do. But, when it comes round to actually participating in this most fascinating of subjects, the vast majority of people suddenly decide to pass on it. And what’s more, they rarely understand why. Typically, something just doesn’t feel right to them.

The problem is that the subconscious mind often puts a block on any attempt to return to certain areas of one’s past. Sometimes, there are incidents that are just too painful to return to. And there may be many reasons why this should be so. However, the underlying force in all of these cases is undoubtedly ‘fear’. Extreme bouts of prolonged fear can often affect the subconscious mind so badly that the only real method of dealing with it is to completely remove any reference to the cause of it. Of course, returning to the spirit dimension should bring ample opportunities to readdress any such fear and ultimately move us on to the next stage of soul development. But, if it’s not addressed suitably, then any subsequent reincarnation may be adversely affected whenever the likelihood of this fear manifests again.

I once had a profound fear of javelins. I couldn’t even watch this popular sporting event on television for worrying that the javelin may strike the poor chap who has to run and find the mark where it has landed in order to measure the distance thrown. I remember one occasion, somewhere in Eastern Europe, when the javelin did strike an official who was attempting to avoid it. This didn’t help matters! So where did this fear originate from? Had I been speared by a dodgy Ukrainian javelin thrower in a previous outing? No. In actual fact, I was speared by a Roman soldier who had invaded my fort in ancient ‘Brittanicus’. I can still clearly visualise the moment when he rode towards me on horseback and threw this huge spear in my direction. My lasting memory of this terrifying regression was watching the spear tear at my clothing on its way to my soon-to-be redundant heart. And although I never felt the pain of this searing weapon as it spit-roasted my abdomen, I would frequently go into an almighty panic whenever anything long and sharp was consequently brought to my attention – even though this incident apparently occurred nearly two thousand years ago!

My fear of knives was almost certainly derived from an infamous bedroom intruder who loved to re-enact the moment that he thrust his dagger through my heart during a Jacobean conflict. Again, I am literally terrified of knives and will avoid anyone who waves one in front of me – even if it’s just to chop vegetables.

I know what you’re now probably thinking – knives and spears are dangerous and just like patterned wallpaper can seriously hurt someone if they are not used for their true appropriation. But surely they’re not as scary as guns, or bombs, or even tanks? Which begs another question – why don’t these dangerous weapons scare me, since there is a far bigger chance that guns or grenades will do much more damage to my skin and bones? Presumably, the answer is that I haven’t experienced a traumatic death through any of those particular weapons.

Thus, we can rightfully assume that real fears — big scary ones that make you wake up in the middle of the night wishing that you’d gone to the toilet earlier — are commonly derived from incidents that occurred during previous lives. And when you bring those fears to the present day, when you manifest those feelings of pure terror, then you open up a side of yourself that can be extremely difficult to control.

On the other side of the coin, there are other, more terrifying fears that dwell in our subconscious mind. These fears are not borne from incidents that have happened to us, but rather from terrible things that we have done to other people. When I regressed to a life as a serial killer in 1850s Australia, the emotions that I endured afterwards almost tore me apart. My lasting fear was that I would suddenly revive this killing spree in my current life because I knew that deep down I was still the same person inside, although I hoped that I had developed sufficiently to realise that what had taken place in Australia was morally wrong in every conceivable context. But what if the circumstances that caused me to kill people in that life then resurfaced in this present one? I have been informed by Mr Chung that this is highly unlikely, but even the tiniest shred of doubt in my timeworn mind totally terrifies me — even more than Jaws does!

Let’s think back to our dodgy exorcisms. Hypothetically, what would happen if a herd of Australians kidnapped me at knifepoint and tried to extract revenge for my murdering all of their javelin throwers? Do you think I would just lie there gracefully and exchange pleasantries with all and sundry? No. I would get cross. So cross, in fact, that all my fears would eventually manifest into something that would almost certainly make my current persona totally unrecognisable. If fear makes the best of us act irrationally, what do you think it would do to ex serial killers? In all honesty, I would hate to find out.

I have been told by most people that I am an easy-going person. I don’t look for trouble and I tend to avoid any situations where confrontation is likely to occur. On the other hand, if one of my family members should ever be attacked or abused by any individual then a part of me is likely to surface that I cannot control. That part of me is a combination of all my collective fears, all rolled up into a monstrous ball of revulsion that would even petrify battle-hardened mercenaries. Now imagine tying me to a bed and throwing holy water over me, whilst bellowing out the Lord’s Prayer. I think you would find that my reaction would make Linda Blair look like Mother Teresa!

I’ve only ever experienced this malevolent side of myself once before. I was sixteen years of age and I went searching for a gang of girls who had attacked my sister for no reason other than they were bored. Thankfully, I didn’t find them. They will never know how lucky they were.

We all have something in our past that we need to keep shackled –children are no different. There have been many reports of children having to suffer so-called exorcisms at the hands of religious fanatics, where it is often claimed that the children scream profanities and blasphemous verses that they would otherwise not have in their embryonic vocabulary. But the subconscious mind of a child will still harbour memories of past lives where barbarism would almost certainly have prevailed, with the resultant behavioural characteristics appearing totally unchildlike should they ever resurface.

The only demons you are ever likely to find are the ones that you have self-created through your own thoughts or actions. But they are your demons. They haven’t manifested through some anti-biblical sphere to take over your soul and drag you back to the shores of hell. That’s only in the movies. Life is not always that simple. We must learn from our many mistakes before we can truly enjoy an existence bereft of fear. Fear makes us human. It is only our lack of understanding why fear exists that prevents us from living a more fruitful life.

Man’s greatest fear is of the unknown, and the biggest unknown is what happens to us when we die. But surely if we truly believe that life is indeed eternal, then the fear of death could be construed as nothing more than an exorcised demon awaiting a call from another Hollywood scriptwriter.

‘No one knows whether death, which people fear to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good.’ PLATO

Don’t fear the reaper

A trickle of ice-cold tap water slowly removes the soft lather of soap wedged between the fingers of the most perfect hands you could ever imagine. As both palms meet in perfect synchronicity, a symphonic resonance welcomes a single droplet of water as it gracefully cascades sideways to reunite with the continuous flow. Each alternate finger carefully intertwines in perfect unity as the last remnants of the lightly scented lather follows suit along the contours of the gleaming ceramic hand basin.

The impeccably clean hands are gently dried using a plain white hand towel, freshly laundered and folded seamlessly in preparation for this most delicate of procedures. A creamy, smooth moisturiser is hastily applied to ensure that these immaculate hands would even be admired by visiting royalty. Finally, a sterling silver nail file finely sculpts each fingernail with a precision that would even leave a master craftsman impressed.

It is difficult to imagine such fine-looking hands engaging in anything other than pastimes suited to celestial activities. However, these unblemished hands belong to a child killer. On five separate occasions, these hands were responsible for murdering young children and consequently destroying the lives of their respective families, and no amount of self-cleansing would ever remove the stain of death from these well-groomed weapons of hate.

The dimly lit sky hides behind a small round window that dominates this featureless room. There is clearly a subtlety about this domain that highlights a need for security, yet at the detriment of extravagance. The sparseness of the room lays bare the notion that the idiosyncrasies of killers are often reflected in their habitat. The walls and floor are both immaculately clean, yet they lack any real affluence. This is clearly a dwelling place that was created for purpose rather than comfort.

The child-killer opens the window slightly, allowing the cold night air to filter through, refreshing his naked torso as it eagerly searches for an escape route. He closes his eyes before drawing a deep breath. Quickly reopening them, he sluggishly turns around to peruse the remaining contents of his life. His neatly folded clothes lie at the foot of an impeccably made-up bed. A black leather belt sits uncompromisingly on top of a small circular table, with the large metal buckle overlapping a handwritten note.

Impetuously, he picks up the belt from the table and loops it around the catch at the top of the window. Then, he thrusts his head out of the window for one final gasp of air, his whole body shuddering with the violent force of his actions. The cold air continues to filter through the window until the night suddenly turns to day.

As the early morning mist clears from the window the welcoming rays of the sun announce the arrival of a beautiful summer’s day, just as a distant blackbird serenades the early risers. A familiar noise then breaks the peace and calm of the moment as the sound of a key turning in a lock heralds the beginning of another day in the life of a prisoner.

The cell door opens and two prison officers find our child-killer’s lifeless body hanging from the window frame. The consequent sound of the alarm acts as a devastating reminder to every other prisoner that another soul has ended his pain, only to recommence his torture.

Afterwards, the parents of the murdered children are offered the opportunity to read the suicide note left by the killer. Naturally, they find this suggestion repulsive, yet they all reluctantly agree to hear his words – hoping for an explanation as to why he chose to commit these appalling crimes against their children. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that he had chosen to commit suicide didn’t justify an apology in any context whatsoever.

‘To whoever may read this note, I solemnly promise that these words are sincere and honest. That is the very least that I can offer under the present circumstances. By the time you read this letter the world will be a better place. Of that I have no doubt. This will be the last life that I take and the only one that is morally just.

Sometimes, when you try to make sense of an act of cruelty, there are no words to convey the nature of such an atrocity without appearing sanctimonious. This is not my intention here. My words offer no explanation as to my actions for that would be as barbaric as the crime itself. I only offer my sincere apology for the grievous acts of depravity that were committed against the innocent children and their respective families.

It has been widely reported that my crimes were committed as a result of hearing immoral voices in my head from the Devil. I do not believe in any devil. If I did then I would also have to believe in God, but what kind of god would allow a monster such as me to join his flock?

The crimes were committed by me and me alone. I am totally responsible for the deaths of five children and it is only me who should be judged in this instance. My own death will not compensate for what has already transpired but it may highlight that I am aware of the grief that my actions have caused and the torment that shall last indefinitely for those affected. My own mental torture shall remain private as I do not deserve nor look for any sympathy whatsoever.

To that end, I wish to publicly apologise. I can only hope that if there is any justice in the place that I now go to, I will finally find a reason as to why I have acted so abominably and brought eternal shame upon my own family.

As I now contemplate the end of my wretched existence, I fear not death; it is only life that I truly fear. The inferno that still burns deep within my soul shall surely diminish with my imminent passing. I can only hope that the love I desecrated during my time here can return to save me from myself.’

Chapter Four: Self-Belief

There are very few souls in this world who can honestly say that they have total belief in all that they do. Occasionally, you will come across exceptional people who, for some reason, have found a worthwhile cause that they are conscientiously dedicated to and nothing else on Earth matters to them. But these individuals are few and far between. Of course, there are those who claim to have total self-belief in their ability to be extremely successful in all of their endeavours, but more often than not you will find that their heads will be so far up their own asses that they can fart through their ears!

In truth, every one of us at some point in our lives will experience at least one morsel of self-doubt. This could range from just a nagging feeling that a single hair is out of place on a head recuperating from a fancy £200 haircut, to a complete lack of confidence due to the belief that everybody you meet is judging you because of a speech impediment. Either way, a lack of self-confidence can have a serious influence on a person’s lifestyle, regardless of the reason or cause of the concern. Having belief in oneself is a great leveller, but generating that self-belief takes great care. Indeed, there is a fine line between the gentle cordiality of relative self-assurance compared to the arrogant cockiness associated with overconfidence.

My own self-doubts surface every moment of every day. I’ve always been like this and I don’t envisage that circumstance changing any time soon. I recently attended a demonstration of mediumship where the medium brought forward some superb evidence concerning the spirit people who regularly work alongside me when I’m writing my books. After establishing their identity, the medium was precise with their message: ‘Have patience and do not doubt what you receive.’ This is more or less the same message that I always receive from any medium, no matter where or when I receive information from the spirit world. And yes, it sounds like a general observation – since we could all do with showing patience and exhibiting more confidence in ourselves on a daily basis. But I seem to be the only person at these demonstrations that is ever given this information. Everyone else is told that they are going to win lots of money and marry the person of their dreams – only joking!

Seriously though, self-belief is something that I personally feel needs to be earned rather than invoked through the mechanisms of an overindulgent ego, and I will now attempt to explain why.

Just before I started writing my last book, New Mediumship, I was actively involved with a group of spiritual friends who met up weekly to participate in deep trance work. Now, deep trance, for anyone who is unfamiliar with its context, is a method of bringing forward information from the spirit world through the voice of a spirit person. This feat is achieved when the medium is in a trance state (the stage between awake and deep sleep) and the spirit person utilises the medium’s vocal chords to deliver information directly to the other people in the group.

I was informed that there would be many spirit people working with me whilst writing my book and that I would receive information when writing in a trance state. As you can imagine, I had several questions in my head after receiving this message. Who will be working with me? What level of trance will I need to invoke in order to receive their words? How will I know when they are ready to work with me?

All relevant questions, I thought to myself, and, to be honest, I was given relevant answers that satisfied my curiosity. But the biggest dilemma that I had in my modest, diminutive, humble little consciousness was whether the information that I typed into my trusty computer actually did come from the thoughts of those in spirit, or just my own exuberant imagination. The answer that I received was concise and to the point: ‘You must attend this trance circle and you will have your answer.’

As time passed and my book slowly began to take shape, I would diligently attend the weekly circle and receive information from the spirit people who would come forward through the trance mediumship of my friends in the group. And, even before I had the chance to ask about the validity of the information in my book, I would be informed that I had written exactly what they had intended. They knew that my self-belief needed a boost every time that I doubted myself. And even now, as I type the next word, I still doubt what I am doing – incessantly!

There are a great many people who believe in what I write and I am indebted to them for their support. There are also countless others who just can’t comprehend how I receive much of my material – and I totally understand their reasons for this. And as much as I believe in the spirit people who work alongside me, I still choose to retain this self-doubt in my own ability. Perhaps this self-doubt keeps my ego in check. If that’s the case then it’s worth hanging onto it for the foreseeable future.

I remember vividly when I wrote about how mediumship is primarily processed through thought and not physical senses. At the next weekly trance circle, my good friend, Donny Carmichael, went into a deep trance and brought forward Mr Chung. This was a fabulous experience for me to hear Chung’s voice through another medium and I listened intently as he told me word for word what I had previously been writing about only a few days prior to this meeting. He finished by saying, ‘Show a little more patience, David, and remove your self-doubt. Your book is wonderful.’

I hadn’t told a soul what I had been writing about. Donny didn’t even know I was writing a book!

It’s amazing to receive such indubitable confirmation when you continually doubt what you are doing. I must admit that it did give me the impetus to keep going in what transpired to be a marathon of extreme proportions. I vowed I would never contemplate such a venture again but perhaps it was just my self-doubt creeping back in that made me so unwilling to commit to any future project. But here we are, two years later, and the self-doubt is still nagging at me like a Jack Russell begging for a chicken bone!