Cherry Pie (10/18 pt. 4)

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October 18, 2022

“Cherry Pie”

October 18, 2022

9ish pm.

I arrive at the top of the hill. 

I exit my vehicle, and walk towards the pavilion. 

A dark night. No moon. Bright shinning stars. Quiet. Calm.

Beautifuly calm. 

I approach the pavilion. 

I see several dark silhouettes sitting at the south table.
I hear voices. Young voices. Teenagers.

My people. 

They become silent as I approach closer. 

“Hi guys,” I call out into the darkness. 

“Hey”
“Hello”
“Hey man”
“Hi”
they (most) reply.

“Enjoying the night?” I ask with a friendly tone.  

“Yes,” they all say in unison. 

“It’s so nice,” a young girl adds.

“It sure is. The stars tonight are incredible.”

“Yeah I know!” Quips another. “I love it.”

“Me too. Hey… do y’all not have school in the morning? Not trying to be rude or anything, I’m just genuinely curious ~ I’m a high school teacher at a small private school in Dallas.”

Set free by that last bit of information, the group opens up to me. They are friends who love coming here, mostly juniors/seniors in two separate local high-schools. Two were freshman in the local community college.

We exchange a few more pleasantries, and I bid them a goodnight.

I walk towards the bench under the tree, the one facing southeast and looking over the land. The one marked and scarred and ridden with tales of tragedy and war and love and hate.

I spot the single remaining plank of bench wood. 

I grieve for what it has become.  

I sit on the plank, and meditate. 

I watch the stars, and entertain my thoughts. 

I walk a short distance down the southside, sensing the energies and noting intuitive risings. I spot the source of the white “moonrocks” as I go. 

I see car headlamps at the top of the hill racing along the trees and sliding down the west slope. The group at the top of the hill is leaving. 

I say a prayer, set intentions, and walk back up the hill.

—————

Before approaching the pavilion, I walk past the firepit ~ and I am stopped, dead in my tracks, with an overwhelming surge of dark energy. As if having breathed it in, I begin to gag, belch, and dry heave as if vomiting some kind of surreal invisible dark, out of my mouth and into the ether of some otherwise place, dissipating and dissolving from the place where I stood as it went. 

By the end of it, I was haunched over and heaving, with my hands on my knees, breathing hard and taking in what just happened for my own self. I looked towards the pavilion and remembered the kids. Thank God no one was there watching. 

Look down a the firepit. “What the fuck…” I croack, still resting my hands on my knees and trying to catch my breath. 

What happened here? 

A flood of images and intuitive understandings comes rippling through my consciousness like a river  through the trees. 

I watch what rises like a movie. No particulars, just shadows this time – yet just enough to understand. 


I know its energy/vibration/frequency. It’s voice. 

I look up towards my car in the distance. I’ll need to retrieve my bag and my chair from the car ~ as well as the fire-starter log I brought with me.

And yet, right before heading back to my car, I suddenly feel pulled back towards the pavilion…

I approach the pavilion.  

The refrain of a song suddenly (and extremely randomly) pops into my head.“She’s my Cherry Pie….” I hear the Def Leppord song playing. “My sweet Cherry pieeeeeee….” My own mouth sings as I join in and sing along with the song suddenly playing in my head. 

Nearing the pavilion, I come upon the trashcan next to it. 

“Sheees my cherry pieeeee…” I’m still softly (and nonchalantly) singing. 

I peer over the rim still singing about cherry pie and Iook inside. And there, among other things, sat two empty cans of cherry pie filling, staring me right in the face even as I sang.


I shit you not.

My bones dance with a soulful seriousness. 

Looking past the trashcan, I notice the bench-table near it. My eye is drawn to a message scratched out in Sharpie, with only the Luke 11 reference remaining. I walk closer. As I do, intuitions via vibrations/frequencies rise. All comes flooding in once more. My eye takes its time, moving through the marks and stopping on each one, see/feel/watch it being scratched upon, stomped upon, marked with a rock and smeared in mud.

Anger. Rage. Resentment. Hatred.

I see and hear and feel the intentions.
I see and hear and feel the emotions.
I see and hear and feel the source behind them;
their frequency of its voice; the earthly shape of its form.
I recognize it ~ just like recognizing a person.

I look up and stare into the darkness.

Mud everywhere.

I enter in.

I take it in.

I see and hear many, many things.

Many.

“This is sad…” I whisper aloud. “This is so, so sad.”

The darkness says nothing.

The trees all agree with me.


The firepit behind me calls me back.
I remember it as the reason I came.

And then, suddenly, another vision…

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