The Deep Dive: The Mystery Behind My Father’s Dementia

What is your favorite form of physical exercise?

The brain’s power of exercising is what moves the physical body. It sends messages, and the body responds. My own brain power, however, dives deeper — into unseen worlds. Especially when it comes to my father’s dementia.

I have often wondered how manipulation could have brought his mind so low, how he could have fallen twice without telling us, and how he ended up lying motionless on that bed at the home. Through telepathy, I took a deep dive into him — to find out what troubled him, what held him trapped between past and present.

What I found disturbed me.
He was clinging to his past — to the memories of his imbecile relatives who had once humiliated him. They blew powder onto his face, laughed, mocked his dressing, ridiculed his grooming, and fed his pride with false affection.

He loved them more than his own family. He didn’t realize they were witches and warlords, people who practiced black magic, hexes, telepathy, and mind control — leading him slowly toward his downfall. If only he had listened to my mother’s wisdom about finances instead of acting like she didn’t know better, he would have been a richer and happier man. Instead, he lived in empty castles of imagination.

Thankfully, my mother had strong financial sense — she walked life’s tightropes carefully, keeping our home stable when he wavered.

Then there were the others — Xandra, Raul, Garret, Rathe, and Samuel — each with their own way of destroying others through hatred. They ignored him, mocked him, and taught him harsh lessons that he never learned.

I decided to do what he couldn’t — I stayed away from these warlords and witches forever. I cut every cord that connected me to them, pushed them back into their own world, and kept my energy to myself. I made it a point never to remember their faces, voices, or even the cars they drove.

When I happened to drive along the same road as Xandra, she would see me and speed up — not wanting to face me. She thought of herself as a mighty person who had earned her fame and glory. My father could never have reached her level of arrogance. Sometimes she would even turn off into another route if she saw me coming. Other times, she stalked me — driving behind while I was ferrying a customer to their destination.

Rathe was worse. She would camouflage herself as a harmless person, pretending to be timid, but only to extract information — twisting it later to make others look weak and himself powerful. But no amount of controlling other people’s lives with poison ever did anyone any good.

They tried their telepathy through air, wind, and water — but none of it worked on me. These foolish relatives couldn’t even see that two of their own died around the same time — whether from coincidence or old age, it was a sign. Death comes suddenly to those who spend their lives trying to control others’ minds instead of visiting them with genuine care.

Thank God I found refuge in temples. I sought solutions in prayer. There, I entered their homes invisibly — in spirit — to say my sorries and goodbyes. I didn’t want to see them again.

The first visit: one was sleeping. I came through the back, touched her neck gently, and pushed her slightly to awaken. She stirred, turned left and right, and I quietly left.
The second visit: I entered another house to say my sorries and goodbye while they slept. I left them in peace.

Then something strange happened — I saw my reflection, and my eyes had turned black. I realized I had been hexed. It wasn’t only from Rathe and my father’s relatives but also from a Muslim passengers whose energy had attached to me. I could feel their attempts to drag me down to their level.

I began chanting — mantras, prayers — anything to cleanse the darkness. Slowly, the hex lifted. I felt lighter, stronger. I knew then that their plan had failed. Once I understood their intentions, I broke free from their control. Never again would I allow myself to fall into their grasp.

When I came back to reality, I still didn’t understand how I had acquired such power — how these abilities existed in a physical world where such things were said to be impossible. But I knew the truth: I had inherited this sensitivity by accident, through my father’s relatives — the same ones who had once cursed him.

Luckily, I am the praying type. I know that black magic, control, voodoo, and telepathy used for harm are bad things. I would rather spend my time learning and volunteering at the Isha Center — keeping my energy cocoon intact, protected.

If only my father had realized the truth about them, he would have never clung to those evil people.

Evil, evil living entities — that’s what they were. But I, unlike him, have learned.

My favorite form of exercise is not of muscle but of the mind — using brain power to strengthen the unseen, to understand, to protect, and to live freely from the darkness that once surrounded us.