I was Wrong about Harold the Doll. Part Two

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When I woke up and saw this picture that morning (see “I was Wrong about Harold the Doll Part One) I knew immediately that it was the Cathedral I went to Mass at when I returned to the Catholic Church almost 30 years ago.

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I also recognized the black thing surrounded by red as the bag that Harold has been in since 2013. It’s the same bag that Zak Bagans carried into the shack with the doll in it on the Ghost Adventures episode of the Island of the Dolls.

To the right was Abaddon hovering over “Harold.” The “lightning bolt” was what Vincent typically drew to show anger or upset.

I assumed that I was the one standing to the left of the bag. The “stars” above and to the right were the same sort of thing Vincent drew a couple of years ago when he drew a picture of the church his mother brought him to. They were inside the church when he grew restless and insisted on leaving. When he drew that picture he had the “black thing” outside the church, but the stars represented the “people in the church.” His mother told me that they were the only ones in the church at the time.

But I had no idea what the drawing meant.

I wrote a message to Jane asking her to ask Vincent for me. Since it was still late at night in Australia, I knew I wouldn’t be getting an answer anytime soon. “I’ll go to the Cathedral after she lets me know what this means,” I thought to myself. Since I knew I wouldn’t hear from her until that afternoon, and perhaps not until later that night, I even thought about not going until the next day (Friday). Suddenly, every fiber in my being screamed that I needed to go at that moment. So I did.

I knew from past experience that there was a Mass @ 12:15 p.m. I also felt as though I needed to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Because of the red in the picture, I thought a sealing ritual was supposed to be done on the bag. So that was my plan – go to Reconciliation, then the sealing ritual, and after that attend Mass. But I was running so late by this time I wasn’t sure I’d make it in time to do all of this.

As I approached the church I was stunned to see it covered with scaffolding and some sort of mesh. I almost didn’t recognize it. I tried to open one of the doors but it was locked. I wondered if that’s why the bag, Harold, Abaddon and I were drawn outside of the church. That didn’t make sense, so I went in through a side door.

“If this is really what God wants,” I thought as I entered, “He’ll nake sure that everything I need to do gets done. ” I have to admit, I was surprised to see that a priest was still hearing confessions, so I received the Sacrament of Reconciliation. One down, two more to go.

Next, a sealing ritual was done on the bag. Two down. I said a prayer and then celebrated the Eucharist (from the Greek word meaning, “Thanksgiving”).

After Mass was over, I stayed seated in the pew, quietly contemplating all that just happened, hoping I did what Dillon saw when he made his drawing, but I just wasn’t sure. Even so, I could barely keep still. I was so happy I wanted to shout and dance and sing. I kept wondering to myself, “Is it really is over  now?

I didn’t hear back from Jane until after I left the church and was heading back home. I thought about celebrating by breaking my Lenten fast, which I’d just begun the day before, and grabbing a bite to eat at McDonald’s. Something told me that I should just keep going.

I was on a shuttle bus passing the McDonald’s when I received the following messages from Jane –

This (he points to the building) is where someone will help you. Not the first one you ask, but the other quieter man. It’s really not happy (points to the blob with the red around it). It’s trying to get things to be its friend and fight but it’s being stopped by the light (points to the big yellow star thing).

Now he’s gone to get some toast. 

Oh and not sure if this means anything or he was being silly – don’t walk by McDonald’s. It will be bad. lol

As I read, and re-read her message, it all started to make sense to me. The first man I talked to was the priest who heard my confession. I told him about my frustration with God and not knowing what he wanted from me. “It’s been my experience,” he told me, “that whenever this happens to me it’s because I’m not really wanting to follow God’s will, but my own.”

I thought, “Am I wrong to want to want to be over and done with Harold, Abaddon, and everything that’s happened? I just want to move on with my life, without Harold the Doll being a part of it.”

Even so, when I received absolution, I felt elated. A huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt free.

The same priest who heard my confession also celebrated the Mass. I had the bag sitting next to me in the pew along with many of the pictures Vincent and drawn and painted so that when the final blessing was said, they would be sanctified as well.

Within two minutes of me arriving back home, I received a phone call that was an answer to one of my prayers! “Thank you, Lord!” I yelled at the top of my lungs! I went from happy that this was over to ecstatic!

Later that night, I was praying and a thought came to me. I groaned, “You can’t be serious, right?”

Since then, every time I think about what came to me that night, a sense of peace washes over me; even though I’m personally not happy about it.

I thought I was done with Harold the Doll after I left the Cathedral. I was wrong.



I was Wrong about Harold the Doll. Part One.

When this happened I shared it with a couple of members of my “Inner Circle” team. I wasn’t going to tell the story publicly, but I kept hearing that it’s a story that needs to be told, so here it is. 

You may remember when, a little over a year ago I was living in Gardner, Massachusetts, and someone claimed to be an “exorcist.” He said that could help me with the “demon” the owns Harold the Doll. He also claimed that he, and whoever helped him, both  made contact with the entity that was causing all the problems, and they both agreed that I wasn’t dealing with Abaddon, but a “low-level demon.”

When I was told this, I heard in my head. “I sent Harold to him. It was Harold that he saw, not me.” I also heard, “If he tries to do anything, I’ll kill him.” I decided to let this “exorcist” do his thing anyway, even after he suggested that I put the doll outside, and that would stop everything. Seriously? The spirit calling himself “Harold” was wreaking havoc in the lives of people around the world and putting it outside would stop it from bothering me?

Seriously? The spirit calling himself “Harold” was wreaking havoc in the lives of people around the world and putting it outside would stop it from bothering me?

To me, it just showed how little he knew.

Well, I decided I wasn’t going to warn him as I was told and I immediately felt as though my guts were being ripped apart. I went to the bathroom, passed out, and woke up with three cracked ribs.

I’m bringing this up because last Wednesday, March 1st, it had been two weeks, to the day, since I, with the help of a couple of new friends I’d made, facilitated the release of the souls imprisoned in the doll, with the exception of Harold who remained behind by his own choosing, in Brisbane, Australia. I thought that as soon as it happened, the lives of those were affected by the doll, including myself, would start to become better. They didn’t. In fact, in the case of a couple of people, they had become worse.

I’m now back in Denver, Colorado, and this past Thursday morning, I woke up, my intestines feeling the same way that they did that night in Gardner. I out of bed and went to the bathroom. As I was sitting on the toilet, I started to black out. I wondered, again, if I was dying. I felt my wrist for a pulse, more than once, and couldn’t find one. I thought to myself, “I wonder if I did what I’m supposed to do, and now it’s time for me to go to my Father’s house.” Then I thought, “There is no way I’m going to die here and have someone find my dead body sitting on this toilet with my pajama pants around my ankles!”

I got up, used some toilet paper, flushed, and went to bed honestly not knowing if I were going to wake up in this life or the next.

Shortly after I fell asleep I woke up again because the Facebook Messenger app on my phone dinged. I didn’t look at who sent me a message or why. I was so tired I just wanted to sleep. So I rolled over.

When I woke up and looked at the message, what I saw took my breath away. I wasn’t done with Harold the Doll just yet.

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