Part Ten: A Daisy Chain of Events

Disclaimer: This post contains my firsthand account of documented harassment and stalking behavior. The events described are supported by evidence, including messages and timestamps. Any opinions expressed are grounded in personal experience and the impact this behavior has had on my safety and well-being.

If you haven't read the first few parts, I recommend you do so before continuing. Here they are, in order:

Part One, Part 1A (be sure to read this before advancing to the next part), Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, and Part Nine.

On May 20th, 2025, I made this post on my Facebook wall:

"I've not been well these past couple of days. I had to go to the hospital yesterday due to an internal infection, and I've been in a lot of pain—barely functional.

On top of this, I'm still in the early stages of surgical menopause, which is already a life-altering experience on its own. But menopause in a body that has endured extreme medical trauma and continues to battle complex, systemic health issues is a whole other level. It's not a simple hormonal shift—it's an all-systems impact, layered on top of years of ongoing health challenges.

To those of you who have extended PATIENCE, empathy, and understanding, I thank you.

I also want to acknowledge how overwhelming this spring has been—not just physically, but emotionally and energetically. Since the end of March, my life has shifted dramatically. Many of you witnessed the sudden social media growth I experienced, particularly through Facebook and Snapchat. That visibility surge was not something that was even on my radar and took me completely by surprise. It unfolded rapidly on platforms I had previously barely touched. 

With that increased visibility, unsurprisingly, came with it a great deal of entitlement. Specifically, the entitlement of certain men who show up with exaggerated praise and grand displays of affection—only to turn resentful, guilt-tripping, or emotionally aggressive if I don't respond fast enough or in the way they imagined I should. It's manipulative, and I see right through it.

What's become crystal clear is that many of them weren't actually seeing ME at all. They were engaging with a fantasy—a projection of the ideal woman they wanted me to be, not the real human being I am. I wasn't a PERSON in their eyes, just an appealing canvas for their desires to play out. And when I didn't conform to the role they silently cast me in, or when I didn't respond quick enough to their messages, their adoration dissolved into entitlement and/or hostility. 

I've encountered far too many who treat me like a shiny object they want to possess, not a full-spectrum human being recovering from trauma, navigating real health issues, and trying to stay afloat through massive transformation.

If this triggers you, or if you feel "called out" by this? GOOD. Feel free to unfollow, because I value QUALITY not quantity. 

That said, I greatly appreciate those of you still holding space without demanding something from me in return. 🙏 My hope moving forward is that my personal boundaries will be respected as I continue healing. The truth is, this has all happened at the same time as me struggling with an ovarian mass, followed by major hormonal shifts, post-surgical recovery, and deep, ongoing health challenges. I want to show up more fully and consistently—but first, I need space to stabilize, to feel strong and well in my body again. That's where my focus is right now."

Right around the time that I made this post, I started getting into confrontations with multiple men in my life. Some of these confrontations were catalyzed by this Facebook post (which was public at the time of posting). They were all similarly themed. I finally called out some toxic behavior—long overdue, I might add.

After I made the post, two men reached out to check if it was about them. It absolutely applied to them and their blatant disregard for me as a human being, so I gave them a piece of my mind. This didn't go over well, as one can imagine. But I didn't care. For far too long, I've kept quiet. I've chosen to be the bigger person, holding back my justified anger and walking away from toxic situations without confronting them first—telling myself it was the dignified thing to do. But is it really dignified to let people get away with disrespect or manipulation without calling it out?

ROCK THE BOAT.

The Body Speaks

The kidneys are the instruments of balance, order, and judgment in the body. They determine what is retained and what is cast off, just as right judgment discerns between what is just and what is unjust. This is not only chemical but relational: The kidneys symbolize the filtration of human contact, discerning what belongs in our life and what must be released. The right kidney in particular relates to action, assertion, and the externalized masculine principle. When a person is surrounded by distortions of that principle—"toxic masculinity"—and does not give proper outlet to justified anger, the result is inward disorder. Anger that ought to have been expressed outwardly as right action (righteous rage) is turned back upon the self, manifesting as heat, inflammation, and infection.

The removal of the right ovary in this same period was a manifestation of a similar underlying cause—the distorted masculine. The ovary (feminine) represents the power of generation, and its loss shows that creative flow on that side had already been impaired. Both events were effects of the same failure to give rightful expression to the principle of justice within. When righteous anger is suppressed, the law of balance will find another channel. The body will speak what the tongue has withheld. Infections and losses in these centers reveal the price of silence in the face of injustice, and the necessity of allowing the energies of judgment and anger to move outward in their proper, constructive form—especially in the realm of relationship, where true balance depends on the right filtration of what is life-giving from what is parasitic or toxic. 

The Invasion of Masculinity

In Part 1a, I mention finding out that the neighbor across the hallway had passed away:

I just discovered that my neighbor, directly across the hallway, has died. She was found about a week ago. All I know about her death was that she had Covid & she had fallen. I feel so awful for not hearing it or being able to help. I can confirm that she was still alive on January 16th. Deja vu:

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— Herma🃏Jestar (@hermajestar.com) February 5, 2025 at 3:32 PM

In that blog post, I wrote this:

"On February 5th, 2025, I learned that the neighbor living across the hallway from my current residence had passed away. The whole thing was eerie. In the post I made on Bluesky, I mentioned that I could confirm that she was still alive on January 16th, 2025. Why did I add this detail? Another resident in my building (who has also since passed away in the last couple of months) wheeled himself into her apartment without knocking (January 16th). I was monitoring the situation after I heard her hollering at him that he was in the wrong apartment. I opened up my door and waited outside of her apartment, listening in to the argument that they were having. She was able to talk some sense into him, and he eventually left. Out of respect for her privacy (she preferred to be left alone), and since the situation seemed to resolve itself, I didn't knock or check in with her. Hindsight, though? I wish I would have."

On May 20th, 2025, I find out that this resident (the male intruder) was hit by a car and later succumbed to his injuries.

Now for your extended paranoia outlook, let's check in with stalker Kyle. Where are we at?

For years I've tracked what I call Nightcrawlers—a phenomenon I first officially defined around December 25, 2020. It's a term that denotes strange, sudden waves of men crawling out of the woodwork, all at once, and behaving in eerily similar ways. And they also appear en masse—friend requests, unsolicited messages, street encounters—mirroring each other's energy as if they were extensions of the same mind.

What tips me off are the symbolic clusters that always precede them: Phallic imagery (hot dogs, pickles, cucumbers, eggplants), storms or rain (as generative, seminal symbols), fire, cowboys, even the "tsunami wave" motif that was previously discussed. In Qabbalistic terms, these connect to Chokmah (Wisdom) on the Tree of Life, the primal masculine, and to alchemical sulphur—volatile force, fiery expansion. The Nightcrawlers emerge when these "smoke" signals surface. What lurked in the dark of the collective unconscious suddenly crawls into visibility.

That's it. That's the vibe right there. Hive mind in search of its Queen "B" (Binah).

Gravity Falls Gnome Monster

The hive-like quality is what strikes me most. Back in 2018–2019, I was casually seeing two men who didn't really know of each other, and yet they would behave in the exact same way at around the exact same time. They would text me identical propositions, they would sour on me simultaneously (waning, cold cycle), and then warm back up to me in tandem (waxing, hot cycle). They would often use the exact same phrases around the same time (within days of each other), even though these were phrases that were not commonly used on the regular. It felt less like two men acting independently and more like the same collective animus expressing itself through two vessels.

I experienced a similar set of circumstances in the summer of 2023. I had three different dates planned with three different men, all taking place in the same week. All three plans fell through. The first two men completely stood me up and ghosted me. But, as the pattern would have it, the men who ghost me or go cold on me almost always recirculate back into my sphere of awareness simultaneously (in conjunction with a wave of nightcrawlers). And often in ways that are predictable. The Gemino Curse (Multiplicity).

It reminds me of that first episode of Gravity Falls, where the gnomes swarm together to consolidate into a single giant horde. And that's exactly how these surges feel: The men collectively acting as organs of a larger, singular organism. A masculine swarm, praising me in unison one moment and then turning hostile on me the next.

The Nightcrawler wave often coincides with devastating news about assaults, rapes, deaths, or crimes—always involving men, either as perpetrators or victims. Yet it isn't always entirely destructive. These swarms sometimes herald the return of someone significant from my past (a "blast" from the past). 

FRANKly, it didn't matter who I was dating—the form might change, but the core archetype, the energetic essence, always remained the same. (So, does that make this a me problem then? I've considered this question many times, but the answer is far more nuanced and complex than simply placing the entire responsibility on me.)

Archetypes are not invented by the individual; they are inherited patterns within the collective unconscious, surfacing and waving through different vessels. In my experiences, they reflect a synchronized manifestation, like an eruption of specific masculine currents from within the collective psyche. These are currents where predatory masculine desire and obsession run hive-like, bypassing individuality. They could be seen as larval forces or swarm intelligences that use human hosts as masks, expressing the same archetype across multiple bodies.

This can also be likened to the wave pattern of energy—that what I'm describing is an oscillation (hot cycle/cold cycle—the Principle of Rhythm) flowing through Chokmah's primal masculine current. What looks like "different men making identical choices" is more like one archetypal wave breaking simultaneously through many lives.

This might also be seen as an example of an egregore—thought-forms generated by collective desire (like a kāma-rūpic swarm—the astral residue of a niche passion, coagulated here into a collective surge), functioning as a hive mind. (It's as though the archetypal expressions I embody—certain facets of the anima—unconsciously stir this wave, and then the men come flooding in, assuming I exist to scratch whatever itch has been awakened.) "Masses of men behaving in sync" can't be reducible to my own psyche but are proof of how collective astral currents sweep through populations. It makes me think of the terminology used in Kurt Vonnegut's book Cat's Cradle.

In Cat's Cradle, Vonnegut lays out a few Bokononist terms that map well onto what I've been describing. A karass is a true spiritual team: A group of people who unconsciously act in concert to serve a larger purpose, often without knowing why. A wampeter is the central object, person, or idea around which the karass revolves—the focal point that gives the group its axis of meaning. In the Nightcrawler phenomenon, the men operate as the karass—a swarm behaving as extensions of one archetypal current, their actions synchronized like limbs of the same organism. My role is as the wampeter, the focal presence that their energy orbits. What they are orbiting is not "me" in the everyday sense; it is the archetypal anima expressions I carry—the projection of fulfillment they attach to me. Their desire itself functions as the sinookas, the tendrils binding them into the swarm, pulling them toward my archetypal essence that acts as the attractor. And the recurring symbolic clusters—the phallic images, storms, fire, cowboys, songs—serve as the kan-kan, the instruments that pull them into orbit. The swarm manifests through them, but the axis is the niche archetypes I embody.

In the movie Donnie Darko, the framework of roles in the Tangent Universe has a similar archetypal resonance to Vonnegut's Bokononist terms. The Manipulated Living (karass) are the people surrounding Donnie who, though seemingly acting independently, behave in ways that push him toward fulfilling his destiny. They operate unconsciously under the influence of the universe's deeper mechanics, often synchronizing their actions without realizing it. The Manipulated Dead (sinookas) are those who have died within the Tangent Universe, able to influence events across time, appearing in dreams, visions, or synchronicities. At the center is the Living Receiver (wampeter), the chosen figure burdened with channeling the archetypal current, experiencing time distortions, psychic phenomena, and synchronicities in extreme form, and ultimately serving as the axis around which everyone else's behavior coheres. The recurring symbolic motifs and omens that precede these surges—those strange clusters that announce the Nightcrawlers—function like the kan-kan (Ensurance Trap), the instruments (the Artifact, Roberta Sparrow's book, the cellar door, etc.) or events that draw new participants into the pattern and ensure the archetypal script continues to unfold.

So, am I "responsible"? Only in part. My psyche may act as a magnet or lens, tuning me into these archetypal swells—but the hive-like expression of the animus is not authored by me. It comes from the collective field. What happens through me is a convergence: My personal archetypal patterns intersecting with collective archetypal weather. 

One thing has become quite clear: Each wave reveals itself in proportion to the force and magnitude of my own inner sun—the masculine principle moving through me. (This inner masculine is also a part of the karass, while my feminine aspect is the wampeter around which it revolves.) Equally clear is that I am being summoned—perhaps judged capable—to alchemize this collective masculine shadow. This is done by first recognizing how my own inner masculine and feminine might be out of sync. By seeing how my "sun" (masculine, will, self-conscious mind) drives too hard, demands too much, and doesn't bother to check in with my "moon" (feminine, corporeal intelligence, subconscious mind). And then seeing the pushback being expressed through recurring omens, physical ailments, or external circumstances.

I had hoped to get to events of May 21st, 2025 in this post, but that will have to wait until the next part. Expect many parts to be posted on the blog this week, as I try to catch us up to July of 2025, when this particular chain of events began to wane. I am trying to map out as much of it as I can before this eclipse season window opens up this weekend during the first of two Virgo New Moons.

I felt it necessary to write out this theory about the Nightcrawlers—potentially explaining how and why they might manifest in droves the way that they do—before chronicling May 21st, when another wave of requests and messages hit me, this time surfacing in more unsavory forms. Compelling me to act decisively, severing the ties with what was starting to feel like a granfalloon (a false or meaningless association of people who believe they share a real connection—such as nationality, fandom, or group identity—when in reality the bond is arbitrary).