As soon as I reentered the motel room, I realized that I had to somehow protect myself from all these people, including my husband, who seemed to have some sort of hidden agenda about me. There was no reasonable explanation for what the convenience store clerk had said. How could that stranger know that my ex and I had been arguing the night before? Although I was already shaken enough from the earlier events of that evening, I felt that I was in greater danger than I could imagine. A surge of anxiety hit me.
While these thoughts were racing through my mind, I started to think about anyone who might be able to help me. I thought back on my university courses in Spanish literature in which the metaphysical world was often described. In one of Jorge Luis Borges’ short stories, Borges y Yo, he described his himself as being two people, one who walks in the flesh and one who exists on another level. I felt like this fittingly described the predicament I had inadvertently found myself in.
Whatever I was experiencing, in some way it was happening on two levels. The unseen force that had pressed me down toward the floor, the change in my ex-husband’s eyes, the dilated pupils of everyone I had encountered earlier that day, and then the store clerk’s bizarre statements. What did it all mean? Who were these people and what could they possibly want with me? What had happened to my ex-husband and was he aware of his alteration? Then I was hit with the possibility of having been victimized by the people that ran the town. Maybe they were preying on me, because of my ex’s secret involvement with them. Or maybe it was something else.
My next thought was that I wasn’t safe in that motel room, so I would have to leave immediately. I gathered up the few things that I had brought with me, and started to walk down the highway. I decided that I would try and hitch a ride with a truck driver, since there was no other traffic at that time of night. A couple of trucks drove by, but didn’t stop. As I walked down the highway I could hear the constant howling of the wind in my ears, similar to what I had heard the night before at the cabin.
As I passed the sign that read: “You are now leaving 100 Mile House”, suddenly the howling wind stopped and I felt relieved and almost peaceful. I calculated that, if I had to walk all the way to the next little town, it would have taken me at least until morning. I was determined to walk the 7-mile distance, and pulled my woolen hat over my ears. There was no traffic; it was mid-February and no one was on the road at that time of night. I looked up at the sky full of stars and wondered if those beings that I had seen when I was a teenager could possibly be aware of my predicament. I hadn’t thought about them for many years, yet the memory brought me some comfort.
Then I noticed a police car drive by. I continued to walk, hoping that they would leave me alone. They drove past on the other side of the highway, slowing down to take a look at me. The driver opened his window and asked where I was going. I indicated with my hand that I was heading in the direction to which I was walking. They drove away again.
By this time I was concerned about who these policemen might be and if they might have been sent by the townspeople. The car came up behind me again, and followed me slowly up the highway for about five minutes. I then decided that I would cross the road, so that they wouldn’t drive up beside me. I started walking in the same direction and noticed that the police car had stopped.
Then I sensed that someone was behind me. I started to walk faster, and could definitely feel someone coming up behind me. As I turned to look at who was following me, I saw a very tall upright being with large curly horns on his head. It looked like a satyr from Greek mythology. Whatever it was, it must have been at least seven feet tall. Then, as it reached out to grab my shoulder, I saw a police officer in uniform. He started pulling me across the road to the police vehicle, as I protested. Once we arrived at the car, the other officer got out and together they tried to push me into the back seat of their cruiser, as I placed my hands and legs against the car to prevent them from pushing me inside. They were ripping my jacket apart, when one of them pulled off my hat and pulled my hair really hard. I released my grip and they tossed me into the cruiser.
I spent that night in the hospital, where I was observed by a couple of psychologists; one was a bit sinister, while the other seemed friendly. In the morning my ex just happened to show up in my room. Oddly, his eyes were once again blue, but much bluer than they had been previously. I refrained from commenting, but asked him how he knew that I was there. He said that he had gone to see his lawyer the night before, when I had disappeared from the cabin, and that the lawyer had told him that morning that I had been admitted. Since I wasn’t aware of any lawyer in that town, I suspected that he was lying.
Even though I knew that my ex could not be trusted, I figured that I had to go along with him, since I had no other way out of town. The next day my ex announced that we were leaving to go down to Vancouver. When he picked me up at the hospital he had already packed my suitcase, so I never had to return to the cabin. We drove most of the way in silence. It was like I never even knew the man.
En route, I told my ex that I wanted to go and visit my family, because I felt so ashamed of myself for the way that I had been living my life. We also discussed the times when he had hit me, and he told me that he couldn’t recall those incidents at all. He said that he simply blacked out and didn’t remember. I couldn’t believe anything he said at that point.
When we arrived in the city, my ex decided that he would check me into an outpatient clinic for the weekend. I spent three days being interviewed by psychiatrists and being subjected to group therapy. I was well aware that I couldn’t discuss what had happened at the cabin and in 100 Mile House and just tried to rest. I learned that I had lost 15 pounds during the previous two weeks, and acknowledged that I needed to look after myself better.
Then my ex returned with the good news that I would be on a flight the next morning. We stayed in a hotel that night; it was Valentine’s Day and I pretended that it was a special time. When he offered me a glass of wine at dinner, I could barely raise the glass to my lips without shaking. It all had to stop.
During the flight I reviewed the events that had just transpired and could think of no apparent reason for them. Yet I knew that I had to find someone to help me to deal with what I then called supernatural phenomena. The person I would seek would be someone whose knowledge surpassed what the medical community understood. I didn’t really know who I was looking for, but I knew that I had to find the right person.
When I arrived in the city where I had been raised, I asked one of my sisters if she knew of anyone in the area who dealt with supernatural events. She told me that there was someone teaching parapsychology at the local college and that might be a good place to start.
That was the turning point in my life, for that was how I met Leo Jean. Soon I would learn more about myself than I ever imagined. And I would finally learn to work with my spirit.