Her name is Penny. (Part 2)
This is a continuation of my previous post about how I found myself in possession (pun not intended) of a Ouija board and how our first day together went.
You can read “Her name is Penny. (Part 1)” here:
Previously on café de olla…
“I had a bad dream,” he confesses.
My heart feels like it just took an elevator straight down to the bottom of my innards. Thank goodness it was dark because I can only imagine the look of horror on my face. I can feel it — this is no coincidence.
It’s her. She did this.
Penny.
Now my heart is pounding, drumming in my chest. I’m getting warm again. My ears start ringing. But I pull it together.
Somehow I manage to squeak, “Oh no. I’m sorry to hear. What was the dream about?” I ask politely. Carefully.
He starts recounting his nightmare. But I’m not listening.
My mind starts rewinding the tape, fast. Replay, replay, what happened? What did I do? What didn’t I do? Is she really that upset with me? Oh god. Is this how we’re going to live from now on?? Why is she doing this???
I didn’t have the guts to leave the bed so I resolved to stay put. I couldn’t go back out into the hallway, not with that crawling feeling waiting for me on the other side of our bedroom door.
The Boy is done recounting now. He’s decided to try and go back to sleep.
“Okay, dear. Good luck.” Stay calm. Just stay calm. Let him sleep in peace.
“Thanks. Goodnight.” He suspects nothing. Thank goodness.
“Goodnight.” Oh god. Oh god. Think. Think! Do something!!
The Boy curls up into a little ball. He looks so small. His comfort and safety suddenly feel very precious to me.
And fragile.
I whip my head and peer sternly, straight into the dark — there will be no further collateral damage tonight.
“Stay the hell away from him. Leave. Him. Alone,” I mouth silently out into the darkness. I don’t dare break eye contact with it. I think I’m shaking at this point but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger.
Then, I do the only thing I can think of, I use whatever spiritual skills I have at my finger tips — prayer and visualization.
I work quickly. This can’t happen again. The Boy doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t need this. It’s not fair to him!
First, I create a protective barrier just around the circumference of our bed, visualizing a white light beaming down from the heavens to the center of the earth. Typical circle of protection stuff.1
This isn’t enough. Oh my god, I still feel it. Why does it feel like there are eyes on me? Why are there so many of them?! — Quick. More.
Next, I ward off our bedroom using a similar visualization technique except this time I create a protective barrier on all the surfaces of the room — the walls, the ceilings, and the floors. Every nook, crevice, and corner. The whole room now shimmers in my mind.
I take a breath. I can finally feel the crawling receding. Oh, thank goodness. It’s working…
Finally, for good measure, I seal off the bedroom door — good and tight. Again, using visualization, I create a large glowing cross, spanning the entire height and width of the door. i make sure I can “see” it on both the inner and outer surfaces of the door, too. I’m not leaving anything to chance.
Another breath, deeply now. I can feel my musculature relaxing. I can feel myself becoming aware of how tensely I was holding my body.
Throughout this whole process, I’m reciting the Lord’s Prayer2 over and over and over and over…
I keep reciting. Over and over. I can’t stop, I’m too scared.
Over and over. I’m crashing. Over and over.
Until finally…
I fall asleep.
The aftermath
The next morning, I couldn’t even look at her. I avoided the living room where she rested on the coffee table.
I surmised this feeling was mutual. I could sense it, she wasn’t ready for me to approach her.
So, there she stayed…
For three weeks.
Untouched. Undisturbed. I didn’t step into my own damn living room for three weeks. And guess what?
Neither did The Boy.
Did I tell him not to go into the living room for three weeks? No.
Did I tell him not to touch the Ouija board for three weeks? Nope.
Did I tell him that we’re not even going to talk about the Ouija board or why I haven’t gone near it since he gave it to me? Not once.
And yet, he didn’t. He just didn’t. As if I needed more confirmation as to whether there was an energetic presence in the house…
Because that’s exactly what it felt like — a presence.
For those three weeks, I can’t lie, it felt as if someone was sitting on the couch in the living room. The room just felt occupied. Like when you have a guest over and they’re waiting patiently for you to return with the tray of coffee and cookies you promised.
(Whew. Okay. Let’s get to the sweet part of the story.)
Reconciliation
Three weeks go by, at which point I decided I needed to be brave. One cannot avoid one’s living room forever.
And there was no doubt in mind at this point: after three weeks, the presence in the living room felt calmer. Quieter. Steadier.
With this development, I took the plunge.
“Hi,” I waved sheepishly at the board. And from a safe distance in the kitchen.
“Just checking! Nothing’s going to hurt you. Okay, cool. Let me know if you need anything!” And yes, I said these words aloud. To the board. Desperate times, y’all.
And the next morning, I stayed the course.
“Good morning! How’s it going? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Okay, cool. Let me know if you need anything!”
This went on for another week or so — and much to my delight, it went well! No more disturbances in the middle of the night. No more surprises. No more feeling like there was someone sitting in the living room. All I could sense now was the board.
I was so relieved. This was encouraging.
Confidently one day, I approached her, “I’m going to move you now, okay? Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re fine. You’re safe. I’m going to do this quickly, you’ll barely feel it. Okay?”
And do you know what? She let me!! She actually let me touch her and move her. Oh my god, I wanted to sing and dance and tell the neighbors!
As quickly and safely as I could, I moved her to a chair in the corner of the living room.
“See? It’s not so bad! I have a pretty painting here for you.” I motioned to a large art print.
“You can read a book if you want.” I gestured to the bookshelf near her.
“And you’ll be right next to the altar! Cool, right?” I pointed at my altar next to her.
I wanted to try anything to help her with the change. Change was, clearly, very difficult for her.
She was shy but very brave. Ah, I was so proud of her! She did so good.
And so we carried on. I made sure she felt seen and included. I continued to check in on her, but she soon no longer needed the reassurance.
One day, eventually, she let me name her.
“Penny,” I declared. “You look like a Penny to me,” I smiled.
And she smiled back.
What do you think? Did you see that comin’?? How do you feel about Ouija boards now?! I’m curious!
Join me tomorrow for part 3 of my Ouija board story! I’ll probably include some information about the history of talking boards in America as well.
¡Hasta mañana!
With cariño,
Maribel
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magic_circle
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord%27s_Prayer