Good_Fellow
New member
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2025
- Messages
- 8
Good evening, my esteemed friends.
In 2017, during a conversation with my Ancestors in a manner customary to my African heritage, I experienced an enlightening dream. A vivid, red voice urged me to seek out the "Joy of Satan." Upon waking that morning, I ventured into the forest and made a ritual offering to my Ancestors.
That evening, another dream unfolded. A man approached me, and when I inquired about his identity, he declared himself to be my father. This perplexed me, as I was familiar with my actual father, and this man was certainly not him. He led me to a desolate place, where I encountered a scene of sorrow — people weeping and lamenting.
As I reached out, my father began speaking in voices resembling different hues. He proclaimed, "I guide you to the straight path without the need for a book. Over there is a person whose family still needs him; please utilise the gift I bestowed upon you."
Just then, my "father" vanished, leaving me alone. I looked around and saw a gathering mourning a deceased wealthy man. My confusion deepened when a Catholic bishop entered, clutching a "Holy" Bible, kneeling before the corpse to declare that it was over.
He then took charge of the burial preparations, leading the mourners in sorrowful hymns. Again, the voice emerged, now resonating within a void cloaked in darkness. It assured me, "This darkness will not last long; simply use your gift. Remember, I guide you to the straight path without a book. I am your father."
As darkness receded, the crowd began to murmur, bewildered by the circumstances. I approached them, only for the bishop to run toward me, instructing me to kneel. As I attempted to comply, my knees felt unbearably heavy, preventing me from bowing. A voice — this time imbued with a golden hue — declared, "He should kneel before you, not the other way around."
I requested that they clear a path for me to reach the corpse. Upon arriving, I commanded the spirit of its original inhabitant to return to the body. A powerful gust of wind surged, and to everyone's astonishment, the body came to life. While the crowd rejoiced, the bishop knelt before me, inquiring about the 'code.' The voice then advised me, "Simply locate the home your ancestors mentioned, and you will find the straight path without a book."
Upon awakening, I quickly took to my smartphone and searched for the phrase from my earlier dream: "Joy of Satan," which led me to a website. Three months later, in deep anguish, I cried out to the God of the Jews, questioning why I had been forsaken.
The messages within that site resonated strongly with me; however, the ritual aspect, involving a connection with Father Satan, did not sit comfortably. As a result, I refrained from participating in the Dedication Ritual.
Soon after, I began dreaming of demons who were notably friendly — a stark contrast to the negative portrayals I had been taught in Christianity. I found joy in meditation, recalling my initial experience, where I felt as though I was moving within myself. My body appeared to shrink until I felt set apart from it. I laughed, and the experience ended. Upon refocusing, I felt my body expanding until I sensed that I was enveloped by the earth itself. Again, laughter interrupted my state, but I could not return to my body. After attempting to clear my throat in a bid to shake myself free, I struggled until I hummed a mantra recommended by HPS Maxine Dietrich, which, to my surprise, resonated as if I were in a cavern. Upon laughing again and opening my eyes, I found my room as it had been; I was immensely grateful!
In 2020, while in my hometown, Air State, I dreamt two days prior to my journey to Sky State for school that I would suffer great loss, including being robbed.
When the day arrived and I reached Sky State, I was indeed robbed of my phone—which meant I could not access a map. Seeking assistance, I approached a stranger who initially offered help but ultimately led me to a secluded area, where he brandished a knife, demanding all my belongings. I was unwilling to comply easily, and we fought; he managed to escape with my bag.
In pursuit of him, I stumbled upon a homeless man who warned me that the thief was returning to a place where his family would dwell and that my life was at risk. He led me through the night, and upon reaching some buildings, we sat under a tree in the summer warmth of January. He departed, stating he would fetch a woman he knew to assist me.
In my desperation, I called upon Jesus, forgetting entirely about Father Satan, requesting that a lady dressed in blue come to guide me to her apartment for the night. I allowed five minutes for this prayer. When nothing happened, I turned to my Ancestors and to Satan, asking for a woman in a red t-shirt to help me. I again allotted five minutes.
Within thirty seconds, I felt a reassuring touch on my shoulder accompanied by a beautiful voice asking, "Are you lost?" I hesitated, claiming I was awaiting a friend, but she insisted on accompanying me, recognising my bewildered state. Eventually admitting my predicament, I followed her to her flat, and I praised my Ancestors and Father Satan for their help.
Just a few days later, I was met with another significant dream, which prompted me to pen this post. In my dream, I saw my childhood spiritual father joyfully dancing with celestial angels, their harmonious music resonating around us. This spiritual figure then transformed into another well-known entity (whose identity I shall not disclose) as they continued their joyful dance. In time, he morphed into God — the Jehovah of the Bible, His countenance hidden behind the radiance of a brilliant Sun.
As I approached them with a smile, my spiritual father gently guided me from my path with a simple staff, admonishing, "You are unclean. Until you cleanse yourself, you cannot enter my kingdom. Seek your most beloved parent; there you will find guidance."
In that moment, I noticed Father Satan awaiting me by the lift, and I approached him. Once inside the elevator, he transformed into a woman who congratulated me, proclaiming that I was destined for liberation.
As we ascended, angels appeared, and the lift became stuck. They declared mockingly, "You are going to burn." The door then opened, and Father Satan stepped out, asking, "Are you coming?" As I followed him, the angels impeded my progress, revealing their glowing kneecaps, the heat emanating gently from their light.
They rebuked me, saying, "After all that your parents and ancestors have done to pave a way for your freedom, is this how you express gratitude? Do not emulate your grandfather, who is now lost to the flames because he chose to follow Satan. You are capable of so much more. Do you recall the sacrifices you have made? You have adhered to the laws, relied on Jehovah, sought no vengeance, and been a good individual. Are you truly prepared to forsake all that? It is time for you to receive the fruits of your labours."
Throughout this exchange, Father Satan continued to observe me intently. I awoke, feeling bewildered and uncertain of my next steps. Subsequently, I became estranged from my Ancestors and the very roots that granted me existence.
In the following days, I endured sleep paralysis, hearing a voice declare, "If you believe you can escape, you are sorely mistaken!" I could not identify its origin. This unsettling experience recurred for two consecutive nights. Months later, a friend invited me to her family church, prompting me to realise that the voice must have originated from angels. I tried going back to father Satan, and sleep paralysis experience emerged...oh not again! I stopped, it stopped.
By 2023, I had reconciled with my Ancestors. Yet, on the anniversary of my initial dream, I often find myself drawn back to the "Joy of Satan" posts and engaging in the meditations offered. Each time, I wonder, "What have I done?"
Now, as 2025 approaches, I find myself regretful. I long to return, but feel undeserving of a second chance, despite my deep affection for this path.
In my attempts to meditate, I find the experience does not resonate as it once did. In the past, I would feel each method's impact in mere moments. I pondered, "Perhaps I should explore Buddhism instead," yet my heart remains tied to this path.
Any type of advice is highly appreciated.
Thank you for reading my thread.
In 2017, during a conversation with my Ancestors in a manner customary to my African heritage, I experienced an enlightening dream. A vivid, red voice urged me to seek out the "Joy of Satan." Upon waking that morning, I ventured into the forest and made a ritual offering to my Ancestors.
That evening, another dream unfolded. A man approached me, and when I inquired about his identity, he declared himself to be my father. This perplexed me, as I was familiar with my actual father, and this man was certainly not him. He led me to a desolate place, where I encountered a scene of sorrow — people weeping and lamenting.
As I reached out, my father began speaking in voices resembling different hues. He proclaimed, "I guide you to the straight path without the need for a book. Over there is a person whose family still needs him; please utilise the gift I bestowed upon you."
Just then, my "father" vanished, leaving me alone. I looked around and saw a gathering mourning a deceased wealthy man. My confusion deepened when a Catholic bishop entered, clutching a "Holy" Bible, kneeling before the corpse to declare that it was over.
He then took charge of the burial preparations, leading the mourners in sorrowful hymns. Again, the voice emerged, now resonating within a void cloaked in darkness. It assured me, "This darkness will not last long; simply use your gift. Remember, I guide you to the straight path without a book. I am your father."
As darkness receded, the crowd began to murmur, bewildered by the circumstances. I approached them, only for the bishop to run toward me, instructing me to kneel. As I attempted to comply, my knees felt unbearably heavy, preventing me from bowing. A voice — this time imbued with a golden hue — declared, "He should kneel before you, not the other way around."
I requested that they clear a path for me to reach the corpse. Upon arriving, I commanded the spirit of its original inhabitant to return to the body. A powerful gust of wind surged, and to everyone's astonishment, the body came to life. While the crowd rejoiced, the bishop knelt before me, inquiring about the 'code.' The voice then advised me, "Simply locate the home your ancestors mentioned, and you will find the straight path without a book."
Upon awakening, I quickly took to my smartphone and searched for the phrase from my earlier dream: "Joy of Satan," which led me to a website. Three months later, in deep anguish, I cried out to the God of the Jews, questioning why I had been forsaken.
The messages within that site resonated strongly with me; however, the ritual aspect, involving a connection with Father Satan, did not sit comfortably. As a result, I refrained from participating in the Dedication Ritual.
Soon after, I began dreaming of demons who were notably friendly — a stark contrast to the negative portrayals I had been taught in Christianity. I found joy in meditation, recalling my initial experience, where I felt as though I was moving within myself. My body appeared to shrink until I felt set apart from it. I laughed, and the experience ended. Upon refocusing, I felt my body expanding until I sensed that I was enveloped by the earth itself. Again, laughter interrupted my state, but I could not return to my body. After attempting to clear my throat in a bid to shake myself free, I struggled until I hummed a mantra recommended by HPS Maxine Dietrich, which, to my surprise, resonated as if I were in a cavern. Upon laughing again and opening my eyes, I found my room as it had been; I was immensely grateful!
In 2020, while in my hometown, Air State, I dreamt two days prior to my journey to Sky State for school that I would suffer great loss, including being robbed.
When the day arrived and I reached Sky State, I was indeed robbed of my phone—which meant I could not access a map. Seeking assistance, I approached a stranger who initially offered help but ultimately led me to a secluded area, where he brandished a knife, demanding all my belongings. I was unwilling to comply easily, and we fought; he managed to escape with my bag.
In pursuit of him, I stumbled upon a homeless man who warned me that the thief was returning to a place where his family would dwell and that my life was at risk. He led me through the night, and upon reaching some buildings, we sat under a tree in the summer warmth of January. He departed, stating he would fetch a woman he knew to assist me.
In my desperation, I called upon Jesus, forgetting entirely about Father Satan, requesting that a lady dressed in blue come to guide me to her apartment for the night. I allowed five minutes for this prayer. When nothing happened, I turned to my Ancestors and to Satan, asking for a woman in a red t-shirt to help me. I again allotted five minutes.
Within thirty seconds, I felt a reassuring touch on my shoulder accompanied by a beautiful voice asking, "Are you lost?" I hesitated, claiming I was awaiting a friend, but she insisted on accompanying me, recognising my bewildered state. Eventually admitting my predicament, I followed her to her flat, and I praised my Ancestors and Father Satan for their help.
Just a few days later, I was met with another significant dream, which prompted me to pen this post. In my dream, I saw my childhood spiritual father joyfully dancing with celestial angels, their harmonious music resonating around us. This spiritual figure then transformed into another well-known entity (whose identity I shall not disclose) as they continued their joyful dance. In time, he morphed into God — the Jehovah of the Bible, His countenance hidden behind the radiance of a brilliant Sun.
As I approached them with a smile, my spiritual father gently guided me from my path with a simple staff, admonishing, "You are unclean. Until you cleanse yourself, you cannot enter my kingdom. Seek your most beloved parent; there you will find guidance."
In that moment, I noticed Father Satan awaiting me by the lift, and I approached him. Once inside the elevator, he transformed into a woman who congratulated me, proclaiming that I was destined for liberation.
As we ascended, angels appeared, and the lift became stuck. They declared mockingly, "You are going to burn." The door then opened, and Father Satan stepped out, asking, "Are you coming?" As I followed him, the angels impeded my progress, revealing their glowing kneecaps, the heat emanating gently from their light.
They rebuked me, saying, "After all that your parents and ancestors have done to pave a way for your freedom, is this how you express gratitude? Do not emulate your grandfather, who is now lost to the flames because he chose to follow Satan. You are capable of so much more. Do you recall the sacrifices you have made? You have adhered to the laws, relied on Jehovah, sought no vengeance, and been a good individual. Are you truly prepared to forsake all that? It is time for you to receive the fruits of your labours."
Throughout this exchange, Father Satan continued to observe me intently. I awoke, feeling bewildered and uncertain of my next steps. Subsequently, I became estranged from my Ancestors and the very roots that granted me existence.
In the following days, I endured sleep paralysis, hearing a voice declare, "If you believe you can escape, you are sorely mistaken!" I could not identify its origin. This unsettling experience recurred for two consecutive nights. Months later, a friend invited me to her family church, prompting me to realise that the voice must have originated from angels. I tried going back to father Satan, and sleep paralysis experience emerged...oh not again! I stopped, it stopped.
By 2023, I had reconciled with my Ancestors. Yet, on the anniversary of my initial dream, I often find myself drawn back to the "Joy of Satan" posts and engaging in the meditations offered. Each time, I wonder, "What have I done?"
Now, as 2025 approaches, I find myself regretful. I long to return, but feel undeserving of a second chance, despite my deep affection for this path.
In my attempts to meditate, I find the experience does not resonate as it once did. In the past, I would feel each method's impact in mere moments. I pondered, "Perhaps I should explore Buddhism instead," yet my heart remains tied to this path.
Any type of advice is highly appreciated.
Thank you for reading my thread.
