I used to have this friend, and she lived on my street. We were practically inseperable. Going to her house was awesome because she had this cat, Mitzie, and I didn't have one; she had a swimming pool...and I didn't; she had a big screen tv...and I didn't; her mom made the best pizza and lasagna and cookies...and my mom tried the best she could; she had two older sisters...and I had a stupid brother; she was cooler than me...and I wasn't.
She introduced me to a lot of things: Christian Slater [he's pretty cool now but back then I never heard of him so I had to believe her when she told me he was hot], New Kids on the Block [Go Danny Wood! She loved Donnie, I thought she was kidding herself...or me but she was serious], Land Before Time [first film, though; I loved Cera, and I loved playing with all her LBT stuffed animals], and, unfortunately, the occult. No, actually. It was fortunately, because there was a reason for this; a good one.
We spent many hours sneaking into her sister's closet and reading her Christopher Pike* books because they were "forbidden" so of course we had to read them. We also had R.L. Stine*...but we were allowed to read those so even though he was a good author, he wasn't a match for Chris Pike. Then there was the time we played with their Ouija board and accidentally called upon a demon who was really scary according to my friend. Of course, knowing what I know now, everybody we called up were demons..."counterfeiters", I'll call them, to make it not so intense. We played with it again and we called up my dead father, or what we assumed to be him but probably some counterfeiter playing with us.
I told my mom about it and she got really angry and told me never to do it anymore...so I didn't. But it wasn't because of what she said. No, it was because on our way to Chatham, Ontario, for some family thing, I noticed a cloud shaped like Jesus with His hands outstretched [seriously, it was uncanny]. And I knew that He knew what I did. So I stopped. And she, my friend, didn't bring it up again.
She talked to me a lot about this movie entitled Buffy the Vampire Slayer. To be honest, that movie never really interested me as it sounded so ridiculous. So I just kind of nodded and tuned her out. She was really into witches and 'spells' so we did a lot with that. And by that, I mean we would make games and gibberish and stuff. Pretty harmless...but not. We 'created' a haunted house in her basement too once.
Then one night, while I was sleeping over, she, her sisters, and a few friends rented two movies. One was The Great Mouse Detective, and the other? Poltergeist 3. I kid you not. I was about 6-7, and so everybody was gearing up to watch the movie, Poltergeist 3, but I was still in the playroom hoping that someone would want to, you know, not watch that movie? Guess what? Everybody wanted to, so I refused to stay in the playroom but I also didn't want to go upstairs with the adults. So...against the Voice in my head telling me no, and against my better judgement, with a mix of not wanting to be rejected thrown in, I settled in to watch this movie. And I was terrified. For months. I could hardly sleep. For months. I had nightmares. For months. I could not look at the mirror in my room for months. I was seriously traumatized. For months. Not even The Great Mouse Detective, I insisted on watching immediately afterwards to try to dispel some of the trauma, worked. The damage had been done. And somewhere, deep in my soul, a door was opened way before its time I believe.
After the trauma of that movie went away, sort of, I went on with my life. But a curious thing happened. I was drawn to R.L. Stine books. I sneaked them into the house under my mom's nose...or at least tried to. I could watch scary movies. I remember the first movie I watched after the P3 debacle, I was a little hesitant, because I remembered what that movie was like, but when I watched it, it wasn't that scary. I couldn't believe it. What changed? What had happened that I wasn't scared anymore?
Flashforward a bit more. I was hanging out with my aunt in Toronto when we met up with her friend and her daughter. Now her daughter was possibly a few years older than me. And she watched a show called The X-Files. I had heard about this show, and it looked pretty interesting, but I wasn't allowed to watch it. Around this time, I was also part of an online community and I met this person from England and she watched X-Files too. So then I wanted to watch, too. I begged. I pleaded. Mom finally caved and I could watch it. I was so happy. It became my favourite show back then. It had everything: aliens, cute guys, unexplained phenomena, and also...the supernatural. That was what attracted me in the first place. I was so excited. Wow! This is so cool! Mulder is so hot! When will he and Scully get together?
Then, my online buddy started talking to me about another show, based on a movie that did not really impress me: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I begged. I pleaded. I made puppy eyes at my mom. I did not let up. But she did. And I started watching this amazing show about this awesome chick who could benchpress vampires twice her size [and if you've seen Sarah Michelle Gellar, you would totally agree]. And I was in awe. The spells Giles did! The incantations Willow spoke! The cute vampire named Spike! The occultic atmosphere! Me. Want. More. Me. Want. More. Yes, I totally had the taste for everything about the occult. It was like a drug. I could not stay away, even if I wanted to...which I didn't. I bought books on the subject, sort of, via books detailing Buffy and Co.'s latest adventures away from the tv. I bought Buffy reference books [because what was the point if you couldn't keep track of every demon that ever lived in the Buffyverse?], soundtracks, DVD sets, a cardboard standup of Miss Buffy herself. Same with XF: DVDs, books, merchandise, etc, etc.
And it didn't end there. Oh no. There was another show, Charmed. Bought books, reference books, a mini Book of Shadows - the girls' spell book - filled with spells and 'harmless' rituals the fan could do. It actually got to the point where I went looking around on the internet for information about the false religion, Wicca. That's witchcraft point blank, just a cute little name to use so people don't get weirded out. I wasn't weirded out. I bought two authentic spellbooks on the subject and hid them from my mom. One was called, "The Teen Spell Book: Majick for Young Witches" by Jamie Wood, and the other was called "Teen Witch: Wicca for a New Generation" by Silver Ravenwolf, an authentic witch. Let's just call a spade a spade, okay? I wanted to be a Wiccan. In fact, one of my dreams back then was to move out and get my own place and create a sort of "altar" somewhere and then find out if there's any covens here. Honest. But I couldn't. And I didn't. Because of my Christian heritage.
Around the same time, my church, River City, had moved into their own building where they are now. And they had started up some courses Sunday nights. The first one I took was led by a sweet lady, now my cute little pastor, Mary Jane. She was teaching on how to be part of the Ministry Team. I wasn't sure why, but I did and I loved it. I actually like hearing about God. So I took the course. That's when things started to happen. I felt like God wanted me to, like, get rid of all my occultic collections. And I was, like, no way. He kept on me, and I kept shutting Him down. He kept on me until finally I was able to say, you win. That was one of the worst experiences of my life. I cut off all ties to my stuff, and the Ministry Team group all helped me by praying, until it was done. And then I could not breathe. It was a pain I could feel all the way down to my heart. I cried.
Life moved on for me. Until a few months later, I was walking through a bookstore and noticed a book about my favourite two vampires on Buffy. I bought it. I read it. I swore this was the only thing I would have. I loved it. I loved it right back to Square One. Thousands of dollars again. Thousands of books. Thousands of merchandise stuff. That addiction, and I do call it that, stayed with me right up until the series finale of Buffy was going to air. God spoke to me. He asked me not to watch that particular episode. I said okay. I did not tape it when it aired. My aunt taped it for me though. I did not watch it, like God told me to. That's when things started to change again. The show and universe it was in, started to wane. I was not into it as much anymore. I had all my stuff, but that was not interesting to me anymore.
(Again this is a really huge post and I'm so sorry but I could not stop writing. See you next week!)
* Anytime you see a link for an author or actor, it will take you to that particular person so you can know what to pray for. They need prayer. Christopher Pike's real name is Kevin Christopher McFadden. Not much is known about him, though. But yeah. These people need prayer. Because they are spiritually dying and they do not even know
** I choose not to post links to where you can see the product, read up on the shows/movies because I don't believe in glorifying that kind of darkness like that.