The Spiritual : Tapped in !

Friday, 3rd August 2018. The day of revelation. Not just for me, but for the kingdom of hell itself.

All the altars of my bloodline were raging and meetings were held.

“We cannot let this happen. We cannot let this happen.”

“Ah, we knew it. We knew it. We knew it.”

“We knew it from time immemorial. Even before the day of her birth, we knew it and we said no. We will not allow this one to transcend.”

We tried and tried and tried and tried. Throughout her life, we had tried and tried and tried and tried. For 22 years, we had tried.

“Oh, we hate that she now has an idea of who she has been called to be. We must finish it here. We must. We must. We must finish it here. We cannot let it happen. We have to fight it.”

On the 7th of August 2018, I anointed my head with oil. Oil I had prayed over. I anointed my hands and my feet. This was the beginning of another phase of war and battles.

The bottle broke.

Well, not fully.

As soon as I was done anointing myself, a strong wind blew. I kid you not. My dressing mirror was quite big and heavy, and I had adjusted it on the dressing table where it leaned against the window. The wind tipped the mirror, and in an attempt to stop it from falling, I knocked over the bottle of oil.

The oil spilled everywhere.

I panicked because I had prayed over that oil and blessed it. I thought the bottle had shattered, but when I scrambled to pick it up, I realized only the slim top part had broken off. The full bottle itself remained intact, and some of the oil was still inside.

I laughed nervously and said, “Ah, these people are really looking for me o.”

I said it as a joke.

I thought it was a joke.

I was born on a Tuesday, so I had made up my mind that every Tuesday I would anoint myself, bless myself, and speak words of life over myself.

Then came Monday, 13th August 2018.

Around 4 a.m., in the thick of dawn, I was asleep in my room alone when I had a dream.

In the dream, I was back at the University of Ghana. By then I had completed university just a few months earlier. I saw myself sitting on a retaining wall around one of the halls after witnessing a terrible accident. The people involved were either severely injured or dead. It was gruesome.

I sat there shaking.

Then a mad woman walked past me.

She wore a dirty greyish blue dress, and her hair looked roughly cut with patches and holes all over. She walked past me the first time and asked me for money. But in the dream, I heard the Holy Spirit tell me clearly:

“Do not give her money.”

So I refused.

She walked away.

Then she came back.

But this time, she spoke with authority.

Immediately, I knew I was not dealing with an ordinary mad woman.

She looked directly at me and said:

“You, Abena, we have sat down, discussed, deliberated, and agreed that on Tuesday, you will die.”

I stood up immediately and told her:

“You are a liar. It will never happen.”

Then she stretched out her hand.

I kid you not, a clock appeared in the palm of her hand.

It was as though the skin of her palm opened and revealed it. I am trypophobic, so imagine the disgust and fear that almost gripped me.

The clock looked almost like a compass, and the time was ticking.

“Tuesday, by this time, I you would be gone.” That’s what she said.

But in the dream, I gathered courage. I placed my hand directly in the center of the clock, the way you can stop the movement of a clock if you press its center.

And I stopped time.

I looked boldly into her eyes and said again:

“You are a liar. It will never happen.”

Immediately, I realized sleep paralysis was trying to come over me. I fought myself awake, and the moment I came out of the dream, I was speaking in tongues.

Now let me explain something.

The thing about growing up Pentecostal is that sometimes you receive the gift of speaking in tongues even before fully understanding salvation itself. I had been speaking in tongues since I was around nine years old. By the time this happened, I was about 22 or 23. That is over a decade of praying that way.

But the thing is, unless you are extremely close to me, you may never hear or see me do it. So for me to wake up from a dream already deep in that spiritual state tells you how intense the dream was.

It felt like I had been separated from myself and was struggling to come back into my body.

My mother rushed into the room because the way I broke out of my sleep was hard and wild. She held me and asked me what I had seen, but I could not even speak properly for several minutes. Eventually, after about ten minutes, I calmed down enough to explain the dream to her.

She simply said:

“We will pray.”

That Monday, I fasted the entire day.

Then Tuesday came.

I did not sleep waiting for midnight. The moment the clock struck 12 a.m. on Tuesday, 14th August 2018, I entered prayer.

I prayed and prayed and prayed until I was sweating.

If you do not pray; if you like, do not pray. 🤣🤣🤣

But I prayed.

Eventually, exhausted, I slept.

Between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m., I saw three different scenes.

In the first scene, I was walking with a very tall, dark man who looked like a warrior. You could see strength in him. We were walking like pilgrims through a village on a bushy pathway.

He carried a gong-gong and kept striking it loudly while announcing:

“This child is mine.”

“This child is mine.”

“I am in her and she is in me.”

“They call me Onyame.”

“No man born of flesh and blood can touch her.”

He repeated it over and over again.

Then suddenly, a fetish priestess burst out of the bushes screaming:

“Where is the child? Where is the child we were supposed to sacrifice?”

I saw her divide into three.

I became terrified and held the man’s hand tightly.

I whispered:

“They are looking for me. It is me they are looking for. Can they see me?”

He squeezed my hand gently and replied:

“Do not be afraid because I am with you. They cannot even see you.”

I was confused because I could clearly see them.

Then I noticed hundreds of eyes in the darkness searching for me.

Evil eyes.

I panicked again.

But he repeated:

“Do not be afraid.”

And somehow, even though I was there, they could not see me.

Then the man told me to turn around.

When I did, I saw men and women with wild teeth devouring a man like carnivores. They lifted him and tore into him. It was horrifying.

Immediately after that scene, everything changed.

I found myself in a completely white room seated at a table across from a man.

There was a discussion.

A bargain for a life.

But surprisingly, it was not my life being discussed.

It was my grandmother’s.

The man told me that at exactly 7 a.m. that Tuesday morning, someone would call my mother with news that my grandmother was dead.

I protested immediately.

“No. Not my grandmother. My grandmother is innocent. Whoever has to go should go, but not my grandmother.”

Then I woke up around 5 a.m. and could not sleep again.

I was sleeping beside my mother because she believed the spiritual battle had become too intense for me to sleep alone.

So I lay there watching the time on her phone.

6:30 a.m.

6:45 a.m.

6:59 a.m.

Then exactly 7 a.m., the person mentioned in the dream called.

I had not told my mother anything about the dream yet, but I signaled for her to put the phone on loudspeaker.

My auntie began speaking cautiously, the way African mothers do when they are trying to soften bad news before saying it directly.

Then she finally said it.

“Kofi Owusu is dead.”

My mouth fell open.

My eyes widened.

My mother looked shocked at my reaction because she had no idea what I had seen hours earlier.

Then I heard my cousin say in the background:

“If he is dead, then it is good for all of us because that man was wicked.”

He was known in the hometown as a dangerous man deeply involved in sorcery. People feared him openly.

When the call ended, I broke down crying.

“God has delivered me.”

“God has delivered me.”

“God has delivered me.”

Later that day, I finally told my mother everything about the dreams. The white room. The discussion. The man being devoured. The bargaining for a life.

And then the news of a man’s death arriving exactly the way I had seen it.

They later said the condition in which he was found was horrifying. They said the walls of his room were smeared with feces as though there had been some kind of struggle. He slept alone, so no one could explain what had happened.

People also said he kept a live crocodile under his bed.

I will end with this:

If God be with us, who can stand against us?

Amen.

PS: I used AI to generate the image of the mad woman I saw and it so close to similar.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.

See why I say I am a bad. After all of this, why should I fear anything ?