10/9/81 Friday



Upon first waking, I did not [immediately] recall last night praying to Our Lord that I would be allowed to help the souls in purgatory, that my ministry FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE would be to them, and that I would be able to COMMUNICATE with them.

I have been praying for them fervently in the last few days at the exclusion of almost all else.

This prayer was rewarded immediately by the first meeting with E.F. in purgatory! HE IS NOT IN HELL AS I FEARED!

[DREAM:] I see a scene outdoors similar to the front yard of my aunt and uncle right by the stone fence (Connecticut) and there is a man down there sitting and toying with a camera. There seems to be a man in front of him, but I don’t see the other man. Maybe he is going to take a picture of this other man with his camera.

The first man I KNOW is E.F. He doesn’t look like E.F. in his prime, but in his forties with a pockmarked, weather-beaten face and has on a dull red and blue checked flannel shirt.

From what I know of him I get dressed to get him to notice me, or to be more correct, I APPEAR and that is as an island girl; a wrap around skirt so he can see high up to the covered crotch area. I have my arms up on a branch above my head and am gazing at him tempting him to speak to me. He is so preoccupied with what he is doing he hardly notices me. His mind is still on that man. I must do something else.

I go into the clearing to a dirt area and start to dance a graceful dance to Scheherazade, my top showing. I seem to be bare yet breasts are covered. I know he is going to wonder what a girl is doing here in the middle of nowhere, without an audience, dancing to Scheherazade, but I do it anyway.

He does look at me, but only out of curiosity. I pick up from him he wonders what I am doing and why. He still will not speak to me. I must do more.

Now I hear a drumbeat off in the distance, a Tahitian type beat, and although it is not distinct or loud, I begin to dance with all my effort. My dance experience on earth has helped. At this point I have on a scarlet turkey boa around my hips and the hip movement and exertion are tremendous.

At last he is stimulated, enlivened. He makes a move TOWARD me

and the next thing I know we are out together at a restaurant.

In this conversation we are having he seems to be having a problem UNDERSTANDING WHAT WAS WRONG WITH SEX.

I try to explain this to him. At the table are several young men sitting with us who are annoying and interfering but I pay no attention and concentrate on E.F..

E.F. has now told me all about his life and multiple sex experiences and I PAINSTAKINGLY explain to him what is wrong with sex. The only problem in logic is that I am a young island girl, yet I am speaking words of wisdom and experience. I must also be careful not to be strident or preachy, but charming and nice. His confession is told with much flair and I admit to him that I have been through many such similar experiences. I then lovingly touch his arm and explain to him the EVILS of sex.

He doesn’t understand what was wrong with it. I give him the teachings of St. Thomas—what lust does TO THE MIND. I say in so many words:

“When you have sex desire the mind is filled WITH A DARK CLOUD. It affects your reasoning power, and the more often you commit the act the more you lose control over yourself. It becomes a force of habit, and although you feel guilt and remorse each time it has a stronger and stronger hold on you and becomes a vice.”

He seems to be saying:

“You must be kidding,” but an old girlfriend of mine from grammar school days, Sonia, suddenly appears to my right and says that it’s true. She is as I last remember her at age fourteen.

E.F. says: “ But everything in life is a habit,”

But I say:

“Yes, but this is a BAD habit, and it crowds out the time you have for good habits,” etc.

He is still confused. He does not understand his downfall, the wrongness of sins of the flesh and the effect they have on the soul, as if he is hearing these things FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE!

I seem to now move more directly in front of him rather than to the right side where I’ve been. The waitress brings the food. His and mine are slightly different. It is Island food, not fancy. He has several sweet potatoes on his plate, a bit dry looking, and my food is also on the dry side! I have WHITE RICE and WHITE BREAD, a few other things. We both have good variety. I am tempted to say “There is nothing here I can eat,” but then recall what the Lord said: To eat anything that is put before you when visiting, and resolve to go back on my diet AFTER the visit.

The feeling here is that he is treating me and we are on a date. He used to be a millionaire and I suspect he still likes to act like one.


In another scene I am being introduced to people—meeting lots of new people.

A man introduces me to his wife. I shake hands respectfully with her but she holds her hand way up as if for me to kiss and the man says: “You may kiss her hand.” This embarrasses me as he didn’t tell me ahead of time and I feel I’ve made a faux pas. Then I kiss her hand with much love, and this moves her so much she wants to kiss mine, but is too proud to do so.

She says: “Some day I will kiss your hand.”

I say something like: “When I grow in stature.” which is an excuse for her.

She is much made up, red hair.

I go into the dressing room where I am being prepared for something. A lot of these people have heard about me. This is like the personal appearance of a celebrity. They have seen me in magazines and now I must show myself, get nicely dressed and bring out the magazines or something. Getting ready is the last thing I recall.


This dream, like many spiritual experience dreams, shows what really happened between myself and E.F. during the past night in sense-image or SYMBOLIC material. Obviously, we did not contact on another through physical senses, since he has none. The meeting was purely mental/spiritual. But one cannot explain in terms of this earth a mental/spiritual experience EXCEPT IN EARTHLY TERMS; therefore, the dream metaphor.

The dream clearly explains why E.F. was not condemned harshly for his sins of sex: ignorance.

He did not realize they were sins, and although he has been in purgatory for a full twenty-two years at the time of our meeting, yet he is saved.

My Highest also reminds me of the sufferings of E.F. which no doubt cleansed his soul: The loss of beauty, physical debility, lawsuits which caused tremendous pain and embarrassment, loss of all his assets and betrayal by his best friend at a crucial time, etc. He also did a lot of nice things for people—but that is not emphasized in his biographies, which concentrate on the bad and the scandalous. Think of all the women he helped financially. Writing his autobiography (which he didn’t have to do) was also a deterrent to his way of life to many of those who have read it.

For those who are taught good Catechism when they are little this is a deterrent to later sins. E.F. did not have such and education, and his rambunctious, outgoing and adventurous personality made him susceptible to sins of the flesh, which he committed. He could have learned right from wrong form religion later on, but usually once the die is cast in youth it is difficult to change.

Having to show him the LOWER part of my body to get his attention shows that that’s where his mind is still at. He remained on the genital level and died in that state of mind. My job is to bring him THE LIGHT OF TRUTH—begin dissipating the darkness of his mind contaminating him on this level.

E.F. didn’t understand his problem as a behavior pattern or mental attitude, but rather saw his sex life as a series of incidents having meaning and purpose. He saw them as unrelated incidents, but they were only one incident repeated over and over again, like smoking cigarettes over and over. He had to be ILLUMINATED on this point.

E.F.’s dilemma of improper relationship to women is seen in his trying to find CONSOLATION by thinking of a man—some friend, no doubt. He did not relate to women as friends but as OBJECTS. Now in purgatory, he does not need those objects since he has no body. Yet when I appear to him as a woman I have to appear in the way he liked them—the way he could RELATE to them. Obviously I am having trouble getting his attention because he wouldn’t gain any consolation now by thinking of women in sexual terms (the only way he could relate to them.) That is why I have so much TROUBLE.

But in terms of E.F.’s life, my appearance hearkens back to a more idealistic time in his life—his years in New Guinea when he was not yet too hardened against women. He admits that his first “wife” in New Guinea got him started with leaving a long line of dowries to women. He was free and happy here, relatively speaking and perhaps dedicated his autobiography to this first bride, a black woman whom I may have resembled by my dancing.

The food we ate together is a LOVE FEAST similar to Holy Communion. It’s form—100% carbohydrates, white rice, white bread, reminds one of marriage and a communion supper—one and the same. Attendants are no doubt guardian angels.

My Highest says at this point; “You will hear from him again. He will dwell on what you told him.”


This clearly depicts that I am meeting/ministering to other souls at the same time as E.F..

I will not be aware until much later—4/13/82—the proud redhead is my former mentor, Rev. Verna Talbot. I could have guessed, but I didn’t. She will appear again later in this disguise and will be the first to be delivered, ahead of E.F..

It must be understood at this meeting with the souls I have no idea what a ministry to purgatory is. Although I did assist my Grandmother and ancestors to deliverance in November 1979, it was by accident. I was praying for souls when she appeared to me, and ancestors, ready to ascend into eternity. I had no idea that I was bringing this about, nor that they were in purgatory!

With E.F. and these others it is different. This is a concerted effort with mystical contact.

Verna Talbot’s pride is shown by herself giving me her hand, while Christ her spouse guides me to see it. She cannot humble herself—cannot reciprocate my love, while I make excuses for her behavior.

Apparently I have been introduced to these souls in purgatory that I will be making reparation for them—so therefore, I am like a celebrity appearing to them. I am being prepared, or preparing to serve them as seen in the dressing room.

My Highest says: “Your preparation is your spiritual works. Shopping for the best indulgences will give you the most for your prayers. Learning to acquire the greatest amount of treasure for them, you become the beneficiary of the same.”

There are “witnesses” within this dream which are “annoying, interfering,” thoughts of E.F., seen as young men. These are the thought he grew up with, interfered with his development. On my side of the argument is a solitary innocent witness confirming the good of chastity—my own background early in life? These may be termed negative and positive witnesses.

10/11/81 Sunday



Just a little earlier conversed with E.F. He thanked me for dedicating my meal to him and calls me “My sweet.”

I asked him if I had been talking too much and he says:

“I like to hear you talk. We have so few visitors down here.” He told me that I was his first good visitor that this is the first time he has spoken to a person earth to purgatory directly.

After a while he was crying and thanked me for the meal. I said it was an honor to be a part of him, and a few other nice things, and he said:

“It seems like an eternity down here.”

I reminded him that it will end. I said a real good rosary for him, asking Jesus for a plenary indulgence and since yesterday have received three Eucharists.

E.F. embraced me and kept saying how sorry he was that he had never had spiritual relationships with women while on earth. I consoled him by saying that it was practically impossible; even I have problems having spiritual relationships with men—that he will make up for all that in eternity.

I joked with him about liking young girls.


Another time in gratitude, he said he would help me with my acting if I decided to study (this won’t happen till late ’84).

I asked him to help me with chastity and he said, sadly:

“I will help you with your acting,” then glumly he added, “You’ll be alright on the other, it’s almost gone.”

I asked him how it was that he still didn’t understand the evils of sex, and he just said:
“I don’t want to even think about that. I just want to think of how much I love you.”

In our last big embrace before I said the rosary he said:

“Mother, mother, I love you, I love you.” He hugged me (mentally) very lovingly, so dejected, with his head on my chest, and he said:

“I want to put my head on your bosom and cry.”

He cried much, and it was out of love.

Later, he made me promise not to forget him. During the rosary I called on Jesus and Mary, Padre Pio, the apostles and discipline by name. Then I reminded them of all of E.F.’s sufferings, naming them, as E.F. had plaintively said to me before:


I asked Jesus for the plenary indulgence for E.F. and saw a blue light flash by his head (the picture of The Sacred Heart on my wall).

I have been studying up on indulgences—how to get the most out of them every day.

After praying to Padre Pio I asked for a SIGN that they would help E.F., and later, after forgetting about the sign, heard and then say FLYING GEESE flying south! (The first and only time I have seen this phenomenon outside my window in Brooklyn, NY) This means E.F., as they are, is going to a better place!

I prayed for E.F.’s beauty to be restored. I praised him much for his gifts of charm and acting ability, and he said:

“WHY DON’t THEY REMEMBER ME?” (his fans)

I consoled him saying that so few people understand the dogma of purgatory and those who do don’t even know he is there or may not be able to contact him even if they did know. I said if people KNEW he was down there and needed help, they would surely help him.

His personality is very romantic and charming. When I complimented him on his charm, he said:


This was the day the Light told me to take off my jacket—a thickly padded boy’s jacket. I did, the priest was befuddled by my figure and apparently in honor of it gave me two Eucharists! I also stayed for another mass in honor of E.F..

He also said he wanted to make up for those men who treated me so badly, saying:

“They were so unkind to you.”

We watched TV mass together (I was not feeling well) and when it came time to make the “peace be with you” sign he kissed my hand solemnly.

He keeps telling me throughout the day not to forget him. I keep telling him how can I, when he keeps reminding me?

Then I look to Jesus and ask him not to forget E.F., and He says how can He forget when I keep reminding him?

I heard a voice saying, “THIS IS VERY PLEASING TO THE LORD.”

He also told me that he doesn’t know much about theology, God, religion, and when I asked him why he said:

“Unfortunately, there are no books here.”

And so, I gave him a lesson in theology. He keeps falling on my chest and pressing his head on my heart and saying:

“Oh, comfort me, console me,” and listens intently while I say things, not interrupting. Speaking of losing his beauty he said:

“Oh, that was terrible. When I was good looking I had so many beautiful women, and when I started losing my beauty it became more and more difficult. Soon they only wanted me for my money.” As he says these things I can feel his emotion, pain and anguish.

Several times he said he is getting to love me more and more. I joked, saying: “You only love me for my light and prayers,” but he insisted he loves all of me.

After a while, the thought came to me that God has given me this ministry as the greatest tool toward my own sanctification.


10/12/81 Monday



I ordered a bottle of wine at the bank, thinking it would cost a little over ten dollars, but it was forty-four or forty-five. It seemed like a lot, but I ordered it, and was amazed how EASY it was. All I had to do was say I wanted it and it was given to me. This wine was for a special person and it was a celebration for that person.

MEANING: This was the Litany of the Precious Blood which I recited for E.F. yesterday and continuously in the day, “BLOOD OF CHRIST, inebriate him, BLOOD OF CHRIST invigorate him,” etc. etc.

The celebration is his newly facilitated union with Christ and also our friendship. I had no idea how much time and energy I would be spending on this union, and that is what is implied by the cost, yet all I need do is ask in prayer, and E.F. gets help—and that is a remarkable thing.

QUESTIONS TO AND ANSWERS FROM MY HIGHEST. (My Highest means the super-intellect or the highest part of the intellect which is usually unconscious, but available to a mystic who has opened up that pathway.)

“Is there any significance in the fact that his first successful movie was Captain Blood?”

“It meant he would be saved, but at the cost of much suffering.”

“How is it that movies, books, records and other significant projects of people coincide with what is going on in their lives?”

“God measures everything and He marks the way. His markers are symbols.” (I see a picture of a deep ocean, with a marker ‘sounding’ the depth.)


Dreamed I was reading the newspaper in the sports section all about fish and fishing tournaments. There was an article about a man who won every tournament you could think of—caught every fish on the list! Right after that I noticed a couple of letters to the editor from admirers of this man praising him for winning all these tournaments.

MEANING: This for certain is about Jesus Christ, whose redemptive powers made it possible for all people (the fish) to be saved.


Right next to the fish article I see a picture of a man with a bandana around his middle. He is wearing a see-through chemise, and he does two different acts with these banana earrings dangling from his ears, the second earring more incredible than the first. It seems there is something mysterious or beyond the comprehension of the audience in this picture.

He is Chinese, and also has this incredible jewel at his side—a ring which is either little or huge, depending on which angle you look at it, and it is encrusted with diamonds. One end of the ring is super huge, the other little.

The look on his face is one of intense suffering, yet the audience sees him as a buffoon. The garment he is wearing also makes him an object of ridicule, people thinking he is in drag, maybe gay.

MEANING: This second part depicts the Passion of Christ, by which primarily we have all been saved. It shows Christ as an object of ridicule for his acceptance (passive like a woman) of such awful suffering.

Yesterday I made the Way of the Cross and pictures taken from a mosaic in the booklet I followed depicted Christ with popped eyes. This scene I used as scene-image material—which is material taken from one’s daily life and experience to use for something else—a story being depicted here. (Sometimes sense-image material is totally unrelated to the story it is used for.)

People looked at Christ as a fool during his Passion. This was one of his greatest suffering—to be looked upon as a clown instead of being appreciated for what He was doing.

Banana earrings are symbol for people looking upon our Lord as “bananas,” or crazy. That’s why the earrings, close to the head, point out it has to do with intellect. The other jewel, the one at his side, has to do with his Sacred Heart—an inestimable jewel. It can be either little or big, depending on how much grace one is able to draw from his infinite treasure. If one has a bad disposition, one draws little or nothing—therefore, it would look smaller.

The symbol Chinese means to my symbol system one who is of a higher world; the ascended. St. Gertrude the Great called Christ, in her Revelations, (Christian Classics) “O Orient from on high.”


I see a husband and wife. The wife says to the husband:

“I love you the way you are,” and then a little later says:

“Honey, don’t you think you ought to see a doctor? You haven’t got any muscles!”

I see the husband hanging on a cross, arms down, thin, but not emaciated. There is some firmness to him. Then the wife is sorry and says:

“Oh, I didn’t mean that, I love you as you are.”

MEANING: This has to do with the proper attitude toward loving E.F. We discussed it and I had to strike the proper balance between not loving him for his former physical self nor pitying him for his present helplessness. Compassion is not “pity” but active love. Compassion does something for the unfortunate, and there is joy and confidence in that, not hopeless pity. I must love E.F. in exactly that state he is in, without looking down at him—without feeling a false kind of sorrow.

TALKING WITH E.F.: I asked yesterday of E.F. about when he was alive, why he didn’t help the souls in purgatory and he said because he didn’t understand the principle and I then said:

“So you see—the way you didn’t understand most people don’t understand.”

My highest said, “Yes, now that they are in purgatory they see and feel the loneliness, which on earth they were not aware of. They don’t even understand theology (according to what kind of knowledge they had in life, most not understanding it) and they just feel their own pain and wonder why anyone isn’t coming to help them. They think about people, old friends, and can’t reach them, and wish and hope someone would do something, and they wait and wait. It is pain they feel, but understanding they rarely have.

E.F. said:

“Yes, now I feel it. Now that there is nothing else.” He adds, “I helped so many women. Why don’t they help me now?”

He intimated to my mind that he was not evil to women, just sick, sick with his sex desires. He also did a great deal of nice things for women, supported them, bought them many nice presents, did a lot of kind things, was very generous. He could not attain to spiritual friendships because of his sickness and reminded me of my own state, similar to his—not so long ago.

I asked E.F. what I should call him, for a pet name—and he said soberly, “CAPTAIN BLOOD.”

I said a few nice things to him and mentioned heaven and he said:



10/13/81 Tuesday



I saw a little boy on a chair in my kitchen who seemed asleep—an infant. His mother was at my sink washing the dishes, making them spotless, and she washed not only the dishes but the surrounding area clean and SPOTLESS.

She filled all my glasses, tall ones that I don’t even have in real life, and short ones—all kinds—with water at the sink. It amazed me how CLEAN she was able to make things for me!

I go over to her little child and put my hand over it, for it to be comforted. It is so little, and in its sleeping or unconscious state starts squeezing my hand and sucking it as if it were a breast, and I squeeze the child to comfort it. I realize the child is hungry, but for some reason the mother is not feeding it, but washing my dishes.

I go over to my oven, open it, and in a white ceramic pot I have about three pounds of fish piled up. I show it to the mother and say:

“I would like to give the child some of this fish. It is GOOD and I will make sure I take the bones out.”

She seems worried about the fish—seems to think it’s a bit dry. This fish seems to have been baked without water, but she consents. I take out a piece, then a little piece, thinking maybe that was too much and he won’t accept or like it, then change my mind again and take more and put it on one of my small white plates.

In the next scene I am resting. It is the middle of the night, and glancing into the small bedroom I can see through the gold curtain hanging that the child is sleeping there. (This reminds me of when I absentmindedly told E.F. he should spend his purgatory in my apartment.) There is a soft light there, and all seems tranquil. I am wondering if the mother is with the child, but I can see only the infant.

In a little while I get a telephone call. It is from the management of the building. The manager asks me about these new people here—are they going to stay or what? I tell him that I don’t see why not.

He, like most management, is worrying about the inconvenience to all concerned, and he says:
“This Indian woman (from India) and her husband and child are a problem. She just got through arguing with me down here. Maybe you better not let them stay.”

But I tell him that the child is not bothering anything. I do not know much about the mother—why she left the child or anything, and was wondering why she wasn’t with the child, but I tell him not to worry about it.

MEANING: This dream shows E.F. as the son of Our Blessed Mother, and she brings him to me to be a surrogate mother.

This depicts the principle that we on earth—not the saints in heaven—are responsible for the souls in purgatory. Only the living can make reparation. The next life ends the time for merit, and reparation can be made only in time and space.

At the time I dream this, this doctrine is not clear to me. One would think Our Blessed Mother or Jesus would simply whisk the souls in purgatory out of there, but a debt has to be paid. We on earth can pay it in atonement to God. God himself has left his infinite merits, but it is for us to unlock them by our acts of reparation, which are then transmitted to the poor souls.

The dream also shows the conflict or question of whether I am willing to make reparation. The manager is sort of “devil’s advocate” and tries to dissuade me.

This again shows how God is looking for willing “victims” of reparation or the suffering that goes with true love. I don’t see it as suffering at all because I really love E.F.—and that is true of all lovers. They cannot bear the thought of NOT helping.

The beginning of the dream hearkens back to the many graces Our Blessed Mother has infused me with. She has both cleansed me and particularly recently (October 5th) infused me with the virtues of poverty, chastity and obedience. She has made me a SPOTLESS INSTRUMENT or VESSEL—seen in the glasses. The symbol of glasses is good two ways—they hold water or grace, and you can see through them, which is to say no obstacle to the light of grace. In this ministry the higher ups use US—they prepare US to help souls and they do not usually help them directly.

E.F. is seen as child of God and asleep in the Lord. The three fish piled up are three Holy Communions I received the previous day—wondering how many of them I should dedicate to E.F.

(Early in my ministry I was uncertain of how much one must put into an individual soul, how much one must dedicate to souls in general. Later on I learned that it is usually best to dedicate all to the one soul at a time you are working on. If you have mental communion with one, as I did with E.F., then throw all of yourself into that soul.)

Another symbol is the curtain there, which is the veil that separates this world from the next. I am permitted now to pierce that veil in vision.


It would be good to state at this time how I communicate with E.F.—how I pierce this veil. I cannot explain except that it is the grace of God. By God’s grace E.F.’s mind and mine become as one. We are inside each other’s space.

Other than that—I cannot communicate with either E.F. nor anyone else at will. My gift is not that of a natural psychic, and I don’t think any natural (or demonic) psychic can penetrate the veil of purgatory with true accuracy. This type of ministry is something that happens through prayer and love. When one sees into purgatory, or into any person one is helping, it is not through séances, wishful thinking, or any act of human will. It is truly by the will of God, and the mental abilities come through God—they are supernatural, not natural. Remember I PRAYED for this to happen. When it was over—the job was done—I could no longer communicate with E.F. except at special times.


10/14/81 Wednesday




Took the book Two Lives of E.F. off the shelf to get my mind on E.F. He told me not to read the part about where he did things to those two girls, but to read what his wives did to him.

I am improving in my conversations with him and he said:

“You are getting more confident with me,” and later, “I am beginning to feel a little better.” He said it feels like an eternity there, as they have no conception of time.

INCREASE OF CONFIDENCE: After receiving Holy Communion today I looked up at the huge replica of Christ’s Body on the Cross in my church and confidence flooded my soul. Instead of thinking of OUR part, the sin, and the horror of suffering I became more aware of HIS POWER AND MERCY—what HE had done, not what we have done.

E.F. was right. I did not have enough confidence before. Now his captivity does not seem so DEPRESSING and awful, as my hope is stronger. I can see clearly how this hope and confidence IS A POWER WHICH RELEASES THE POWER OF CHRIST INTO WHATEVER WE ARE HOPING FOR whereas the opposite—fear—creates an obstacle.

Talking to E.F. about his release, he said: “All my hopes are in you.”

Yes, it is my job to constantly draw upon the MERCY of God, upon Mary, the angels and saints, to help E.F., until he is released. When I started this ministry I did not know all these things.

Now I see—God is giving me certain souls in purgatory just as He gave me certain underprivileged children, and certain kinds of sinners to help. I recall during the work with youth my efforts to get certain ones out of jail, into my custody.

I can see how all my other work led up to this, a great and supreme ministry. One must be perfect for this—one cannot err—there is no ROOM for it.

The world is fading away now, and all my attachment to people in it. On earth, basically it’s every man for himself. Help is available to all. Some do not want it—others do and can’t find it, but at least are gaining merit. In purgatory there is NOTHING—no natural way to find help, no gaining merit.

It is so easy to hurt the souls.

E.F. is explaining to me the things that hurt him as we go along. They are helpless; stripped of their bodies their intellects are totally bared. You have to be careful in choosing your conversation; no joking about sin, no kidding around about the vain. On earth there is a large margin for error—here there is none. All error is noticed at once and felt.

On earth the mortal is immersed so much in untruth—here all vanity is gone. They cannot see all truth (that would be the Beatific Vision), yet they sense instantly when something is wrong and it gives them pain. The things we laugh about on earth (even through nervous tension, not malice), evoke sadness and pain in a soul of E.F.’s condition.

To help E.F. I am striving to increase my faith, hope, charity and confidence—as I must build up these things IN HIM. As we are two minds in one, my increase to his increase. It is an instant transmission of merit—like salutary blood going into one body.

In communing with E.F. I am walking on eggshells. It’s a tightrope—one move in either direction, away from the truth, and I hurt him. He is keeping my vision, my course, my thoughts and direction on a steady keel.

I cannot MESS AROUND IN VAIN CONVERSATION WITH OTHERS. This also hurts him and he tells me. He likes it when I write about him, when I do anything on his behalf there is more contact; he feels better, he is not alone.

In purgatory the soul has nothing but intellect and spirit. There is no physical alleviation as on earth. All relief must be spiritual and intellectual. That is not an easy ministry for an earthling to facilitate, since we are used to using so many physical devices to help someone.

So therefore, I am learning how to alleviate through intellect and spirit. I am weeding out tendencies otherwise, and practicing spiritual. Pure love and nothing else—that is what they need. To keep this love flowing constantly you have to constantly condition and rechannel yourself.

You cannot correct or chastise a soul in purgatory—to do so only causes them more pain. THEY ARE AWARE OF THEIR SINS. THEY ARE SORRY FOR THEM.

It would not be right for us to torture them by accusing them of their sins—the time for that is gone. On earth chastisement and correction are a necessary part of development, but in purgatory to remind them of their sins is meaningless torture.

We are surrogate Christs WHO HELP CARRY THE CROSS FOR THE OTHER SOUL. It is reparation, not accusation. It is bearing pain, not inflicting it. In all the increases of faith, hope and charity I mentioned, although I am not feeling pain per say, it is WORK, and work has always some discipline involved.

Our love for them must be true, not sentimental or mushy. It must be love in action, not a patronizing pity. They are pitiful if none on earth loves them. But if someone does—you—they are no longer to be pitied. They are getting help by your masses, prayers and sacrifices. Don’t pity—love.

My discipline is being developed. Without discipline you cannot do these souls much good. It is a complete discipline of the spirit, mind and body. I must curb myself constantly. If I did not curb myself how could I help someone who is being punished for not curbing himself in life?

E.F. FEELS it when I do wrong, when I fall, indulge or fail to make sacrifices. It takes discipline just to REMEMBER these souls! When there is no physical contact or evidence, how do you keep your MIND on them? That is discipline itself. It is a contemplative mystical ministry. I can see why Mary infused me with poverty, obedience and chastity just before this started. Without these I would be tied to the world and I must be tied only to the next.

This ministry gives me a focal point, makes me constantly tear myself away from vain activity and focuses my mind on the eternal. I am becoming innumerably spiritually RICH by this ministry.

E.F.: E.F. complained how he had wasted his life. He could have helped so many people while he was living. I reminded him that when he reaches heaven he’ll be able to help lots of people, and he said:


Later I told him how lucky he was having been sued by those two girls and all the other things he went through as that shortened his time in purgatory and again he repeated his first statement.

I added:

“Just think—if you hadn’t suffered so much, you might have been lost.”

Sometimes when I ask him things I draw a blank. He simply doesn’t know many things even about himself and the little advice I ask for myself is often very difficult for him. My light (Highest) said that in that state they are very underprivileged and are so in need they can give very little. Besides, E.F.’s gift was not one of intellect, which is another reason I draw blanks.

I asked my light about E.F. losing his beauty and it said:

“Drugs, booze and broads. Dissipation. His conscience convicted him. He was sick and he knew it, and unless there was some kind of deterrent he would have been done for spiritually. Losing his looks was part of the solution. In that sense, he allowed his own dissipation.”


10/15/81 Thursday




PRELIMINARY DREAM: First I see a man sitting on the stoop of a building next to mine, with his wife and children. He is pale, wearing a sort sleeved white shirt, and I think of him as the super of my building.

He looks anemic and weak, but has a peaceful look about him. The children are there in spirit only. I come up to him and say:

“Can you paint my apartment again? It’s been four years.”

He thinks, then says:

“Only two bedrooms.” I sense that this work on the two rooms would exhaust all his energy. I envision my dark bedroom—the storage one—and I think I will have him make it white, all except the wooded scene covering one wall. Will he have the strength to do the ceiling? Perhaps he could. The other room is not so bad.

DREAM: E.F. and I go to a motel room, which I feel is private—later find out is not so private.

E.F. is on top of me on a bed and seems to have been making love to me for a long time. He is kissing me very ardently with French kisses, but there is nothing gross or vulgar about this; the feeling is one of the essences of love.

I have had my eyes closed, but his are open. After a while mine open and we gaze into each other’s eyes, and this stimulates both of us more. His eyes are light green, but are so close things are a bit blurred.

As soon as our eyes meet this overwhelming feeling overtakes both of us—call it communication—and I begin to take a more active part in this lovemaking. I start kissing him in ways he never knew about, French kisses, and in spite of all this that has been going on my breath seems very fresh and clean and tasting and smelling good. My tongue is extremely important here.

Right after this I become aware that my hands are downstairs where his penis would be, although I do not feel his penis. There is no sensation in that department of myself or of him. When he notices my hands are down there he reaches down and pulls out his balls which have been underneath and draws them out and places them in my hands. After a while something seems not quite right, but he doesn’t say anything, and I say:

“ARE YOU IN PAIN?” His head down on the pillow of the bed, he says “Yes.”

He was trying to ENDURE the pain. Now I immediately stop. He is totally exhausted, empty, and is lying on his back, naked, body white, and I am joking with him about being “a bad boy” and playfully spanking his behind.

He says nothing, is listening, but can do nothing—like a man totally wasted after three hours of making love. I tease him about a paternity suit making headlines—joking about my suing him. I am also feeling guilty about the sex act. Do I have sperm inside of me? Is this considered a sex act and thereby have I broken my vow of chastity? But while I worry I am also being very loving and affectionate to E.F..

Now I begin to notice the surroundings. We are at the gas station by the diner, in the office, on a little bed surrounded by picture windows and these black women—one in particular, motioning to me that I have to get back to work.

This woman is saying in gestures that “in FIVE minutes you will be ON,”—meaning my dancing show. I guess I have been on a break. She has been standing outside, waiting, and muttering under her breath, calling me names. She is tremendously mean, and I assume her job is to remind me to get back to work. She is all black with long straight hair tied behind her head, and there is a feeling of hate from her.

I am very apologetic. I guess I’ve been on a break and didn’t notice the time. I break away from E.F. and look for my slippers (the new black ones, I’m glad I don’t have the old green ones anymore) and I will rush back to work.

MEANING: This first part shows E.F. and I symbolically as husband and wife. Children “in spirit” will be those we are destined to help (bear) together. These are FRUITS OF LOVE.

He is pale, anemic, of good will (white shirt), which is his condition of weakness and lack of spiritual blood in purgatory.

This vision hearkens back to the time in the day WHEN I ASKED E.F. TO HELP ME. It was just an off-the-cuff request, something said as a prayer out of habit more than anything. He took me seriously!

The second part shows the act of love actually being consummated between myself and E.F. What is depicted graphically in sensual terms was an act of spirit and words (the tongue being very important.) Rich in symbols, the dream actually visualizes mundane physical actions—which however, on the inside, produced RICH results. For instance, the eye contact is mental communion—how we mean un- or semi-conscious, while open and staring into each other—more conscious. In fact, we are so close mentally, the dream depicts we BLUR into each other. This is the union of minds, occupying the same space.

The dream shows the love that passed between E.F. and myself the preceding day. It shows the physical surroundings where our union took place—outside, during a walk through a park to a distant shopping center where I had to pass the gas station mentioned. I was TALKING to E.F. the whole way. It was the first time I took a significant walk since being mentally united to him. It was like an outing together—us being outside together, not private, for a change.

The dream also shows my severe guilt and the person who caused it—my mother—seen as a demonic woman. Not only am I guilty about having sex, but having AFFECTION! In other words, my mother left, within my own mind, a complex, which drove me to constant work, and which forbade me interiorly to have love, sex or affection.

This feeling of guilt pervaded me throughout my whole ministry to E.F. because I ENJOYED IT SO MUCH! I kept hearing inside me a thought saying that I was dilly-dallying—that I must get back to WORK! But this was the highest, most sublime work I could have done!

Love is work—especially when it is to a soul in purgatory!

My mother was a TASKMAKER who made me feel throughout my life that I was created to work. I was not encouraged to date or socialize—I was UNDESERVING of the consolation of affection and love. So severe was this complex that it carries over to my work for souls in purgatory!

The WORK that I was driven to was religious work—praying, writing. I was driven from task to task—my dead mother still a “demonic” part of my mind! And when I felt LOVE and AFFECTION from even a disembodied soul in purgatory, because it was PLEASURE, I felt guilty.

TALKING WITH E.F.: After I woke up I said to E.F.:

“Thank you for making love to me. It was wonderful.” He was real excited and said:


I assured him over and over again how much I liked it and how grateful I was, and he was ecstatic with joy.

Since last night I am able to see better the generous side of E.F. Yesterday doubts passed through my mind. Before I asked him to help me, I was thinking: “Maybe he will do to me what he did to all those women—get what he wants and then leave me behind, going to heaven and not helping me or caring about me.

Oh well, so what? Whatever he does, grateful or not, I must save him from this purgatory. This is what GOD wants. This is why God gave me this ministry. It isn’t for my earthly pleasure or personal gain. He must have READ MY MIND and answered my doubts. My soul also said: in his defense:

“75% of the women E.F. had sex with were not attractive by his standards. It was out of his generosity or charity that he gave them his body—to accommodate THEIR wants. In the beginning he mostly made love to only the women he was attracted to. But after a while, when he became RICH and FAMOUS, his reputation as a lover increased, women wanted to USE him as a stepping stone. They figured that by making love with him he would do something for them.

They asked HIM to have sex by their actions. Going to him, being there, making themselves available under circumstances, which he could not refuse, they were asking him to have sex.

In the beginning, it was not such a strain on him. But after a while it became a HABIT just like anything else—he was hooked. It is important to remember that it was not E.F. who forced himself on these women, but they who placed themselves at his disposal in order to get ahead and prove their point—that E.F., the great star and lover, wanted THEM.

Our relationship has made much progress from the beginning, when I had to appear as a native girl three times in a row before he would talk to me. Today he said:

“You have done much to give me courage.”

Yes, they need courage in purgatory. I’ve been working real hard today to charge him up.

Regarding his boat, E.F. said:


My soul (Highest) said it was his way of escaping the pressures of life, all his problems. He always saw a boat and the sea as a refuge since he was little and grew up by the water spending some of his happiest times there. He suffered more than he would ever admit to anyone; work, women, all the situations. His gaiety, charm, these were inborn traits. His talents were weapons to get ahead along in life. His talents did not give him peace of mind or inner joy, only made people think he was having fun all the time, (and people hate you when they think you are always happy, irresponsible, immoral, etc), and so, he was hated by many, especially men.

He was desired by women, but for the wrong reasons. These people did not satisfy his longing for true love. His lust made it impossible for him to relate to a woman in any way but sexually, so that left a great gap in his life. Even those who might have given him some satisfaction, he couldn’t receive it—his mind wasn’t with it.

I asked E.F., “How did it feel when you were carousing with your friends?”

He said:


Yes, TIME. The thought of all the time they misused and wasted, committing sins and faults instead of doing good, gives them much pain. I myself am more than ever conscious of the treasure of TIME. In purgatory all one can do is sit and wait.

He also said:


This is definitely a ministry in reverse. He is teaching me as I minister to him. How would I know how I’m doing unless I had feedback?

That’s why I asked Jesus to have communication with this ministry. Without communication you lose your drive. That’s why it’s so hard for people to serve God—they don’t RELATE to God—they have no communication with God, and this is where a mystic is way ahead. Few people can be mystics because they don’t want to give up the world—and it takes that.



10/16/81 Friday



Last night I offered myself to the Lord to pay for E.F.’s sins. My soul said there is little to take away from me but my charity will be increased whereby his delivery can be speeded up. (Note: A month from now, not only my charity, but my pain will be greatly increased as I will slide into the final purging before the mystical marriage, called “dark night of the soul.”)

Talking with E.F. today I asked him how he felt and how I could further help him. He said he was feeling better every day, that what he needed was COURAGE—to remind him of the POWER of God, the GREATNESS of God.

I read to him a passage from Mystical City of God, (Ven. Mary of Agreda, Ave Maria Institute, Washington, NJ 07882.) the Coronation, where the angels tell Mary of the Beloved with Whom She will soon be united for all eternity, and when I finished, E.F. said:


I also noticed a passage that pertains to those like him:

“It is well known, that men ordinarily follow these inclinations and passions, unless prevented by special influences.” This is the same as when Bishop Sheen quoted that “dead bodies float downstream.”

I explain to E.F. that I just assumed he knew all about me, as the angels and saints would—but he doesn’t. (Note: Yet I know now that even the ascended do not know all, and we must explain things to them or reveal our minds in order to get their answer.) I understand that I must TELL him certain things about myself, and he says:

“I would love to hear more about you. I love talking with you.”

I am feeling good and ask E.F. about his feelings. He says, “I feel STRANGE. I feel things I’ve never felt before.”

Yes, his consciousness must be changing. The light of God is entering his soul more and more. It is the beginning of REBIRTH.

I found out something very important—how one can get the plenary indulgence for souls every single day, as long as one receives Holy Communion on that day and also prays for the Pope. You have to release all your merits, of your whole life, for the sake of the souls. I did this more than a year ago but forgot about it and also did not know about the plenary indulgence. Now I renewed it with fervor and we will be cooking on all burners. I am saying the rosary everyday for E.F., which makes him very happy.


10/17/81 Saturday


During the night I made contact with Bl. Maximillian Kolbe. I prayed to him last night and have been carrying a picture of him in my purse for years. He told me how to help E.F.: pay special attention to all the feasts on the calendar, especially Our Mother’s feast days. He showed me the calendar.

His spiritual power is tremendous. I felt as if I was with St. Francis himself. Before I prayed I did not realize that he instituted the Knights of the Immaculate on the 17th of Oct.—which is today, and also that he was beatified on Oct. 17th, 1971, which makes this the tenth anniversary of his beatification. No wonder he was willing to help me!—We get special favors from the angels and saints on their special days.

(Note: Not long after this, Bl. Kolbe was elevated to sainthood.)

E.F.: I asked E.F. how he felt today and he said: “much better,” and that: “I AM GETTING CLOSER TO YOUR HEART.”

He said he FELT more love from me and this brought him closer to my heart—which says a lot for the devotion to The Sacred Heart.

St. Margaret Mary’s feast day was yesterday and I was reading up on her.

I finished reading the book Two Lives of E.F. yesterday. His sufferings were appalling. I don’t know how he made it as long as he did.

A young man saw me reading a book—is a big fan of E.F.’s and started raving about him, but for the wrong reasons—(booze, broads, drugs.) I asked him and several other people I met to pray for E.F.’s soul. This made him happy.

(Note: Looking back, I doubt whether such a person’s prayers would help much, even if he did pray. Disposition in prayer is all important.)


10/19/81 Monday



I was with E.F.’s wife and friends. The wife told me she was to meet him; he was picking her up on the street near the Madison Diner. I told her I wanted to see him too (perhaps I don’t even know him), and we go as a group. I am thinking he is so undependable, maybe he won’t show up.

But when we get there, a nice car like a white Cadillac pulls up and E.F. gets out. I sense it was a heroic effort for him to get here to pick up his wife. He looks tall, suave and gallant—not as good as he used to at one time, but much better since the last time I’ve seen him in purgatory.

We are near the Madison Diner. It is night, and as he walks over to us toward the middle of the street I run over to him and impetuously and unexpectedly throw my arms around his neck and start kissing him. He is not strong and startled and I fear the vehemence of my love may overwhelm him and make him pass out. The kisses are getting so fervent, also, that I fear his wife may be getting jealous.

In another dream I am training in the gym—which is also close to the Madison Diner. I am wearing almost black glasses, the kind aviators wear, very macho with no frames. I seem to be strong and very cheerful. My hair is flying. I am doing squats with free weights, 135 pounds, and squatting all the way to the floor, which makes the guys at the gym look at me and comment how strong I am.

Usually this much weight is too much for me to go all the way down with, but here I am doing it, and other exercises as well—breezy, cheerful and smiling. The guys said I had strong thighs.

ANALYSIS: Two dreams explain the same thing. I did not go, in reality, to the gym this day. What I did was PRAY and my prayers were said UNDER DURESS, or in other words, weight on my mind. I have not been feeling well (Note: this is the descent into the dark night beginning) and my spiritual-intellectual vision has been impaired. Yet my attitude is good (breezy, cheerful) so with a good disposition under duress we gather most fruit.

The fruit is shown in the kisses, the vehement love, which I explain I fear might overwhelm E.F. and make him pass out. This is but a symbol—a soul would not pass out in purgatory by love. On E.F.’s side, it also shows his cooperation, which is HEROIC. This ministry is truly a two-way street. E.F. is pouring forth much effort, to project himself to me, as I am trying to project myself to him.

Both communication and love take ENERGY. When we talk through mental telepathy, we project both ways. This is not automatic. It takes STRENGTH. That is why the dream shows E.F. doing his part—showing up to meet his wife, which is in reality myself probably in a lower form, the conscious self, while perhaps my higher self (unconscious) does the actual projection. In the dream E.F. was dressed up and wearing an ascot, which again shows effort and preparation—wanting to look good is wanting to make a good impression.

I used the example of squats because they are considered the most difficult exercise in bodybuilding repertoire. And the most difficult exercise in the spiritual repertoire, so to speak, is to bless God in times of hardship; to project love when one feels pain.



10/20/81 Tuesday



Last night I asked my soul how E.F. was doing and it said well, except he was DESPONDENT because I had not spoken to him all day!

I immediately tuned into E.F. and apologized to him and his voice came in like a tape recorder on super slow, all foggy and out of shape, until it finally sounded normal enough for me to hear him.

He was CRYING and sounded just as he used to when we first started talking real desperate and insecure. I asked him why he was so upset—since grace was reaching him, and wasn’t he getting better?


He said he knew I was praying for him and thinking about him, but he missed my talking—the personal contact.

Today I took his life story book and held it to my heart for five minutes. He exclaimed:


This speech of his was made with much emotion. I held the book there about five minutes, until I felt he was totally revived.


I went to work in a very large, grand theater where my dressing room is on the third floor, while my work is down about two or three levels.

Before time I set up a display of my pictures in the area where I would be performing so the men could look at them in anticipation. The pictures are where the stage would be. They are all standing around gazing at them. I notice the one where I look like a Madonna, bare-breasted, looking very wistfully and kindly into the camera. These men are very quiet and respectful, but someone in the management tells them to go back to their seats, saying:

“This is not a picture gallery,” and obediently they go back to their seats.

I am walking down as it is nearly show time. Unfortunately, there is a man up here who is giving me a creepy, dangerous feeling. I am wearing a garment which is white and gold, predominantly gold, a skirt with a rubberized top, which I now pull up to hide my breasts. I make a mental note to wear a robe in the future when going downstairs. It is because of the fact that we are all alone here that I am afraid and can’t wait to go down where there are more people.

I start hurrying down, while he stands at the balustrade looking down at me. I descend so quickly that I do not walk, I am in the air and jumping or floating or sailing down when suddenly all becomes black. This man—who is demonic—has by some mysterious force suspended my flight in midair.

I am frightened and try to call out, but in this state I am speechless and nothing comes out. I have no body and no voice. I try several times to call out and several thoughts and names come to mind. Finally, on about the second or third attempt with all my strength I pronounce the name JESUS! not only mentally, but physically, and this wakes me up. As I come out of this state, I have no idea where I am and if I’m alone—but getting my bearings am relieved to see I am alone.

SECOND DREAM: I am out of town, going on a job, and I arrive at this small club or bar where I am supposed to dance about two hours a night. I know I am strong as during most of the week working here I’ve danced two hours nonstop.
Everything here suits me. I am paid by the night. I love work and jobs are scarce. I know these people are poor and cannot afford to pay me more than for two hours of dancing.

The manager apologizes for this place being “a dump,” but I tell him it is fine, I’m very happy to be working, never liked fancy places. He is dressed in a nice three-piece suit, is thin and seems to have long hair.

One night I have a break in the middle of the night. I go to the kitchen, where food is served during the day and now is all locked up. I am hungry and thirsty and I know they won’t mind if I help myself.

As I come into the kitchen, I see a man sitting in a very small booth to the left, almost asleep. I surmise he is one of the help. His skin is yellow and burned-looking and his right arm is withered away or mangled right to the bone. As soon as I enter, he gets very uncomfortable and leaves.

I climb up on the counter to reach on a high-up pantry for food. I don’t understand their system—how they put things away and where, so things are falling when I try to get them. I see an already-pealed orange, and eat half of it, when the manager comes in wanting to help. I climb off the counter and sit with him on my right.

He gets a waitress to serve us. But, strangely, there is no room where we are for anyone to squeeze through—as I am facing the sink, but the waitress is there invisibly, so that is no problem.

I see some toasted rye bread, which appeals to me, but neither this nor the orange are on my diet, since I’m eating almost all protein.

The manager, who is very kind, asks me what I want. I ask him what they have. He gives me a list of things which includes tunafish salad.

“Oh, yea, tuna salad is part of my diet,” I say, and they make me a sandwich with the rye bread and tuna. I think of asking for only the tuna, but then think it’ll be alright this time.

THIRD DREAM: The last dream I am sort of at the same, yet another job. The scene is improved. It is right after my performance, and I'm piddling around, doing little things, thinking it’s a break and not realizing I am finished for the night.

One large room is like a conference room with huge tables, and people—mostly women—are filing in for a meeting. It gives me the feeling of a town meeting to talk about what’s good for the town. This is a small country place, and I am amazed at how many pretty women are here. I am about to say so, but then realize some of the others might get jealous. I then notice some men look rather nice as well and say:

“I am amazed at how many attractive people you have in this town.”

One of the ladies sitting on the left, wearing a dark red bouffant wig, smiles at a man across from her to the right (whom I do not seee,) and says:

“Yea, that’s true.”

She’s admiring the beauty of this one special man. I seam to be sitting at this table at the head by accident, like I just happened to be there before they came in, and since I am not a part of this meeting I now move away and go about my other business.

I am busy doing little things, like getting glasses of water in the bathroom. There is a candle here and an ashtray with a burned-out cigarette, just the stub. I take one of the glasses of water and put it near the display of this plant.

This plant is a huge weed-like plant, like we used to have on the farm I would weed out, and when I didn’t weed it, it would grow about three or four feet tall and have numerous seeds, the seeds falling out all over the place. It looked sort of like a tree, and here has an earthen pot. It is not as unattractive as that weed, but it is certainly no decorative-looking hothouse item.

There is a candle near the plant, and this is what I’m concerned about—that this candle will not scorch the plant, which it seems to have already done. I open a window in back of this to allow a cool breeze in, and the glass of water I put nearby in case things get too hot or a fire starts—I can douse it with the water.

But then I realize I am finished with my work. I go over to my father, who has been sitting by the wall observing the meeting. The feeling is he gave me a ride here and is just sitting peacefully watching. I say:
“Father, why didn’t you tell me I was finished for the night and it’s getting late?”

He looks at his watch and acts like there is nothing to rush about. He seems to be pleased, in a quiet way, with what has been going on.

ANALYSIS: First dream—The pictures (where I have set up a display) are PROJECTED THOUGHTS which I have sent down to the souls ahead of time, before my mystical descent. Someone from the management controlling them, preventing them from enjoying these pictures underlines the purgatorial/chastising state of their mentalities, where they are prevented from having much fun. The fact that first I project THOUGHTS and later DESCEND shows a difference between the two types of contact. The latter is more substantial—astral, etheric or bilocation. The management is no doubt here an angel. Purgatory is also depicted by flights DOWN.

The man that tries to stop me by demonic power establishes the fact that I must fight demonic forces through this ministry. It is another part of my learning process.

Second dream—The bar/club is purgatory. I like working here, I exert myself. Christ tests me to see if I really want this ministry—if I mind doing the work. (The manager with long hair, Christ, is the central character in the ministry to purgatory since they are lifted by his merits which we release.)

The dream establishes the fact that I WANT to be in purgatory and am content with its rewards (which are not lucrative by earthly standards: Christ apologizes for this place being “a dump!”). I am learning how to gain sustenance for them by filling my own soul with grace. This is the use of indulgences. I am working for the souls (shown as dancing), filling myself with grace and light (through Christ) in order to feed them. But this search is a matter of discovery and experimentation. Christ and I are assisted through the ministry of an angel (waitress).

It is interesting to note that the USUAL GATHERING PROCESS FOR FOOD is in the day—“the restaurant is open in the day.” This means I gather light throughout the day through my CONSCIOUS activities. With this spiritual strength I then propel myself down to purgatory, There is the mystical contact, where I “see” what is going on, and the transmission of grace. I am not sure if these happen at one and the same time.

The soul with the mangled arm does not reveal its identity to me—but the fact that it retreats shows it is not one of the souls close to union with God. (It is a fact that the light of God, which is Love, can burn and hurt the soul THAT IS NOT LOVE. That is precisely the purgative state—both on earth and in eternity. )

The orange represents FRUIT or fulfillment/satisfaction. Later, the BREAD and FISH no doubt are the Blessed Sacrament.

My resistance to carbohydrates shows the unfamiliarity, as a mortal, to spiritual conceptions and nourishments. I am used to more “material” food which is seen as PROTEIN. (In reality, I really was on a protein diet—but this is only used as sense-image material to make a point.) Now I must adjust to a higher form of food, which shows my adjustment to and acceptance of carbohydrates.

Third dream—The third dream is a synopsis of my work, showing God, the souls, and myself all together. God “gave me a ride there” or transported me there—seen as my father. Although my father is in purgatory and will be delivered later, I don’ t think this is him but God.

The two souls that are mentioned—the redheaded lady (redhead shows suffering, here of the mind; if it were a reddish body, of the body ) and the men she is admiring are Rev. Verna Talbot, my former mentor, and Errol Flynn. I do not realize she is Rev. Talbot at the time of the dreaming. I am also not sure if the beauty she is admiring is Errol’s former body or spiritual state—but I think logically must be his soul—which proves he is getting better. In fact, ALL THE SOULS ARE GETTING BETTER because that is the most notable fact of this meeting—that there are so many attractive people here! The rest of the souls in the “town hall” meeting are those in purgatory I am helping unawares. They are linked to me by ties of love and knowledge (kinship, though not always of flesh only).

The dream shows me at the head of the meeting “by accident.” Then I move away to do “little things.” This points out how assistance to souls is not done in a grandiose manner—being a great leader—but by humbling oneself.

The treelike plant that I am concerned with must be my own body, since it is in an earthen pot. That indicates body—“spiritual treasure in earthen vessels.” But again I am concerned with my soul as the distributor of merits—the numerous SEEDS which spiritually are lights. The burned-out cigarette represents a soul in purgatory, or a dead person. The leaves of a cigarette were once alive—now it is “burned out”—just a stub.

The candle represents the love and justice of God which chastises a soul in a purgatorial state. Since I am helping these souls, I am sharing their state.

The glass of water represents grace and the open window with the breeze coming in (wind) is the Holy Spirit. This entire vision represents my central concern: My soul, the souls in purgatory; how we must suffer because of his justice but this suffering is tempered by grace and the love of the Holy Spirit.

Suddenly I realize I have done all I can for one night. I ask God my father if I can have a rest. He is pleased with my work. It definitely shows that GOD -not any normal psychic sense—is responsible for my contacts with purgatory.


10/21/81 Wednesday



This morning I said to E.F.: “How would you like to have had my daughter [as your daughter]?”

“She is worse than one of my wives,” he said.

Then I said, “How would you like to have had my mother for a mother?”

“I would have paid a million dollars NOT to have had her,” he said.

About his own mother he said that she had been right, if he had listened to her a lot of bad things wouldn’t have happened.

I asked him how be was feeling this morning and he was chipper, saying how well he felt, and how was I? I knew he was being brave, as how well could he be feeling in purgatory? It is his courage that made him speak this way.

I asked E.F. what he wanted to talk about.

He said, “The sailing was a good thing and I think about it when I can. I try to think about friends who I thought would console me (sadly) ,but they don’t give me much consolation—not like you do.”

I said, “That’s because they're not religious. That’s the greatest consolation.”

He said,” IT IS THE ONLY CONSOLATION as I realize now. Anytime that you talk to me it helps. Your prayers help me, and any conversations you have with me help me. my interests are not exactly the same as when I was on earth; the bad things I did I am no longer interested in, of course. Thinking of them makes me feel bad, so I don't.”

He gets upset when people mistreat me. A man was supposed to bring a washing machine upstairs but wouldn’t.

E.F. said he “wasn’t worth his salt, and that he would have brought it up if he had seen a lady like me.

I said to him, “What if you had been a man?” He said, “I would have made him help.”

This evening I read from Scripture for a half hour for E.F. out loud.

He said, “I feel stronger—I feel more life.” You could tall by his expression.

I tried to follow a schedule today. Prayers, rosary, reading and exercise all in sets. Was just reading in The Glories of Mary how just hearing her name pronounced relieves the souls in purgatory. I recited her name and then asked E.F. how it made him feel.

He said, “Now that I am with your mind and hear the name of MARY I feel tremendous relief in the knowledge that I have a Divine Mother, that I am not abandoned, that she is One who cares for me and will help me; not someone to revile me or hurt me. Yes, I feel tremendous consolation that I have such a mother, and she really is mine.”


Talking to E.F. for quite a while this evening I asked him, “Is there anything you would like me to type regarding you?”

He said, “Tell them those things written about me saying that I was a Nazi and homosexual were not true. I was totally taken up with my lust for women and I had no attraction to men whatsoever. I could only relate to a man as a friend, believe you me.”

Earlier I asked him of all the things I did for him which, other than Holy Communion, has helped him the most.

He said, “When you do something for me directly, such as saying the rosary, or speaking to me, that helps me the most. Yes, I hear you when you say the rosary for me and it makes ma feel good. It is DIRECT communication which helps the most.”

We have been getting closer. He sees into my mind more now, my thinking and understanding, and he said, “I am almost your intellectual equal now.”

I said, “How is it that, when I first met you a week ago, you knew so little?”

“Because I am engulfed in your mind, and every day I am getting more and more inside you. I now understand things and situations concerning you that I did not know before, events, etc. After I ascend into heaven we will not be talking as often because you will not be so worried about me. But I will look over you. I will be more intelligent, able to help you more and give you better advice.”

He also said, of the things he did that were bad, women were the worst:

“By far my association with women was worse than drugs and booze, which ran neck to neck [neck and neck] after that, because with women I hurt another person—it was just terrible. I’D RATHER DIE THAN LIVE MY LIFE OVER AGAIN.”

This last part he said after I asked him if there were any women that he could think of which gave him consolation. He repeated in consternation about three times:


He said his wives do think of him, but only the bad things be did—his unfaithfulness. He added, “THEY NEVER THINK ABOUT ALL THE MONEY I LEFT THEM, THAT’s THE WAY MORTALS ARE, THEY NEVER THINK OF THE BLESSINGS.”

I asked him about MY husband and he said he did a very evil thing, forcing a beautiful young girl to marry him and then leaving her penniless. He said, “HE IS PAYING FOR IT NOW. OH, HOW HE IS PAYING” (in purgatory).

I asked him if the souls there communicate with one another and he said no, it was every man for himself so to speak, there was no communication.


How he felt when I inundated him with kisses:

“It felt like when you get a letter from home and when you know with certainty that that person loves you, and you feel a warm glow in your heart and mind, and you feel almost transformed by love. (He chuckles.) I KNEW you loved me, but I didn’t know you could TRANSMIT it so well. It was overwhelming.”

“How does it hurt you when they write those evil things about you which are lies?”

“It hurts because they ARE lies, and they make people hate me and feel a sort of contempt instead of loving me and praying for me, and I feel it to some degree. I do not feel all of it, that would hurt too much, so God preserves me, but I do feel some of it.”

“What hurts you in the book The Two Lives of E.F.?”


“If I had my life to do over again and wrote my life over, I would emphasize my sufferings more. I would let the public know how people really hurt me; how my wives hurt me more so than anyone, by exploiting me financially, how men hurt me by being rude to me and having no SYMPATHY for me; and how my own conscience bothered me because I knew I was doing wrong.

“My wives, for the most part, didn’t care about me. They were only out to get what they could and they felt I deserved anything I got as a punishment for being unfaithful.

“I was a sick man, addicted to my needs and wants, and not out of malice or hate did I do my wicked deeds. More often than not, I wanted to be a reformed man but, time and time again, I could not summon my strength, and I always reverted to my old ways.

“Rasa, thank you for writing this. I would like you to read the Bible to me now.”

When I almost finished reading, I asked E.F. how he liked it and he said, “It is music to my ears. It is better than hearing the highest Seraphim.”

It wasn’t difficult for me to read today. I am getting used to this reading out loud and it makes me feel real good, too.





Speaking to E.F. today, I said, “If you had your Life to live over, and as you entered Hollywood BEFORE drugs and before you became really addicted to women, what would you have done differently?”

He said: “I would have found a good woman who loved me and settled down, and aside from my Hollywood activities would have led a decent, normal life, with the procreation of children as my primary concern. This would have developed my personality to its fullest. At the same time, contact with a good, spiritual woman would have brought out the goodness in me and we could have all been happy. My mistake was marrying L.D. [Lily Damita]. It was a physical attraction and our marriage precipitated by the demands of the studio. This was, believe it or not, the beginning of my downfall.

I had always loved women. I needed the maternal love of a good woman. My heart had always been with my mother. Although I thought I was intellectually with my father, I craved my mother’s love. I feared my mother’s reprisals because I did not want to disappoint her; my father being less critical, he was easier to live with. But through women I searched for the long-lost love of my mother. My heart was not with men, only my conversation, which was never fully satisfying. But I met the wrong woman and got hitched to her. If that hadn’t happened I would have had a chance.

It is not good to get started on the wrong foot. My life with Lily was too much passion and too much sex. The child was her idea and only a means to an end for her, so she could procure alimony from me as she knew our breakup was imminent—sort of the situation of you and your husband, Rasa; he used the creation of a child to hitch you to him in order to make you his dutiful slave. Not exactly the right requirements for parenthood.

This life with Lily was the beginning of a pattern that would repeat itself throughout the course of my life. One thing led to another, and I always got hitched with wives who wanted to use me for my money. I got hooked because in spite of everything, I always had a conscience, and this put me in a vulnerable position. I felt guilty and wanted somehow to make amends for all my bad deeds. When I got Nora pregnant I felt obligated to marry her and take care of the child, although the whole idea was not mine; I only wanted, in the first place, to have a little fun. You see, Rasa, I was not very intelligent.

Oh, Rasa, my life was so awful. Let my Life be an example to men of what they should NOT do. Hedonism is a self-destroying concept. It leads to all manner of destruction, including one’s career and one’s character and morals. It decays one from within, and leads to an erosion of one’s body, soul and mind. I could have had a brilliant career my entire life and lived to a ripe old age. I could have been exceedingly handsome even in my fifties, whereas by then I was a wasted old man, my health broken. My acting would have improved with age and I could have achieved real respectability as an actor, but instead, I was the subject of jokes and innuendoes. I was the talk of the town, but all the bad talk.

It got worse and worse, as I said to you before. Why do men drink? Why do they play cards and carouse al1 night? Why do they let their morals go down the drain? It is for lack of thinking. If they THOUGHT more and did less they would be better off. They are intent on using their bodies and showing their bodies and their masculine strength and ego. They want to be macho men. This is faulty thinking, because strength is the strength of the soul, and they must learn to use the powers of their soul properly, and in the respective order. They must calculate their lives and their worth and their time; make plans for good, and make amends for the evil and then they will start out on the right foot.

If I had started practicing my faith (yes, I did have faith) early in life, I would have been way ahead. My faith came later when I realized the error of my ways, as all I had done came to naught. Then I KNEW I had to reform, but the strength, physical strength, wasn’t there, but my desires and intentions were honorable. It was tragic, Rasa, something to cry about, only I could not cry, being a man.

I wasted my life. I could have done so much good. I could now be sitting in heaven instead of in purgatory where I am. If I had lived a decent life, raised a family, settled down, my life would have bean pleasing to God and my way to God more easy. But because of the error of my ways God had to chastise me before He would accept me into his company. And here, Rasa, is where you find me. Here is where you come along to deliver me, to do the praying I neglected to do in life. You will make up for my waste of time that I could have spent on my knees or in church or at home with my children, and you will make up for my defects. This will satisfy God’s justice and I will be free, a liberated man. And we will be friends forever. You are my last wife and my best wife, Rasa. Why didn’t I have you first?”

I asked E.F:

“When did you realize that you ware no longer in control of things?”

He said:

“An intangible feeling of doing wrong pervaded me. I was fooling myself for a long time, telling myself that I wasn’t addicted to drugs or alcohol. The part about the women I never realized as an addiction until you informed me in purgatory about the revelations of St. Thomas. I never had known that SEX ITSELF could be addictive, that one could be hooked on sex. I thought that it was a natural, normal craving and that all or most men had it, and having a lot of it was an indication of normal virility. The truth, somehow, was never unmasked to me in my lifetime.

“But my mother knew, she had always known that it was evil, like a disease, but she never explained it to me. That’s why I was afraid of her. I was afraid that, by her influence, I would be afraid to have sex with girls and become, thereby, weak and impotent, a sissy or a faggot. It was as if my mother were trying to destroy me at the core or the libido. I had no idea she was trying to help me; it was a lack of understanding on my part and a lack of worldliness on hers in the sense that she did not know how to explain to anyone directly the evils of having sex. She seemed repressive rather than enlightening. But, believe it or not, that helped my conscience because the things she said stayed with me all my life and even though her words did not prevent my actions they stayed within me and made me ashamed of myself.

“The problem was, I could not relate to my mother, and she could not relate to me. We could never sit down and talk to each other like my father and I did. My father never discouraged me from having sex. He looked to the external, like most men, and not to the erosion of character from within. He thought Mother was prudish to make a virile young man refrain from having sexual desires. In short, he was proud of my escapades and felt I was a chip off the old block; that I did things he could have done had he the talent, makeup and opportunity. No, he was no deterrent to my crimes.
“As Father was no help, only Mother helped me, indirectly. If only she had bean as strong and knowing as you, Rasa, she would have straightened me out. I would have listened to you because you would have found a way to make me listen; you would have opened my eyes to see the truth, the way you explained it to me in purgatory and the way you are showing me now by your mind and example. If only I had had your mind when I was alive.”

ANSWERS TO VARIOUS QUESTIONS I ASKED E.F.: “My mother did not understand my personality. I was rambunctious. She overreacted to some of my actions. I WAS NAUGHTY BUT NICE. I did not remove myself from her company completely, but I avoided her as much as possible.
. . .”

“I would have liked to have been an upstanding young man. IF ONLY PEOPLE KNEW NOT TO GIVE IN TO THEIR SEX DESIRES IN THE BEGINNING! If only they knew how important it is to curb the desires of the flesh.

“Rasa, now I know it is the world, the flesh and the devil; they are our enemies. Giving in to any one of those completely will kill us. In my case, it was the flesh. I had some vanity, but it wasn’t terrible—I knew I was good looking and to deny that I would have to have been a fool.

As far as the devil, I never wanted any part of him, at least not in a way I was aware of. He must have tricked me, with his cunning, in getting me addicted, knowing or hoping it would lead to sin and my ultimate destruction. I shudder to think how dangerously close I came to hell at times. It was the penance that saved me. . . .”

“People who seek pleasure never want chastisement, and so, of course, if I had known what it would lead to, I would have avoided hedonism. But more than that, Rasa, if I had known more about God, I would have sought him. . . .”

“My lifestyle prevented me (from seeking God). My way of living left no room for religious worship. None of my friends that I fell in with were religious; we ware an irreligious bunch of carousers, wasting our time, the time I wish I now had but don’t.

Here I can do nothing—it is too late—but only wait. My freedom of will is gone, and without that, one cannot do either right or wrong. How great is the gift of the will. When one is in the flesh one always makes choices, but now, since there are no choices, there is no merit. Merit comes from choices. Oh, why was I such a fool! . . .”

“Oh, Rasa, I have so much love to give. And the world is such a terrible place. The love I have now I always had. Believe me when I tell you—to you and your friends who read this—that I was never evil. I always had love in my heart and I always wanted to do good.

“Men, in particular, misunderstand me. They identify with the evil aspects of my behavior. They revel in the thought of my drunkenness and wanton sex life. They fail to see the inner man, the man I really was.

“I am counting on you, Rasa, to tell people what I really was inside, the love and goodness and tenderness I had inside.

“Tell people I had a romantic nature. This you could say I was born with; it was innate. I was adventurous. I liked taking chances, and I was outgoing, zealous and rambunctious. I was not crass, callous, mean or vulgar, although I might have seemed to be in some situations caused by my later depreciation of self, character and career. . . .”

“Are we humans all that different? Doesn’t our human nature unite us in our common goal for God and happiness? It is only in the attaining of happiness that we differ. My way was misunderstood by my mother. She was too young and had little experience, and had no relatives to guide her. She reacted too strongly to the quirks of my behavior and I COULDN’T MODIFY MYSELF TO SUIT HER DISCIPLINE. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN DESTROYING WHAT WAS INNATE WITHIN MYSELF, LIKE KILLING A TALENT.

“Mother had her idea of what a good boy should be, and I wasn’t it. If only she had relaxed a bit and accepted me for what I was and not try to change me so much, I would have come along. And then I would not have been so eager to run away from home and [would have] stayed under her protective wings a little longer. . . .

“If I had my life to do over again, I would have stayed away from alcohol completely. What good does it do, and look at the harm! If I had my life to live over again, I would have looked for goodness, virtue in a woman rather than sex appeal. I would have stayed away from drugs.

“I would have taken my career more seriously and made more sacrifices, not staying up late, but going to bed early and getting enough sleep to do a day’s work. When you are young and you have the gift of health you abuse it. Then, when you lose it, you wish you had it back. When I was getting tired, how I longed for the vigor I once had, which I still could have had if I had taken care of myself.

“And who was it that caused me to fall? Who caused my carousing, drinking, drugging and wantonness? Was it society? Was it my friends? Was it the women?

“No, unfortunately, it was myself; nobody twisted my arm! And that is the maddening thing about it—we make the choices. And, especially in my case, I had so much. I was a man, and in this world that counts for something. I had talent and looks. I had it made, but I was a fool.

“Yes, say it, Rasa, I know you don’t want to, but I want you to say this: I WAS AN ASS. I hope this deters other man from copying my faults. This is my message to them from the grave, so to speak: DON’T DO AS I DID—DO AS I SAY. Now I am in a place that compels me, out of love, to warn others.

“If I had my life to live over again, I would strive to be a saint. It is exactly what everyone ought to be—a saint. I know I am considered one by the church in the state I am in now, but I don’t feel like one quite yet. If your prayers keep coming, soon, though, Rasa, I will be totally transformed in Light, and what a glorious day that will be. I will appear to you somehow, radiant with light, and you will be so glad. I can’t wait for that day. Then every pain I ever felt will have been worth the wait.”


10/25/81 Sunday



I said to E.F., “Did you like the rosary I said for you last night?”

“Yes! When you evoked the name of MARY, it gave me great courage and strength. I was very comforted. So few people speak to us here! So few people will take the time to say some comforting words to us. They are so busy going about their active lives; so few people BELIEVE they can contact us. But we listen to al1 that is said about us from the heart. We feel encouraged by good things said, and disheartened by the bad. If no one says a kind word, we feel the same way you would feel on earth if no one ever said a kind word to you. We can feel anyone who loves us, even though we may not have telepathic communication.”

I asked, “What about the Bible I read to you?”

“The Bible is the BEST READING in the world. I shuddered when I heard the name of God mentioned on earth because I associated it with chastisement I was getting for my sins. But now when I hear it I am filled with hope.”

I recited litanies for E.F. and asked for his response to each one.

Here they are:

LITANY OF THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS: “Particularly refreshing. Splendid.”

LITANY OF THE MOST PRECIOUS BLOOD OF JESUS: “It gave me strength, hope, charity and peace. I wish I could drink it—drink it to the drags. I would like to be inebriated in it—would like to feel it flowing through my veins. I have many sentiments about it, one of which is why didn’t I go to Mass more often when I was alive! I feel thirsty for it but yet refreshed because as you read it to me I felt peace. I felt the Blood reaching me in a spiritual way.”

LITANY OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY: “I wish I could make amends now for what I did to my mother. I am more sorry than ever for the way I treated women, now that I see the maternal aspect. No one who truly understands or appreciates their mother could ever be cruel to women, and I was cruel to mine. I feel regret and sorrow, anguish even, for the way I treated women. I feel like crying now. Don’t want to say any more.”

LITANY OF THE SAINTS: “It gave me a feeling of the totality of the church, a wholesome, clean feeling of sin, vice and error being swept away by the grace and power of these souls; the victories they won feel like my own, as I am a part of this whole plan. It makes me feel wonderful to be a part of it, to think that I will soon share in what they have.”

LITANY OF ST. JOSEPH: He also enjoyed this, but his favorite seemed to be the Litany of the Holy Name of Jesus.

Today I told my priest in confession that I received the three graces of poverty, chastity and obedience from Mary and that my ministry was to the souls in purgatory. His response was ZERO. I asked E.F. what he thought about this.

“Rasa, you are a mystic. Do you know how few souls are able to communicate with us? Yes, they hold séances and call my name once in a while, but this gives me a CREEPY feeling. They treat me as if I were a ghost, not a living light waiting to go to heaven with the saints.

“They want my messages. My message is that they should go to church and pray for me, and amend their lives. That’s my message; pray instead of holding séances. Say the rosary together for me and the other souls if you are in a group. The problem with most of these séance people is that they are not religious, and it is RELIGION ALONE which offers consolation here and the LOVE which comes with it; that alone strengthens our hopes, fortifies our faith, and gives us peace of mind and soul.

“It is the religious worship which consoles, not séances. What you are doing is not a séance; it is telepathic communication of love, of loving souls. It is a mystical communication with an introduction from God Himself.

“You prayed to deliver souls and God gave me to you. That is what we need—prayers—not just communications which are based on vanity and idle curiosity. They just want more information to gossip about, these people, just as they gossiped about me in real life.

“Healing is what we need here. We need the Body and Blood of Christ given us through the intercession of friends and well wishers. We need charity. Oh, why don’t people understand? !

“When you pray there is a tranquil feeling upon me. It assuages my fears, quiets my doubts, enlightens my mind. I feel life pouring into my veins, so to speak. Prayer has a tremendous affect on the soul, and well I can feel it now.

“When we are in the flesh, our TRUE STATE OF MIND AND HEART IS MASKED by our earthly passions and inclinations. Now I see how little physical consolation means and how much spiritual works do for the soul. What a difference!”


11/8/81 Sunday



I have a dream about an insignificant girl and a macho, popular boy. He uses this girl and dismisses her—but later, remarkably, he gains in stature from having known this girl. He is interviewed by the press? because he knew her, and this whole thing amazes him. Then they have a fete in a mansion—very elegant, on a polished mahogany table—prayers are being said, and all was started by this girl.


The dream is an analogy between myself and E.F. as if we were both living. I am the type he would have dismissed as insignificant—whereas his earthly stature is greater. And yet, I reach him beyond the grave and help him at this point, and he gains in spiritual stature. The fete and .prayers in our elegant family mansion are the enthronement of The Holy Trinity in my home, where I said a special prayer, had flowers and used a small? table with foil paper on top.

This modest effort produced the profound effect on the soul of E.F. and in essence was vary great. It is the thought that counts. E.F. IS GREATLY IMPROVED, BUT THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL HAVE CONTACT WITH HIM IN THE TANGIBLE WAY.


I am with a man whose wife I know. His wife has bean incarcerated for almost a week, and HE DID NOT EVEN MENTION IT TO ME so I could get her out! He is showing me many pictures of his beautiful wife, yet at the same time holding them back; allowing me only a glance. I keep trying to see the photos, because she is so beautiful. Her hair is gold and face and expression SUBLIME.

I am disturbed about her being in jail, but he seems unconcerned.

In relation to this I see a church and a group of people, including one young man from the choir, attending Mass. I’m part of the group, and real happy over this boy’s piety and progress. We sleep in rooms off to the church. We are poor, but happy, and doing some kind of missionary work. The man and wife also have something to do with this.

Then we are standing in the street across from the old farmhouse. I see a lot of wide open space, and looking into? the sky there, so high up it is frightening to look at, is a house like a tree house—only it is not in a tree—it is suspended by some kind of wires or cables. This house is made of beautiful teakwood. It is dizzying to gaze on it- like looking up at a skyscraper. How could anyone have built their house so high?! How could anyone want privacy so much? I feel it is owned by the same people who formerly owned the farm.

In the next scene, I am with members of a youth gang I once helped. One is with me upstairs, another outside looking in forlornly. Others of the group are standing by a fire engine outside, holding something like my writings—although they can’t read—and trying to cooperate and be happy. The boy outside must be jealous of the one inside, thinking we are making love, but I only invited him up to pray. Outside the boy is trying to smile but I sense great sadness. He is wearing gray. I feel sorry for him.

MEANING: This dream anticipates my mystical Marriage, which is coming soon, after the “dark night of the soul” I am in now.

The dark night is the blackout before final union with God. And so God—the husband of the beautiful lady that is my soul—is showing me only a glance of my future happiness. He is guarding me from the vision of happiness in order to allow me to suffer and attain it.

The TEAKWOOD HOUSE is also my future happiness. It is my state after the marriage, while “the old farmhouse” is always a state of suffering in my dream language. The incarceration is my dark night which I have fallen into since the 16th of November—almost a week since this dream, and is what? I am complaining that here probably my intellect wants to get myself out of. E.F.’s participation is one of sadness, suffering, trying to cooperate and be happy, but very sad. He is the boy OUTSIDE while Christ must be the one inside since I am in union with Christ’s sufferings here. (When we are on the cross of suffering, we are always closest to Our Lord.)

I am pleased over E.F.’s progress, who is seen as the pious young man who in reality is going to church with me by being in my head. We are as a group probably because I am serving not only E.F. but a group in purgatory at the same time. Attending Mass is the main thing I do for them.

The teakwood house is an interesting symbol because it is the most substantial, hardest and beautiful wood. SUSPENDED like that by cables or wires definitely indicates?, spiritual state much higher up than normal.


12/10/81 Thursday



Prayed before going to sleep last night the following: 1.That I would once again be able to help the souls in purgatory and have some mystical contact with them, and 2., If that is not possible, that I be shown why it isn’t. Had the following dream:

I want to a large hotel where I saw a show hosted by Johnny Carson. Allen Funt, his wife, James Garner, and E.F. are guests (although E.F. looks more mystical, James more physical).

James Garner does sort of some modeling for us, and he doesn’t look well. His appearance and clothes are worn out while E.F. is wearing an Ascot tie.

Mrs. Funt has to move into the audience, as it is getting too crowded onstage. She looks upset. They decide at this point to move the whole show somewhere else and we assume it is in some other part of the hotel. But I can no longer find the show when I look for it! I look EVERYWHERE, both inside and outside the hotel. No one gives me any help. I even ask taxi drivers going by, kids on the street wearing “E.F.” t-shirts, doormen and so on.

After a few hours of desperation and crying bitterly, I go home.

I am in a car with a lady friend and just before we get to the house we see fire engines and smoke. I think: “No, it couldn’t be her house and all my worldly possessions, including my seal coat! We couldn’t have had so much bad luck all in one day!” (I am staying with this lady.) But it is! I see the house and everything burned completely to the ground, burned to ashes.

MEANING: In the end the LADY who finally helps me by showing me the vision of the burned-down house is Our Lady. I have seen this symbol before and that’s who she symbolized. Mary gave me the “house” with E.F., as indicated in the early part of the book, and now shows me its demise.

The dream does not explain the reason why but it will be obvious later on: suffering, purgation brings more merit both for E.F. and myself. But the dream does show explicitly the burned out STATE OF MIND by which I can no longer contact E.F. It delineates so clearly that it is only by a certain mystical/mental state that one can communicate with another soul.

It is a mental construct that has to be ALIVE and functioning. James Garner was MYSELF in the shabby, worn-out state. Allen Funt and his wife could be guardian angels—Mrs. Funt being E.F.’s. When his guardian angel has to move off the stage, the show is over. It describes how his guardian [angel]? would be dismayed at his no longer receiving any tangible help.

And of course, it shows that all our communication is guided by our angels. They are the DOORMEN or keepers of spiritual pathways by which we speak. (Notice their communication is ALL telepathic.) The taxi drivers were probably saints—while the boys with E.F. t-shirts were souls in purgatory.

It shows that none of these could help me to understand except Our Blessed Mother, because she is the sole person who put me in contact with E.F. (other than Jesus), as stated at the beginning of the book where the Mother brings me her child. It is THROUGH MARY that I have the MIND to be able to CONTACT and SEE E.F. On a larger scale, this is my WHOLE burned-out state of mind preceding mystical union with God.


12/16/81 Wednesday



I was watching a scene of an extremely wealthy and powerful couple, like a King and Queen. This queen had a lover who resembled the King and almost looked like him. This lover had hopes for taking over the position of the King. But when the lover stole one of their paintings—a Picasso (which to them was as nothing since they had hundreds in their collection)—the husband took this as an excuse to murder the lover! He gleefully, smiling, told the wife about it, while she was horrified. He gave the Picasso as an excuse, but everyone knew that was not enough reason to have him killed.

MEANING: The King and Queen are Jesus and myself, and the lover who wants to overstep authority is E.F. He is seen as RIVAL for the love of Jesus—sort of consuming my mind instead of Christ, then Christ has him “killed,” which means mostly He, in dream language, ends the relationship. I consider this highly unfair.

The gleefulness of Christ is similar to his gladness and indifference to my sufferings when I am incarcerated in the dark night, ?dream of 11/21. He is happy when I make progress through sufferings. The Picassos in our “collection” are souls in purgatory—since the pictures I have in mind are those where you see people broken up as if into pieces. This is how the souls are—they are broken up or fragmented spiritually/mentally and cannot see the whole picture of the Beatific vision. In other words, when we are not whole, we cannot see God in his wholeness. So this would be the termination of a relationship with a soul.


12/22/81 Tuesday



Dream: I was relaxing with a male friend during one of my breaks at work (dancing). We were lounging on a bed together, inebriated in each other’s love. He sneakily touched my left breast, weighing it in his hand. I feel slightly guilty about this, wondering if I’m doing something wrong.

Then someone knocks at the door. It is a short, crude guy who tells me it is eleven o’clock already, and my show was to be at nine. Where was I? To prove his point be sticks a bunch of incense to my face. So, more is behind this? ?. I get mad and tell him off for his rudeness, but very upset for missing my show.

MEANING: Eleven o’clock is the “eleventh hour,” which is lateness. My problem here is not pulling myself together with the prayers for souls in purgatory. The reason—my relationship with E.F., no doubt worrying about it, has curtailed my prayer activities. I was supposed to really buckle down to help them for Christmas, but it is too late! I haven’t pulled myself together fast enough, and either they are mad, or this is a reflection of my guilt or both.

My conscience is also bothering me—and perhaps also bothering E.F.—because we don’t know if it is OUR FAULT that our contact bas been suspended. My problem has consumed me and I have been unable to give them much help. Add to that the fact that I am in the DARK NIGHT and this takes away all the consolation of prayer. I have prayed—but it doesn’t seem to have meant anything.


1/27/82 Wednesday



Notice how the last few entries about E.F. have been few and far between, ?“81 Now I am pulling out of the dark night, the last good contact being November 8 (unknown to myself)—the crisis will come in a few days—and E.F. breaks through. I asked E.F. how he felt when I descended to him and when we enjoyed a more tangible relationship and he said the following (some of his thoughts blending in with mine, as if answering unspoken questions):

“When we were together, I actually FELT your love, the sensation of being loved by you, exactly as if it were real. It was real, but in the highest sense. I no longer have a body, but in essence we WERE making love, we WERE really kissing, we were having a real relationship.

“Since God has deprived me of your company, I still feel the urge to see you. I feel lost and lonely. I am pining away just as I would have pined away on earth had I lost someone I loved. There is a great deal of pain in this feeling, although I am well off spiritually since you’ve assisted me.

“When you speak to me now, Rasa, ?as you also feel, it is different. It is a mental communication in which we often feel varying degrees of love.” (Note: At this point I was SPEAKING to E.F. one hour a day in a concerted effort, looking at his picture, even though I felt nothing. It was not like it used to be—a real STRAIN, since all the light of illumination has left me. But I spoke to him as one sick friend to another but yet we are helpless in a sense, as we cannot communicate in a more concrete fashion. We are as two lovers who can only speak on the telephone.)

“When we possess God in vision it is certainly not a mere intellectual possession. As St. Thomas says, one ENJOYS God. It is this ENJOYMENT of you which I now miss. The difference of what we have now to what we had then is like night and day. It hurts me even to think of it. No—the mind alone is not sufficient to enjoy love, there is much more to it than that. Our experience is an obvious case in point.”


1/11/82 Our Lady of Lourdes Thursday



Here I have two dreams. The first pertains to my sudden departure from the active and entrance into the mystical plane, with my absence baffling my friends. It is explained that this introversion was a must, and how hard I struggled to maintain my privacy against “well-wishers.”

The second dream is about E.F. directly; his ministry having been the first product of my withdrawal from active life.


I go to my apartment. E.F. is there looking sad. I am hungry and want to eat, but he doesn’t have any appetite. He is dressed plainly and conservatively (which is quite unlike his old self). While I am in the kitchen he is in the living room. He is walking in sort of a daze of sadness, slowly, and lost in his thoughts. He is headed to sit in my old, worn out rocking chair. I am very hungry and worried about his appetite. I am making cheese blintzes illogically at the sink. They are black on the outside (burned) but I know good inside. I am scheming something and take the blintzes into the living room.

I sit down in E.F.’s lap. I think if I put the food right to his lips he won’t be able to resist eating. And so I do. I have eaten a small morsel and I put the next morsel to his lips. Sure enough, he opens his mouth and eats, and this is how I feed him. (I secretly figured this out in the kitchen.)

I was also squirming on his lap to try and stimulate him, but he was too? and E.F.’s image has changed so much! At the same time I was feeding him, I was also exchanging French kisses with him—as if the food and kisses were one and the same. And I say to him how delightful this is—although I know how I feel, it is important to let him know, to express myself well.

After that there is an annoyance. There is a little girl who comes in—a zealous little girl from my group (nine years old) and she is with a bigger girl. They are taking off their jackets and want to hang around.

But I am jealous of E.F. and no one must interfere with my relationship with him. I threaten the little girl: “If you so much as look at that man, I will . . .” and here follow repetitious and humorous threats because they are so exaggerated, and I deliberately make sure E.F. hears me.

But when we are in the living room, the little girl plops down into the poor rocking chair and STARES UNCONTROLLABLY at E.F.! She is in a low position meanwhile?

E.F. and I are sitting at the table where I type? and peeling and eating eggs. I know he is eating, but only see myself eating.

Then I come to a raw egg so I can’t eat it. It was the last one. Then, our shells fall on the floor and E.F. and I are working to gather together the shells plus whatever bits of egg fell on the floor and putting them into a paper cup.

I say to the little girl, who is intimidated by my harsh treatment of her, “Here’s something CONSTRUCTIVE for you to do instead of doing nothing.”

She is to help with picking up the debris, and her eyes are huge brown, with tears in them. I tell her to take that cup with all the debris, wash it, and whatever coins are left when the trash is separated, she can keep. There were a number of coins among the trash—not much—but amounting to about half a dollar which she can keep. I tell her, however, to watch out for the safety pin in the trash.

Right in the middle of my speaking with the child, trying to give her instruction and comfort, E.F. started talking about “PLAYING POLO,” like he was having memories. Something like, “I REMEMBER WHEN I USED TO PLAY POLO, AND IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!”

This puts me at an embarrassing division—trying to stimulate and at the same time control the child, and most of all, trying to help E.F. In the balance of my decision lies the relief of his soul. It seems I let what I said to the child HANG IN THE AIR where the child can REMEMBER it, and I turn to E.F. It is notable how just at the moment when I was trying to stimulate the child E.F. was stimulated and came to life, exhibited by his talking.


These two dreams, the first of which I eliminated, and the second of which I condensed, took up six typewritten pages. This proves that my intellectual power is on the ascendancy—since during the “dark night” dreaming is almost impossible. (Yesterday, my first soul? this ministry was released, Rev. Verna Talbot, my former mentor, who was depicted in these dreams as the redhead. In two days I will see the BEATIFIC VISION and in five days, MYSTICAL MARRIAGE. And so, this is a serious increase in mystical power.)

This dream is quite a profound document on the mystical ministry to purga­tory. It shows the dilemma of wanting to help the soul of E.F., but being unable to do so properly BECAUSE OF ONE’S OWN PROBLEMS. Dealing with my own problem, the flesh, which must be curbed, I am able to help E.F. The little girl is my own lower self.

Yesterday I made significant prayers regarding the flesh, renouncing all its desires. This is seen as the severe, repetitious and humorous chastisement; and wanting E.F. to hear it is wanting him to know just how much I am willing to give for him.

This theme of renouncement [renunciation] is later repeated in the shells—when the little girl is allowed to keep the change which comes from hard work; change and shells as the same thing representing ACCIDENTS or fringe benefits of grace. One must not SEEK pleasure of the flesh, but if it comes by accident out of doing good, these little pleasures you may keep.?

The BLACK BLINTZES represent the purging which is bad to the senses, but good for the soul. I am trying to console E.F. We are both suffering, but it is my duty and job to feed him with grace. I am his spiritual mother; he cannot assist me. By my own receiving of purging and merit, I nourish him. I eat, he eats. But I must work at it. He is severely depressed JUST AS I AM. But amidst depression the EFFORT TO LOVE stimulates him.

The morsel sitting in the lap, French kissing were all the acceptance of purging and at the same cite??? crying to reach him by talking in a consoling way. Expressing my delight, my love, was actually done verbally. And by this outward expression I FORCED a RESPONSE from him—the OPENING of the MOUTH and eating. (A good point in reaching depressed persons is to force them to communicate.)

Symbolically, first E.F. sits in the poor rocking chair of poverty; later, when my little? flesh is in that chair, E.F. is seated at the best seat in the house -my favorite one at the table across from me. When I am chastised, he is lifted up.

The reason the blintzes were prepared at the sink, not the stove, was because the sink represents getting the water of grace. Perhaps it being Our Lady of Lourdes day is also appropriate.

This battle with my own flesh or lower self is the conflict which must be won in E.F.’s favor—and it is. Finally, when I have myself totally under con­trol, E.F. wakes up. In a dream (not here recorded) of 2/6/82 I showed how du­ring my younger life Christ was MUTILATED by me within myself by my diversions of the flesh. But here even my earthly longings or weaknesses are sufficient to leave E.F. depressed. Helping myself grow up I enable E.F. to come out of his depression.

The uncontrollable gazing in sense-image material was when I actually look­ed at his picture one hour a day talking to him. Although I was not happy, taking the time and energy to do this stimulated or forced him to respond to a certain degree.

Eating eggs is a big step up for E.F. and myself—consumed eggs being hopes realized. Not all, though. The RAW or UNREADY hope/egg must be E.F.’s release. So something is happening regarding FRUIT or realized hopes. This dream depicts that.

This WHOLE MINISTRY has had to do with my own maturity being able to help souls. One’s own desires of the lower order prevent grace from reaching them. You cannot be a good instrument when you have sense-desires. That is what I am warning the little girl about when I say not to get stuck on the pin. It is like the diaper pin of CHILDISH DESIRES. Ascending above the sense-plane is of primary importance. But I must also get myself to?? work—a delicate balance between self ???


2/21/82 Sunday



In this seven-page? dream is a long story of how I ministered to E.F., the long dark night of the soul purging and waiting, and finally getting prepared for the fate of his release.

I am pictured with Mary and God the Father on my left and right, very close, since I am already married to the Holy Spirit.

It shows the most significant point in the release of E.F. and other souls happened on January 31, 1981, when I went through the crisis of the annihilation of the will in Christ.

It was the era of a television appearance in Detroit, where I reiterated my promises to God on that show, saying when challenged by a skeptical minister who said I didn’t know what I wanted, “I KNOW WHAT I WANT, AND IT IS TO BE ON THE CROSS WITH CHRIST AND NOWHERE ELSE.”

This heartfelt declaration is shown by TAKING A PLUNGE OF FAITH off a very high ridge, falling and being suspended by cables for a while, and then, when my job is over, plunging into a pool of light, with a lady running to congratulate me. This shows the will being dependant on Christ alone—not having any security or desire on? anything else, just letting oneself fall into the bands of God, come what may, and being held up by the power of God and nothing else. And the Lady running to congratulate me is probably Verna Talbot, the first soul de­livered when I broke from earth completely.

The night before the show I had a severe crisis and vision, seeing completely and absolutely that there was no secure, safer and better place than on the Cross with Christ of suffering. I had suffered now for a month and a half of intense purgation, and accepting it WITH LOVE and even JOY was the culmination of learning the lesson; growing. And as I said, it was the turning point of all my souls being delivered.

The dream reviews the intense sorrow on both our parts of E.F. and me being separated—but the good and joy it brought him and me later on, and anticipation of his release symbolized by a huge frozen turkey he is offering me to eat with his very rich family and also fruits growing in the snow which we are not allowed to pick yet.


3/1/82 Monday


In answer to various questions, the Heart of Christ speaks to me and says that E.F. will be delivered in a few days


3/7/82 -11:17 p.m. Sunday



I saw HIM ascend at that time as a golden light, as a comet or beam of light outside my window—which I was staring at while praying—and that light went from lower down left to higher up right, becoming wider as it went up. It lasted no more than a split second.

I had felt strange on and off, sometimes lifted off the ground mentally, but also EERIE, otherworldly, as if waiting for an APPARITION. It was an awesome fear of what God was about to do. After I said two rosaries, some litanies, the Way of The Cross and other prayers, I was compelled to lie down and put out the light and continue praying. This I did, lying on my right side and looking toward the window.

Something said, “You've prayed enough,” but not being sure if that was just the devil trying to discourage me or if I really had prayed enough, I prayed an exorcism? and then continued.

About two minutes later I saw the light as mentioned. I was awestruck, hardly believing what I had seen, yet wanting to believe. I looked at the clock—11:17. I could not move for a few minutes, frozen in amazement.

I reviewed my prayers and recalled that at the moment I said CHURCH was when the light flashed like BOOM! This struck my mind because it was a prayer I NEVER SAY. This was the first time I had ever said this prayer in my life: “PLEASE DELIVER HIM BY THE MERITS OF OUR HOLY CHURCH,” and within the same moment as I said CHURCH it happened, and thereby startled me.
I hesitated, then asked Our Lord,

“Was that E.F.? Did you deliver E.F.?”

He said, “I HAVE,” and this in a solemn voice.

I said, '“Why at the moment I said our CHURCH?”


After a little while—I was still nervous, not knowing what to think, how to act, what to pray—I was trying to go to sleep, but it was not possible. I got up and sat down and spoke to E.F., recording what HE said.

I asked, “How does it feel in heaven7


“I'm sorry. I only said that as an excuse for your ways. What else could excuse your wicked, wicked ways? Can you see me? What is it like there?”


“Can you describe anything there that I wouldn’t already know?”


“What does Mary look like?”


“Mary is great, you are little?”


“How does Jesus look?”


“The last two, three weeks in purgatory, how did I appear to you?”


“Was it like what we had before the blackout?”


“What gives you the greatest satisfaction or joy now?”


“Does it bother your enjoyment of God that I am asking you all these questions ?”


“That explains why it is so tiring to me when I have telepathic communication with Jesus or Mary.”


“Now you love me more than I love you—don’t you.”


“No more pain, E.F.? No more loneliness?”


“Do you have any messages for your fans?”


“Will you help me from heaven?”


“Can you give me any advice?”


“Just prior to your delivery, which of my prayers were most effective?”


“Was it all worth it now, E.F.? The suffering, the stay in purgatory?”


“Does it still bother you to think of your wives?”


“Can you see St. Michael the Archangel?”


“Do you think God will allow us to communicate after I go to sleep?”


“How does my soul look to you now?”




The gospel read at Mass this morning was appropriate for E.F.’s release. It was MARK 9:2-10:

Jesus took Peter, James, and John off by themselves with him and led them up a high mountain. He was TRANSFIGURED before their eyes and his clothes became dazzlingly white—whiter than the work of any bleacher could make them. Elijah appeared to them along with Moses; the two were in conversation with Jesus.

Then Peter spoke to Jesus: “Rabbi, how good it is for us to be here! Let us erect three booths on this site, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He hardly knew what to say, for they were all overcome with awe. A cloud came, overshadowing them, and out of the cloud a voice: “This is my Son, my beloved. Listen to him.” Suddenly looking around they no longer saw anyone with them—only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, He strictly enjoined them not to tell anyone what they had seen, before the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They kept this word of his to themselves, though they continued to discuss what “to rise from the dead” meant.

[New International Version]

Mark 9

The Transfiguration

2 After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them.

3 His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them.

4 And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.

5 Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters--one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah."

6 (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)

7 Then a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and a voice came from the cloud: "This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!"

8 Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.

9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

10 They kept the matter to themselves, discussing what "rising from the dead" meant.

Copyright information

© Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society
The NIV text may be quoted in any form (written, visual, electronic or audio), up to and inclusive of five hundred (500) verses without express written permission of the publisher, providing the verses do not amount to a complete book of the Bible nor do the verses quoted account for twenty-five percent (25%) or more of the total text of the work in which they are quoted.

King James Version (KJV):

  Mar 9:2   And after six days Jesus taketh [with him] Peter, and James, and John, and leadeth them up into an high mountain apart by themselves: and he was transfigured before them.
  Mar 9:3   And his raiment became shining, exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them.
  Mar 9:4   And there appeared unto them Elias with Moses: and they were talking with Jesus.
  Mar 9:5   And Peter answered and said to Jesus, Master, it is good for us to be here: and let us make three tabernacles; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias.
  Mar 9:6   For he wist not what to say; for they were sore afraid.
  Mar 9:7   And there was a cloud that overshadowed them: and a voice came out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son: hear him.
  Mar 9:8   And suddenly, when they had looked round about, they saw no man any more, save Jesus only with themselves.
  Mar 9:9   And as they came down from the mountain, he charged them that they should tell no man what things they had seen, till the Son of man were risen from the dead.
  Mar 9:10   And they kept that saying with themselves, questioning one with another what the rising from the dead should mean.


3/8/82 Monday



Before falling asleep, saw the following scene:

I saw clear water with many small fish and light streaming through in all colors of the rainbow. They were swimming about happily back and forth. I knew it was E.F., as he had just been delivered a short time ago. It was the stream of eternal consciousness.


“How old do you look now?”


“Jesus and Mary?”


“E.F., what do you think of your earthly life now?”


“What advice do you have for those who prefer to live the hedonistic life?”


“When you went from purgatory to heaven, how did it feel?”

E.F.: “I was flying. I had lost total control over myself and God had given me his power, his grace and his love. I resonated with that love. He annihilated me with kindness, as I was totally immersed with and in his love and knew the existence of nothing else. I was just tagging along in his power; He held me up and lifted me out of the dungeon with his power. He commanded me with his grace to RISE UP and be gone out of the tomb, like Lazarus from the dead, and to meet him in eternal life. I had now forsaken all things for him, even myself, and that was what was needed.

“The theology of purgatory is this: You must be divested of self there and God waits for this to be done. He is most anxious to take the soul into himself, and even before one is totally divested, He fills one with his power, breaking the last bonds against one’s self—seeking to give pardon even before the soul deserves it.

“We are denuded of ourselves. His unity with us is the one great thing which gives us all that we need and all that we will EVER need to be happy. If mortals only came to that conclusion on earth they would be happy. They would be seeking his glory and happiness on earth and they would resonate with him while still in flesh. Why wait for purgatory? Why not bear your purgatory on earth, while there is still time? Why wait till the hereafter when it feels like thousands of years to some before deliverance?

“Earth time is so short compared to purgatory that it is entirely nothing compared to sitting in a dungeon for eons of ages with no companionship, no grace to speak of, except eternal punishment of God—and although it isn’t eternal it feels like it.

“And the greatest pain is to remember that one bas offended God when one could have received his grace, that one has wasted their life, that one has bean a harbinger? of evil and nonsense instead of good.

“It is the ending of time. In purgatory you lose all track of time and it feels forever.

“You became my personal bodyguard, friend, counselor and consoler. You taught me many things, especially in the art and science of loving God. This brought me closer to my Savior and Our Holy Mother and prepared me for my final union with them. It was as a school for me—a school of love, you as my teacher. I learned to love God more and more each day, GREW in the love of God. Mary Magdalene anointed Our Lord for his burial. And in purgatory I needed someone to anoint me, since on earth no one was to be found (to anoint and prepare him for eternity) and so you came to me to anoint me for not my burial, but my future life with God.

“When one moves from one state of consciousness to another it can be a great shock. One can lose consciousness of what or who one is, when making too many or sudden changes. The anointing prepares a person for the next step. My next step was God, and you prepared me for such.”

I asked E.F. if there were any similarities in our lives, the temptations we faced and the demons we fought.

He said, “Your greatest demons tried to make you disavow your life, that life in your flesh was not worth living. They tried to kill you and make you commit suicide, but they couldn’t as God wouldn’t allow it. They tried to rob you of your life, of grace, of recognition, of the rights due you as a woman, of your life span by ruining your health and hundreds of other ways. They tried to kill you through man and woman—your mother—and the evil men many of whom you met on your job. But always God sustained you in the end.

“My life was similar in this way: Through his grace I was highly gifted. I had won many laurels in many ways. I was a fine looking man; I had poise, grace, charm, dignity and class.

“What was missing? A proper reverence for God and life. I was too casual with my life, my elegance, my poise and class, wasting it all on sex and the world’s games.

“Too late I found out I was wrong—and that is how I fell into the trap of Satan, in the way that your friend Mary of Agreda explained.?

“In the life of a hedonist, it is the mind which is primarily taken away from grace and all the mortal thinks about are physical pleasures. That isn’t enough, but we find out when it is too late, when we arm sick and tired, and can’t stop in spite of ourselves.

“What good was my charm? It only led to sin, not to grace. I was good to women as well as committing sins with them, but none of them has ever appre­ciated me. They only liked the grace and charm and physical attributes but not myself as a parson, as the real me, as you loved me, Rasa.

“That’s why this mortal life is such a game. I am glad I’m out of it—the race finished. I’m free, free at last. I’m home for all eternity, and don’t worry, Rasa, I will help you fight your battles all I can. We both were gifted equally in some ways. I was more talented in some ways, by poise, charm, etc., but you were deprived of such by the hardness of your life and because it is known to me you had to acquire other skills. If you had been as lucky as I in that department, you would not have acquired these other skills.

“These are the skills pertaining to mysticism. I know you are a mystic and a traveler for God through different planes of existence, earth, purgatory and heaven. But HOW you do this while still remaining a mortal, I still can’t understand. I know you are a visionary, but how you see also I cannot understand quite fully, because I see you on the earth plane, still making many mistakes, still falling down occasionally and yet you have such grace it is mind boggling. How do you have it? What do you do to attain it???

“I know you pray, and that is also a mystery. I cannot grasp how you changed your lifestyle so quickly. That is, from active to contemplative. I don’t know how a woman of your physical charms could have wanted or made the decision early on in your life—the right decision- to immolate yourself. I know the rightness of that decision, yet I cannot understand how you came to that conclusion early on in life. This I cannot understand even though I am in heaven.

“When I was in purgatory you acted like there was no place else in heaven or earth that you would rather be than just with me, holding me in your arms, and teaching me the alphabet of God and nourishing me from your breasts of charity. I felt like a kindergarten pupil, a happy first grader in your arms.

“When you were praying just before my deliverance, I felt an intense ardor for God. You were holding me in your arms, and while you were reciting the litanies and prayers on earth, your countenance lighted up in heaven. As I was looking at you, the next thing I knew I WAS in heaven, because then God lifted me up and I was there!

“I saw the Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Michael the Archangel and Jesus Christ. I can’t tel1 time because there is no time—it felt like all at once.”

(I remarked that that must have been the moments when I felt otherworldly, that eerie, out-of-the body feeling when I also saw flashes of golden light prior to E.F.’s delivery.)

Finally, E.F. ended our conversation with this: “Rasa, I cannot get tired any more. I am quite powerful now, this isn’t purgatory. I can keep going discussing this with you, but you are still a mortal and need rest. Take a rest—we will be friends forever. As long as you live I will keep helping you and for all eternity we will know each other.”


3/8/82 Monday



I am in a high school where it seems my mother is one of the teachers. David (in real life my beloved and successful spiritual son) is also one of the students. We do not have physical contact but through letter only. Periodically he sends me his reports by mail. This one time I receive his letter and it has a couple of photos. I put it away in my purse but then also notice a sealed letter he has written—not to me—addressed to someone in Chile, which does not have a stamp on it.

It is dropped there by accident. Shall I read it? No, I should give it to the school authorities and let them mail it. It is THEIR responsibility.

David has written me about A NEW ASSIGNMENT and has included two photos, one of himself and one of THE PLACE WHERE HE LIVES—the woods in back of his house. It is the woods in the photo that change my thinking regarding him and I decide that I shall take responsibility myself.

His assignment is this: for some reason he had to dress up as a girl.

He looks beautiful as a girl. He is wearing a short, wavy, very pretty light-blonde wig, and on top of it a very beautiful satin true? green hat with a brim and a veil PUSHED BACK on the hat. The photo is head on, he is looking up and very SERENE.

He has on a true? light blue sweater made of al1 curly loops. It has a collar and from it are hanging two balls.

What really gets my attention is another photo, taken at the same time. It is the woods in back of his house. I have already handed in the Chile let­ter when I take his letter to me out again and look at it. The woods picture makes me real excited. I need those kind of pictures for religious books. Here is how they look: First, there is a clearing or nothing or a body of water in the sky, and then, out of nothing comes? this exquisite wood like an island suspended and these incredible huge, mysterious trees, with no underbrush. They are dark, lush, inviting—a mystical woods.

I run to the teacher’s lounge and say I would like to have back the let­ter I handed in as it is from my spiritual son and only needs a stamp. They give it to me with no questions asked.

In another scene I am home and receive a letter FROM Chile. It is from these missionaries who keep sending me things I don’t need. I feel sorry for them, as they are so poor, but they have lent me a decanter or flask of wine: very valuable, beautiful and nice, BUT I DON’T DRINK! I take it out, put it in the pantry, where I also have raisins I’m not eating.

It is light green (the vase) with white champagne-like wine. It reminds me of a decanter I saw in another dream Where I was given a flagon with oil to start out my household as a Bride of Christ. This wine is chilled and ready for drinking. On the envelope it came in I see inscribed, “If you do NOT want these gifts to continue coming in, please make a notation as? such. Other than that, they will be sent to you on a regular basis.”

I understand these people DO NOT want me to scratch this thing out, and WANT to continue sending me things. It was also written on the package that this wine is?? native FROM THAT REGION and gave its name, which I can’t recall. The bottle was BURSTING the envelope.


This dream is very apropos of what has happened. E.F. is seen as 1. A Bride of Christ, 2. My spiritual son, and 3. Able to now help ME.

It is notable and befitting that ALL souls—male as well as female—are BRIDES of Christ, since God is DOMINANT, while the soul submits. Therefore, the soul is always in the passive position to God and why the soul in mysticism is always referred to in the feminine.
Little hints or symbols give various meanings: The veil moved back from the face: the veil removed between him and God. Green faf&ri?? refers? to fecundity or fruit, which he has now realized. The two balls tell me this is E.F. and no one else, since I had a notable dream of him regarding balls before. The light blue is another very spiritual color, usually depicting healing.

Then he is reporting to me—as my mortal spiritual son does—writing and here sending pictures. These are the thoughts, words and pictures E.F. conveys to me via telepathy. The two photos are of course his new state, now beatified, which state he is conveying to me, and second, what heaven or the Beatific Vision really consists of—the second of which is even more fascinating than the first, and of great significance to me primarily because I want to convey it to my readers. And naturally, seeing God, his expression is sublime and serene.

There is a problem or question here concerning continued communication and benefits—shall I receive or not receive this? My first impression was no, but then I changed my mind. I was going to leave it all to the higher-ups, those in heaven, when I realized that although my job of delivering E.F. was finished, yet I could still gain impressions from him, and also his CHARITY.

My resistance to this charity is seen in my confusion about the wine as something I don’t drink, and compared to raisins I don’t eat. It is hard for me to adjust to RECEIVING from E.F. rather than constantly GIVING. But he very definitely wants to pour into me now his charity from heaven.

The “dark woods” refer to the eternity that is as so? hard to comprehend for us mortals, which is the “back yard” of E.F. now. It is the place where he is at, as close and familiar to him as mysterious to me. It’s suspension is its unfamiliarity to us in mortal terms, enclosed in time and space.

The wine E.F. is sending me is love, celebration and strength from his newly acquired state, which he wants to keep sending.


The purpose of the School of Sainthood is to publish and promulgate the writings of Rasa of the Mystical Heart, a Catholic contemplative mystic.

These writings teach mystical theology according to the Christian method and incorporate other tenets and disciplines where they do not conflict with the Christian faith. They are written for the good o£ souls on earth and in purgatory, and to bring honor and glory to God and His saints in heaven.

They include the doctrines of the Immaculate Heart o£ Mary, assistance for the souls in purgatory, the teachings of Our Lord Jesus Christ: His Love, Passion and spiritual poverty, and other revelations on the mystical journey to God.

The purpose of these writings is not only to draw souls away from sin and into God, but to perfect those already saved, uniting them more and more closely with God in His charity.


3/14/82 Sunday



This young man is young, handsome and tall, and reminds me of E.F. as I saw him on 2/21/82. He comes to my apartment because we have been doing some very serious religious work together—I wouldn’t have let him into my life any other way.

We are talking about our work together when he says something that really bothers me, something about helping some communist hand out papers. I am horrified. Could he be such a dupe that he would follow a communist and help him?

I begin to wonder about our relationship—maybe he would follow anyone around and doesn’t really believe in or understand my convictions.

I start asking him about this communist sympathizer and he says something about it isn’t so bad, because he thought that people share things when they are communists—as long as they aren’t atheists, it isn’t bad. This is just the feeling I get from his mind—he isn’t very bright and can’t express himself properly. I see him looking down at these tracts [her tracts] which in my mind are against communism, and these are the papers he was going to give out. He is looking timidly down now.

Then he is sitting down in my living room and asks me for something—some papers—a stack, for his research. I am already filled with misgivings about him and because of this am reluctantly giving him the stack.

He asked me for my phone number and I explained to him that this is not that kind of a relationship—it is business religion? only, not for dating. But accidentally I take out the small round paper in the phone that gives the number and almost hand it to him, then retrieve it. I was absentminded—daydreaming, and feel embarrassed over this. So then I hand him the stack and go to the kitchen to wash dishes, and he is supposed to be doing something in the living room.

But then I catch him making a phone call and I surmise that what he is doing is calling the phone company behind my back to find out the NUMBER he is calling from! How clever and sneaky he is! I am mad and go right over there, tell him to put down the phone and get out—this is the last straw.

He wants to be my BOYFRIEND and I cannot have this.

So I make him leave, and he goes out the. door, but wants to leave some of his things—because I think he is planning to return. This will give him an excuse to return.

I am horrified that he might return because of his ulterior motives. I see a blue checkered shirt or glove—they seem to be one and the same, and make him take it. Standing outside my hall with the door open, he keeps saying, “Do I have to leave?” and I insist that he does.


“I want to commune with you, I want to work with you, stay with you, be your friend, come back again and again. What is wrong with sharing what we have? What is wrong with communion?”

This is what E.F. is saying to you. [She addresses herself.]

But you are rejecting him the last few days because of something he said which led you to sin the sin of pride and vanity.

You see him as helping the enemy (communists) because by praising you he caused you to fall? and you have been suspicious of him ever since.

He wants you to give him the OPPORTUNITY to write more thoughts (stack for research).

You almost gave him an opening (your number) for communing (small round, like Holy Communion) then quickly recollected yourself and repented of it (washing dishes). Your goal is not to have FRIENDS but to become more spiritual, and you fear contacts that may lead to trouble.

He was trying to reach you several times while you were repenting of your sin—even asking your guardian angel (company in charge) to gain entrance to your mind but you insisted on throwing him out of your mind.

He wants you to remember him, he wants to leave something of himself with you. He wants to give you something and come back again, but you aren’t letting him.

The garments represents grace or infused virtues. He wants to give you a hand (glove) with grace.

When you first met him he was in a red and blue checked shirt—but now the red is gone. This [red] must be the pain. He wants to give you as an offering this garment which represents his new-found virtue, and continue the relationship, you being on the receiving end this time!


4/3/82 Saturday



I am working at a burlesque place and I am upstairs in one of the dressing rooms making out with Little Frankie, one of the bodyguards. After we are making out for a while I become very uncomfortable because they have—someone—put something into the blankets. At first we were making out in this very small, rather dark room higher upstairs, and then, when I am inspecting these troublesome blankets, it is in a much larger dressing room lower down, half a flight down, which later I notice houses many performers.

The relationship between Little Frankie and myself seems secret. We love each other, and he is sort of sneaking around to be with me—nobody is supposed to know we are making out. I think of the fairy tale “Rapunzel, let down your hair,” about this beautiful maiden imprisoned in a tower by a witch, who has a knight for a lover. Every night he comes to the tower saying, “Rapunzel, let down your hair.” She lets it down, he climbs up and they enjoy their tryst. But the witch sees it and cuts off her hair.

We go over to this large dressing room and then I see what is the matter. Someone has put LUMPS into the pink blanket which is covering me, and these lumps are like live mice and also like a disease which makes you break out in sores, sort of like blisters. At first they are unsightly blisters, sticking up, then they go down and are reddish. I am already contaminated by this blanket and suffering.

The problem with this whole dressing room is its terrible filth. Everything here is filthy—from the floor on up, to all that is in it—clutter, filth and dirt. No SHEETS on the beds, just dirty blankets. The typical arrangement for burlesque accommodations provided by management, caused by the preceding players but never cleaned by management.

I think about the past, that I have been called back here and this is the third or fourth time working here. They like me, I am getting better acquainted with little Frankie, our love affair has blossomed. The management appreciates me.

Then someone says that the boss is passing through. I run over to the stairs where he was just on his way down. He is a tough guy with white hair and a scowl on his face, an actor I saw in a film, really tough, and smoking a cigar. I run over to him, and because I have just a little pull with him because of my stardom I speak with him.

I first say, “Hello, Mr. So-and-So, how are you, some other amenities, and he says, (startled slightly and in a hurry):

“What do you want?” He knows I wouldn’t go out of my way to be nice to him unless I wanted something.

I tell him about the filth of the place and these terrible blankets, and what it is causing. In order to illustrate the boils, and? I turn around and show him the back of my rear end, which has a few, now red. I am wearing my scapular around my waist, so you can see my Our Lady of Mount Carmel scapular hanging down a little toward my rear end, in full color, and then a few of these red boils.

He and all the others watching are amazed at the sores.

“You wouldn’t want the customers to see me in this condition, would you?” I say (of course, the customers look at my naked body).

He immediately orders his lieutenant to oversee the cleaning of this room, and disappears (this is sort of like the Mafia, but they aren’t bad guys).

The second one in line after him, the lieutenant, I think IS little Frankie, but I see him both as a tall lieutenant, second in charge, and also as little Frankie, my lover. He is a rascal, and he takes one of these blankets? and, opening it up, puts it in the face of an unsuspect­ing girl dancer who has just come in. Not knowing what it is, a disease, she lets him do it—but I stop him. This reminds me of a very contagious thing like smallpox, leprosy, tuberculosis or the like. It is putrid material. I notice, after all, that after he opened the lumps in the blanket they weren’t mice—just this white disease bacillus.

The cleaning starts. I seem to be sitting there, very pleased, giving orders.

The girl who came in is awfully jealous because I am the star, and they are cleaning FOR ME. She is sitting way to the left by the window at her small table putting on makeup. She is black, and says, “Al1 I want is to do my laundry!”

“I am not preventing you for doing that!” I exclaim.

She mutters—but this is under her breath, “Huumph—Dancing for God.”

She is extremely jealous of my fame and authority—the fact that I could order this cleaning and it would be done, while she and all the others couldn't. It is like she is a working in the salt mines and has to be driven on this job, and nobo­dy gives her a break, nobody gives her even time to do her laundry. She acts as if I were preventing her somehow from doing her laundry! Amazing.

There are even three Christmas trees here left over from Christmas, gaudily decorated, sloppily, and all dried out, and I order them removed.

This girl says, “They are so nice. Don’t you like Christmas?”

I say, “I like Christmas but these trees are not suitably ornamented. What I really like most of all are the trees, just live trees without the decorations.”

They have these huge, gaudy white decorations, and everything 1ooks thrown on.

My “orders” are not the orders of a general or taskmaster—I just make suggestions or requests and they do them. The lieutenant is ordering others to do things, but I only see him, myself and this black girl visibly.

I see the trees taken out and the room is beginning to take shape. As the clutter is taken out and the floors washed, and the things within the rooms, I feel more and more relieved.

The room looks larger, nearer, and has big picture windows all around. It is modern.

I noticed quite a few large indoor plants here and thought, “I must water these plants. If I don't, who will? They are left here so the person who comes into possession of the room should take care of them, and if that person doesn’t, the soil gets bone dry and the plant dies.”

I check the soil of this one particular plant which looks like a yucca—it is toward the direction of that girl, and it is not totally dry but drying out. I am thinking, you can’t over-water them either. You must let the soil dry a bit, then water thoroughly, then let it dry again. All these plants are several feet tall and there is a variety, but they are all the leafy kind, large, luxurious leaves.


You are with E.F. in heaven, united in mystical, unconscious love. This is seen as in the dark and secret and in the small room or chamber as this is private, unknown and not understood.

But lower down, on the earth plane, there is trouble. This is half a flight down, large, well lit because this is earthly territory and we are inundated by physical light where all is seen outwardly.

This turbulent problem has interfered not only with your relationship with E.F., but has caused a complete orison? breakdown between yourself, God, and purgatory.

This WITCH—one of your daughters—has encased (imprisoned) you in this pain and has cut off your HAIR of infused science of the Lord? (Mary of Agrada symbol [the hair]).

You asked both E.F. and your father (earthly father) who are in heaven to help you sleep the last two nights and they have done so,

Your earthly father has a higher station in heaven and so is seen as having authority over E.F.

You relate to E.F. as a saint and as a lover (and bodyguard). He lowers himself for you or becomes little for you although he now enjoys a higher station in heaven.

The hair you are “letting down” for E.F. is opening yourself up to him mystically. This daughter CUT this mystical contact by a maleficium. That is why you’ve been having severe mystical contact problems since last Saturday; have not been able to see either Jesus or Mary in your dreams since then.

This is an indication that the understanding must be INFUSED from above in order to see Jesus and Mary in your dreams.

You have been praying for Jesus and Mary all week; [you] did not know what caused this blackout although your devotion has been good and you prayed more than ever; [you] thought it was a temporary state caused by something to do with Easter coming up.

Last night you cried out to Jesus and Mary, “What’s wrong? What have I done? Please let me know.”

Now Mary steps in. She will grant you this grace. E.F. and your father are working directly under HER.

This is seen by the sign or CORD of obedience given you by the infused grace of MARY—in full color, the garment of Scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, on whose feast day you were born (July 16) and whose garment you wear and precepts you follow. Moreover, on this day is the First Saturday devotion of Fatima, which you are following.

Your father must obey when he sees this. After all, he is one of the BELOVED of Mary.

They see the PAIN IN THE ASS this daughter is, what she has done to you—seen as a hematoma, interfering with the Blood of Christ flowing through your veins for the ministry to the Poor Souls.

Your father is making a way for you to receive souls from purgatory. He opened up a line of communication whereby you could reach more souls:

Remember how he [your father] was crying AFTER deliverance and you asked him why and it was on account of all the people he could have helped but didn’t? You promised him that he could work through you and make up for what he lost. This consoled him. Now you see him going down the stairs on business (with a cigar, in a hurry.) This has to be purgatory because he is going below the earth plane.

The two of you are working as partners. In the dream he is the boss, you working under him. That’s because he is in heaven, you on the earth plane. You show him the hematomas. Could you bring THIS to the souls in purgatory? This maleficium?

This sickness given you by this daughter? Certainly not.

He sees all this—the affliction and the order of Mary and tells E.F. to proceed; orders the cleaning of this problem which is disturbing your peaceful rest and activity on Christ’s behalf.

This SIN, this clutter, this FILTH must be removed.

E.F. is very aggressive in his ministry. He wants to CHASTIZE your daughter; make her sick as she has made you. He wants to “put it in her face”—make her aware.

“See what you've done? This is how it feels.”

He wants to give her a dose of her own medicine. Being ignorant, she would fall into the trap. You restrain him from this line of action.

The sickness is seen first as mice and when uncovered because they work hidden, later as the leprosy of sin which afflicts—the source and its manifestation. This is why you have not been able to SLEEP physically or REST spiritually; because you have been covered by this malediction, this BLANKET of sin, and this has COVERED your vision.

This daughter is terribly jealous of you; of your name, fame, authority; contempt for your spiritual mission.

She blames you for her own sins (the laundry) as if you were their cause. An amazing mental feat.

Al1 here is dirty top-to-bottom because the ROOT of the problem is MOTIVE, attitude or disposition. This being contamina­ted destroys all good work.

Good works then, acts of religion and piety, are all disordered, all unclean, all outward show. This is seen in the Christmas trees.

One must BE a Christian, a living tree, an evergreen, a tree of life. It isn’t vain ostentation, empty decoration on dry wood that counts, it is the BEING GOOD that counts. In the end you think about the children you have inherited. They must be watered by grace or wither away and die; but one must water at the right time and in the right amount. Who will help these children if you don't?

Note: I received a card from this young lady dated the same day as this dream with a picture of a MOUSE on it!


4/13/82 Easter Tuesday



5th day Feast of Mercy. The erring in the faith.?

I go to the hairdressers, the two brothers down the street who I like so much, and one of them puts the black dye on my hair. It is quite early in the morning, and I have not yet had my coffee or anything. The other one has gone across the street to a coffee shop where I have not even been—this whole area seems much farther in the dream, 10 or 15 blocks, whereas in real life, only five perhaps. I have the dye on my hair, which is unsightly and seems ugly to me—seems like a gray pussy? thing rather than black, and I have a towel around my shoulders, but for some reason entices the men—one in particular, in the coffee shop.

At first I do not go into the coffee shop—just peer in.

Then, outside, I see a commotion. I see a young man, a teenager, with a gold leather jacket running away who has stolen something, and they are trying to apprehend him, but they are too slow. A whole bunch of people are following him; one seems like a Hassidic Jew, but he has run around the building to the other side.

They are pointing the way he went but not the way he is NOW, and I show them: “No—he has already run THIS way”—which is actually back the way he originally started, after running behind the street of the coffee shop.

There are a whole group of people chasing him, all kinds of people, but the chase started a bit late, so I know, more or less, that he is going to get away. I think he pilfered something in a store or shoplifted, the way teenagers are apt to do.

While I was standing outside here with that towel around my shoulders as a shawl, light green, one of the men stops to talk to me on the street. He seems to have a cigar in his mouth. I know he likes my breasts—and I vaguely see myself teasing him about this—that he can see my breasts in spite of the towel. All the men got interested because underneath the towel I am bare, and so, it is an attraction for their eyes, I guess. I left the shop to see the hairdresser in the coffee shop and try to get a cup, and then the commotion.

I am standing in front of the beauty parlor now and the man with the cigar, before leaving, gives me something. It is a bunch of keys, in all colors, an assortment. They seem to be light aluminum, and a kind that you can stamp things on.

As he is now gone, I ponder this: the keys were a symbol of his love and affection, as when women throw their motel room key on the stage of a particularly enticing performer.

He gave me this bunch of keys as if to say, “These are as the keys to my apartment. You can come and see me any time you want.”

I hold them in my hand and will show them to the hairdresser.

In the interim, I seem to have eaten and say,“Oh, I haven’t paid for my meal yet,” and someone says that the hairdresser paid already! He is my benefactor. He is a hairdresser, but the feeling I get from him is one as benefactor.

Now inside two things are happening: I ask the man who put the dye on my hair to take it out—it has been on too long already, two hours, and he agrees. But I also must go to the bathroom and ask them where it is. The other one says “there” and I try to go “there,” but can’t find the door.

First I go through a hallway in back of the shop which looks just like a shop, but behind that is their HOME! Now I enter into territory which intrigues and amazes me. It is so beautiful here!

No wonder they have no trouble at all working, keeping a good schedule—being here on time every day—because their home is adjacent to the shop—it is so close, so convenient, so comfortable, and so beautiful! They are so HAPPY there! There is a strange mixture here, a “clutter” of beauty and style. The flooring va­ries from room to room, the tiles and floors at an angle at times, not flat. I see the main room has a huge bed which seems to have a red cover. It is an intermingling of color and style.

It is real spacious. You could say it is a mansion, close to it. It is as one of those homes I have seen before—my own—without walls; the rooms more or less merge with one another, and are separate, but undivided (when I have seen my FUTURE homes in dreams). I definitely feel as [if] I am encroaching. They are so kind to let me back here to use their private personal home bathroom—it is AMAZING how kind these men are to me.

This home is decorated in blue-on-white exquisite large ceramic TILES on the floor, with designs on the tiles. I see lots of yellow flowers and beautiful colors everywhere. The wood part was only on the outside entrance, and then once you entered it was another story. It is not a PALACE, it is just beautiful, large, spacious, roomy ,cozy, colorful and pleasant.

After I still cannot find the bathroom, having made a tour of the whole house, having gone AROUND the whole house, ?I say to the man, “Where?” and he points to a white wall with a white door, where I head to.

Next I see books in Lithuanian, it seems. I see something to do with St. Joseph. It is a book or picture, with something on the back. I think of the box in the kitchen where I keep all my father’s mementoes, which I brought back from Spain, high up in the pantry, with all letters, documents, etc.,? photos.

I see one paper as if written by myself—like one of those old Bible illuminated manuscripts where they start out the page with huge letters, decorated; only this is plain, a couple of large RED letters made by a child and colored in, the rest red writing, and on the opposite side of this [I] see a prayer to St. Joseph.

It was only at the coffee shop, in front of the men, that the dye on my hair looked so ugly to me—made me feel ashamed and that I was OFFENDING them if I entered—spoil their appe­tite, but they seem to welcome me. Later on, when I am asking the hairdresser to remove the dye, it doesn’t seem so awful.

The coffee shop gives me a very pleasant feeling. I love the idea of being hungry and thirsty; it is early morning, and here is this inviting coffee shop. And I love this hairdresser man, who is so benevolent to me, all in a rather matter-of-fact way. I feel very humble with him.

The coffee shop reminds me of a home away from home—a refuge or place which is inviting and welcomes you. I tell them something about I’ve never seen this place here before.

I also see myself telling the guys who own the shop about how FAR it is—it is FARTHER than my usual walks—so, that’s why I never have noticed or been to that coffee shop before, the DISTANCE.

The keys are like this: very light, pastel shades in gold, silver, copper, platinum—that type. I think of them as commemorative of something—there are at least ten, but the number is vague. They are on a small chain which I don’t really see, just imagine. They make me THINK—while I am thinking he disappears. They are something you STAMP what you want on. I think of their purpose, what to DO with them and immediately want to go inside and show the boss.

The red letter I wrote (which reminds me of the childhood letters I sent to my father) is written all in red and the letters are filled in, and I think, “Hey, I had the habit of filling in letters when I wrote as a child, just as I do now. It is a habit of long standing.” I am amazed.


Last night you prayed earnestly to Our Blessed Mother and to your (earthly) father in heaven because you cannot understand the origin of the problem within you—not even what it is, but you KNOW something is wrong.

This is the answer: it is the malediction from the daughter whom we shall call PIA.

In 4/3/82 the malediction was partly removed and you were relieved MENTALLY, but she has STOLEN your ability to concentrate on the within, seen as the teenager running with the gold jacket—the gold jacket represents your interior life.

Your last good day in the interior life was 3/27/82; and after that she afflicted you, your dreams deteriorated, and your mystical contact deteriorated.

This two weeks or so time is seen as TWO HOURS in the dream, having the DYE on for two hours.

The dye is two things. First, it is your being RESTORED by E.F. and your father, the PARTNERS in the beauty parlor, by which they BEAUTIFY YOUR SOUL WITH INFUSED GRACE.

But when you see the teenager pass by you notice this dye is like PUSS, and this is the same puss, a whitish bacteria which was in the “hematoma” dream—what SHE gave you. So, instead of the infused grace they put into your head, along with it you have the malediction. There is a DELAY in WASHING it out—or the two weeks or so between then and now. This morning’s dream is no doubt a PREDICTION of what is soon forthcoming—in the next day or days, as most of these dreams are predictions of the very near future.

No doubt this delay has been PERMITTED as reparation for sin. It is not a PUNISHMENT for anything you have done but a Grace that leads to greater perfection.

The first healing, in the 4/3/82 dream, when you had the blisters is seen here as going to the COFFEE SHOP.

E.F. and your father are PARTNERS in your restoration, and so later, you see a cacophony of style, color and design in their mutual residence—two different personalities, both now beatified, both close to you. This merger looks slightly cluttered, but in a lovely way.

The coffee shop—notice HE PAYS, you are afraid to enter because this is the Holy of Holies in your father’s estate, the place where, so to speak, he receives the Body and Blood of Christ IN ESSENCE. You do not want to OFFEND by the sinful state you are AFFLICTED with—this malediction which you cannot bring to purgatory, nor do you want to appear before The Lord with [it].

This was your father’s part, now we shall see E.F.’s.

E.F. seems smaller in size than your father, your father more gray and more as the boss. E.F. puts the dye on your hair, which is infused Grace; then you are afflicted, beg your father for help; he gives you the healing, and now E.F. gives you KEYS.

These KEYS are lights, and they illuminate your mind, connect you with himself. He wants you to communicate (have intercourse) with him through these keys, they are a gift of his beatitude in commemoration of when you nourished him with your breasts of charity and compassionated? him in purgatory, seen as the prayer shawl and breasts.

You teased him about loving you only for your light and prayers.

The towel is also a “crying towel” symbolizing your cries for help. By giving you these keys he is as saying, “Come up and see me any time you want.” This is a standing invitation, as when someone gives you the KEYS to their apartment they certainly are allowing you to enter any time the you want.

These keys are commemorative of how you delivered him, and now HE will reciprocate by guiding you, seen as implanting thoughts (stamping impressions on the mind) or delivering you from evil by showing you the way to get out of it (stamps deliver, keys open doors and ways).

The cigar denotes “benefactor” and “taking care of business,” and this is a transaction of spiritual business.

You PERFORMED for him, gave him YOUR keys to heaven, now he perform for you, delivering you likewise.

You want to show your father—exhibit—what he has given you, for they are partners and work together.

E.F. agrees that you have had enough of this malediction, and so does your father. You will find relief in E.F. washing out the malediction, which will show your beauty restored, and in your father letting you INTO THEIR HOUSE or VISION; and you will FIND RELIEF, blessed relief which cures, like the white wall and white door of hospital cleanliness.

These keys that E.F. gave you apparently allow you to enter into the vision of their state, which is the culmination of all the Graces mentioned; and so, you would have to ask permission from your father first before entering. It is this vision in which you find RELIEF and healing, seen earlier in part.

The dream is not the actual vision, but only the representation of it in image form.

The back of the St. Joseph card you have on your wall denotes that as he was the protector of Jesus and Mary on earth, so we plead with him to be our intercessor in heaven.

When you were a child you wrote many letters to your father, preserved in the box mentioned, and they were written in a scribble and filled with your blood, so to speak. They were cries for help. You were DEPRIVED of your earthly father’s physical protection, which WAS your pain.

You needed your father desperately then to protect you, but you didn’t have him, so you wrote letters. Now at last he is able to help you from heaven, and you pray to him.

Now you are reminded of your pain from early childhood. It started with the separation from your father at age eight. This is when your PASSION started, or the pivotal (cardinal) point of your life­time of suffering.

The floor of white tile is Christ the Rock, with the engraving of Mary on top. This is the FOUNDATION; this is both their REST, as right after this tile it? leads to the large red bed. Because of the passion of Christ and Mary, they now have a place to rest forever.

The Hassidic Jew you see as one of the people chasing the shoplifting teenager is yourself being robbed of the spiritual ISOLATION you need. Her action took you out of your interior state and into the world. You lost contemplation.


6/10/82 Thursday



In this dream, I am in some sort of a HOSPITAL, and I recall there were two patients that I helped. They were in a terrible state, but somehow, miraculously, I was able to help them!

The second one I came up to was lying on a bed against the wall. He was bandaged up—a man—and all white covers. He exposed his wounds to me in order for me to help him. It was on his lower abdomen—the main wound—this part was all PINK like PULP.

He asked me to place him on my shoulders—to bend over and he would climb on my shoulders, face down.? I took some of his bandages, thick ones, filled with blood. But I was wearing all white and there was also an odor coming from him, and I am trying to figure out how to help him without getting contaminated by this blood and odor.

Looking around, I see two nurses and, apologizing, ask them to help. They say, “We don’t mind!” And gladly took him and carried him away. Within that act of CARRYING AWAY was the healing.

They did the job real? cheerfully, as if just WAITING for me to ORDER them. They are both short, real sweet and smiling.

I see myself holding the layered, bloody bandages trying to figure out what to do with them. Later this one bandage/package turns into a plastic suitcase of the kind I hold my manuscripts in. This one seems at first the black one with the zipper where I keep the dreams about book publishing, and on second glance, the brown one where I keep Mary’s book and E.F.’s outline original; and seems about several times as large as either of these.

This satchel I put OUTSIDE against the wall of this hospital.

After this I seem to see what is like a miniature speedway, for little cars like go-carts, and this bodybuilder, whom I shall call COLUMBUS, is going around this very small speedway right in front of the hospital.

He has his wife with him in the cart, while I am around and trying to stay “on top” of things, literally, so I don’t get run over. There is something to climb up on in the middle, which I do. I have to maneuver and move several times to make sure I'm out of the way.

After this course—like an obstacle course— is over, I see myself going off, forward, and falling, with relief, upon the ground, embracing the ground, which is as a mound in front of me. I have my arms IN it and AROUND it. It is a green color like CLAY, but also seems a little brown at the same time, and it seems it is BLESSED and I am THANKING Mary, repeating, “Thank you,” over and over.

I am embracing this earth, which seems to be as if welcoming me or comforting me. It is all the light green color of as if modeling clay, but soft and moist. The brown seems either as just specks or imagination, to let me know this is EARTH and not something else.


The hospital is the place of reparation for sin, Purgatory.

The two patients are your teacher and most notably, E.F., E.F. being the one under discussion in this dream.

He REVEALED himself to you so you would help him.

His sins were primarily against TEMPERENCE, which would be revealed as an abdominal problem (overindulgence).

You had to carry E.F., like a cross, HOME to GOD. You feared, that by you contaminating yourself with sin, you would not be able to do it, but the angels helped. You prayed and the angels transported him to God as if they waited on your prayers, and so, your burden was as if nothing.

The bloody bandages are the writings left behind, emissions from the healing of his wounds.

At first you did not know what you were to do with these writings, but eventually they made up a manuscript. You made several copies, so it became several times as large.

You took these revelations OUTSIDE into the world of sense. Then you went “around” by sending out the outlines to various people.

You must be very circumspect not to let your EGO get in the way this time.

You and E.F. are COLUMBUS and his mate—you trying to discover A NEW WORLD or new earth of opportunity. After your JOURNEY of going the rounds, the earth WELCOMES YOU and it is green or fertile. Does it mean it will be accepted?

Or does it mean you are asking the earth to receive you because no one wants to do the book?


6/13/82 Sunday



Last night prayed before falling asleep to dream about E.F.’s manuscript and what might become of it. Had the following dream:

The dream begins like this: I am all alone in my apartment in a TWILIGHT state.? Both my own being and the atmosphere of the living room, which I enter from the little bedroom, seem RARIFIED.

I am dressed nicely, conservative yet pretty, wearing a sort of form fitting sweater and a skirt that goes below my knees, the top dark blue, the bottom pink SORT OF because in this state, as if the atmosphere were permeated in supernatu­ral light; all colors are as if MUTED and changed.

I sit down on a couch, which is by the large window by the wall, and look into the mirrors on the wall at myself, when lo, I perceive a LARGE HAND, a very large and masculine hand of a man, reaching from behind me and touching my right breast!

This hand is very GENTLE. It is not a molester but rather a supernatural experience, and so I am not afraid. In another moment I see the left hand of this man as if assessing the left curvature of my body, gently going over it from the left chest, waist and hips.

He is not so much FEELING me but touching me—there is a difference. He is fascinated with the beauty of my body, enraptured by it, you might say, and now, he has, in a super­natural way, come here to my apartment to take part in it.

(The very FIRST thing I say to him when I realize who he is—Ararat the bodybuilder—is this. Picturing E.F.’s manuscript in my mind, I say,

“Will you help me get the manuscript, REWRITTEN, REVISED, or PUBLISHED?”

(I sense that all my manuscripts have to be redone by a professional writer. I don’t recall him giving me an answer to this)

I NEVER KNEW that Ararat loved me so much. I knew he liked me for my body, that he liked large breasts, but not that he loved me so much as I feel here.

This whole thing shows his SECRET LOVE for me.

“HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” I wonder and exclaim, but he refuses to answer. I ask him if he HAD A LOCK MADE by somehow assessing the keyhole of my door from the outside, etc., but he doesn’t answer—acts nonchalant about this.

We are now on the couch together and making out, which feels almost like making love. He is so powerfully built, so masculine and aggressive, in a sense, that I become a lit­tle afraid, as I am all alone with him and must keep my chastity.

I say to him, before it gets any further, “You know, I cannot have sex. I must practice chastity, obedience and poverty for the rest of my life.”

He seems to fall back on the couch in wonderment and says, “What are you going to do for the rest of your life? Have sex with yourself?”

This last part sounds very vulgar to me, but he understands. He is not going to try to force me to have sex. His interest, I discover, is LOVE, not sex.

We continue kissing, making out on the couch, which? now our location has become more centrally located in the room.

I say to him, “Since you are a MAMMA’S BOY, what do you care, anyway? You can be perfectly satisfied by kissing my breasts.”

Then he moves to change his position so that for a moment his hardon is closer to my face. Thinking that he does not understand that fellatio is a part of sex, I say to him, “I can’t give you a blow job, either.”

Now he is embarrassed, and says, “I wasn’t going to try and make you do that.”

I cannot explain how REAL this whole thing is in the dream, almost as if it were happening.

My thought is this: I never knew that Ararat loved me so much! At last he is revealing his love for me. He loves my BODY so much, the beauty, the shape and form of my body. It is a fixation on? his mind.

While we were making out on the couch, and after I told him I couldn’t have a sex, the following thing happened: Through the living room window curtain—which is the kitchen curtain hanging here—we could see through the cracks a whole series of windows of my building and in each one of these windows is a MOTHER AND CHILD, the mother dressing or otherwise doting on the child, and Ararat is drinking this in. He is so DELIGHTED by this scene; and in truth, it is completely different than the reality of my building, where mostly the win­dows of my neighbors are closed—it looks dreary and dismal—but here all is lovely and ILLUMINATED.

I comment and he says, “No—it is THAT one I am looking at.”

I turn my head in the direction he was looking and realizing? now that I was looking through the living room into MY OWN KITCHEN WINDOW! But what I am seeing and thought I was seeing was my next-door neighbor whose baby recently died after living twenty days.

I say, “Uh,? that is Carmen.”

Carmen—like most of the mothers I saw in the window—kneeling,? doting on a little child. She is wearing a pale green wool jacket.

I am thinking to myself, “It is a good thing I was dressed in a pretty nice way when, out of the clear blue, he decided to appear and visit me.? What if I had been wearing my usual rags?

We Are Separated

The next thing I know, we are separated. I and my daughter are visiting a Lady who reminds me of Verna Talbot. This seems to be a way station or stop before getting back to Ararat with whom—by the way—my daughter and I have gone OUT.

It is kind of like going to the REST ROOM while he is waiting for us in this public place, like a restaurant, but not.

This lady is a psychic, a mystic, a prophet, or whatever you want to call her. It has something to do with religion, but not traditional religion.

The room is large, and now I have a problem and must go to the bathroom. I have serious constipation, and must go right in front of the woman on this potty.

As I am trying to go, she says, “What is that SACK?”

It seems some sort of little sack has come out of my rear end. I am ANXIOUS to get back to Ararat, who is waiting; and even wondering if he can wait so long, or will he, perhaps be gone when I return? It isn’t right to keep a man waiting that long. But it is taking me so long to get organized because of these personal problems.

Then something awful and unbelievable happens, and the two seem to coincide. First I will tell you what happened to my BODY, and then, the other.

I went into another, more private bathroom, and, sitting on a toilet something broke inside me, and out of my vagina gushed a combination of clear water and blood, a profusion of it.

I exclaimed to my daughter, who is irritated that I am taking so long,

“I MUST see a doctor! Now I know something is wrong with me!”

But it does stop, and I think I see some clear water after that, and then all stops.

Now this also is happening: I see what is the most frightful monster I have ever seen IN MY LIFE, coming toward our direction. It is HUGE, as tall as a tall building, and perfectly black, as if made of a metallic plastic. He is stalking the earth and, heading right for our direction, comes right in front of the building we are in.

At first I saw him through the picture window but now we are as watching him by remote control or a television screen, and the devastation he is wrecking.

What he is doing is TEARING APART PEOPLE and not only people, but the buildings they are in! This is very easy for him and nothing can stand in his way, once he decides to tear it apart.

The question now, concerning my daughter and myself, is this, shall we leave the place we are in and run, or stay right here?

My daughter seems to want to get out, but I say, let us stay, because if we go out, he will SEE us, and then, may attack. As long as he does not decide to attack our building, we will be alright.? So we stay.

I don’t think he does attack our building, yet our whole building is MOVING as if guided or picked up by an unseen force.

WE are moving before the things, rather than the things, in vision, moving before us, but it is all the same in vision.

After this, I see myself back in the room and I talk to this lady psychic about Verna Talbot. She says, “You must pray for her.”

“PRAY for her? She is already in heaven! You don’t understand that by my prayers and Masses that I procured her she was lifted into heaven!”

“Oh, then, you don’t know how she may return when she is reincarnated.

“REINCARNATED?” Now I am beginning to see this lady’s religion.

I say to her, “I know what your religion is. It is METAPHYSICS.”

Finally, my daughter and I are both ready and we leave. In this room was a staircase that goes up a half flight on either side to a door. It reminds me of cafeterias that I have seen downstairs in schools—Allentown High School, to be exact.

The room where Ararat has been waiting is large. He is off to the wall on the left, reclining as if taking a nap.

He is smiling as I come in, as if dreaming about me and waiting patiently. What a picture of love!

I go over to him, and the next thing I know he is on top of me, making out! We are not having sex, but it looks like sex and I begin to notice girls that are sitting around the room TWITTERING because they think we are having sex!

I explain this to Ararat—that they think we are having sex, and we better change our position. He moves. That is when I discover he must have had climaxes because my very pale faded Levi’s have wet spots on them, which seem as water, and at the wet spots they are dark blue, as if the dye becomes dark when touched by water. This is embarrassing—as I was trying to prove to the bystanders that we were NOT having sex, that we were dressed, and then,? these wet spots are revealed!

Ararat is perfectly ENTRANCED with love, but he obeys me; is very docile to my suggestions.

While Ararat was on top of me in the restaurant/gathering place I saw the nerves and muscles of his powerful neck moving and I thought: “Just by being on top of me he is having climaxes. It is amazing the CONTROL he has over his body!”

He has a huge neck and his whole body is incredibly developed, and he is extremely beautiful.

Next I see us back as if in my apartment speaking again about our meeting. Somehow he is explaining what made him come up here—what REMINDED him of me and perhaps stimulated him to reach me in so supernatural a way.

He says to me, “Yes, they told me you had made an appearance.”

Since this APPEARANCE refers to a bodybuilding show (I am thinking of the Ms. Olympia) and I have not been to one in years, I say something like, “You' re kidding. I wasn’t AT the bodybuilding show. So you realize, this is BILOCATION. What was I wearing?” What was I wearing really interests me, as I am wondering how I dress in bilocation.”

He thinks, and, not being able to describe my clothing physically, he says, “You looked like an ARISTOCRAT.”
I keep saying Saturday, but he corrects me that it was SUNDAY, and I say, “Oh yes, Sunday”

Leaving the Premises

After this, all seems to be over and I am leaving, for some reason, and going far away, out into the wilderness.

I am not quite sure why I am leaving, but it is as if my MISSION here is over and I am sort of disappointed, yet, not overly so. I seem resigned to it.

It is night, and I am flying away. I see myself going over an industrial area, and over water. This is rather forbidding, especially at night, when you can’t see where you are going.

It is a1so cold. On the other side of this body of water, which looks like a river, I alight to stop and rest, and, amazingly, see men resting, sleeping under dry grass. I accidentally alight on top of them, but then think, “If I get in with the men, I will be WARM as they are warm.”

Whether they would WANT me in with them, I don’t know. The first one I have alighted on and awakened, I am wondering if I am an annoyance to him. They seem to be resting from hard physical labor during the day. I did not SEE them as they are camouflaged by the dry pale brown grass on top of them.

I am on a major journey and undertaking, and must figure out ways to survive.

Also saw? the following dream somewhere during the night:

As if BY ACCIDENT, my outline of E.F.’s book reached one of the offices where they hire girls to use their bodies, and these guys want to hire me to dance!

They are chiding me for not writing a letter, not SIGNING the material have sent, and say something to the effect that how would I like it if they sent me something unsigned?

They seem to be excited about me, and I see them scribbling something to send me.

They are sinister or slightly perverted, the way men are in the sex business. That’s what these men are in—the sex business.

The thing they are sending me is printed—perhaps my own outline they are returning and scribbling a note on the bottom. Perhaps they are sending me something sarcastic.

Also had a vague feeling that there would be a negative response from Europe.


The beginning was the totally UNEXPECTED and unexplain­able entrance of E.F. into your life by HOLY POSSESSION.

What he was TOUCHING was your soul. He became a part of you and you of him, a meeting of the minds in a metaphysical state.

He could not comprehend, at first, your chastity. The thought of chastity was farthest from his mind, as evidenced in your first meeting, and that was the point on which you had to feed him or build him up.

Your relationship is first seen as parent-child, and later in the dream as lovers—it was both. As mother you developed or prepared him for Beatific Vision, feeding him by the breasts of your charity to give him strength and light. This is what delighted him the most and stimulated him—your maternal kneeling, or serving him, doting on him, loving him in the pure love of a mother for her son.

Your question, in the end, is what stimulated him to want to be possessed by you and vice versa, and his answer: your NOBILITY of nature, seen as an aristocratic look. This proves that this total possession of each other is done by MUTUAL CONSENT and not otherwise; both parties, not only one—must agree. THIS explains why, in the first meeting, you had to work with such arduous labor to get him to speak with you. This speaking was the consent.

Apparently, this did not happen all at once at your first meeting—there was a preliminary descent into purgatory which you had recorded in dreams prior to E.F.’s. He HEARD about you being there he said. The angels must have been pre­paring him for your visit—your mutual meeting of minds.

You refer to being glad you were wearing the garments of virtue rather than the rags of sin. This particularly refers to chastity by which you primarily ministered to him—what if you had still been into sex? You could not have helped him then.

The question of sex—sexuality—fellatio, is this: You will allow him to posses you spiritually but not PHYSICALLY, as the penis in the mouth or unlawful sex denotes physical possession in the sense that one’s will is taken over by another entity and used. This is not allowed—he knows this.

We Are Separated

First Verna Talbot was delivered, so you had to leave E.F. for a while. This meant you were OUT with him or he was OUT of? you.

Verna Talbot was very difficult. In order to deliver her, you had to break through a SACK of darkness. This refers to the severe purging you underwent to cleanse your sins before their deliveries could start, the sins being waste matter.

The difficulty of her rebirth (in the sense of FINAL rebirth) is seen as you having constipation. Her unconscious state—not knowing that it was by YOU that she is delivered—is also exhibited. This would explain her lack of gratitude to you before and after the delivery.

The final breakthrough as well as an intense demonic attack came through? in Detroit at one and the same time. You died ONCE AGAIN in consciousness and were reborn into a higher vision, and this catapulted her over the edge.

You see Verna as telling you to KEEP PRAYING because neither she nor your own mind revealed to you until later that she had already been delivered. She is as if not aware who she is, or who she WAS. This coincides with E.F.’s explanation that he who has not been ANOINTED, as you anointed him during the bilocation, can forget who he was and lose consciousness of their past. Apparently this is her state.

The blood and water breaking through is the bag of water breaking, giving birth to the church, which is her; and perhaps in this water came the rest of the souls in this series of deliveries.

E.F. was better, more easy to work with because you were mutually possessed and therefore could chart his prog­ress. With Verna it was the “Roger” system of communication? as exhibited in one of your dreams.

He KNOWS it was you and so was grateful and always will be for your efforts.

The daughter irritated at taking so long is the flesh anxious for E.F.’s delivery.

The MOVING was going by train to Detroit during which the consciousness breakdown took place. During the trip and before was the severest demonic attack.

After Verna’s delivery you going up HALF A FLIGHT and then returning to E.F. must be right after the Marriage, when you bilocated to here.? The sequence was thus:

1. Ministering to E.F..

2. Leaving E.F. to help Verna.

3. Verna’s delivery (2/10/82).

4. The vision (2/11/82).

5. Your Marriage (2/15/82).

6. Return to E.F.

The “wet spots” are like INK STAINS caused by your love, and this refers to the outlines you sent out to publishers talking about “E.F. makes love to me.”

Here you were trying to prove this was NOT sex, not a carnal relationship; and by writing the words “making love” you incriminated yourself in their minds. And so they are twittering.

These CLIMAXES that he was having were in the HEAD symbolized by the nerves and muscles in the neck. It was his MIND you stimulated and it was a CLIMAX of CONSCIOUSNESS.

You were the “Priest” or minister wearing Levi’s.

Leaving The Premises

Your mission to relieve E.F. has been over. You are disappointed that your intimacy is gone, but glad he is in heaven.

Now you are going into the cold, forbidding world—the world of physical industry and sense and in darkness, for you know not what will come of this journey trying to sell your manuscript on the case.

Over the river is from Brooklyn to Manhattan where most of your mail is directed—to Manhattan and points east.

The first publisher you’ve already “alighted” on you are worried about annoying, but you’ve already awakened him by your project.

The dry grass is the physical material world they work in day by day—with no spiritual moisture or efficacy. ALL flesh is grass, and all works of flesh are dead. The grass withers, the flower fades. Here you see these would-be publishers asleep to spiritual sense but exhausted from physical labor. They are like the living souls in purgatory, not broken through to the interior, but covered over by the deadness of exterior knowledge.






Cuban Rebel Girls 1959

The Roots of Heaven 1958

Too Much, Too Soon 1958

Duel 1957

The Sun Also Rises 1957

Istanbul 1957

The Big Boodle (aka Night in Havana) 1956

King’s Rhapsody 1955

The Warriors (aka The Dark Avenger) 1955

Let’s Make Up 1955

William Tell (incomplete) 1954

Crossed Swords 1954

Cubin Story 1953

The Master of Ballantrae 1953

Cruise of the Zaca 1952

Against All Flags 1952

Mara Maru 1952

Adventures of Captain Fabian

(screenplay by Flynn) 1951

Hello God 1951

Kim 1951

Rocky Mountain 1950

Montana 1950

That Forsyte Woman 1949

It’s a Great Feeling 1949

Adventures of Don Juan 1948

Silver River 1948

Always Together 1947

Escape Me Never 1947

Cry Wolf 1947

Never Say Goodbye 1946

San Antonio 1945

Objective, Burma! 1945

Uncertain Glory 1944

Northern Pursuit 1943

Thank Your Lucky Stars 1943

Edge of Darkness 1943

Gentleman Jim 1942

Desperate Journey 1942

They Died With Their Boots On 1942

Dive Bomber 1941

Footsteps in the Dark 1941

Santa Fe Trail 1940

The Sea Hawk 1940

Virginia City 1940

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex 1939

Dodge City 1939

The Dawn Patrol 1938

The Sisters 1938

Four’s a Crowd 1938

The Adventures of Robin Hood 1938

The Perfect Specimen 1937

Another Dawn 1937

The Prince and the Pauper 1937

The Green Light 1937

The Charge of the Light Brigade 1936

Pirate Party on Catalina Isle 1936

Captain Blood 1935

Don’t Bet on Blondes 1934

The Case of the Curious Bride 1934

Murder at Monte Carlo 1934

In the Wake of the Bounty 1933





© 2004 - 2006 RASA VON WERDER