The Entity dream – September 6th, 1988
Belle Terre is a wooded bird sanctuary on the north shore of Long Island. It is up a steep hill from Port Jefferson surrounded on two sides by the Long Island Sound and on the third side by Port Jeff harbor.
My room was carpeted with green artificial grass. There were sliding glass doors with metallic Venetian blinds. There were bookcases across from my bed in front of a wall that was built to separate my room from my older brother.
I climbed into my bed and closed the light on a nightstand. I pulled my knees to my chest in a pelvic tilt and then rolled onto my left side and fell asleep.
I was suddenly in someone else’s home before sunrise. The room was set up as a home office with a card table. One side of the office had sliding glass doors that led out to a swimming pool.
A man, Seymour Tankleff, with a chubby cherub face and protruding cleft chin, with white hair around the bald spot in the middle of his head and a big belly, was sound asleep in his office chair.
On his desk were letters spread out with checks written out to Tankleff insurance for fifty thousand dollars each. He had invested the money he made from his insurance business into partnerships with many business owners.
One letter had the Strathmore Bagel letterhead but no check.
I was cognizant of being incorporeal yet it felt the same as if I were physically present. I became aware of an entity, floating near the ceiling. My consciousness was able to communicate with it. It filled the room with an intense thick hate force. “Kill” was its message. This incredibly strong desire permeated my consciousness. I had to use considerable willpower not to succumb to the desire.
A young, thin but physically fit man with short puffy brown hair entered the office. He was flooded with the hate. He took out a long knife and slit the throat of Seymour, nearly decapitating him. Blood pulsed out of his neck with every heartbeat.
I woke up in my bed and looked around to see if anything really happened. It had felt so real. These were the most intense emotions I had ever felt. I went back to sleep that night with residual thoughts of violence bubbling in my mind.
It so disturbed me that the next morning, September 7th, I told my mother about it while sunning ourselves next to our lagoon style, dark grey gunite, swimming pool with a three-foot-high waterfall, recycling water back into the pool.
September 8th, 1988 The Murders…
On the morning of September 8th, I walked our family dog up the block and saw police cars parked in front of the Tankleff’s home. I went back home to listen to the news on the radio. The news reported the tragic murder of Seymour and Arlene Tankleff. Their 18-year-old son, Marty, was unharmed.
I went into my mother’s bedroom sized bathroom as she was putting on her makeup in front of the wall length mirrors.
“Mom, do you remember the dream I told you yesterday?” I excitedly asked. “Seymour and Arlene were murdered”.
“What do you know about this?” She asked
“Just the dream…,” I told her.
“Don’t tell anyone about it,” she warned me.
Marty was questioned by detective James McCready and other detectives at the murder scene. They observed that he was unemotional, no signs of crying. He asked to see his father who was struggling for his life in the hospital but was convinced by them to go to the police station to fill out a statement form.
James McCready and Norman Rein placed Marty into an interrogation room and told him about evidence that showed that he did it. They told him that the Doctors shot Seymour up with adrenaline that woke him up from the coma and told them that his son, “Marty did it.” They also said that they found his hair in his mother’s hand. They also told him that they performed a humidity test and can prove that he took a shower to wash away all the evidence.
“Could I have blacked out, Maybe I was possessed?” Marty wondered out loud.
The detectives convinced him that it could have happened that way and Marty agree in a coerced confession. He quickly recanted. Marty was arrested for the attacking his father and killing his mother.
When I heard about the confession and that he stated that he was possessed, I figured he must’ve been the brown-haired man that I saw do it. After serving many years in prison, Marty was released. There wasn’t any evidence that he did it. In fact, the evidence pointed to his father’s business partner hiring hitmen to kill him. The hitman who killed him looked like Marty.
This experience made me realize that the spiritual world was indeed real. This led me to accept that my Jewish religion was really true. I later realized I did an extrapolation. I thought that the spiritual world is real proved religion true. I now realize that I was wrong.