I lose track of time for just a minute, and fall asleep. Immediately I appear to myself inside of a large vessel. It’s a copper cauldron, and its walls create the limitations of my reality, the invisible walls that I cannot bust through, using my magic, smarts, nothing. I had long felt the existence of some invisible limit, but I’ve never actually seen it.
Now, it’s all too painfully obvious. I am in Hell, stewing in my own juices in this large cauldron. I look up into the face of the Duke of Hell. He looks me up and down, and studies his black ledger.
‘Eighteen years?’ he reads my sentence. ‘We might reconsider the ways you’re being punished.’ Immediately, I know what he’s referred to. It has been eighteen years since I had made love to a man, the Last Time when my heart and the rest were still together. I was eighteen years old then, twice the number. I am turning thirty-six this year. I remember it clearly.
Puzzled, I wake up and try to get back to attend to my business of the day. In the kitchen, I find an envelope. It’s a credit card offer, that I cannot accept because I do not have the Social Security Number. Through some lucid connection, I see the meaning of this – Hell has no more power over me, it can’t offer me anything I’d grab at this point. I owe nothing to the Devil, and He’s freed me. The Social Security Number is the Mark of the Beast, it marks us as collateral to be used in trading souls, it represents the spiritual mandate and the fact that we are born into debt. Didn’t Jordan Maxwell say it? Inside is an unlabeled blank envelope to mail the offer back, if accepted, but to me, it represents something else – with a big title printed over it that says ‘Do not bend’ I feel like it’s giving me a nod, that I am no longer being punished. This is like a Premature Release note, and I am brought back to the promise of Lucifer from last summer when he told me – [Instead of the Pact] I will give you my most precious gift. Freedom. I have a feeling that perhaps now, you will be finally able to appreciate it.’
The whole vision with the letter reads like a Premature Release, and I am left with a burning understanding that I record in my magic journal. I write –
‘Demonic Pacts are, in fact, our petitions to get out of Hell, stating the conditions of premature release.’
