PURSON, THE WOMAN IN BLACK FROM LILITH’S HAREM
The Ufologist and Cryptologist, Nick Redvern decided to engage in the practice of remote viewing in order to further his research into arcane matters. He did so in private, away from his peers. They would not understand this quirky turn of events in his investigations, to no doubt violently castigate it as being far too dangerously Fringe of the occult hippie. Whereupon he secretly took up brief residence in a seedy roadside motel, not too far away from Area 51, Dreamland.
Redvern wanted to determine who The Men in Black truly are, who all looked like bald headed Aleister Crowley clones. But, in order to take his overriding MIB obsession into uncharted territory, where Ufologists fear to tread, he needed to discover their female counterparts.
He started to suspect, they were the true power, of a throne, since they are hardly ever mentioned. Their conspicuous absence of continuance indicated a greater mystery to fathom.
Redvern awaited the late hours of the desert night before he proceeded with his ritual, which required the use of an Ouija board.
His in depth research concerning The Men in Black phenomenon, indicated that many of The Men in Black visitations of a haunting occurred after a haunted individual had dabbled with the Steampunk spirit board, of spiritualist infatuations.
As Redvern prepared himself of lotus position meditation, he did not expect that the slide into trance around the Ouija board, would happen so quickly, as his hand was rapidly planchette taken over, pointing out letters in rapid succession, which spelt out the name, Purson, as well as the words, Succubus, and, Queen.
But the words quickly lost their conscious meaning as Redvern suddenly, experienced subconscious mediumistic visions of a shadowy clad woman, looking like a female version of a man in black, awaiting his conjuration of her.
Redvern’s eyes went white of inward fish orbs, becoming upturned, amphibious, towards the top of his skull; while falling ever deeper into the astral waters of ecstatic trance. As he did so, his quivering voice was recorded on a running tape machine; “I see her, yes! This Purson, who be a Succubus Queen. Yes! She looks like a catwalk model slender girl, whose beautiful face seems to have feline features, making her look to be of oriental, perhaps, Mongolian, or even Tibetan of descent. Her slanted eyes appear to have cat-like slits, who has manifested along with two other ravishingly gorgeous Succubae; both of whom are similarly dressed in black, or otherwise Gothic of shape-shifting fashion style. One of the other Succubae looks to be Lappish of looks, of very pale skin, which is offset by her jet black hair, looking like a classic Goth chick; while the other Succubus appears to be Mediterranean; maybe she is Turkic, of olive skin appearance.”
Redvern continued; “Purson appears to be holding a riding crop in her left hand, which bites as a Viper, or that of a black yew wand, becoming as a Cobra flute; that, or she is wielding a guitar, its neck that of a Snake, held in her hand of a symbolic fusion of these elemental weapons. All three of these Succubae are predatory, like Lionesses, who are riding a shiny new black Cadillac; its engine growling like a contented Bear, which is sounding its eerie clairaudient trumpeting horn three times, as she makes her Genie entrance into my vision.”
Then Redvern heard her seductive voice of inner clairaudience. “I have appeared; for you sought me out around your spirit board, which of hypnagogic trance induction towards the back of your Agartha head of Lilith’s Harem, tunes your subconscious mind into the quantum realm of the electron dream, where my inorganic intelligence resides. My physical frame, is elsewhere of the future born, where Time Travel within informational dreams is facilitated by our time control technology, which involves quantum teleportation. But if I so choose, I can enter into your time frame of bilocation, along with my Succubae sisters; whereby physically manifesting as a hologram. The prior interlude of which, might generate ensuing synchronicities and poltergeist phenomena, as the connection between your time frame, and that of my own is forged. So, what do want of me?”
Redvern couldn’t believe what he was hearing of an imaginary voice; who mumbled out loud; “can you help me in my research? I need to write another book; my monetary resources are not matching my lavish Dallas lifestyle. I need a new conspiracy theory angle.” Purson appeared to have smiled of an inner vision, and then answered; “Of course I can; I know all things hidden, of which you desire to know concerning your military industrial complex as well as discovering those 2012 singularity treasures they hide away. It was I, who had spun the visionary dreams of Nikola Tesla as his inventors shadow muse.”
“What?” Redvern to have asked of his active imagination conjuration. “You was the one who inspired Tesla’s futuristic inventions. How?” Purson answered; “I spun his electron dreams, to tune into my bio-photon signal, which emanates from amidst the mitochondrial DNA, whose light illuminates the quantum computing dream of Omega futures beckoning back to their Alpha. The source of the inner light, the shamans of the Altai know as the Bear mother of fire, who initiates the death’s kiss of trance.”
Purson to continue. “Her name in their language is called Yal-un eke; whereas the master of the inner fire is known as Odqan, who is the fire king, Lion of the world; otherwise called the shaman-smithy elder brother of the shaman, whom the black shamans seek to emulate, when to master their inner Yal-un eke fire.” Redvern’s internal ear to prick up at the mention of black shamans. “Black shamans… are they associated with The Men in Black?” Purson was silent for a moment, and then answered. “Yes; they are our fearsome Skinwalker agents, who are presently engaged in a time war with the greed of a few, who have stolen the future of all.”
“Who are these, greedy few, you speak of?” Redvern to enquire, of testing, yet, likewise thinking to himself that he was going quite mad. Purson then said; “they are what many consider to be, reptilian Illuminati. But they are just reptilian brain-dead-stem human gangsters, who are aware that you are surrounded by a time travelling capable civilisation, forged by your future descendants; just as your own civilisation surrounds an unknowing stone age tribe in the Amazon. The few of the so called shadow government elite, have hypnotised themselves into believing that they must protect your civilisation at any cost. But in truth, they are merely protecting their own illusory influence and transient power.”
Redvern was intrigued by what Purson had to relate of an animated archetype; “what else can you tell me?” Purson answered; “I can tell of all things past, present, and to come. But, be aware there are innumerable Ouroboros possibilities of a closed timelike-curve alternate reality. I can take on a physical human body, or being otherwise ethereal, and to answer truly of all Earthly things both secret and divine; to also reveal the reasoning behind the subversively engineered closed timelike-curve of your present Matrix. I bring forth most loving Succubae into your dreams, and under my Agartha Government there be 22 Legions of such Succubae, who be partly of the Order of Virtues and partly of the Order of Thrones. My two-dimensional sign of a seal, or character is to be mediated upon prior to conjuring me into three-dimensional lucid dream existence. By this seal, I owe obedience unto, for you to also wear in time of action.”
Redvern’s active imagination vision was suddenly broken by three loud knocks at his hotel door. He shook his head clear of his twilight trance, thinking himself to be a total fool to lose himself to such imaginative folly. Redvern then stood up, feeling a bit dizzy at first as he made his way to the door; while damning the hotel staff under his breath, who he had earlier informed not to disturb him. When he opened the door, his eyes nearly popped out their skull and cross-bone sockets.
“Fuck me!” He said out loud in shock, as he found himself being confronted by a young woman wearing a black Cat-woman jumpsuit and wraparound MIB shades. She had long black hair, whose skin was Gothic pale, with a black lacquered electric guitar strapped to her back. The woman inanely giggled at first, almost becoming that of a screeching cackling Witch; who of a sudden stopped dead her girlish giggle fit, to then seriously say, sounding almost monotone of voice; “not tonight Mr Redvern; can you please autograph my book.” She then handed Redvern a copy of his own writ tome, entitled: ‘The Real Men in Black,’ as well as a black pen, along whose length was etched a gold serpent.
Redvern was far too stunned to object, who found himself automatically signing her book. After signing his name, the woman abruptly snatched back her book and pen, who started to inanely cackle, to then again suddenly stop; becoming very serious of expression. “Thank you Mr Redfern, I mean… Redvern for your… Contractual Signature.”
She then flamboyantly turned away and walked off into the night towards the hotel car park, with her hips swaying of an exaggerated Marilyn Munroe walk. Redvern just stood at the open door with his mouth agape.
He was frozen to the spot, to shortly thereafter observe a shiny new 1950’s black Cadillac drive off very fast of a growling roar, to then be near blinded, by an Albedo flash of serpentine lightning splitting the heavens over the Sabbat desert.
His protective eyelids, instinctively closed, behind which of Rubedo redness, a grid-like Matrix of light was briefly seen all around him. It was as if he was inside a computer simulation before his eyelids flickered open again.
But there was no thunder to follow, apart from hearing a toy trumpet being played by a little girl, who was trailing after her aggravated parents spilling themselves out of a ragged camper van. On the side of the van was painted Whitley Strieber’s iconic Grey; its tetrachromat wraparound shade eyes, staring back at him.
“Fuck me!” Redvern said again, before he Siva feinted into the Baron Samadhi Nigredo.. blackness, of Kali Ma.