This is a record of the files written and recorded by Mishmar Iyer. They report what has been seen by Iyers, from within the spirit realm, and what has been said and thought by humans on earth. Every thought a human thinks, and every word they speak, is known and recorded.




I woke up with a start. There it was again, the same dream, the same indescribable mixture of feelings that happen every time, peace and joy beyond description, yet also bereavement at someone lost, someone who held me in His hands, someone who seemed to blow me into this life with a breath.

The world is hideous in comparison to the place in my dream. I am overwhelmed, longing to go back.

“Who are you?” The spongy darkness absorbs my words.

Turning, I dare to look, gasping as I see the growing luminosity, an algae tide of light ebbing and flowing, creeping steadily from the floor and up the wall.

Every part of my body is quivering.

The light always appears after the dream.

“Get out!” The words are a scream inside my head, but fired through clenched teeth they blast from my mouth like bullets directed at the wall.

Just like blotting paper, I watch the wall soak up the green into inky darkness.

Hot beneath the enveloping duvet I attempt to climb back into the other world.

Aching for the dream, and yearning for Him.

“Who are you?”


Mel Abraham woke up almost simultaneously, unaware that her younger sister’s sleep was also disturbed.


I’m afraid, afraid in a way that excites me. Hairs on my neck upend, perspiration rolls slowly into the pillow, I love this feeling. Holding my breath, lungs bursting to exhale, yet unable to make a sound or even move, I’m exhilarated.

In my dream there is a voice calling my name, urging me to follow, and as I begin to move forward, something plucks at my arm, with a touch so icy cold it makes me shiver deep within my soul. The shiver is the moment when I wake up, glimpsing briefly, as my eyes open, a figure with long flowing hair and fingers of unearthly texture reaching out, stroking my face. Rigid with fearful expectation, I am at the same time fascinated, sensing a power and a force greater than anything I have ever known.

“Who are you?”

The words form and rush out of my mouth in a breathless hurricane as I exhale the imprisoned air from my bursting lungs.

“Don’t go.”

“Come back.”

The figure lingers momentarily, and then vaporises.

Disappointment washes over me, and then excitement, I know the figure will return, it’s a regular visitor, ever since my sister Issy was born.

Issy and Mel live in Chattabridge, a town surrounded by beautiful countryside. Their house lies at the edge of an estate, backing onto farmland and an old stone quarry.

Joseph lives on the opposite side of the road. Issy and Joseph are best friends.



It’s amazing really. Issy has a dream, one dream that’s always the same. I have a dream too, very different, but always the same as well.

Issy and I have no secrets, we talk about our dreams all the time, I know all about her wonderful place and Issy knows about my amazing ladder. The ladder leads through green mist to an open door, opening into a room, which contains four creatures. They are covered with eyes in front and behind. There is a figure, but I can’t see this person clearly. Who is this figure?

I have never left the ladder, not because of being afraid, I always want to step up onto the last rung and go through, but I always wake up just as I am about to walk forward.


Chad and Alexander are identical twins. They live in a flat above one of numerous public houses in the area. Their pub is called The Legion Arms.

Mel is their friend.

Chad and Alex dream too, but like Mel’s dream, their dreams are secret.



The biggest ‘buzz’ in my life is fighting.  I thrive on the chase, pursuing people who’ve upset me.  I have this really strange dream, it’s roughly the same each time I dream, and in it I use a variety of weapons with expert skill. The feeling of power as I defeat my enemies is fantastic. I long for my life to be powerful like that. Someone in the dream shows me all the ‘moves’, he’s a “dead cool geezer” with no face! Let this guy be real, I want to meet him someday. He feels very real to me.


Alex dreams words. He sees them like huge graffiti in his mind. Some words he’s never heard before, others are familiar and used freely in his daily vocabulary.


It’s weird, very weird, I get dreams about words. Yea I know that’s strange, but guess what? I’m the strangest guy you’ll ever meet. Sometimes in my dreams certain words turn into a shape, emerging as a dwarfish man, he throws me a huge net. The lousiest part is that I never manage to get the net because I wake up, often with my arms in the air ready to catch it.  Once my hands fell down empty and hit me in the face! Told you I was crazy!

I’d love to meet this funny little thing, whatever it is, or whoever it is. He’s got something for me, I know it, and if I can just grab it my life will be changed forever. I spend ages wondering who he is.


Hamish and Sari Abraham are Mel and Issy’s parents.



My life has been awesome, even my dreams. Somewhere in that place between sleep and wakefulness, I live a reality, with a relationship so awesome I find it difficult to describe, even to Sari. In this place I am given secrets, shared by The Beautiful One, He is so lovely I’m overwhelmed whenever my thoughts remember. One so strong and powerful, I know my very life is held and cared for by this awesome presence.



I had a dream. I was being cradled on the threshold of my home by hands that are ‘love’; everything that is ‘me’ feels contented, cherished and safe. The hands are gentle; the hands are familiar, bathed with a light that is alive and tangible, radiating purity from deep within. As I am turned I see a mist forming before me, penetrating and contaminating the glorious aura. There is a room taking shape, a room with a bed. On the bed lies a woman, she is completely still; a man is leaning over her. At the bottom of the bed there is a bundle of white linen moulded around something quite small.

I feel a surge of desperation, “Please let me stay here with you.”

Waves of love flow over and through me.

“In the twinkling of an eye you will return. I am with you always. Do not be afraid.”

I hear myself pleading not to leave.



In Chattabridge, the green ethereal highway sources back to the heart of the Legion Arms. It pumps out the iridescent mist with chilling efficiency, a transport system of arterial life for Belials, who are the Rakiyl, and the Shaden. Belial attempt to brush every human soul through the whispers of the Rakiyl, and the cunning of the Shaden. Whisperers post themselves, always ready with voices that will touch the receptive, softly prompting, with suggestions, ideas, and thoughts. Their whispers become snares, nets of entrapment for those who will listen.

The Shaden are also despatched, via the highway, to fertile places along the route. They take up residence anywhere an opening can be found.

Seeking, probing, listening, this circulatory system oozes with unremitting endlessness, complex, like a green cobweb, invisible to the human eye.

It had formed a network around the place called Chattabridge, a town of guilty secrets.

There were points in Chattabridge forcing diversions, areas where the Belial are unable to find entry. Solitary Rakiyl are given duty to wait and whisper endlessly, in the hope of one day forging a way in.

Bad human souls and the seasonal life cycles of nature keep the Ethereal Highway pumping, feeding into it their death. They are the fuel it needs to continue.

How well Chattabridge keeps it fed.

North, south, east, and west, networks of the green energy flow across the earth. Everywhere man exists.

Looking above the Ethereal menace, through eyes that are able to see, reveals a powerful, brilliant piercing white light, flowing like a river, swarming with millions and millions and millions of tiny seeds. The source is impossible, even for Spirit eyes, to view.

Throughout the river’s flow, there are islands of light, seeming to be wells that are overflowing, like storehouses of water and seed. They gush and pump, some with massive force, shooting out an abundance of seeds into the beams of liquid light, while others are mere trickles, and some are only pinpoints. The larger island wells have stepping stones placed at the edge of the river and many spirits are moving and advancing, eventually to join the multitude, who are laughing, joyous and free, some floating, some active and swimming purposefully, others moving fast and extending the river, and also creating more islands. This liquid joy passes over the green highway, and the green highway tries to reach out and touch the light, but it cannot.

The invisible ‘IS’.

Earth has been settled inside time. It ticks with the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, and centuries, unremitting, with an unstoppable destiny.

It is a facet, an aspect under the invisible, yet still a part of what ‘IS’.

The invisible has no beginning, or end, it is not set into a frame of time.

Joseph’s ladder, in his dream, climbs him over the green highway and through the river of light and seeds, to touch the core of all that ‘IS’, the source of life itself. Were Joseph to step off the ladder his mind would be undone. There is One who can shield. He stands waiting, eager to help those trapped within time, longing to break them free. He can step in and out of time, audibly, seen and unseen, hearing and understanding everything. Occasionally, those in the snare of the clock, catch a glimpse, not only of the invisible but also of the One. Some, like Hamish know Him as a friend.

The green highway and the Belial are at war with all that ‘IS. The Charash are Belial, they are the fighters, ready to do battle, just above the green highway, with the Tsaba, who drop down from above the river of light, when called. The Tsaba are warriors, they can push back the green highway, stopping its flow, ending its control in that area.

The river of seeds and light is elevated well above the green highway, and despatched to the river are the Iyer who watch over it, the people, and, the islands, there are the Malak who take messages, and the Luminar who have the power to influence for good. (They are all able to pass into time and out of time).

The majority of residents in Chattabridge, are completely unaware of the invisible, as are most of the inhabitants of planet earth, yet its presence and influence affects every man, woman and child.


Mel was a gorgeous baby, and as Helen reluctantly placed her into Sari’s arms, she felt a surge of anger and hatred towards the woman who had paid so handsomely for her to give birth.

“Say bye-bye to Aunty Helen, you are coming home with Mummy and Daddy, Mel.” Sari was smiling.

Helen narrowed her eyes, voicing so softly the Rakiyl whisper she heard in her ear, “You are mine Mel. Whatever I have to do, you and your Daddy will be with me one day. I promise.”

Time moved on…..

Mel yawned sleepily. She was now five years old and going to have a sister.

She frowned, puzzled, as she remembered Aunty Helen lifting her up only yesterday and saying,

“Oh Mel, sweetheart, this baby is going to be Daddies new best girl, but you will always be my best girl.”

Hamish leaped up the stairs two at a time, “Mel, come on get up we’re going to the hospital. Issy was born this morning. You’ve a brand new sister, isn’t that great.”

Mel forgot Aunty Helen’s words as Hamish scooped her up into his arms and danced around. She laughed and hugged her Daddy.

Sari was still sleeping as they entered the room. Hamish looked with such love in his eyes. His beautiful wife had surprised everyone when she announced her pregnancy. There in a cot by the side of her bed was his new darling daughter Issy, completely perfect, with her Mum’s nose and eyes. He thought his chest would burst with emotion as he gently picked her up, kissing her forehead with trembling lips.

Mel narrowed her eyes, pouted a five year old pout, stamped her five year old foot and demanded,

“Put her down Daddy, Mel wants to fly.” She held out chubby arms, smiling her most dazzling smile, confident the strong arms would sweep her up into the air and dizzy her into gurgles of laughter.

“Not now Mel.”

This was to become a familiar phrase.

Mel stamped her foot again, and let out an ear-piercing yell.

Sari was jolted out of sleep and Issy’s face wrinkled into sobs.

Helen opened the door just as Hamish shouted at Mel, “Be quiet you naughty girl, just look what you’ve done!”

Aunty Helen took Mel’s hand and gently withdrew her from the room.

Mel knew how to throw the most incredible tantrums. The performance never had to be extended more than a few minutes before a doting Daddy would give her whatever she wanted. This was different, her Daddy didn’t come running after her, sorry for making her cry, full of gentle soothing sounds to calm her and appease her. She could feel Aunty Helen’s hand tightly holding her and a new level of emotion welled up inside and exploded into her feet causing her body to flip, she dangled momentarily, as her Aunt tried desperately to pick up the writhing child. Mel heard familiar pacifying sounds. They normally poured from her Daddies mouth, but it was Aunty Helen’s voice. She looked up, surprised.

“Oh my sweet sweet girl, my best girl, don’t you take any notice of Sari and baby Issy, I love you and they won’t take me away like they’re taking Daddy away from you.”

Mel reached up, and as she was lifted into warm perfumed arms, she snuggled her head deep into the silken folds of Helen’s dress and sobbed. She would never forget her feelings on that day, not understanding at the time. It was years later before she fully grasped, that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Aunty Helen took Mel for a treat after the hospital incident, and was a regular visitor at the house, offering to take Mel and look after her, so Sari could rest and enjoy her new baby.

I’ll be your Mum now Mel, it can be our secret. Forget about Sari.”

“Who’s Sari?” Mel asked.

“Sari’s the one who’s pretended to be your Mum. I’m your real Mum.”

Mel was puzzled, but quite happy to have Aunty Helen as a doting Mother.

She immediately stopped calling Sari Mummy. Hamish smacked, scolded, shut her in her room, but the child refused to name Sari at all.

In fact, for many months the only time she spoke, was in excitement at where her new, secret, doting Mummy, was going to take her, and what she was going to buy her.

One day Mel was so angry at being ignored she yelled the secret, saying to Hamish and Sari,

“I’ve got a new Mummy!”

They were so absorbed with Issy they did not hear her.

“Who’s my wonderful girl? They said you would be special and you are my darling.”

“I thought, I, was special.” Mel looked through tears as Hamish ‘zoomed’ Issy through the air.

Mel’s cheeks flushed under the wetness, and she remembered the story her Daddy had told her so many times, about the visitors who said, he would have an amazing baby. She gulped down a sob, picturing her Daddies huge face smiling down at her,

“They knew all about you, my precious jewel, they came to our house. I know One, I have met with Him many times, He said that we would have a child and the child would be incredible, able to understand things beyond belief. Oh Mel, sweet child, my special girl, I am so thankful we have you.”

Mel remembered his lips kissing her fore-head, and his big arms squeezing her in a bear hug.

She was shocked. Here he was saying the same story to Issy.

“It’s me Daddy, not her. Look it’s me, your Mel.”

She screamed.

“Mel, go to your room. NOW!”

Hamish’s voice was sharp and cold.

I hate you.” Mel narrowed her eyes as she peered at Issy being cradled and kissed.

Mummy Helen was brilliant. Mel longed for the doorbell to ring, and then hear Mummy Helen’s voice, “Hi. How you doin’ ? I’ve come to take Mel off your hands for the afternoon. Bet you could do with a break.”

No one ever said, “No. We want her here.”

So Mel was taken to the park where she fed the ducks, or to the cinema where she stuffed herself with ice cream, popcorn, and crisps. She loved Mummy Helen’s rooms over the chip shop. Although small, everyone was cram packed with toys for Mel.

She had her own play café, a wooden house with a bed for her to sleep in. There were dolls, soft toys, paints, sand and water, a bike, her own computer, DVD, CD, and TV, with loads of games and adventures and scary stories to watch. When Mel ‘played’ herself bored Mummy Helen would sit beside her and tell her about another life.

“You know Pumpkin, I would love to have you come and live here with me. Would you like to have all these toys and your computer to use all the time?”

Mel would nod her head until she was dizzy.

One afternoon Mummy Helen took Mel to a new house with a garden.

“What about this Pumpkin? It’s ours.”

Mel ran from room to room, it was a child’s dream. Every room was filled with all she could imagine ever wanting. Her bedroom was fabulous. The bed was on top of a fully fitted play station, computer, DVD, TV. stereo, Karaoke, disco deck and lighting. It was awesome. She also had a big sofa, a ball pool, and a wardrobe filled with dresses, jeans, tops, jackets, shoes, and trainers. There was the most beautiful Dolls House, it was three stories tall, and opened like book at the front, to reveal tiny rooms, perfect in every detail. The garden had a tree house, fully fitted with a bed, table, and chairs, and right in the middle of what had been a lawn was a series of ramps for BMX and skateboarding. Mel wanted to move in right away.

“Well Pumpkin we’re workin’ on that. You’ve got to stick at our plan, and before long I promise, you can come and live here with me. We’ve got to get Daddy here as well.”

Mummy Helen beamed.

‘The plan’ had been in place since Issy was born. ‘The plan’, gave Mel permission to behave really badly. She enjoyed knowing that an adult had given her permission to be rude, cheeky, and angry. It was a game. Mel and Helen rehearsed these ‘tantrums’, designed to ensure a desperate plea to Mummy Helen, “Please give us a break!” Sari and Hamish could not cope with Mel, she was out of control.

When Issy was five years old Mel went too far, the routine got out of hand, and whilst she was in full throttle, kicking, punching, and screaming, she hurled a brass paperweight across the room. It hit Issy on the head, causing her to fall over and bang her head on the corner of the coffee table.

It was only a small lump. Mel couldn’t understand all the fuss.

Mel was sent to stay with Mummy Helen.

As the door closed behind them, Mel and Mummy Helen let out shrieks of laughter. Eventually their plan had worked. Here they were in their fabulous house, together at last.

“Good riddance”, said Helen.

“Good riddance”, said Mel.

Mel had been with Mummy Helen three weeks. It was after school, they were going bowling later that night.  Mel was trolling through her wardrobe looking for something suitable to wear.

“Yuck that’s gross.”

There was a growing pile of discarded items on the floor when the doorbell rang.

She heard voices in the hall, Mummy Helen’s voice was angry. There were footsteps on the stairs. Her bedroom door pushed open and framed in the doorway were the Police, a man and a woman in uniform.

“You must come with us, what’s your name?” The woman had a soft voice.

“I’m Mel Abraham.”

“Hello Mel Abraham, my name is Susan.” She held out her hand but Mel rushed passed her.

Motionless at the top of the stairs Mel watched Helen going out of the door in handcuffs, to the waiting Police car. Mel screamed.

The room where they had taken Mel was right at the centre of the Police Station. She had stopped struggling as they passed by monitors, row after row, all with pictures of the town, but as they passed by she resumed her barrage of angry abuse. In the room, she curled up, sticking her head into a cushion on a chair.

Susan was in the room with her.

“Mel we have contacted your parents and your Dad is coming to pick you up.”

Mel did not move, she could not believe she was going back.

“What about my gear at the house?” Mel suddenly sat up. OK maybe Mummy Helen had messed up but she did not intend losing her stuff.

“I’m afraid it’s all paid for with stolen credit cards.”

“No! It’s mine.” Mel was getting angry again.

“Sorry love, the only thing you can keep is the doll’s house.”

Mel beat the cushion with her fists.

“It’s not fair. It is not fair. Life sucks!”

Mel was screaming, but no one could hear her. She was screaming inside her soul.

On the way from the police station Mel refused to speak to Hamish. She totally ignored Sari who was waiting for them when they reached home. Dashing upstairs she slammed her bedroom door, hoping the noise would wake Issy up and scare her.

Two days later Mel escaped for a few hours.

“I’m going off to the Legion to hang out.” If there was a reply Mel did not hear it, she pelted through the front door and ran.

Chad and Alex were well impressed.

“Hey Mel, did the “pigs” bang you up?” Alex had such a way with words!

“Don’t be stupid, they don’t lock kids up. Besides I’d done nothin’ wrong, ‘n if I had, I, wouldn’t have got caught!” Mel was angry, Helen had ruined her life. She knew she couldn’t have stayed with her, THEY, would have fetched her back. Eventually, THEY, would have felt guilty. Helen’s house was a bolthole, away from the house of hell. Where could she go now? She was trapped.

Alex had a stream of abusive words and phrases to describe Sari Hamish and Issy. Mel laughed and nodded as his foul mouth poured out vileness. Chad then went on to describe in detail various tortures to administer, each designed to inflict pain and deformity. Mel yelped, imagining every luscious detail. Now she had ‘their’ screams in her soul, her lips curled into a smile.

When Mel was with Alex and Chad, she felt strong. Her connection with them was like electricity. Alex’s words and some of the things Chad got up to excited her. Something powerful and sizzling happened when they got together. Occasionally, when Mel was alone, she thought about their pranks, and she got a funny uneasy feeling, but that quickly passed.

In the house from hell, her bedroom was her only retreat. That night she vowed she would never cry again.

Next to the bed was the big dolls house, and above the bed a shelf with her collection of cuddly monsters. These were the only reminder of her time with Mummy Helen.

She hissed at one of the fluffy monsters, “Life sucks!” and hurled it across the room.

As she slept Mel was unaware of the green glow rising from the skirting board and up the wall opposite her bed. Suddenly the wall became a vast black hole, the darkness broken by glowing purple and green shapes that were jumping around. As they rose slowly upward sounds began to emerge, and flat platforms transported them out of the blackness. Each one was quite grotesque. As they came level with Mel’s room they got excited, pointing and laughing at the monster toys.

“Look! Look!” They shrieked, “She’ll love us, she’s already got some of our toys”.

The fluffy monster Mel had thrown earlier began to glow, and its eyes began to move. A doll dressed like a witch began to convulse violently, and the devils costume Mel had worn for a Halloween party suddenly filled out and began cavorting around the bedroom. Three of the platforms were now empty.

Darkness began to overtake the green pallor emerging from the void. The hole disappeared, yet in the room there remained a chill, an icy draft.

Mel was never alone in her room again.

THE INVISIBLE had found a way in.