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Right. Look—I’ve probably gone on about Serapis Bey before. Maybe once, maybe fifty times. I can’t remember. MS has turned my brain into wet cardboard. Thinking hurts. But this one? This one’s worth dragging through the static.
So buckle up, kids. Grandad’s got a story.
It was 2012. I was 53, bedridden, and my body felt like it had been dropped down the side of a motorway and left there to rot. MS had chewed through me like I owed it money. My spine was screaming. I’d pissed off death, and he was circling like a vulture with a stopwatch.
And then he showed up.
Serapis bloody Bey. Not the kind of name you expect to hear when you’re lying in bed in agony wondering if this is it. But there he was. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. Not the ghost of some acid tab from ’79 finally cashing in. The real deal.
Tall, glowing, ancient. Like someone had lit a bonfire inside a Greek god. No words at first—just presence. Then the message came in clear:
“You need to shift. You’re going down fast. Change—or it’s over.”
Didn’t sugar-coat it. Didn’t pat my hand and call me brave. He said: Get your shit together. And I did.
That moment cracked me open like a ribcage at a demolition derby. Everything I thought I was burned off. What was left was raw. Real. And somehow stronger.
I’ve been a lot of things in this life. A biker. A bastard. A brother. A wreck. But that night made me me again, in a way nothing else ever has.
It’s been nearly 13 years now. I still sit here in this wheelchair, beard down to my chest, hair long as sin, and I still feel the fire of that night. Everything I believe, everything I write, everything I am—it comes from that cosmic kick in the arse Serapis Bey delivered.
So yeah, I’ve done my research. I know the “Ascended Master” label sounds like something you find in the bargain bin at a dodgy new age shop next to some incense and a badly-carved dragon. But forget the fluff.
This was real. It is real. And I don’t care if anyone believes it.
Truth doesn’t care about approval.
“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
🧌✨ @goblinbloggeruk ✨🧌