I recently went to a hell.
It was a little scary at first.
I don't remember exactly how I got there.
I was not escorted, or so I thought.
I was greeted with, "What are you doing here?"
The place looked like your basic manually driven
multilevel coal mine.
But they didn't seem to be extracting anything.
The outside of the mountain was slick
like a new layer was being put on.
Everything was dirty.
The people were sweaty.
And this man in front of me
wore tattered trousers with no belt.
He had no shirt and dark splotches of filth and dirt
spread unevenly across every inch of his enormose potbelly.
His feet were hooves.
Thin hair ran up the center of his belly
and spread out across his chest as black and gray
mats of wet and dirty, greasy hair.
He was holding a staff of some kind.
It was a short staff painted colorfully
and was mostly held up in the air
giving emphasis to his commands.
"Well?" he barked at me as he shooed me away.
"On your way, now."
"And a good day to you, sir," I managed to speak as I turned to leave.
~~~
Sometimes the rules
prevent everyone
from winning.
Maybe winning should be made illegal.
~~~
So these creatures whom I encounter in my visions
seem to be able to....
There seems to be spirits that choose us
and stay with us.
These spirits speak to other spirits
who have chosen other people.
So when I talk to you
for example
there is a spirit in me
who is talking to a spirit in you
at levels and in dimensions
that are not seen by us.
It might be like when God calls me Peter.
And when I was in hell
that supervisor recognized me
or he recognized a spirit
in me.
I could have projected a dragon
or the face of
almost any other creature
as my accompanying spirit.
That is my choice.
God calls me Peter and Jesus holds my soul.
But I could have projected the devil
when I went down to hell
and would have been treated
very differently.
It is my choice
which is what makes me
who I am.