Walking Through Walls (34 page)

“Hi.” Ruth seemed to have no memory of her recent behavior.

“Michael's gone.”

“Huh?”

“Michael Trainer.”

“Who? Lew, what are you talking about?”

“Michael Trainer. The man who was possessing you.”

“What man?”

“Ruth, you have been throwing things and upsetting the furniture for the last two hours. You were possessed.”

“Possessed? Me?” She laughed. “That's ridiculous.”

“Just look around the room. Who turned over all the furniture? It certainly wasn't me.”

“Me, of all people, possessed? By whom?”

“I told you: Michael Trainer.”

“But, Lew, I can't be possessed. My vibrations are at the divine level. No entity can get through that. I'm completely protected.”

“There must have been a break in your aura. Or sometimes these negative entities come in while you are asleep and are out of your physical body, traveling in the astral body.” My father neglected to mention that those with severe mental illness were highly vulnerable to possessing spirits.

“Actually, I'm sure it was your aura that was affected. Remember, you were speaking with Rosemary on the phone, and afterward you complained that you had a headache from her negativity. I think this is the cause of the possession, or at least the initial event that led to you being possessed. Rosemary's low vibration created a weak spot in your aura, and once your guard was down, this Michael Trainer found his way in. You can't be too careful; you should always be testing your vibrations to see what's going on. In any event, he's gone, and I have your vibrations back at the level where they should be.”

“Oh, thank you, Lew. I'm so glad you were around to fix this.”

As if on cue, the lights blinked. Arthur had been observing this conversation and provided his explanatory comments, which my father wrote down. “Ruth's traumatic experience was one of possession. It was fortunate that you recalled the phone call from her friend. This is the first instance that I became aware of a ‘thought-form poltergeist.' You were wise in picking it up. We must be wary of all the negativity that abounds, even from friends on the phone. This is the importance of keeping the white light around us and maintaining an attitude of positive thought and vibrations. We cannot tamper with free will, and it was Ruth's free will and conscious mind that unknowingly accepted the thought-form. Fortunately she had you to seek out the disturbance in her mind of the desire to throw and break things. Your knowledge that you have stored up came to the fore, and you were able to give release and relief. We must teach this knowledge in order to combat the negative attitudes and vibrations around us. This planet can be such a serene and loving abode with all people on a love level. You can do much to bring this about. Your friend with love, AF.”

During this time, Arthur continued to dictate messages, the majority of which encouraged my father to marry Ruth. With advancing age, Pop became both spiritually stronger and emotionally more vulnerable. Being the Wizard of Oz was lonely; he wanted someone to share his secrets with, someone to share the stage with. I think he longed to feel human again. He wanted a partner in life, and no one had stepped up and made herself available except for Ruth. And if the spirits had given their psychic seal of approval, who was I to argue with them? Maybe Arthur figured that my father was better off with a fake than alone.

A short time later, the spirits announced that the time had finally arrived—there would be a holy marriage of these two exalted souls whose aim was to heal the planet of human misery. It was all arranged. The stars were in alignment; it would be on an auspicious day that would ensure great happiness for the two divinities.

To get the happy couple off on the right foot, Arthur offered to do the house hunting from above. That would be his wedding present: to find the perfect house where they could fulfill their ministry and heal the world. In one of his messages, Arthur gave my father the name and phone number of a real estate agent named Bob Dwyer, who, according to this message, had the perfect home just waiting for them.

As instructed, Pop called the real estate agent and described his dream house. It should be open to the tropical breezes, quiet, and surrounded by lush foliage. Like any true salesman, Mr. Dwyer immediately said, “I have just the house for you.” In this case, he did. The house was located off South Dixie Highway near the Miami Serpentarium, a tourist attraction where they milked cobras for their venom used to treat arthritis. My father and his love had found their new home. The contract was signed that day.

Everything was going according to plan; the only thing left was the wedding ceremony. While planning the event to be held at a local church with a sympathetic minister, my father found out unexpectedly that he and Ruth had already been married. According to a message from Arthur, Ruth and my father had met and married in the late 1800s when she was working at a newspaper in the Midwest.

The marriage in this lifetime was held at a small church in the pines with Reverend Ted Tiemeyer, author of the book
Jesus Christ Super Psychic,
presiding. Ladies dressed in blue gaped in disbelief that Lew Smith was getting married. After the ceremony, the witnesses—believers, assorted clairvoyants, and UFO abductees—shared stories of remarkable healings performed by my father. Ruth smoked and ate cake. I wished the happy couple well as they prepared for their honeymoon: a trip to the legendary Findhorn Garden in Scotland, where forty-pound cabbages grew to the size of houses, and tomatoes were the size of cars. These extraordinary vegetables occurred because the garden was tended by fairies and the wee people who reportedly sprinkled their fairy dust in the garden, and
poof!
—ten-foot cucumbers.

When they returned a couple weeks later, my father was silent about his trip to fairyland. His only response was, “It was cold.” When my father was troubled, he grew quiet and measured his words. Something was wrong, and I don't think it was disappointment with the size of the vegetables.

About a week after they returned from giant love land, I dropped by the new house to see how they were settling in. The front door was unlocked. The entranceway to the house was a large screened-in patio with a pool. The living quarters were off to the right and the garage was to the left. I walked in and found my father in the garage. He was leaning over the washing machine, adding soap powder to a load of laundry. I had never seen my father operate a washing machine. I was surprised he even knew how.

Hanging from the ceiling over the machine was a strange molecular-looking structure about two feet in diameter that seemed to be modeled out of blue plastic sticks sprinkled with glitter. On one hand, it looked like a high school science project that never made it to the Westinghouse finals; on the other, it appeared to have intricate connections and strange atomic configurations that I had never seen before. You could sense that it was unlike any existing earthly molecule. As I approached the garage, the molecule was spinning slowly in the morning breeze.

“Hi. What's that?” I asked, pointing to the giant blue molecule.

“Oh, that. That's a force-field emanator. It emanates a force field of energy around the washing machine and repels all negative energy.”

“Does that, like, help with the laundry and get the clothes cleaner?”

Pop laughed. “No, it raises the vibration of the room and keeps out dark forces.”

“Sort of like one of those electric mosquito catchers people use on the patio.”

My father thought for a minute and responded, “I guess you could think of it that way.”

“But why in the laundry room? Why not in the house somewhere?”

“We need it here because Ruth was viciously attacked by a negative entity while she was doing the laundry. So I built this thought-form to protect us from this dangerous entity. I don't want her near the washing machine, just in case it happens again.”

“So how was Ruth attacked?”

According to my father, they had just spent their first night in the house. The bed had not yet arrived; they slept on a mattress on the floor. The next morning, Ruth went into the garage to do the laundry. Suddenly, he heard Ruth screaming, “Get away! Get away from me! Help! Somebody help me! Please!”

He ran to the garage to see what was wrong. Ruth was thrashing about on the floor, yelling, “Help! Help! Stop! Aaaaahhhhh, I can't breathe, you're choking me!”

“Ruth, Ruth, what's wrong?” My father looked at Ruth writhing and then looked around the garage. There was no one there but her.

“It must be a negative entity. I'll be right back.” My father went into his study, grabbed his crucifix, and ran back to the garage. He reached out to touch Ruth, but she kicked him away. Then Ruth beat him with her fists as she struggled to fight off this invisible attacker. Finally extricating himself from her blows, Pop waved the cross over Ruth and started talking to the entity. “You must leave here. This is no place for you. You must go toward the light. Ruth, Ruth, hold on, I'm going to raise your vibrations. Stay with me, it is almost over.” Pop said his exorcism prayer: “I raise your vibrations to the divine and healing level and free you from any and all negative energies that inhabit your body. I send them back to the proper plane to free them from attachment.”

Within moments Ruth's shrieking quickly died down. It was as if all the air had suddenly been let out of a balloon. She was out of breath. Panting like a dog in the noonday heat, she said, “Oh, Lew, thank you! It was horrible! It was inside of me. I felt as if I were being strangled; I couldn't breathe. I think it wanted to kill me. I've never been so scared in all my life. What did it want? I was just putting the clothes in the washing machine, and this cold darkness came over me. I can't quite explain it. It felt like there were a hundred snakes slithering all over me, choking me. I've never felt anything like this before. Oh my God, it was so…” With that, she began to sob uncontrollably.

My father comforted her and helped her up. They walked back to their pink bedroom, and she got into bed. “You should rest now,” he said. “You'll be fine. I need to go speak with Chander Sen and find out what's going on. Some negative thought-form must have found a new way to feed off your energy. I'll need to purify the house and build an energy field so this does not happen again.”

In his study, Pop picked up his pendulum to diagnose the incident. Moving the pendulum over his finder chart, his intuition was confirmed: a dark entity had attempted to possess Ruth. He closed his eyes and said another exorcism prayer for his wife. At that moment, he felt Chander Sen attempting to contact him. He took out his pen and wrote the following: “The thought-form that inhabited your garage was created in negativity. It was brought in on a vibration of jealousy to harm the female who lived in this house. Since it cannot reason, any female who gets within its vibrational range will receive its negative rays. A negative thought-form alone will not dissipate except through prayer or exorcism. It has now been released and will no longer cause any harm. The energy of a thought-form should be sent to water for purification and to be used for the highest good.”

As I listened to my father tell me about this attack, I had no doubt that Ruth had been overcome by a negative entity. I had seen this type of possession many times and knew it was dangerous and very real. However, I thought to myself, “Ruth's always recovering from something: psychic surgery, thought-form attacks. Her vibrations should be high enough so that these things don't happen to her. This stuff doesn't happen to my father because he is a spiritual being, but with Ruth…”

In an effort to really understand what was going on, I asked, “So Ruth's not going to be doing the laundry anymore? Shouldn't that emanator thing protect her?” I didn't like the idea of Ruth sitting back and letting my father do everything for her. After all, Pop was in his early seventies, and Ruth was still a young chickee in her mid-thirties. She could certainly help out a little around the house.

“We'll see. I'm sure everything will be fine and this won't happen again, but right now she's still traumatized and needs some time to recover.”

“So what are we going to do for lunch?” I asked.

“Let me see what Ruth wants to do.”

I knew that Ruth would just continue to lie in bed. There was nothing in it for her to join us for lunch. The most Ruth had done to reach out to me in the last year was to spontaneously give me a small canned ham that she didn't want to eat in front of my father. Me? Canned ham? What was this woman thinking? Why did this staunch vegetarian who had just received cosmic consciousness happen to have a canned ham lying around? Did she find it in the street? What was the lovely thought behind this overwhelmingly generous gesture by Ruth? None that I could think of. My father and I ended up going out to lunch by ourselves.

Ruth worked hard at trying to isolate me from my father. When I was in town during holidays, she would either not be available when my father wanted the three of us to get together or make such demands on my father that he had no time to see me.

My mother was insistent that I return to school even though I felt it was a waste of time. I promised her that I could at least get a degree and then move to New York to pursue painting.