When I was about 6 or 7, my mother’s main interests were us kids, being Born Again, David Wilkerson (of The Cross and the Switchblade fame), speaking in tongues (a form of glossolalia in which a person experiencing religious ecstasy utters incomprehensible words that the speaker believes are a language spoken through him or her by God). She was also interested in being a more a assertive and independent woman by making her own money.
The David Wilkerson stuff I understood – he was a pastor that was able turn a bunch of gang banging thugs around to the see the Lord in NYC. The speaking in tongues shit scared the hell out of me. When you’re a little kid and you see an adult on their knees going through fits talking gibberish (Shala-ma-ka-kee-aa, Shala-ma-ka-kee-aa, etc.) with her eyes rolled back in her head – that’s pretty freaky stuff.
When she came out of whatever it was she was in, I asked her never to do that in front of me again. That’s right about the time when the Exorcist came out in theaters, and I couldn’t tell the difference between the movie or my Mom’s glossolalia antics.
I did understand why she wanted to make her own money, but I had no idea what “assertiveness training” was or that women mostly did “wifely” or “woman” things in the early 1970’s (this was prior to the Studio 54 era), and they didn’t want to do it anymore. Bra burning was in the news at the time too, but I didn’t get it.
To make her own money, my Mother started a small day care. I can’t remember all the kids she took care of except for two – Terry (my age) and Toby (a couple years younger). They were sister and brother, and my sister and I got along with them great. It was like having friends come over to play with everyday.
Toby was a moron. He was always chewing on playing cards, had a limited vocabulary for his age, always had a snotty nose, and he ate everything with his fingers: peas, fruit, carrots, and Hot Wheels. He was truly one of Gods proto-humans. Poor bastard – and he didn’t even know it.
On the other hand, Terry had everything Toby had lacked and then some. She was articulate, witty, intelligent, and very attractive. Long black hair, dark eyes, very pretty. I had a *huge* crush on her.
I was into all the old Universal Monster Movies, Vincent Price, King Kong, Godzilla, The Night Stalker (still am) and she loved vampires. We had a lot to talk about in the breezy, muggy Iowa cornfields one summer. How cool it was to meet a cute girl that liked monster stuff! I was totally jazzed!
Over time, I noticed that our conversations always drifted to the topic of vampires, how they lived, that the never drained all their victims blood so they could come back for another feeding.
She told me the bite itself doesn’t hurt, but the anticipation – the fear of it – that caused the most distress. She didn’t use those words, but that’s what she meant.
“How do you know all this vampire stuff?”
“Because I know Vampires.”
I blew her off. Maybe trying to impress me because I liked monster movies. Maybe she was crushing on me too.
One day, I hit the trifecta. I caught my mother speaking in toungues again. She was on her knees, here arms outstretched with the backs of her hand on the floor, eyes rolled back in her head and she was swaying side to side with the obligatory “Shala-ma-ka-kee-aa, Shala-ma-ka-kee-aa .”
I shook her until she finally came out of it, and brought up the fact that she promised she would never do it again when I was around. She apologized and assured me not to be afraid and said, “This is one of God’s gifts that allow his children to praise him in a language unknown to his children.”
Wow…
I didn’t buy it then, and I don’t buy it now. What’s the purpose to say things you don’t understand? Is this a joke played on people by God? Does he sit back and chuckle when we tell a dirty joke in some long lost language people don’t understand?
It reminded me too much of the Devine Eshu of West African Vodon – very scary stuff.
Terry and Toby came over that afternoon. I told Terry about my mother’s antics. She then said in very clear English, “We need to do something about your mother.”
“Give me a break. What do you mean by that?” I asked. She didn’t say anything.
I just blew it off as her trying to be cool.
We played the rest of the day and I pretty much forgot about what she said about my Mother.
<sidebar> My brother and I shared a bedroom. We had bunk beds, and I had the top bunk. My parent’s room was right outside my bedroom door on the left and the room passed that was a bathroom. My sister had her own room across the hall from the bathroom. </sidebar>
Sometime in the middle of the night I was awoken by laughter. The hall light was on, so when I sat up on the top bunk I saw the silhouettes of my brother and sister pointing up at me and laughing.
“You guys better get back to bed.” I hissed. “If Mom or Dad knows we’re up this late, we’ll all be in trouble!”
Then Terry walked in the room. The three of them were standing where the demon baby face is in the picture below.
“Terry, what are you doing here? Is your mom working late? You should be asleep in my sister’s room. Where’s your brother?”
My brother and sister walked out of the room. Terry walked toward the bunk bed ladder and started climbing it.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
When her face was level with mine, she grinned. The blood rushed out of my head and my heart hit the bottom of my stomach when I saw her teeth. Grinning and sharp.
I grabbed her around the neck with both hands to choke her. I started squeezing as hard as I could. It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. There was no substance – except for her skin. It felt like I was squeezing a fat inner tube.
“God, I can’t even kill her!”
I let go of her neck and jumped off the top bunk – twisting my ankle in the process. I ran into my parent’s room screaming, trying to wake them both, but they didn’t budge. They wouldn’t wake up.
I was paralyzed with fear and sat on the floor on my mother’s side of the bed hoping she would notice me there. She didn’t.
I don’t know how long I waited, but when I got my shit together, I ran back into my room and jumped in the bottom bunk with my brother. He wouldn’t wake up either, and I don’t even know how he got in bed after he walked out of the room after Terry came in.
His face was like soft wax and I watched it morph into different shapes until I fell asleep.
Needless to say, I no longer had a crush on Terry.
The next day I asked my Dad to tear the bunk beds apart. I never wanted to be trapped on the top bunk again.
To this day, I do not think this was a dream. To be honest, it wasn’t until a few years ago that I could relay this experience without crying.
At the time I was dabbling in witchcraft with friend of mine. I’m convinced it was God saying, “If you want to play with this, let me give you a little taste of what it really is.”
I really think he lifted his shield to let the bad stuff creep in a bit to scare me straight.
