An evil spirit couldn’t kill me so it took someone else instead
A dark entity attached itself to me during a spiritual ceremony I kept seeing a shadowy figure around us
AAmanda Lay, 35, from London
s the aeroplane soared into the sky, I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach. It was November 2018 and I was on my way to Peru to attend an ayahuasca retreat. It felt like the start of a thrilling spiritual journey.
I’d originally planned to attend an ayahuasca retreat in Ecuador, which I’d visited earlier in 2018 and loved. But after booking a flight on impulse, I realised that I’d used up all my tourist visa allowance on my previous trip. The flight was nonrefundable so I changed it to go to Peru instead.
My friend who ran the Ecuador retreat was very worried about me.
‘Be careful with the medicine, please. Not many people are trustworthy,’ she told me.
I took her seriously as I’d heard how some ayahuasca ceremonies can go – badly!
Ayahuasca is a sacred drink used by South American shamans to induce visions, and it’s becoming increasingly popular in the West as a tool for psychological healing and expanding consciousness.
It’s legal in Peru as part of a spiritual ceremony.
Once you’ve taken it, you’re in a state of altered consciousness for four to six hours, which is why it’s essential that it’s only taken in a safe space, under the guidance of an experienced shaman.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured my friend. ‘I’ll be very cautious and careful – and the place comes highly recommended.’
I’d booked it on the recommendation of some friends who’d spent a lot of time doing medicine ceremonies in Cusco.
Feeling ill
But the day after I arrived in Lima, I woke up feeling groggy and unwell. I got worse over the next few days, with a temperature and chest infection, but after I’d seen a doctor and been prescribed antibiotics, I started to feel better.
A week later, I boarded a coach to Cusco. I was still feeling weak, and by the time I finally arrived at the retreat, I was exhausted.
My hosts reassured me that I would soon feel a whole lot better.
‘This is a place for healing,’ they said.
Once I’d settled in, it was time for the first ayahuasca ceremony.
We sat round a fire and were each given a draught of the sacred drink while the shaman chanted quietly in the background.
Dying fire
But as the ayahuasca began to take hold, and I felt my consciousness begin to alter, I noticed that the fire had completely died down. Nobody stoked it up again.
Alarm bells began ringing in my brain.
My friends at the Ecuador retreat had told me that fire was an essential protection for the ceremony, to keep away the malevolent spirits. I’d heard first-hand from people who’d had encounters with these kinds of spirits at their ceremonies – and they weren’t pretty!
I felt deeply uneasy, but it was too late, I’d already had the medicine.
I couldn’t let myself relax
– every time I closed my eyes, started to lose consciousness, I saw pure bright red and felt like I would die if I didn’t wake myself up.
I didn’t sleep at all that night, despite how tired I was.
The next night, I sat with my fellow guests and our hosts outside in the dark, talking. Cusco is high in the Andes, and it gets cold at night, so we were huddled under blankets.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing up the mountain at a flashing light I could see. ‘It’s just lightning,’ one of the hosts said, shrugging.
‘I don’t think it is,’ I said doubtfully. ‘It looks like it’s coming from inside that house. And it’s not even raining, let alone stormy.’ A strange flicker crossed his face. ‘It’s just lightning,’ he said firmly, and refused to be drawn any more on the subject.
The rest of the week passed in a blur. We weren’t given much food, so I wasn’t able to think properly, and just felt like a ]ombie.
And I didn’t get more than two or three hours sleep.
I was relieved by the time the final ayahuasca ceremony rolled round.
%ut as I drank my medicine, I had a strange feeling of a presence around the tent.
And as the ayahuasca took hold, I could see a strange dark, shadowy figure, lurking on the edges of our group.
Every time I saw it, my heart beat harder, until it started racing uncontrollably.
I was too scared to tell anyone. I just kept very quiet and kept drinking water and going to the toilet. Eventually my heart rate calmed down.
The next day, I felt extremely weak and developed a fever.
At least it was time to go. I’d booked a hotel in Cusco – which is the old Incan capital of Peru – and was looking forward to relaxing for a few days until I felt a bit better.
%ut I didn’t feel better. The fever got worse and I was very scared.
Whenever I started dropping off to sleep, I saw the shadowy figure standing by my bed.
I felt like it was waiting. Watching and waiting.
I was admitted to hospital and they ran tests.
The only test that showed anything was a ‘widal’ test for typhoid that is known for being unreliable if you’ve been vaccinated (which I had been).
The medics started me on antibiotics, but every time they gave me a dose, despite never being allergic before, I’d either get hives or my heart would start racing again, just like it did when I first saw the shadowy figure.
After two weeks, I was recovering and was cleared to fly back to the UK. I couldn’t wait to get home.
%ut an hour after take off, my heart started racing again.
I tried to ignore it but it got worse.
/uckily, a doctor sat across from me noticed me struggling.
She took my pulse and was very concerned. She called the stewardess and insisted I be moved to a seat where I could lie down properly.
I was moved to business class but nothing improved. There was a heaviness in the air it felt like some dark energy was pressing down on me, like it was trying to crush me.
Although the cabin was already dark, I could see an even darker mist swirling around me.
That’s when I felt it. The shadowy figure. It was there.
It wanted me – my life force. And it was sick of waiting...