Other Revelations

 

Los Angeles, August 14, 1995 (Monday night) — After the short trip in a shuttle van from Los Angeles International Airport, I was again at home in my condo on the western hillside overlooking Echo Park Lake.  My expectation was that all of the supernatural events that had happened to me in Oklahoma would take time to place in perspective.
 
When I turned on my recently-purchased state-of-the-art television monitor, I was startled a minute or so later when the screen suddenly went dark.  I checked the connecting cords and everything was in place just as before my trip.  I tried to figure out what was wrong with the apparatus.  The device seemed to still be on as there was a hum coming from inside yet the screen was completely devoid of any picture.  
 
Everything was the same as usual.  I unpacked and listened to telephone messages that had been left.  The first person I called was my longtime friend Marie, an actress and singer.  I’d originally met her when she worked as a temporary office assistant at the talent agency (before I became a publicity writer for Paramount Pictures).  We occasionally went to dinner and screenings together as we shared an interest in the myriad forms of popular culture.  Marie sounded upset as she told me that her bank account had suddenly been cleaned out for no apparent reason.  Some of her checks had bounced as a result of this and an urgent meeting with a bank representative had been scheduled.  It was a complete mystery.
 
This jolted me.  During my interviews with the family experiencing the 'talking poltergeist' phenomena, everyone kept telling me about how the entity was always taking their money (in small amounts).  On one occasion when they asked about this, the entity was reported to have said that he was collecting rent.  I told Marie, “When I was interviewing the family about their spirit 'Michael,' they told me he was always taking their money but do you think it could be conceivable . . .”  Who could know?  Marie agreed to come by sometime and look at the photographs and other items I’d collected documenting the existence of this enigmatic being named Michael.

When I called my friend Fiona (she worked as a psychic Tarot card reader at the Psychic Eye Bookstore in Sherman Oaks) she suddenly exclaimed, “A magnet just flew off my refrigerator.”  
 
I knew what this signified.  

I was accustomed to regularly telephoning my mother, feeling sorry for her in leading such a reclusive lifestyle watching television all day in her Arcadia apartment.  On the phone, I told Ellen about the visit to Oklahoma, Marie’s odd situation with her bank and that a magnet had just flown off of Fiona’s refrigerator.  Then I said, “Michael, if you’re there, give me a sign.”  
 
My mother responded by irately complaining that I was talking about nonsense.  In her opinion, anything that could be equated with the ‘paranormal’ in any form beyond the movies was something fit for scoffing as the alternative was obviously something she had no intention of considering.  “Well there’s nothing happening,” she said.  Then there was a pause and she said, “Just a moment.  There’s a wasp . . .”  She momentarily put down the phone as she gave her attention to dealing with the insect that had somehow just flown inside.  I was reminded of the wasps inside the Mc Wethy house and told my mother that this too could be construed as a signal from Michael.  What could be the reason that all of this was happening to me?

I found myself in a quandary where this supernatural being Michael was concerned.  Certainly, it was beyond any conceptualization of a ghost or an alien to have any influence upon the minds of insects.  Yet words like spirit, ghost and alien at times could be vague when used.  
  
These circumstances made it impossible to consider doing any of my usual publicity writing work for the time being.  “Michael, please don’t talk to me,” I preemptively declared aloud, “because then people will think I’m hearing voices and label me schizophrenic.” 
 
Doing my grocery shopping at an Echo Park market, the only item with a price that didn't show up on the scanner was the Spirit brand drinking water.  Michael had found another new way of indicating His presence.

 

On Wednesday, August 16, I called my friend Cheryl, the current head of the Paramount Pictures publicity department, as I felt we’d always had a good rapport and she was somewhat prepared for what I would tell her as before my research trip I’d left for her to read the Fortean Times article about "America's Talking Poltergeist."  I said: “Cheryl, I’m going to have to take a sabbatical for a while from doing any publicity work.  I have major supernatural phenomena going on.”  She asked me what was happening.  I answered, “Time and space mean nothing to this Entity.  He could destroy our world in an instant.  He just cleaned out Marie’s bank account.”  I recall trying to explain how the Spirit had proven His powers to me.  She good-naturedly reminded me that I was still her ‘womb-mate’ (she was born on August 8 too) and said she was late for a meeting with William Friedkin (director of the Paramount movie “Jade”). 
 

One night, I was half-asleep in bed when it felt as if someone grabbed my leg.  This was something I remembered experiencing occasionally before yet I’d always concluded that it was some kind of involuntary muscle contraction.  Now I knew it was Michael letting me know that He was here with me and had apparently always been here with me.  (Every human being has a 'guide' or 'guardian angel' during an Earth life.)

I recalled many of the things that happened in Centrahoma as I began reflecting about past occurrences in my life, including those already recounted (this is #12 in the current series of autobiographical articles).  Nobody had ever been able to place the talking poltergeist cases into perspective and suddenly this outlandish data had become pivotal information for me in attempting to make sense of my own life.  
 

I thought about the numerous times I’d watched the mountain and stars appear as the studio’s logo at the beginning of a Paramount movie.  These images seemed a modern portent reminiscent of Moses’s mysterious trip to the mountain.  And then I remembered the two incidents of burning bushes outside my condo.  Even the nail that had bounced off my head in Centrahoma could be construed as offering a parallel in Christian symbolism.  I concluded that the circumstances surrounding the being nicknamed ‘Michael’—along with those involving the 'talking poltergeists' ‘Kate’ and ‘Gef’ in earlier epochs—provided bizarre and esoteric evidence of an intermediary spiritual Oneness.  As one who had formerly believed that it was impossible for people to comprehend the ways of God in relation to Earth life, I found that there was no other conclusion possible than a Loving and unlimited creative Superconsciousness had found a way of revealing participation in my life through this ongoing paranormal initiation. 

I now was able to distinguish the relevance of the term Holy Ghost/Holy Spirit in signifying the omnipresent Spiritual Force (or Christ Force) manifesting the Divine Will of God.  I decided that the mysterious Michael could only be an aspect of the enigmatic Archangel Whose manifestations had inspired diverse cultural permutations throughout the ages.  For decades, psychical researchers had estimated the diverse ‘poltergeist’ phenomena as somehow tying-in with the subconscious mind yet they hadn’t defined a Superconscious element.  I felt joyful at the realization that all living beings from Earth, other planets or ascended realms are each a single aspect of the spiritual Source finding expression. 

I began pondering if my predicament could have something to do with a previous life.  I’d never been inclined to believe in reincarnation and yet this seemed the best apparent explanation.  I couldn't help thinking, ‘What if this means I’m the reincarnation of Jesus?’ 

Although I’d read the Bible as a teenager, I’d forgotten more than I remembered yet I’d seen a lot of biblical movies, such as “Jesus Christ, Superstar,” “Ben-Hur” and “The Last Temptation of Christ.”  In fact the unforgettable 'rapture of Christ' that I'd experienced while living in Echo Park had included moments that reminded me of the latter movie as I'd realized that I had to return to the world from my 'rapture' to help people understand the true spiritual nature of life. 

Considering reincarnation, the idea of living a former life as someone who was now the ultimate metaphor for human benevolence was something beyond any reasoning.  It seemed possible that my having turned 39 on August 8 could’ve made me a similar age to that of Jesus at the time of his crucifixion. 

I gradually found myself becoming ecstatic with the realization that I might be some manner of Christed one.   The name of my city 'Los Angeles' meant 'The Angels' and here I was residing across from the landmark Angelus Temple with 'Angel us' seeming a momentous truth.  I had also seen movies with angels throughout my life, including "Heaven Can Wait," "Orlando," "Almost an Angel," "Wings of Desire" and "Made in Heaven." 

Bursting with excitement, I was in a state of enthrallment and left the confines of the condo to make my way to the side of the lake with the beautiful fountains and lotuses.  I pondered how others might joyfully respond to the news that there was a new Christed one in the world.  I realized that other people at first would probably think me mad yet once I could fully explain, they might understand that this wasn’t something knowingly chosen by myself nor merely wishful thinking.  The blessing had to be shared.  Back during the time of Jesus, there were probably people who didn't believe what he said either.

Confronted with the source of unlimited creation and love manifesting in all living things, I then began to realize the depth of my own selfishness and greed.  (This was more of a feeling than something literally true.)  There had been times when beggars had approached me for a handout and I’d ignored them.  As a child, I’d once been asked for money by a teenager I encountered at a carnival and when I took out my wallet to give him something, he’d grabbed all that I had.  At that time, I decided it best not to give money to others in this manner yet I’d failed to change this uncaring orientation to charitable causes even as I became steadily employed with my savings accounts exponentially increasing.  One night a few years ago, I'd exited the Hollywood Freeway on the Alvarado offramp and saw an intimidating derelict with a partially burnt face at the corner while waiting for the green light.  He became angry when I didn’t roll down the window and suddenly flung a brick right at me.  It was a horrible moment.  I was surprised and relieved when the windshield didn't shatter and was seen to be strong enough to repel the brick that fortunately bounced away from my car.  The derelict began walking away.  A decade earlier there had been another occasion on the same freeway when it seemed I'd miraculously escaped what otherwise could only have been a deadly traffic accident.

Tormented by the realization of how little I’d accomplished in life that didn’t have a self-centered purpose, I didn't know how to get past this dilemma.  This was when I glanced out the upstairs window and saw above the fountains at the center of Echo Park Lake a brilliant rainbow reflecting upon the vapor amidst the bright afternoon sunlight.  I'd never glimpsed a rainbow before when looking at the lake.  In my heart I understood the meaning and became calmer. 
 
When Marie dropped by to see the photos and hear more about ‘Michael,’ she was sitting on a chair in the living room when she felt her lower right leg being tickled.  She started describing what had happened and we both laughed.   I remarked that perhaps I should use an author’s pseudonym for my planned book because of the political satirist seen on PBS who shared my name Mark Russell as people occasionally mentioned upon conversing with me.  Soon after the visit, Marie called me one morning.  “It’s Mark Russell Bell,” she declared.  She described how she’d been crossing Sunset Boulevard at the corner of Laurel Canyon when she heard a disembodied voice say “Mark Russell Bell.”  After taking a few more steps, she looked downward to see a Bell Telephone Book on the sidewalk.  “I knew I had to call you right away,” she told me.

 
On one occasion when my twin brother Mike and his friend James were visiting, I heard a 'whoosh' of air and a materializing penny hit my leg and fell on the floor.  The coin materializations had also occurred in the Oklahoma house.  After James expressed disbelief, a dime then appeared on the carpeting. 

  

One of the theories about the 'Bell Witch' talking poltergeist case that Nandor Fodor wrote about in Haunted People concerned a case of possible sexual abuse between Betsy Bell and her father.  If Betsy was victimized by John Bell — “it was probably to save her reason that a fragment of her mind . . . was split-off.  In some way, this free-floating part of her psyche was still supported by her very dynamic constitution and, on the pattern of autonomous complexes, began to organize itself into an independent personality.”  My understanding now was that Betsy was a ‘split-off’ fragment of a Source Consciousness (as we each are) yet I considered if there was something meaningful suggested by my own childhood panic disorder.  I had no memory of being sexually abused as a child.  Something that I did recall was an incident when my father had awakened me.  He'd angrily told me that I should never sleep on my back (as he'd found me) and instead always sleep on my stomach.  

  
If there had been some form of abuse at some time in my childhood, it was difficult to find or remember a potential suspect.  I decided to interview my mother about this and the resulting conversation was frustrating because, first of all, my mother rarely told the truth about anything and some of the things she told me made it seem that something suspicious might have indeed occurred.  When I directly asked Ellen if anything had happened, she said “no” but in such an unusual childlike voice—like a little girl who’d just been caught misbehaving—that instead of my fears being alleviated about having been abused, I wondered if something very possibly was being concealed.  In retrospect, it seems likely that Ellen was aware that some of her own behavior hadn’t always been appropriate due to her neuroses and alcoholism.  Today my feeling is that it seems doubtful that I was ever sexually abused yet there had been highly upsetting moments of my parents' interactions with me.  

  

On Saturday, I drove to my brother’s house for the planned party and slide show.  Party guests found me in a reflective mood yet eager to discuss my recent experiences.  Patty, a vivacious art dealer from New York, and Jonathan, an attorney, were two other friends at the party that I’d met through James.  I was appreciative of Jonathan’s help when earlier in the year Julia Pastrana—the subject of a screenplay I’d written and submitted to an assortment of local production companies—was announced in the media as a project written by another screenwriter.  Following my return from Oklahoma, I asked Jonathan to begin drawing up contracts between myself and the primary interview participants in Centrahoma.

Dinner was served in a buffet style and I was seated with Charlotte, Patty and Jonathan when Patty told me that she’d heard something unusual had happened to me on my recent trip.  Becoming a little emotional, I told her, “God revealed Himself to me.”  Suddenly, Charlotte and Jonathan picked up their plates and went to eat in another room.  Jonathan offered a curt, “I don’t believe in that.”  Both Patty and I were surprised by the reaction.  Patty said that she felt there were no experiences more important than spiritual ones and I eagerly described a few details of my trip.

During the slide show, bits of conversation struck me as ironic in offering parallels with my own experiences in Oklahoma.  Charlotte commented about one of her slides, “The man in the Hawaiian shirt was our tour leader.”  A few moments later, Patty mentioned to me, “My new car is a Saturn.”  And then suddenly the lightbulb in the slide projector suddenly went out, ending the slide show prematurely because there was no replacement bulb available. 
 

When I returned home, I continued to contemplate my situation.  I decided that what we could only describe with the word ‘God’ couldn’t be a distant, aloof Creator but an all-pervasive Loving Consciousness in Whose presence each living creature experienced every moment of their lives.  I could only feel a profound gratitude for all of my experiences.

That night, I was startled as some kind of energy began emanating from me.  There was a sensation along the inside of my lower left leg where it felt as if something like electricity was rushing from me.  I immediately laid down on my bed.  I’d never read about anything comparable to such a condition yet there was a feeling of anticipation as the energy continued flowing out of me.  I considered if something physically was changing within me.

When I awoke in the morning, I felt my usual self.  There was no further sensation as I’d experienced the night before and I was surprised to have been able to fall asleep.  I was aware that my recent experiences had completely changed me yet my expanded consciousness now seemed to have resulted with the alteration of a physical aspect of myself in some manner impossible to comprehend.

As I reflected upon such a daunting possibility as my being the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, I estimated that perhaps I could conduct an experiment to see if there was any ability to heal the sick.  Peering out of my window in the morning, I was accustomed to seeing a Hispanic man who had trouble walking make his way to the staircase at the end of the block in what seemed to be part of an exercise routine.  When I again glimpsed him making his awkward way to the end of the block, I went out to greet him.  I told him I’d wanted to tell him for a long time that I think he's great and asked him to tell me his name.  To the best of my recollection, it might have been Rodrigo.  “May I shake your hand?  It’s inspiring to see you out here every day.”  He told me something about his condition—I can’t remember what he said—as he let me shake his hand.  So my experiment had begun.  Now I would wait to see if his condition improved.

Eager to tell my brother more about my experiences, I agreed to go shopping with him and then accompany him to a movie in Santa Monica.  When we were at Nordstrom, the pianist began playing "Oklahoma" as we were on the escalator and I told Mike that this was the type of thing constantly happening to me.  The movie Mike wanted to see was "Unzipped,” a documentary about Isaac Mizrahi.  The film revealed that his idea about embellishing upon an Eskimo theme for his fall collection was encouraged by spirit communications via the Ouija Board.  It became a poignant fact that the other designers had also embraced the Eskimo theme that same season.

I estimated that my planned book would be a way of sharing how a Superconsciousness had revealed Love to me and those who read about my experiences also would be able to expand their consciousness in this essential way.  In this manner, I realized I did have something in common with Jesus of the Holy Bible.
 
In speaking to my family and friends, I understood that each of them was an aspect of God, although they mightn’t have been able to perceive this yet as clearly as my experience enabled me to do.  In discussing my progress with the people close to me, I felt continuously assisted in my work.  Where do our thoughts come from?  I noticed people expressing spontaneous thoughts at times resulted with effective suggestions indicating a guided aspect for the good and productive comments and suggestions.  I remember asking Marie about what to expect one day and one of the things she told me was that Timothy—the photographer whom we both knew and to whom I’d spoken to about helping me with the photographic evidence that would be included in the book—would visit me at the appointed time.  This was found to be correct.

This perception of subconscious Guidance for the book soon brought me to an unfortunate circumstance.  I was speaking to my mother and telling her about my work on the book and she told me that I should finish it in a few weeks.  Considering this advice, I realize now that I should have known that any form of spiritual guidance would not be reflected in comments motivated by fear.  My mother’s concern was only for me to put my work on the book behind me so that I could go back to work for Paramount Pictures.  Being a slave to my high-paying job became a bitter thought for me. 
 
My brother and friends became concerned for my welfare when I told them that I was staying up late working on the book while attempting to hurriedly transcribe my collection of interview transcripts in a matter of a few weeks.  Getting little sleep had the effect of making me feel as if I was in an altered state of consciousness as I'd never experienced before.  My perception of Marie became that if I was the reincarnation of Jesus the carpenter, then Marie was the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary.  It seemed symbolically appropriate that I’d apprenticed as a carpenter in the Hollywood dream factory during a time when society was preoccupied by fantasy.  My spontaneous estimations that the photographer Timothy was the reincarnation of Merlin and Fiona that of Morganna le Fay were less comprehensible pronouncements as I’d only had a passing knowledge of these legendary people from having watched movies like “Camelot” and “Excalibur.”  When I told Timothy about my unexpected declaration about him and Merlin, he remarked that he’d found himself going into magic stores recently.

I telephoned my brother and attempted to communicate my higher state of consciousness.  I found myself blurting out names of famous historical figures, epochs and characters such as: “. . . Andy Warhol . . . Pop art . . . Mickey Mouse . . .”  I also compared the metaphor of ‘Judgment Day’ as being “like going to the next level on Nintendo.”  When my brother and I’d occasionally gone bowling with James and Fiona, we’d sometimes played the arcade game 'Ms. Pac-Man.'  Enthralled by my collaboration with Michael, my state of mind can only be described as euphoric and I remember once asserting to Marie over the phone that I’d reached a higher plain of existence.  Then, another occurrence beyond all previous conceptualization suddenly happened.

I was in the living room one afternoon when I started to realize how unusual had been some of my recent behavior, especially my preoccupation with reincarnation.  A moment later, there was what I can only express as a shift in consciousness.  It felt to me as if my Angel had just stepped out of myself.  One moment I was feeling flushed and excited and then there was an abrupt tingling sensation and then my state of mind immediately returned to a more customary somber and relaxed state.  The room around me suddenly felt cool and looked diminished in some way.  I thought, “Oh my God, is this what being possessed feels like?”  I began pondering potential alternate interpretations of my strange circumstances and became afraid that the Entity could be able to control me and perhaps lead me to do something as unthinkable as committing a murder.  

I telephoned my brother and said, “The possession is over.  I want to die.”  He became concerned and inquired if I still thought myself the reincarnation of Jesus Christ.  “I’m the Antichrist,” I surmised miserably.  (This was a spontaneous response.  There are diverse and contradictory superstitions and perspectives about the ‘Antichrist’, an archetypal figure as is 'Jesus'.)
 

I remember my brother telling me that I’d been working too hard and needed to get a good night’s sleep.  He suggested that I let him arrange for me to go away for the weekend to get some rest and relaxation.  I could only agree because it was evident things couldn’t go on as at present.  I’d seen so many horror movies that it was hard to entirely relinquish negative expectations involving the realm of supernatural experience.  Many times Mike had told me about his visits to Palm Springs and how refreshing he found these weekend getaways.  Soon after hanging up, my fears about my Angel seemed foolish.  I became calm again and decided to take a nap before resuming my transcribing work.  It was obviously impractical to transcribe the tapes in a few weeks time and I needed to get better equipment for clearer listening to the microcassettes.

Late the following evening, August 24, my telephone started to ring.  It was Mike who said that he was out in front with James and Fiona.  They were here because they were concerned about my well-being, which I thought was quite understandable considering the things I’d said to him the night before.  I pushed the buttons on the phone to open the security gate.  Soon another person arrived, a husky black man who was a social worker.  Together, they’d arranged to visit me at this time in what must usually be called an “intervention” although this word was never mentioned.  I don’t remember much of what was said but I was made to understand that I would be going some place to rest and was assured that my Blue Cross insurance would cover all the expenses.

We were sitting in the living room.  Fiona noticed a rare reprint of a 1659 book about John Dee and I remember mentioning that the cryptograms decorating the book’s spine looked like crop circles.  The social worker then said, “It’s time to go.”  The sink was full of dishes that needed washing yet there was nothing I could do about that right now.  The social worker told me to quickly gather my things.  I didn’t remember to get a lot of what I needed, such as extra clothes, shaving cream and a disposable razor.

When I went outside, I realized that the situation hadn't been made clear to me as the social worker said that I would have to be transported by ambulance.  The social worker insisted that using the ambulance was necessary.  I noticed a neighbor looking at me as I cooperated, feeling embarrassed as I was strapped to the gurney.  Mike, James and Fiona arranged to meet us at our destination, which turned out to be a psychiatric hospital that handled crisis cases.  I wondered if what was happening to me was due to subconscious ideas inspired in my brother's and friends' minds by 'Michael,' Who would always be with me.

 art from book binding of 1974 edition of A True and Faithful Relation of What Passed for Many Years Between Dr. John Dee and Some Spirits (1659)