Weekend Insanity

Sorry I couldn't update sooner. Work has been absolutely swamped lately, and I had a crazy busy weekend. Some smaller ghost occurances, and a lot of research. I'll explain:

On Friday, Barry and I (yes, he's still crashng at my place in the hopes of seeing more ghostly activity) went and got some hamburger fixin's (it was really, really nice this weekend here in normally arctic Minnesota, so we thought we'd take advantage of it with my tiny little mini-grill. We made my "ultimate burger recipe" which is:

Take the hamburger, add the following to the raw meat before you make it into patties and grill them:
Worshchestershire Sauce
Soy Sauce
Garlic Powder
Lowry's Seasoned Salt
Chili Powder

Then you grill the meat, and assemble your burger with the following:
Lettuce
Pickle
Tomato
Onion
Ham (thin sliced sandwich stuff)
Swiss Cheese
American Cheese
Provalone Cheese
Ketchup
Mustard
Mayonaise

So, by the end you have a huge burger. Here comes the best part: Wrap the burger in tin foil, and put it back on the grill. Then place a brick or rock on top of the burger, and grill it for a couple more minutes. WHen you're done you will have a gooey crispy on the outside, delicious in the middle burger that is the best burger you'll ever have. Warning: This Burger recipe is so good, you may go into Burger Dimentia. It's that good.

So we made and ate our burgers, and then were having a nice evening of playing Halo 2 in storyline mode, when there was a loud scraping noise, and then a loud crash in my bedroom, followed by another scraping noise. We both kind of looked at each other, and then got up to investigate. We slowly opened the door to my room, and the bookshelf I have had somehow been tipped over, and then dragged clear across the floor and was lying face down against the opposite wall. There were scratch marks in the hardwood floors of my bedroom where it had been drug. We moved over to pick it up, and that's when we noticed something really weird. There were no books scattered across the floor like you would expect there to be. We picked up the bookshelf together, and the books fell out, as if somehow they had been stacked in the bookshelf while it was lying face down onthe floor.

Really weird, right? Well, it gets stranger.

So for the rest of the night, Barry and I were talking about the whole ghost thing, and I was recounting the experiences 've had to him (and some of the stuff you guys have told me), and he started asking a ton of questions about the book I'd found. I told him about it, the bits and pieces I could remember, and he said he thought the name "Behalah" was familiar, but he wasn't sure. So the next day "saturday" we decided to try and research it. For about six hours (way longer than we should have) we scoured the internet, trying to find any tidbit of information we could. The only thing we could come up with was that, according to several websites, it was an old Hebrew word for "Fear" from the bible. Barry thought the book, at least the way I was describing it, sounded like some sort of culty thing, you know, like Heaven's Gate, or Jones Town. He also thought it sounded similar to the Necronomicon, (thanks K!) and thought maybe we should check that out a bit to. So Barry told me that the next day, Sunday, we'd go with one of his friends to the University of Minnesota Library (I think it was the Wilson Library) and see what we could find. His friend was in Law School or something, so he said between the three of us, we should be able to figure something out.

So then that night, I had another bad dream. It really sucked. I was sitting in a library, and even though I know I'd never been there, for some reason I knew I was in London. Barry was there, and we were trying to find out about the Cult of Behalah. I know, my dreams seem so easily influenced by what happens to me during the day! So were were frantically trying to find out some information, I don't know what, but I remember the urgency of trying to find it, but we couldn't. Just as Barry found this old fat dusty book which we had been looking for, we heard some loud yelling behind us. There were these four muscular men, three dressed in black, one in white, who were walking all over the building yelling and pushing people out of their way. We knew they were coming for us, so we took off running. We got out of the building, but no matter how quickly Barry and I ran, they were catching up to us. I hate those dreams! So the men finally were getting close to us, and we turned to duck into an alley, hoping to lose them, but the alley was a dead end. The four men walked up to us, as Barry and I frantically looked around for some sort of escape. The men walked up to us, and stood there, silently. Barry walked up to the man in white and handed him the book. He then turned and smiled at me. The man in white nodded, and the three men in black walked over to me, and started punching and kicking me. I tried to fight back at first, but they were way bigger, so I dropped to the ground in the fetal position, covering my head and stomach as best I could. As I lay there on the wet dirty pavement, their blows landing all over my body and face, I could see Barry and the man in white walking off together, and I could hear Barry saying my name over and over again. That's when I woke up. I was lying on the floor, and I was being attacked.

My room was pitch black, but I could feel something grabbing my wrists and trying to pin me to the ground. I struggled back hard, kicking out with my foot, and I hit Barry right in the crotch. He instantly let go and fell to the floor groaning loudly. I must have it him really hard. So I stood up, and flipped on the light. That was when I felt the pain in my face, sides, and legs. I felt my face, and one of my eyes and my bottom lip was swollen, and my nose was wet with blood. Barry finally got his breath and explained what had happened.

HE had heard some struggling/thrashing sounds coming from my room, and me grunting and groaning. When he opened my door, he saw that I was lying on the ground and it looked like I was having a sezure. He ran over to make sure I was OK, and he tried to hold me still, but I kept hitting myself in the face and body really hard, so he grabbed my wrists and started shouting my name to try and wake me up. And that's when I kicked him in the crotch.

I went to the bathroom, and cleaned my face up as best I could (I was pretty messy), and after explained the dream to Barry. I apologized profusely for the kick, and he suggested either he sleep on the floor of my room, or I go sleep out on the floor in the living room, so if something like that happens again (like it did with the flies) he could be there to help me stop hurting myself. He's convinced it has something to do with the ghost(s) in my house, and like you guys, that it might be related to the Behalah book, since it figured so prominantly into my dream.

THe next day, Barry came back from the library (I was too tired and sore to go with him), and said they hadn't found anything. The reason he foudn this so fascinating is that i had found an entire book devoted to the subject, but there was no mention of this on either the Internet or in a huge university library. He said that didn't make sense, since he assumed one of the two would at least mention somethng about a book being printed, or anything about the book. But they came up empty handed. Barry also said he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched while he was at the library. He never saw anyone, at least, nothing he could outwardly prove, although he said there was one guy that seemed to be conveniently in the same isle as he and his buddy Dan were the whole time. I've had that creepy "being watched" feeling more frequently lately as well. I hope my dream about four evil stalkers isn't coming true! :)

So the book remains a mystery for now. Hopefully my dreams will get a little less intense. I thought about going to see a doctor or something for it, since my face is pretty ugly (or shoudl I say "uglier") than it normally is. I know some of you mentioned I should maybe think about seeing a therapist or something, especially if I'm unconciously hurting myself, but I don't know if I can bring myself to do it. It's seems like such a last resort. I think if I can get to the bottom of the ghost thing, or just move out (only a couple more months on my lease), I'll be fine. I guess we'll see. Hope you're all doing better than I am. :)