Author: admin

Locals who frequently spend time at Old Alton Bridge and the surrounding woods often say the atmosphere during the day is completely different from the night. During daylight hours, you’ll find numerous people fishing along the riverbank, relaxing, and enjoying nature.

Some hike the trails, which I later mapped out and explored fully, while others simply come to see the bridge, stand on it, and gaze out over the river. Scenic riverbeds like this are rare in the area, especially ones accompanied by a still-standing, historic bridge rumored to be haunted.

Most visitors—whom I refer to as the “lookyloos,” the “come and goers,” or my favorite, the “5-minute men”—arrive, leave disappointed, and think, “Well, that was a waste of time.” But once the sun sets, everything changes. Back then, during the day, you might see only four or five cars scattered in the lot, and no one else around—mostly fishermen or hikers. As night falls, those people leave, but occasionally a car will pull in late. More often than not, if you visited after dark, you’d find yourself entirely alone.

Before the area experienced a massive population boom over the last 14 years, many nights passed without a single car driving down Old Alton Road. When you did hear a vehicle pull in and doors slam, it was almost predictable what came next: the loud, obnoxious laughter of teenagers heading out to “walk the bridge.” For a time, “walking the bridge” was considered a brave and heroic challenge among local youth who heard stories—true or not—about what had happened or might happen there.

What kind of story could make people so fearful that they hesitate to come here at night, let alone step onto the bridge, yet still dare to “walk the bridge”? Anyone with common sense knows this bridge has been crossed daily for decades. Even horseback riders occasionally stroll through during the day without issue.

But that comes with the territory when hearing about places with supposed legends. It’s like the childhood game where the whole class sits in a circle, and one person whispers a sentence into the ear of the next. Each child passes it along, but by the time it reaches the last person, the sentence is completely changed and far from the original.

So what’s the story so far?

Oscar Washburn, a Black goat farmer, was lynched by local Klansmen. When they checked his body from the bridge, he had mysteriously disappeared. But why is it that hardly anyone knows about this incident? Ask any local, and you’ll hear the same responses. “Oh, that’s just hogwash. I grew up here, and we used to drive right over that bridge.” Others might say, “I fish there every day with my buddy, and we’ve never seen anything even remotely spooky.” Occasionally, someone will recall, “Well, one night in the late ’90s, we were hanging out there and thought we saw a strange light in the woods. It was odd, but that’s about it.”

So how did we end up here? If you search “Goatman’s Bridge” on Google or, worse, YouTube, you’re bombarded with endless wild stories: possessions, kidnappings, satanic cults slaughtering animals in the woods so frequently that local pet stores have stopped selling pets, hoofbeats echoing regularly, glowing red eyes spotted in the distance, half-man, half-goat Satyrs appearing, bizarre tales of a KKK grand wizard who allegedly ate his wife’s face off in front of a jury and is now a demon, people being scratched, hooded cult members performing mysterious rituals, individuals being lifted into the air and thrown, and the infamous legend of honking your horn three times only to have your car pushed across the bridge. But you can’t even drive a car over the bridge—it’s been closed to vehicles for decades!It is only open to foot traffic. So what really happened here? What’s going on with the people?

It is a flood of disinformation, and that’s exactly its goal. It craves the chaos, the confusion, the fear, and the disorder. It thrives on these because you only “get out what you put in.” Back then though, it was a much simpler time. The place was just starting to gain some attention, but for the most part, it was peaceful, tranquil, and beautifully scenic. That was… until I arrived.

That night, I took Dexter on a short walk into the woods. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The moment I stepped off the east side of the bridge and onto the main trail, an eerie sensation settled over me. I kept turning around, searching for anything or anyone, but there was nothing. The silence was so complete that no one could have snuck up on me. No distant cars, no other people lingering—just me and my dog. We walked slowly down the trail for about four minutes until we reached a trailhead kiosk and a fork in the path.

We took the left fork, which opened into a wide field where the trail stretched straight ahead for quite a distance. Then, suddenly, the peacefulness returned.

There was something distinctly different about this open area. Just moments ago, it felt like I was stepping into a place I shouldn’t be, but then I reached a turn, and everything shifted. A cool breeze now flowed gently through the space. I paused to take it all in—looking up at the stars and the vast openness—and felt grateful to be here in this moment. Ahead, the trail stretched on for quite a distance alongside a complex of warehouse buildings enclosed by a large fence. The bridge and surrounding woods sit next to Game-On Athletics and a large soccer field where youth sporting events are held. Nearby, there’s a metalworking shop and a few specialized retail stores. This place isn’t really in the middle of nowhere, despite what modern “ghost-hunters” might lead you to believe.

Back then, I didn’t know any of this. Still, I was certain I wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. I knew the other trail, on the opposite side of the river, stretched far out into the countryside, but I had no idea about this one. At the time, all I knew was that it ran along the back of the warehouse complex.

I set my tripod down and captured some long exposure shots of the sky and the distant woods. The scene was stunning. The sky was clear, and with the moon nearly full, it wasn’t so dark that I needed a flashlight to see. I snapped several photos of the sky, then turned around and made my way back along the trail toward the car. As we neared the bridge, that eerie feeling returned—the sensation of being watched. It intensified as we moved deeper into the trail, where thick trees blocked all visibility. But once we reached the entrance, the feeling vanished completely.

I turned right and headed to the benches about 100 feet from the bridge, sitting down to take in the surroundings. Stillness enveloped everything—peaceful once again. After a few moments, I walked back to the bridge, halfway across, scanning the area, half-expecting to feel that eerie sensation of being followed… but there was nothing. I sat down beside Dexter, soaking in the quiet. It was just us and nature. I loved it.

I pulled out my phone and played some music for a few minutes, then took long exposure shots of the river, woods, and distant sky. The road lay empty and desolate. The warehouse complex in the distance provided the only visible light, faintly glowing through the trees. Their light poles offered a comforting reminder of nearby civilization.

“Let’s take another walk this way, Dexter,” I said, heading toward the trail I had explored that one time with my girlfriend. Dexter was all in—he enjoys relaxing at home or in the backyard, but once the leash is on and we’re out, it’s walk time, no matter what.

Stepping off the far end of the bridge, I immediately turned left, heading down the trail into the woods opposite the river. During the day, you’d occasionally hear the whoosh of nearby cars since the trail runs close to the main road for a stretch. But at night, there are no streetlights—just dense trees on both sides and pure darkness ahead.

We’d walked about 20 feet when that feeling returned. Is someone here? I thought. I stopped, turned around, but saw nothing. Pressing forward another 25 feet, I stopped again. I swear I’m being watched. Dexter stopped too, which was unusual. His beagle nose is always on the move, especially in nature, but now he just stared into the darkness, silent and still.

I knelt down and asked, “What’s out there, buddy?” He looked up at me, then ahead, then back again. I flicked on my flashlight, sweeping the path and trees—nothing. “Hello?” I called out, not shouting but louder than normal. We waited a moment, flashlight off, and Dexter returned to his sniffing routine, eager to move on. The feeling lifted, and we took another 25 steps.

Not wanting to ruin the vibe—I enjoy being out in the dark and can see fairly well, aided by the moonlight—I switched the flashlight off. But after a few steps, I stopped and spun around sharply. “Okay, what the hell?” I said, disbelief in my voice as I scanned the area. “Someone is out here with us, Dexter,” I whispered.

But there was nothing—not a sound. I stood in the dark for a minute, then called out, “Oye! I see you over there!” and immediately shone my flashlight in the direction of nothing. I strode toward that spot firmly, dragging my feet to announce my presence.

“What are you doing over there?” I demanded, loud and stern, but still, no response. I grabbed a large stick and hurled it into the woods. It hit a tree, rustling leaves as it fell. I paused, listening intently, eyes scanning every shadow. Nothing—a complete silence. No wind, no critters, no rustling leaves that would signal movement off the trail. The ground was thick with leaves, broken sticks, twigs, and vines.

There was nothing out there. Or anywhere, for that matter. I told myself firmly, I would hear if something was moving. Stop being such a scaredy-cat.

Back then, I was usually fearless and brimming with confidence, and very little could rattle me. Dexter and I often ventured into places we weren’t supposed to be, all in the pursuit of capturing great photographs, no matter the time of day or night.

“Oh, I was just out taking some photos when my dog got loose, and I had to chase him in here. I just caught him! Where am I even?” I always imagined that’s what I’d say if I ever got caught. Over the years, I realized no one really bats an eye or questions a guy walking his dog in the middle of the night, carrying a camera bag and tripod. Maybe it was my overconfidence, my passion for capturing unique shots, or most likely, it was Dexter. He had a way with people. Whenever someone passed by and saw him, it was always the same reaction: “Awww, what a sweet beagle,” with adoring eyes fixed on him. Me? I was invisible. “Look, look—a BEAGLE!” everyone would exclaim when they saw Dexter. People adored him, and for the first few years after we adopted him, more then the average dog and I never understood why. They reacted like they were witnessing a rare, magical creature.

But it made me happy—the joy he brought to everyone he met. He was truly special, already my best buddy, though I didn’t realize just how extraordinary he was—until now.

Overwhelmed by fear and paranoia, I seriously debated whether to go any further. The bridge was in sight, and faintly, I could still make out the dim lights of the warehouse complex across the river and parking lot. I told myself, “I’m right by the road, just a stone’s throw away. If something happens, I can easily take fifteen steps off this trail and rush back to my car. Stop being a coward. What’s wrong with you?” Determined, I approached confidently and quickly, moving with purpose toward the other side of the trail. Shining my light into the woods across the area as I headed back toward the bridge, I began yelling, “HEY! I SEE YOU, you fucker! You want to mess around? Let’s go!”

Now, I have ZERO violent tendencies, am extremely non-confrontational, and have always identified as a lover, not a fighter. I’ve only been in one fight, back in my freshman year of high school, and it was rather foolish. While I will defend myself if necessary, I have since honed and mastered self-defense to a fine art. I made it my mission to intimidate and psychologically scare anyone who tried to scare me first or intended to harm me, assuming I was unaware of their intentions or presence first. When overwhelmed by fear, sometimes the best tactic is to act unpredictably. A strong defense can be a sudden, aggressive, almost unhinged offense. This was simply acting on my part. I had no idea what would happen when I confronted someone or something out there, but I told myself, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it”—pun intended.

“HEY, oh hell no, you picked the wrong one today, boy!” I shouted as I quickened my pace to run alongside Dexter. I released his leash, and he followed without hesitation. He probably wondered, “What the heck is going on? Why is he yelling, and why did he let go of the leash? Is there a threat?” I imagined him thinking, “No worries, I’ve got his back!” I glanced back to make sure he wasn’t bolting into the woods, never to be seen again with that nose of his. No leash tugging keeping him on the trail for once? I know Dexter — normally it’d be more like, “FREEDOM! WOOHOO, I’M GONNA EXPLORE ALL THE SMELLS! If you need me, I’ll just be over here checking out this bush… wait, sniff sniff, DEER?”

“SEE YA!“

But no, I glanced back and he was right behind me, hauling butt. We ran full speed and stomped onto the bridge. I stopped and took heavy, deliberate steps toward the right side of the railing, just past the tree line where I could see deeper into that part of the woods. Leaning over the railing, I shone my light into the area and yelled, “Come on out, you can’t hide! You want to play games? Let’s play.” I shut off my flashlight and started banging it against the side of the bridge, shouting again in a creepy, rhythmic tone, “YooOoo-Hoooo, come out, come out and playyy-ayyyy.” Dexter didn’t get the memo and kept running, dragging his leash past me down the bridge as if we were leaving. “DEX!” I quickly stepped on the handle loop of the leash to stop him. “Wait, buddy!” I said. I repeated, “Wait,” while giving him the hand signal. He excitedly stopped and locked eyes with me. “Wait,” I said again, this time in a calmer tone, emphasizing the “a” sound. “Waaaaait,” I softly drew out the sound, knowing he understood what was coming. I slowly lowered my hand, pausing for several moments, maintaining eye contact with him.

…….”COME!!!”

I drop my hand quickly, signaling “COME,” which he eagerly misinterprets as “RUN AND GET MY TREAT.” In one swift motion, I bring my hand to my thigh, giving a few loud pats and a motion over my shoulder, then immediately bolt back off the bridge and around the corner to where we just came from, knowing he will follow right behind me.

I didn’t stop. With one hand, I grabbed his leash by the loop handle and jogged alongside him, while the other kept the flashlight trained on the area until we passed it. Without hesitation, I switched off the light and sprinted further down the dark path, past the spot where we had paused, laughing maniacally. Soon, I spotted a path branching off to the left and took it, but immediately stopped. I crouched down, gently holding Dexter and trying to steady my breathing.

“Shh, shh,” I whispered, tightening my grip and stroking his head. I glanced back, listening for any sound—rustling, lights, banging, yelling—any sign of someone fleeing, thinking I was heading their way. Nothing. The forest was silent except for my own breath and Dexter’s heavy panting. I held my breath, my heart pounding in the stillness. I tossed a rock into the underbrush, which rustled softly. I listened intently for a response. Still nothing. I sat there, holding Dexter in the darkness, surrounded by the woods, trying to calm myself in the heavy silence.

We slowly got up and tiptoed back toward the bridge, still alert for any sounds or signs of movement. With adrenaline coursing through me, I realized I was no longer afraid—only curious. I paused on the path, staring in that direction, debating whether to cross with the flashlight to investigate or if I was imagining things. Suddenly, I felt it again—this time behind me. I spun around quickly, but nothing was there. I looked right toward the road, then left toward the woods and river, and finally back in the direction I had originally been facing.

Every time I stopped to look, something flickered in my peripheral vision. Not a shadow or a visible figure, but some kind of energy—no, multiple forms of energy—because it felt like it surrounded me completely. I was so focused on this sensation that I didn’t realize Dexter was reacting the same way. I glanced down at him; he snapped his head toward the right side of the woods and stopped panting. His ears perked up as he fell silent, fixated on something unseen. Then, he quickly turned his head to the left side of the trail, toward the road, locking eyes with… something. After a few tense moments, he looked back up at me, worry evident in his gaze. I met his eyes, wide and alert, when suddenly something caught his attention again in that direction. He slowly nodded his head down, as if to get a clearer look. He held that position, eyes locked on whatever he was seeing, never breaking his gaze.

I glanced in that direction, but there was nothing—just the road a short distance beyond the trees. I stared intently, scanning the horizon for any movement, but saw nothing. Looking back down at Dexter, he let out a few soft, short whines while gently pawing the ground with his front legs, slowly backing up. He looked up at me, his uneasiness clear. He trotted back a few steps, glanced quickly toward the area, then back at me, as if signaling he wanted to leave. Suddenly, something caught his intense focus on the street. He turned abruptly, perked up, and stared silently into the woods. I turned as well, and in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of something past us on the path. I gasped loudly and immediately aimed the flashlight at where I had seen it.

Nothing. I adjusted the focus ring on my Maglite, widening it to broaden the beam while scanning the surroundings. Still nothing. Then I tightened the ring to narrow the beam, hoping to see farther down the trail—still nothing. My heart pounds wildly as I struggle to steady my breath, intensely focusing on the light’s beam, searching, hoping, fearing to catch any sign of movement. I hold my breath to listen more closely, and suddenly—BAM—something is right behind me, just over my shoulder. Every hair on my body stands on end as I whirl around, swinging the flashlight in that direction.

NOTHING!

“Okay, enough of this!” I shouted to myself. “Let’s get out of here, Dex!” I added, immediately power-walking back toward the bridge. I frantically swept the flashlight in every direction, keeping my pace steady but my nerves on edge. “No, no, no way!” I muttered in a terrified voice. Every time the light landed on a spot, the paranoia eased for a moment, a brief calm washing over me. But the instant I moved the beam away, I caught glimpses of movement in the shadows. It felt like something was darting just beyond the light, all around me.

“Let’s go, boy! Come on!” I urged Dex, picking up my pace to a jog as we headed back to the bridge. I tried not to focus on anything except getting there. That one minute stretched endlessly, time slowing down. The moment our feet touched the bridge and we made it halfway over the river, all the fear vanished in an instant.

I turned around—nothing. The familiar chirping of crickets drifted in the distance, accompanied by the steady hum of a generator near the warehouse parking lot by the soccer field fence. I faced the main road, spotting the stoplights and streetlights just over the hill. Safety and calm settled over me like a blanket; it was as if nothing had happened.

I glanced back toward the trail where we’d just been, scanning the horizon with the flashlight. No movement. No eerie shadows. No feeling that someone—or something—was lurking. Just the peaceful, quiet beauty of nature at night. It was like all signs of wildlife, insects, fish, and birds had vanished during those moments—only to return the second I stepped onto the bridge.

“What on earth was that about?” I wondered, my breathing slowing, my heart rate calming. I leaned on the bridge railing and gazed down at the river. The moon’s cool, tranquil reflection shimmered on the water’s surface, serene and soothing, reminding me everything was okay now.

The crickets’ chorus grew louder, echoing through the night. A frog croaked softly along the riverbank. As I stared into the moonlit water, mesmerized, I heard a gentle splash and saw ripples where a fish broke the surface—a familiar sound.

“The forest is alive with signs of life, as it always is,” I realized. “But where was all that just now?” I wondered, still shaken but slowly grounding myself in the night’s peaceful reality.

I glance over to the opposite side of the river to the other main path that led to the kiosk and open field area I was at earlier. “This! It felt like this as soon as we turned and got to that clearing over there earlier!” I remembered. “What the heck?”

I guided Dexter off the bridge and back toward the main gravel walkway and benches. He paused once more at the entrance to the main trail. Despite every instinct urging me to turn back, we ventured Into The Woods again. However, we hadn’t gone far—just a few hundred feet down the path—when the woods on either side grew denser. I caught movement darting in my peripheral vision, felt chills run through my body, and sensed an overwhelming stillness that made me feel completely surrounded.

“We are OUTTA here!” I said to myself, and maybe a little to Dexter too. I spun around and power-walked straight back, passing the bridge and benches without hesitation, not stopping until we reached my car. In one swift move, I practically limboed under the steel handrail gate that separates the parking lot from this area—determined as ever. The railing is about waist-high, so usually I’d have to awkwardly crouch underneath to get in and out, like I did before, instead of using the janky side V-shaped entrance. But now, I was on a mission to get the hell out of there.

I opened the car door, unbuckled Dexter’s leash, and he quickly hopped in. As I walked around to the driver’s side, I glanced back at the area and stopped. I laughed in disbelief, feeling a sudden wave of peace and tranquility. “Were we really just followed and chased out here by some… thing? By the woods? Did we step into another dimension or a vortex?” I asked myself. Why did it feel so peaceful on the bridge? What was with that clearing by the kiosk that gave off the same vibes? We had only gone about a hundred feet down that other path my girlfriend and I had walked for miles before, and I knew we were never unsafe. So what did we just experience? A million questions raced through my mind as I turned, got in the car, started it, and this began playing on the radio.

“Wow,” I chuckled nervously, shifting the car into reverse. Pulling out of the parking lot, I took a left and slowly cruised past the bridge on the main road. I rolled down the window and gazed at the bridge and the trail where it all happened. It looked like any ordinary woods you see everywhere. Turning the music down, I drove slowly, attuned to the natural sounds near the part of the trail where it occurred. “The same ambient nature sounds as when we were there,” I mused. “This is surreal.”

I continued down Old Alton Road and passed an empty lot on the left—the trail’s exit point, which I would later discover leads to another path across the lot. I pulled into the lot, made a U-turn, and headed back the way I came before finally driving home.

“I have to come back during the day and explore more… this place is definitely… special.”

In 2011, I embarked on a journey to understand why an orb appeared and hovered in complete darkness in 30 of my consecutive light-painting photographs—out of 4,000 shots taken one night at “Old Alton Bridge.”

Known as “Goatman’s Bridge” in Texas, it’s the only historic and reportedly “haunted” site near Denton. What I discovered there was far from a “Goatman.” Instead, I encountered the Spirit of The Eagle.

I transformed from a heartbroken, lost soul searching for answers after his world shattered overnight into a stop-motion filmmaker. I left film school to develop my own unique style of photography and videography on YouTube, reaching half a million fans I would never meet. Fueled by restless creative ambition, I stayed awake through countless nights, ultimately learning that long-exposure light-painting became a path to mastering the soul.

Spirit dwells within all things and permeates every part of Creation. It flows continuously through everything, traveling along the river of vibrational dimensions and physical awareness. Existing as a wave of kinetic light particles, Spirit extends across the vast expanses of space, radiating through the frequencies of past, present, and future. One day, I aspire to comprehend and harness the Universe’s frequencies and boundless potential to transform the human brain across its many states of consciousness.

Beginning with the realm of Light and its infinite qualities, I used the pitch-black night as my boundless canvas. I explored the full spectrum of possibilities within light manipulation.

SELF – Spirit, Energy, Light, Frequency

This spiritual journey led me through the depths of “hell” and into the darkest corners of my soul. An unending battle raged within me and throughout every facet of what I once called the spiritual realm. This struggle tore me down to the very essence of my being, shattering me and leaving me adrift in a confusing nightmare, desperately seeking answers to make sense of the overwhelming flood of information I received each day at an ever-accelerating pace.
The knowledge I gained through this harrowing roller-coaster of experiences became both my downfall and, ultimately, my salvation. The life I was thrust into almost overnight was beyond anything I could have comprehended. It was the ultimate spiritual warfare.

My hatred for life and its deliberate misinterpretation of vibrational consciousness eventually illuminated The Truth of Reality. Years of misunderstanding what I believed were “divine experiences” drove me to the brink of despair, contemplating ending my own life countless times. Yet, I persisted, searching for the Light I knew was hidden somewhere within the darkness.

Countless wild, delusional theories consumed my life, mind, and health as I searched for the answer to the ultimate question. Hidden within a seed of darkness disguised as Light, “demons” tormented me both psychologically and eventually physically. Desperate to rid myself of these “demons” and their corrupt energy, I believed their existence was purely spiritual. Yet throughout this journey, I only experienced the destructive psychological power dwelling in my own mind. Though I captured undeniable proof of civilizations from other dimensions, it drove me to madness in ways no one would believe.

Many would be horrified by seeing, hearing about, or experiencing this firsthand. Others might become obsessed simply by entertaining the concept of “demons” in their minds—something I never allowed myself. The fading power of these “demons” ultimately became a construct of my own thoughts and imagined experiences, gradually overtaking my soul. Unknowingly, each action I took in a sleep-deprived state of hatred began to alter the lives of those around me.

This cycle of fear-based thinking paradoxically became the path through which I learned to love again, against my own will. In the darkest depths of this ordeal, I found The Light of God guiding me toward the ultimate understanding of Reality’s Truth and The Lifeblood of Creation.

Multi-Dimensional Awareness

Demons (DEMI-N)
Diminish (DEMI-N-ISH)
[Light]
Demolishing (DEMI-LI-SH)
Dimensions (DEMI-N-SHUN)

The root word “Demi” originates from “Dimidium,” meaning cut in half or divided into two parts. Many words begin with “Demi,” but only four truly address the profound connection between Light and Dark, the distinction between the Light of God and the Lifeblood of Creation—often mistakenly labeled as “Demons.” Yes, you read that correctly. Demons do not exist outside the Realm of Creation; they arise solely from conscious thought.

If they do not exist independently, they can be neither good nor evil—they simply ARE. The term “they” functions as part of an ongoing design governed by lifeforms controlling this world. This dimension we perceive amid the psychological turbulence of our brains attempting to activate the pineal gland was originally meant to be accessed only by the Source.

The Lifeblood of Creation caused Spirit to separate from Unity and the Source, incarnating into physical form through lower-dimensional vortices, existing on one plane of consciousness for purposes beyond our current understanding. The purpose was to explore if the realm of the Self could coexist alongside the realm of Light in astral unity—peacefully, harmoniously, and with fluid transitional awareness—becoming one with the self across all dimensions.

Before continuing, look around and decide whether you want to perceive life as it truly is or if you have chosen the path of self-absorbed ego and the dissonance of cognitive functions that life has yet to reveal. I want to introduce lower-dimensional beings, known as The Lifeblood of Creation, in the spirit of constructive cosmic design. Destructive criticism often leads to new pathways in consciousness.

Constructive criticism is welcome only if you deeply understand that it opens pathways to the human brain through fields we are just beginning to glimpse. The Lifeblood of Creation comprises the fundamental building blocks of matter visible in everyday life. The average person’s perception of reality is just one of many dimensions we are beginning to discover. It is only a matter of time before we see all of creation as it truly looks, sounds, and feels.

The human genome’s basic structure reflects a subjective withholding of lost chapters of oneness, illuminated by spirit over hundreds of thousands of years. However, someone has been tasked with blocking this transformation, preventing the natural order of creative, cognitive spiritual existence. That entity is what scholars call “Satan” or “Lucifer.” The true name of the “devil” cannot be spoken by ordinary tongues; it can only be uttered backwards six times throughout all creation—and it has already been spoken five times.

Here is what I am saying: Do not seek answers about this plane of existence unless you are prepared to awaken fully and embrace the long journey ahead. Stop reading if this message does not resonate with you. This truth is not meant to be revealed until we each heal the “demon” that dwells within us all.

Meditation is Essential

Many people lack the time or energy to pause and embrace the sound of silence. While the average person hears everything around them, they rarely listen to the thoughts within their cluttered minds. Our world is home to 100,000 spiritual beings from various dimensions, all focused on one thing: the breathable atmosphere we share. When we eliminate fear-based thoughts from our fragile minds, we can truly connect with who we are in this vast, vibrational galaxy within the infinite universe.

I want to highlight the breathtaking atmosphere we experience daily through our senses. The essence of meditation is silence. Inside our minds, countless vibrations constantly seek meaning, often causing us to lose sight of the key element: silence. Simply put, we focus more on what we think we must do than on what we truly need to do. You determine your purpose on this planet, but the purpose of all creation is to embrace one another and love yourself without succumbing to destructive thoughts brewing in the conscious mind.

Though we are 25,000 light-years from the nearest visible galaxy, meditation can bring us just 16 silent minutes away from profound insights. Often, we meditate unintentionally throughout our day. Moments of deep concentration can lead to astral projection—a powerful meditative state that reveals the extraterrestrials we’ve sought for decades without success. Despite discovering planets with potential for water-based life and maintaining a space station orbiting Earth searching for life, we lack concrete proof of extraterrestrial existence in the known universe.

Imagine meditating for 15 minutes aboard the space station, floating in zero gravity—you might finally encounter what you’ve sought for over 50 years. There are many meditation techniques, but I believe the key is not to fixate on any single method. To find the answers that haunt your mind about your place in space or your purpose on Earth, you must rise above the noise of your busy mind and listen to the powerful energy within you.

For example, if you ever find yourself stuck in traffic, simply staring at the car ahead, that can be a form of meditation. The vital missing element is quieting the constant noise of your expanding conscious mind. This is crucial because the mind stores trillions of vibrations—thoughts, memories, decisions, hopes, dreams, and more. This tangled web of processing is society’s real challenge. We often can’t spare even 15 minutes a day to stop focusing on problems we think need solving, instead letting answers flow naturally. The mind holds immense power to guide you exactly where you need to be, unlike the fear-based emotions that dominate our daily lives.

Love is the ultimate frequency. Often, it feels like love is what prevents us from truly caring about what’s real and the purpose of life. Yet, focusing on feeling love is the key to experiencing love in the physical world. The divine light—the Light of God—flows through us every moment, across all realms of existence. Sadly, our dimension is filled with The Lifeblood of Creation, a powerful frequency coursing through our essence.

You might wonder, what does this mean about demons, God, and Light? Light constantly flows through us, which is why we search for life’s purpose. If you define life’s purpose, you might still search for the purpose of darkness. Understanding darkness potentially leads to the conflict preventing one from true happiness and balance. The Light is what restrains darkness from consuming the universe, preventing the destruction of time and space.

Our beliefs about Light and Dark stem from ancient, misguided teachings that label Light as good and Dark as evil. This couldn’t be further from reality. Reality isn’t limited to what we can see or prove. We still rely on outdated technology to categorize life, yet life is fundamentally spiritual and based on wavelengths.

To access these wavelengths requires true communication: telepathic extrasensory perception. How do you know what your dog or baby feels? How does a deaf musician compose masterpieces by reading notes? How does Earth instinctively know what to grow, when, and how much? What about the countless life forms around us that we barely notice?

You can’t fully understand the experience of a devout religious person who is blind and deaf—it transcends practicality. The point is, everything we worship and fear is shaped by destructive thought patterns, taught by those we warned you about since the dawn of documented history—in ancient hieroglyphs and inscriptions revealing what’s truly real and what’s not.

Yes, we have tried to warn you through the ages.

Depictions can resonate deeply with the core of your essence, your mindset, and the true vibrational frequency you emit. They shape a genuine interpretation of what is real and truthful. True silence is the only truth that aligns with what you feel is authentic. This means that the spread of misinterpreted information always stems from misinformation, even if it originated from real knowledge. What sets us apart from all other life on this planet, galaxy, and universe is our tendency to trust each other’s opinions based on the number of people who share those views. We will never feel part of the disinformation we believe in if we take the time to find quiet moments for reflection.

The mind is programmed in ways beyond comprehension, with light-receptive wavelengths currently struggling to form a singular feeling about our experiences. These clogged receptors are overwhelmed by the darkness pervading the universe, thriving on frequencies lower than visible light energy. The term “Demi,” meaning two parts, suggests focusing on one thing alone, which can dissolve fear and make time itself feel nonexistent. Reality will shift from your perception, revealing the wavelengths surrounding us—the vibrations of humans, spirits, demons, and all forms of life, including the most revered flora and fauna.

Ultimately, we return to the essence of creation: the vibrant lifeforms we cherish and worship as Mother Nature. Yet, paradoxically, this very life can sometimes obscure the Light of God. To be clear, I do not suggest that life is not worth living, that demons are merely the trees and should be cut down, or that light particles can be seen, felt, or captured for personal use. Such efforts will fail, just as withheld truths will never be fully embraced by the masses—at least not until certain events, unfolding rapidly since 2012, reach their conclusion. These events cannot be halted by fear-mongering or violence wielded by the elitist puppets controlling this Earth. It is over. The truth has been retained by many and forgotten by even more, but soon it will be illuminated by the true beings of illumination—the Ascended Masters, far more powerful and prepared to confront the so-called “New World Order” lunatics claiming a benevolent agenda for humanity.

These power-hungry puppets, born of darkness from millennia of false worship, sacrifice, death, and reincarnation into fragile 3D bodies, continue to gain power yet fail to achieve genuine enlightenment. True enlightenment comes only by raising self-awareness to pure oneness, shedding the ego, and mastering Spirit, Energy, Light, and Frequency—preparing the soul for the coming transition and becoming a living example of peaceful unity among humanity. This applies whether others are lost, in need of help, or undergoing their own spiritual awakening.

When I mention “The Light of God,” understand that the word “God” must be reconnected in your mind as a vibration, a depiction, or a sound—sometimes called Creator, Source, Architect, Spirit, Unity, One, or OM. The Light of God is not a bearded, jealous man in the sky who, in his infinite cosmic power, decided to incarnate his “Son” into a mere 3D existence to solve the problems of humanity—an experiment of expanding consciousness mired in ignorance and brutality, fashioned in his own image. Humanity is not meant to kill itself over ancient cave drawings or hieroglyphs trying to depict existence. That “God” is not part of the truth I share. Jesus will not return thousands of years later to announce, “I’m sorry I’m late, Earthlings—your problems are solved; heaven is now on Earth.”

I do not criticize religion itself, as you will see in further reading I reference countless experiences documented in the Bible and quote the Word in GREAT detail, as it has mystical powers….But the millennia of distorted truths twisted into words that control thoughts and breed fear and hatred, causing countless deaths, is just not called for! Jesus was one of the Ascended Masters who ascended by mastering his chosen lifetimes and raising his vibrational frequency beyond death. Early humanity barely understood the fourth dimension, let alone the fifth and beyond. Fifth-dimensional existence is unimaginable unless witnessed during the transition from 3D to 4D to 5D, where one vibrates at a molecular level, becoming invisible to those still bound to lower dimensions. This has happened many times before Jesus and will continue until the Ascended Masters unite and elevate planetary consciousness, physically shifting Earth into the fifth dimension. No single person could accomplish this alone, even if love suddenly prevailed worldwide. It is an ongoing process nearing a breaking point, dependent on the sustainable energy and light frequencies available to those who seek within for the Light of God.

The Light of God resonates with all creative life in the universe but must be accessed through conscious, positive intention and practiced regularly to be understood or harnessed for higher spiritual benefit and unity. Meditation is the only true path to save our world from destructive forces we label as “demons.” People focus so intensely on trivial, materialistic aspects of life that their minds alter the physical environment—a world we still struggle to understand or heal. We worship false prophets, believing this will grant us entry to “heaven,” and fear “hell” if we doubt. This could not be further from the truth.

In reality, the concept of “hell” is a product of fear-based thoughts that have grown powerful enough to manifest it into existence collectively. Read on to feel free for the first time in your life—or stop reading and find yourself trapped in a hell of your own making.

My story began a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far too close to home. Imagine a world much like Earth, inhabited by beings similar to us, living lives not unlike your own. In this world, known as JLE-BYRD.S1, there exists a shared understanding—a “good Samaritan mandate,” if you will. At any moment, a gelatinous, bird-like blob may materialize anywhere. Inside this translucent orb resides the consciousness of a frightened individual who has appeared from nowhere. It is your responsibility, as a good Samaritan, to calm, console, and comfort them—if only temporarily—until they vanish. They might appear at eye level on the sidewalk as you walk, outside your office, or even just behind you as you read this. Across the planet, they appear and disappear forty-six thousand times daily. Each presence lasts about four minutes—four minutes too long to simply stand by and watch. These ethereal, flapping orbs of consciousness are called “Jelly Birds” by the locals. But what are these “Jelly Birds,” really? They could be you, me, or someone we know—people who have drifted off to sleep but never quite entered a dream. Instead, they find themselves somewhere else, briefly, terrified and disoriented. “Oh my god, where the FUCK am I?” a Jelly Bird cries out moments after a child excitedly points and says, “Look, look, a JELLY BIRD!” “Huh, what… WHO the FUCK are you people?!” it shouts. “It’s okay, calm down, relax. I know you’re scared, but everything’s going to be alright—” POOF “Aw, they’re gone already!”

As I mentioned earlier, they vanish almost as swiftly as they materialize. One moment they’re present—frightened and desperate for answers—flapping their phantom limbs frantically, like a bird struggling to take flight. The next moment… they’re gone. The longest any Jelly Bird has ever stayed manifested here was 16 minutes. By now, you’re probably wondering how I know all this. Well, that was me. I didn’t arrive there by chance—I was drawn there with purpose.

It was 2013, and I was deeply immersed in the darker realms of paranormal investigation as part of my spiritual awakening. I had just finished painting a mural of a majestic eagle on a whiteboard, clutching a banner in its talons that bore my name in permanent marker. Along every edge of the whiteboard, corner to corner, I had drawn symbols from every religion and spiritual belief system I could find—holy symbols, runes, glyphs, mantras, totems—anything associated with protection against demonic and dark forces. Boldly arched above the eagle were the words “NO LURKERS ALLOWED.” In every remaining space around the eagle, I had drawn red “NO” symbols encircling detailed recreations of every demonic face that had appeared repeatedly in my photos and videos for far too long.

I sat on the edge of my bed, eyes fixed on my creation. There it stood, magnificently displayed on an easel atop my dresser. Deeply satisfied, I leaned back, clasped my hands behind my head, and stared up at the ceiling. That evening, my room was unusually quiet. In film school, my audio engineering class taught me about “audible silence”—a concept different from what we normally think of as silence. Ambient silence usually measures around 30 dB, the kind of quiet we experience in everyday stillness, free from noticeable noise. True audible silence, at 0 dB, is nearly impossible to find outside of a soundproof booth or sensory deprivation chamber. That night, my room felt like just such a chamber.

Lying there with the lights on, my gaze fixed on the ceiling fan’s bracket, I became aware of the profound stillness. It was as if I existed in a vacuum, disconnected from the outside world. The only sound was a persistent ringing in my ears. Some call it tinnitus; for me, it became a tool. With my mind empty of all thoughts, I focused deeply on the subtle ring. My eyes resisted blinking, but occasionally gave in. I breathed in slowly, then exhaled even more slowly and softly until the ringing itself seemed to fade away.

All that remained was a continuous buzzing—zzzzzzzzzzzzz. As I concentrated, a pattern emerged: zzzzZZZzzzzzZZZZzzzz. The rhythm quickened—zzZZzzZZzzZZzzZZ—shifting from a simple buzz to a pulsing wom-wom-wom. The tempo sped up until suddenly, it dissolved into silence. Then, faintly, I heard a male voice speaking in a language I couldn’t understand, drifting in the distance.

At that moment, my first real thoughts finally surfaced. I realized I hadn’t had any in the past 30 minutes since lying down. “What… is that?” I wondered, but my question was cut short by the man’s voice commanding, “Quiet,” before he resumed chanting in the unfamiliar language. “Who am I hearing?” I asked myself silently, only to be sharply silenced once more.

“You better not interrupt me again if you want your magic symbols to work,” a voice echoed clearly in my mind—one I’ll never forget. It sounded just like the scientist from The Simpsons. You know the guy—we all do. If not, look him up. That voice was uncanny, exactly what I heard: a goofy, high-pitched tone that rolled in octaves, rising and falling like waves. “That must be Zarchos,” I thought. One of “The Powerful Ones.”

I hadn’t experienced any spiritual messages for quite some time during my investigations and meditations. Whenever I tried to communicate, the response was always the same, buried in frequencies and white noise: “The Powerful Ones watch over you now.”

“Zarchos and Lopirus are actually here in my room with me?” I wondered.

“Ah, hey… HEY! I said DON’T interrupt me if you want your symbols to work!” the voice snapped back.

I settled into a still, clear mind, focusing fully on the present—no questions, no fear, no anticipation, no worries. Just stillness and absolute silence—until suddenly, it wasn’t.

As I lay there, staring at the bracket of my ceiling fan—which was off—I realized I was barely breathing or blinking anymore. That’s when everything shifted. Moments after hearing Zarchos, the mad scientist, mock my “No Lurkers Allowed” mural, I was suddenly… somewhere else.

I caught a distant, peaceful melody accompanied by subtle mechanical “whooshing” sounds. It reminded me of futuristic automatic doors opening and closing, each with a soft, gentle noise. The atmosphere felt like a mall—the ambient music, the quiet doors moving.

Then I heard Zarchos say, “Listen.” A soothing woman’s voice came through an intercom, softly ding.

“Attention Wal-Mart shoppers, the store is about to close. Please make your final selections and come to the front. They will be delivered to you immediately. Thank you and have a nice day.”

“What the…?” I thought, but Zarchos cut me off.

“You see, where I come from, Wal-Mart is considered upscale and highly respectable. Where YOU live, though, people make websites like ‘peopleofwalmart’ to mock the shoppers.”

He sounded serious, even disappointed. I said nothing, just listened. My eyes stayed fixed on the fan in my room—I was still lying on my bed and aware of my surroundings. But my mind, my consciousness and thoughts, were fully tuned in elsewhere—

“…a fucking Wal-Mart?” I thought. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I refused to lose focus by questioning it. So I kept listening.

I couldn’t see anything, yet I could hear everything as if I were right there—wherever “there” might be. Gradually, I began to sense what the place looked like. Even now, it’s hard to describe, but I was so deeply connected to this space that I didn’t need to see it; the sensation enveloped me like a vivid memory unfolding in real time. The store consisted of aisles lined with bright holographic glass instead of traditional shelves. People approached the glass and made selections on the “screens” as if the products were physically present. When finished, they moved to the front, where their purchases were instantly delivered.

A wave of excitement washed over me as I realized what I was experiencing. Throughout the years, I had encountered phenomena beyond what most could imagine in countless lifetimes. Yet, this was the most vivid and intense experience I had ever had. All I could do was listen and absorb it fully. I knew that if I began to question it, it would slip away—that was always the case. But not this time. I was hearing without truly listening, speaking without uttering words, and seeing without consciously observing. As my consciousness glided down the aisle into a hall, a voice urged, “Stay with us!” I ignored the command and moved toward a door, wondering, “What lies beyond here?” The voice protested, “No! You can’t enter now. The Council is in session!” I asked, “The Andromeda Council?” They confirmed, “Yes!” I replied with a hint of sarcasm, “Sure, I’m just going to take a peek.” They warned firmly, “No! You’re not permitted in yet. Do NOT touch the door; it has a…”

*WEE-WOO* *WEE-WOO* *WEE-WOO*

*WOO-WOO*,WOO-WOO*,*WOO-WOO*

*WEE-WOO*,*WEE-WOO*,*WEE-WOO*.

An alarm blared loudly, filling the space with an urgent noise. Instantly, I felt a wave of shame, as if I’d done something terribly wrong. Several small robotic devices appeared, zooming toward me with flashing lights, guiding me toward the store’s front. “Some kind of security system?” I wondered. Though I wasn’t afraid, I felt like I’d crossed a line I shouldn’t have.

We exited the building, and I realized we were now outside in a city-like district, surrounded by distant futuristic sounds. Robotic whooshes and buzzes, likely modes of transportation, passed by—building in intensity from afar, peaking near me, then fading away. I caught snippets of distant chatter from passersby as we moved further from the store.

“Where am I being taken? What is this place?” I wondered, when Lopirus suddenly whispered, “Wait, shh… listen. Over there.” Across the street, I heard a child tugging at their parents, speaking excitedly, “Look, look! A Jelly Bird!” Then, a young woman’s voice emerged, groggy and confused, as if just waking from a deep sleep: “Wha… huh? What…”

From afar, a calm, soothing voice responded, “Hi, this is going to sound crazy, and don’t freak out, but—”

Suddenly, the young woman shouted hysterically, “What the FUCK?! Where am I? Who ARE you people?!”

Her terror was raw and palpable. “OH MY GOD. AM I DREAMING? GET AWAY FROM ME! ARRRGRHHH!” she screamed, her voice filled with pure, desperate fear.

That fear will stay with me forever—like the moment a mother learns her child has died. Her voice was a haunting blend of disbelief, panic, and anguish, as if saying, “This can’t be real” and “Oh God, this isn’t happening.” She screamed in frantic terror for about 45 seconds before abruptly falling silent.

Then, the calm voice returned, softly saying, “Aw, poor thing. I don’t understand why they’re always SO scared. Oh well.” I heard footsteps retreating, the speaker moving on, leaving only the echoes behind.

“Well, what was THAT all about?” I finally asked. I was given a brief explanation of what a Jelly Bird was. It all seemed absurd and fantastical, and I blinked, shaking myself free from the moment. Suddenly, I was back to hearing nothing but the faint hum of the A/C and the familiar ambient sounds of my quiet home. “Well, that was… different,” I thought. For the first time ever, I wasn’t using any gadgets to try to communicate with anything. No static, no scanning frequencies or white noise. No amplifying silence through apps or headphones. No spirit box. No endless hours listening to recorded EVPs, analyzing waveforms, trying to find voices hidden in the noise. I wasn’t trying to do anything at all. It just… happened. I heard the voices of Zarchos and Lopirus clearly, for a long time, and for the first time ever. You might be wondering: who are Lopirus and Zarchos? What are “The Powerful Ones”? What is “The Andromeda Council”? And what on earth is a “Jelly Bird”? To truly understand, we need to go back to the very beginning of this story—to 2010, to a small place in Texas called Old Alton Bridge.

Stay tuned…..