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By Maxwell Evans
My story started when I had a near death experience. I had just finished a late and heavy lunch. I decided to retire to my room for a little siesta ( nap). I fell asleep almost immediately. Suddenly, I felt something heavy on my chest. I knew I was awake but my body lay unconscious. I couldn’t move a finger! I was soon panicking.
I started to see blank faces before me, like those white theater masks you see in Greek tragedies. They were beckoning me to join them. Freezing white hands materialized beneath the faces. They caressed my legs and started pulling me from the bed. I kept saying, “No, please, huwag, ayoko sumama… ( No please, don’t Idon’t want to go with you….)”
Something illuminated above my headboard. There was an extremely tall dark man whose head was covered by some ethereal light. He was wearing a checkered polo and he was touching my arm.
“Gumising ka, sige, kaya mo iyan… (Wake up, come on, you can do it…) I was terrified out of my wits! I didn’t know whose command to follow-the gentle voice of the tall man or the persistent caressing of the white faces by my feet. I tried with all my might to move my left arm, concentrating on moving at least a finger. “Sige, kaya mong gumising, gising kana, bilis ( Come on, you can wake up, wake up now, quickly)!” the tall man gently cheered.
Snap! Before I knew it, I was sitting atop my bed, sweating and panting as if I had a Herculean struggle with a wrestle. The first thing I did was rush downstairs to drink some water. I could not believe how thirsty I was. I went back to my room and lay on the bed, still sweaty and exhausted, trying to convince myself that everything that happened was just a bad dream.
But it wasn’t I learned afterwards that the tall man wearing the checkered polo was my uncle. My mom’s half brother. When I described him to my mom, all she could tell me was, ” si kuya.. Big Brother…) My Uncle had died for a lung cancer a month after I was born. He lived in the house next door, easily seen from my room.
After he died, another aunt, a cousin of my mom’s lived in the same house. She also died of lung cancer. Unlike my uncle, however, she was a non-smoker and had a health-conscious lifestyle. Some say that traumatic experience can open your third eye. I couldn’t see spirits, but I can hear and talk to them. Soon I was conversing with my dead relatives. inside my room.
One time I had a friend over who also had a third eye. We shared stories about the dead. On one occasion, she stayed at my house to finish a stage design piece we were working on. We were going to present it to the director of a play we were doing.
The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted as if a train had passed, and I heard her say, “I don’t feel good, uwi na ako (I’ll go home now).” I escorted her to the gate and she left in a hurry. I knew she saw one of my “relatives”I. on the other hand, felt something leave the house with her.
The next day, she came to rehearsals.She was furious. She asked me if I had been astral projecting, because she saw me while she was taking a shower that morning. I vehemently denied that I could astral project. She swore it was me even though she coudn’t see the face.
The entity was my height, slim, and had the same posture I had. “Come back to the house. May sumabit sa iyo na multo (A spirit latched on to you). It’s my uncle, one of my guardians.” She went back with me to the house and I asked my uncle to stay when she leaves. She soon left and she no longer complained about being disturbed in her shower anymore.
We used to have this huge rubber free in front of our yard. I knew there was a duwende (dwarf) living under the ground. It bore witness to all my hardships, trials and silent mouring. One time, my father ( God rest his soul) was burning trash in the yard and carelessly set aflame the roots of the tree, leaving a gaping hole in its trunk.
For a month he couldn’t get out of bed. No doctor could determine what was wrong with him. Another time, a friend of mine was bragging about an old Wicca incantation he got from a book in the seminary. He tried to summon spirits in the yard. “My name is Dorothy,” something whispered in his ear. “What was that?” he asked me. “My great grandmother, ” I smiled. “Your chanting worked.”
He turned pale and started pulling out a piece of paper and began chanting a protection spell. He quickly said goodbye and went home. One time I had this big fight with a guy from my band, and we stopped talking to each other. I often cried under the rubber tree.
Soon, the guy’s father came to my house and told me, “Kailanga ninyo mag-usap ni Bryan. Nasisiraan na yata ng ulo Nagsasalita mag-isa, ayaw kumain, hindi natutulog ( You and Bryan have to talk. I think he’s going crazy. He talks to himself, doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t sleep).” That wasn’t the only time. I had another fight with a friend, and he told me I was the most pathetic creature he had ever encountered. I resented his remark and said, “I hope you feel what pathetic really is.”
Months later, I heard he was so destitute that he started to seel his body to gay customers. He would charge 500 pesos to go ‘all the way. I talked to him about this but he stayed inconsolable. I never heard from him since. Sometimes, the dead and the supernatural don’t ask for help. Sometimes they know it’s us who need the protection and/or the help. I wish they would go easy on my enemies though.