Harry Leo Duran died, I believe at 2:30 a.m., on Monday, November 8, 2021. The Coroner wasn’t able to determine the exact time but that’s when I could no longer sense him. Before he died, he cancelled his life insurance policy, maxed out all of his credit cards, and drained his savings and checking accounts to zero. He was about to do the same with the pittances of his last remaining IRA accounts. At least $35,000 in gold coins was missing from his apartment and he had at least one $1800 watch stolen and his two $1500 bikes stolen from his apartment. Having seen what was on his phone, I believe one of his one night stands did him in.
I managed to unlock his cell phones and all of his devices because he had given me passwords over the years and Ryan clapped his hands in my face and said, UNLOCK and I did. It’s a Sufi technique actually. I didn’t know I could do it. The horror that set in after seeing videos and texts about the most vile of sex acts (toilet sex for instance), left me, to quote one of Harry’s favorite movies, on the verge of a nervous breakdown!
But Ryan kept me from losing my mind. HE packed up the apartment and the condo and got everything onto the moving trucks (two trips). There is a lot that happened in Vegas that is really bizarre but this post is about how I not only survived but how thanks to Harry dying, I got to meet:
- A stripper who works as a waitress who told me about doctors and what REALLY goes on in Vegas that no one wants to know.
- Harry’s junior high girlfriend via FaceTime. She’s a practicing witch and a powerful psychic. I didn’t even know they had kept in touch.
- Harry’s eye candy (2018) who is now my realtor. If I wrote this up, you’d all demand I be institutionalized.
- A man who wanted to buy one of Harry’s books at yesterday’s estate sale, who turned out to be just as obsessed with giants and Bigfoot as Ryan and I am. Tim is a pilot and he’s offered to take us up in one of his many planes to fly over sites we’ve been dying to see from the air in search of burial grounds of the red haired cannibalistic giants! And to fly over the Bigfoot Highway. Oh, and his father taught him how to dowse! I called Ryan and told him to get home as fast as possible as we were in the midst of discussing the Titans and the mound near our house. Yup, that was fun as the bitter wind froze my hands and blew my hair all over the place as I tried not to interject too much and not jump up and down clapping my hands like a fur seal.
Had Harry not died, I never would have met the lady suffering from crippling fibromyalgia and her twin flame much less done a healing session on her in my LIVING ROOM! I was kept on a tight leash and basically spent the past 12 years as either a caregiver at home or just a recluse that only left the house to buy groceries and pet food. The estate sale brought a lot of strangers into my house and suddenly into my life as well. A gorgeous gracious holy woman of Choctaw descent spent a lot of time in the house because she wanted to buy two of Harry’s breviaries.
I’m now friends with Jo Jo Jilbert the scrap metal artist who did a $10,000 portrait of Harry using a spoon for his head. I spent time at his studio in Vegas on the second trip. He’s putting Harry’s portrait into his upcoming show in March 2022 at Caesar’s Palace.
I got to interview David E Veliz who painted two oil paintings – one cost $3,000 and we thought it was of Gwen Stefani, and the other cost $6,000. I introduced him to the Bhagavad Gita since he asked how to become more adept at spiritual discernment.
The house Harry used when he was in Spring Creek, was burglarized around 5 in the morning on Saturday, January 15, 2022. The thieves stole all of the designer hats, glasses, watches, all the TVs, computers, and several other very expensive items. The woman dropped her Dotty’s casino player’s card. The neighbor who saw the White Dodge Diesel Ram back up to the garage failed to call me nor the police. I had him dictate to the Sheriff’s dispatch on my phone what he saw. Another neighbor recognized the name and sent us a Facebook profile photo which matched the description we got from the house sitter I had to hire. The woman came back and asked if he had seen her lost dog. He got the plates and memorized her face.
At the estate sale, a city police officer and his wife showed up and I was bitching about how awful our law enforcement is. He then identified himself. I showed his wife the screen shot and she INSTANTLY recognized the woman who is a known meth head. I will leave off here until she and her boyfriend are arrested and convicted.
Because I did not want to drive for 11 hours from Spring Creek to Vegas alone in January, I asked Ryan’s friend’s wife to go with me. She’s 13/16ths Shoshone. Ryan wanted her to help drive but she was exhausted. What she did do was keep me talking the entire time. I learned a LOT about how the U.S. government condoned the genocide of the Shoshone. I only knew about the Cherokee and Sioux. To my shame, I didn’t even know about Kit Carson’s slaughtering of Navajos. Kate is super psychic so we could compare notes on when we were entering haunted canyons. She had never been to the Fremont Experience. Alas, she couldn’t see the energy parasites nor the interdimensionals and demons. I could. I had a miserable time.
We had lunch at a FABULOUS restaurant in Washington, Utah off Interstate 15, called the Black Bear. The creepy irony of all this is Harry had said that as a gay man he was considered a BEAR. Don’t ask. Look it up. But he died a BOAR (PIG). THAT is a whole different type of “taste” that you need to look up in a gay underground dictionary and then have a barf bag handy.
The pilot who spent time with us today started off asking me if I knew the work of L.A. Marzulli. I almost felt insulted! As we continued talking, and he mentioned Antartica, I inserted that “Linda Moulton Howe” did a documentary on Antartica but we got interrupted. Had Harry not died, I NEVER would have met this man who could “see” me, who could throw energy (albeit I don’t think as far as I can) and with whom I could talk as fast I wanted and have someone keep pace. THAT was a blast!
I’ll omit the story about the lady who bought the hand hewn custom made log bedroom set that Harry bought in Ely, Nevada. I don’t think you all want to hear about how she and her friend watched oranges flying around the kitchen, doors slamming, and how she rammed a concrete truck while driving 75 mph and lived to tell the tale. Her experience with the paranormal might not have ANYTHING to do with the fact that the last night that Harry ever slept in that bed in 2018 just happens to be Ryan’s birthday and the day he brought up the puppies. That’s just a coincidence, RIGHT?
The pilot, however, said that the closet with the CDs contained spells and a dark evil permeated some of the objects in the house. And I should omit that F Buddy’s flight attendant friend for the past 25 years who helped pack Harry’s apartment and who is now Harry’s bulldog’s new owner has been sick on and off ever since November? Been tested twice for COVID – they don’t know WHAT’s wrong? I gave her the two super expensive Roman Catholic works of art he bought at the Container Park art store that went out of business – the two pieces I hated and refused to even try to sell? Nah, that’s not why she’s sick, is it?
There are a lot of other people I never, ever, EVER would have met had Harry not died. Some I wish I had NOT met, and others I am blown away that I have met. I’d perform the ritual depicted in Chinese martial arts films where liquor is poured on the ground for the dead but Harry was an alcoholic and his soul has been obliterated. Instead I offer a toast to whoever wrote the code for my avatar in the matrix. He/she- non-binary has one wry wicked sense of humor!