House of Horrors
he House of Horrors was on the sixth floor of the third building in the housing project. It was a home before Mother's second husband moved in. The only other place this man lived outside of his mother's house was an apartment with three roommates. He brought a fish tank, an Electrolux vacuum cleaner, and three framed prints of big cats. My biological father purchased all of the furniture in the apartment. Mother's second husband repainted the bedroom dressers. Perhaps he claimed possession through that act.
Energy above is of my biological father, James Charles Williams. I thought this was a counter balance to my mother's second husband. I named it Space Horizon.
Growing Up in the House of Horrors
Mother's name was on the apartment lease when her second husband came to live with us. Mother's second husband was to become a dentist. His mother blamed Mother for his inability to achieve his goal.
My brother and I were to pay "the house" each time we were paid. He said to give him twenty-five percent for the house. Because we lived there was the reason, he told my mother. Summer pay amounted to less than $100 a week. I was to get it back when I attended college. I got a job first. Then, my brother got his summer job. Mother questioned her husband several times about receiving our money. He would always say, "It is between me and the kids." He neither discussed it with us nor did we see it when we went to college. His daughter said no when he demanded money. He never pressed her after that.
Deeper Blue Dream by Allison L. Williams Hill
When I prepared my college admissions applications, he initially said he would help in any way he could. I left the stack of paper on his desk. One weekend, I was sitting on the floor in the living room. I don't remember what I was doing. Mother was sitting on the couch. He was sitting on his "chair," a record cabinet with sliding doors used to store his albums. ("They are for the children," he would say to Mother when she raised objections to his spending money. We were never allowed to touch the albums, however.) He threw the stack of applications at me as he said, "What do you want me to do with these?!!" The tone of what amounted to a statement shocked me. I looked up at him. My mother looked at me, then him. I rose and collected the scattered papers that fell beyond my reach.
Roots by Allison L. Williams Hill
House of Horrors from the Other Side
After a couple of years, he explained he thought helping me would hurt his daughter's chances of attending college. I thought to myself, she never asked for his help, financially or otherwise.
I was leaving this house for college. I was relieved. My brother and I experienced years of bullying and beatings. He severely beat my brother many times. The beatings made his face swell. One was so severe that he cried himself to sleep. He was not awake when Mother knelt by the side of his bed with towel-wrapped ice cubes and cried. It was the first time I ever heard her cry.
He would always say to me in various ways, "You're not as smart as you think you are." I believed it. I ultimately believed I was the opposite of what I believed I was because he, an adult, told me so. Who better than an adult you live with would know how smart you are, would know how anything you are? I failed tests or barely passed them. I never asked for money for PSAT prep courses. Why bother? I was stupid. I blessed my teachers. They always attempted to move me in a different direction. I never shared with them why I felt the way I did.
House of Horrors and Time
In 2007, I was at Delphi for a second year, the mystery school Raphael told me about in 1990. I don't know why I had not started attending then. One of our Advanced Channeling class experiences was the Soul Rescue. The teacher selected Mother's second husband. I was asked closed questions about him. A classmate asked about tar paper, about being stuck. I said I did not know. During the session, her vision proved true. He remained in the same spiritual place for over twenty years. I asked him why he did what he did to Mother and, especially, to my brother, on whom I felt he unleashed all manner of violence because my brother reminded him of what he could not do with and for a young boy because of his size. I never asked about what he did to me. He claimed to regret what he did to Mother. He thought the way he dealt with my brother was the way to treat children to produce solid adults, and according to our teacher, whom I cherish, that was the way he was treated, evidenced by the cuts and bruises she saw across his back. Through tears, I accepted what he said and forgave him. All in the group commented on the beauty of the Angel that took him up. The last thing I said to him was, "I love you, Daddy."
Later, I had a session with the same teacher. He appeared. I said the two-year-old me wanted to touch him. The teacher asked if that was what she wanted to do. I said yes, and the little two-year-old did it.
Later that night, I had a dream where I was in a house available for purchase. He came in on the first floor smiling. He continued talking and smiling, and he walked away. I don't remember what he said. I awoke thinking that the agreement with the Angels was not in effect. I realized they thought this was agreeable, hence his appearance. He appeared to be thanking me for the rescue. After that, I did not see him for a while.
Dance by Allison L. Williams Hill
House of Horrors Lies and Endurance
He died in 1980. When my mother called and told me, I wailed. I felt I owed this man so much. Since then, dramas about abused children revealed some of the issues with children in similar situations. They would always side with the abuser, thinking that would lessen the possibility of being harmed.
His sister and stepfather searched through his finances. They found no money. He left nothing. In her last years, Mother shared that she knew he had given his bank card to his daughter. She spent his money. She did not tell Mother. Mother felt betrayed by the daughter she would not give up. Mother felt betrayed by the daughter, who should not have been there. He told her his sperm was immotile and infertile.
Mother eagerly gave to G, one of his former roommates, his attache case of Playboy and other sex magazines. She wanted all of his belongings removed. She asked me to roll out his "machine shop" he built with 2x4s and pegboard for his workshop tools. I suggested selling the screws, nails, soldering gun, pus other valuable equipment. She should be able to sell them. She shook her head, eyes closed, "I want it out of here," she said quietly. I rolled it out, got on the elevator, and took it to a large opening where it would not obstruct pedestrian paths, but the machine shop would be visible. I returned to the apartment. I went outside after about an hour and was amazed that the entire "machine shop" was gone, proving its value.
Gone. Mother's second husband was finally out of her life. Her feelings stretched back many years. His daughter was a baby when Mother asked him to leave. He refused to unless he could take the baby with him. Mother would not have it. I was certain his mother told him to demand the child.
House of Horrors and Justice
Mother took him to divorce court. The judge was a white woman. She believed her husband when he presented canceled checks with memos, but it did not mean he used them for the purposes shown. The judge implied that Mother was not honest about my brother and my existence. Mother replied that he knew we existed before they married. His mother and sister brought bags of used clothing in various stages of disrepair for Mother to adjust for my brother and me. That was his contribution to the two children that were not his.
Mother reminded me shortly before she died of a time when she returned to the house. She heard us in the bathroom. Her husband was seated on the toilet seat, talking to us. I was four years old. My brother was three. Mother saw us at the tub, washing our bed sheets because we had wet them. A lot was done in secret; he knew she would not agree to the punishments he thought we deserved.
I felt that the judge did not want more social services recipients and refused to grant the divorce. Mother waited for her tax return. She planned to replace her glasses. It felt as if the return took longer than usual through the mail. She asked her husband. He told her it had come, and he used her money for something he needed.
Mother lived with this man for another twenty years.
The day G received his new reading collection, he sat in the dining area shaking the box with Mother's dead husband's ashes. He was muttering to the box. When G, a late comedian and actor, and her husband were roommates, he whacked G over the head with the vacuum cleaner extension, causing a dent in the middle section. Today was indeed momentous. All these years when we had to use that old Electrolux vacuum cleaner, and now I know what caused that dent in the middle section: G's head! G went on, "Oh, he apologized. He said that some thoughts overcame him. Never knew what they were, though. It hurt like hell."
Mother laughed as she watched G and shook her head as he kept shaking the box with his remains like a maraca, alternating hands. "G, you're too much."
We said goodbye to G, assuming we'd see him again. Usually, two or three visits were allowed upon the death of a spouse. I think he died about three months later.
Shortly before her death, Mother shared that each day after he died, she looked at where the box of remains was. When she arrived home each night, she looked to see if his remains were in the same place she left them. His mother asked if his remains were still at the house. Mother told her they were. His mother asked if she could have them. Mother immediately set up a time for the stepfather to collect them. She was happy and relieved that they were removed.
House of Horrors and Spirit
I never shared with the family the events that occurred in my apartment shortly after my mother's second husband's death. I was typing on an electric typewriter (pre-PCs) on a large coffee table in my small Brooklyn apartment. I left it on and walked into the bedroom and then the bathroom. I paused at the mirror that hung in the foyer. A five-foot-high wooden ladder rested against it. The place was quiet, and I felt as if I should expect something. The ladder began to move from side to side. It stopped. I looked at it, and it moved again. It rocked until I placed my index finger on the top. I thought it might have been him.
I returned to the typewriter. I sat on the floor cushion. The keys depressed. No letters appeared, but buttons were pushed. After a few seconds, I turned the machine off. Since then, I had many dreams where he appeared. I saw him in his "workplace," helping youth who had crossed over. The dreams seemed to take a sexual turn, and after the first night that happened, I asked the Angels to stand between us and only allow further contact with their blessing. Since that request, I thanked the Angels for their help because I never saw him on the dream plane again.
In 2007, I was at Delphi for a second year, the mystery school Raphael told me about in 1990. I don't know why I had not started attending then. One of our Advanced Channeling class experiences was the Soul Rescue. The teacher selected Mother's second husband. I was asked closed questions about him. A classmate asked about tar paper, about being stuck. I said I did not know. During the session, her vision proved true. He remained in the same spiritual place for over twenty years. I asked him why he did what he did to Mother and, especially, to my brother, on whom I felt he unleashed all manner of violence because my brother reminded him of what he could not do with and for a young boy because of his size. I never asked about what he did to me. He claimed to regret what he did to Mother. He thought the way he dealt with my brother was the way to treat children to produce solid adults, and according to our teacher, whom I cherish, that was the way he was treated, evidenced by the cuts and bruises she saw across his back. Through tears, I accepted what he said and forgave him. All in the group commented on the beauty of the Angel that took him up. The last thing I said to him was, "I love you, Daddy."
Later, I had a session with the same teacher. He appeared. I said the two-year-old me wanted to touch him. The teacher asked if that was what she wanted to do. I said yes, and the little two-year-old did it.
Later that night, I had a dream where I was in a house available for purchase. He came in on the first floor smiling. He continued talking and smiling, and he walked away. I don't remember what he said. I awoke thinking that the agreement with the Angels was not in effect. I realized they thought this was agreeable, hence his appearance. He appeared to be thanking me for the rescue. After that, I did not see him for a while.
Many years passed. Mother's second husband approached me to ask for my forgiveness for his mother, a judgmental bigot. She never liked Mother. Many might say not many mothers like their new daughters-in-law. During Mother's last years, she shared that his mother set her up with a job. The employer was a white Italian man who made overtures towards Mother. Mother asked her best friend, "Why would she do this to me? Why would E set this up with this man?" The friend offered answers. The way Mother spoke about it decades later showed that the thoughts she had about the incident still troubled her.
My mother and my brother were still alive at that time. I asked him, "Did you ask for forgiveness from Mother and my brother for what you did to them?" He said he did not. "Until you do, I will not give forgiveness to your mother." He returned with the same request. We had the same exchange. He never approached Mother or my brother. He continued harming Mother in her energies that began after the Angel released him. The regret he expressed due to his upbringing was insincere.
House of Horrors and Power
My brother passed. Mother passed after he did. During his memorial, I said that he was Mother's favorite. We smiled at that; he was the lone boy with three sisters.
I continuously communicate with them after they released their bodies. Mother's second husband is still vengeful. He prefers to avoid me. He saw what I can do.
I read references from people who have studied spirituality and incorporeal existence since I began my journey over thirty years ago. I think of those we call "the dead" as if they are still here. They are in a different form. Our vocabularies, in all languages, need to change to recognize other forms of existence.
We should cease discussing the dead as if they are not present. When our thoughts turn to those who have passed, they are there It is not a "chicken or the egg" riddle. Our deceased families, friends, and strangers exist in timelessness. They access the living's plane of existence if they wish. Have conversations with energies you feel and with what you do not see. Use the heart chakra to understand the verbal and emotional communication transpiring between you.
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