Category: Creepy

The Dead Time Dawns – Number One Rule of House Selling

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” true paranormal experiences of a lifelong intuitive.

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of the darkness, and know the light will soon warm!

The rule? why, it’s declutter, of course! But who ever thinks to declutter their lingering spirits, emotions, or traumas? Number One Rule of House Selling

The Dead Time Dawns – House on Summit Drive

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of encroaching darkness. The light will return soon enough.

Candles by Gail Fielding

Candles by Gail Fielding

The house I grew up in was a pretty busy place sometimes pipe got broke or the roof leaked so we have to get a Residential & Commercial Roofing in West Palm Beach, but also spiritually speaking. All who lived there, and select guests, had some creepy experiences. Years later, I learned that our neighbors did, too. I guess you could say, this is where it all began… House on Summit Drive.

Conductor of Souls

I’ve been asked about the word ‘psychopomp’ several times lately, and it was suggested that a bit of explaining might do. Psychopomp is Greek for ‘conductor of souls,’ or someone whose role is to peacefully lead the departed to their next experience. Traditionally shamans are psychopomps, or deathwalkers, as others refer to them. In that context, there is a good bit more involved than escorting the dead onward and upward. In my childhood were several ongoing experiences that convinced me I was having a different go of things than most, and seeing dead people was one of them. It wasn’t until my late teens that I put the pieces together and understood that I was a natural deathwalker.

In order to be effective as a psychopomp, one has to possess reasonable skills in counseling, nurturing, protection, good boundaries, as well as the obvious ability to move between realms and know to where souls should be directed when they move on. My innate skills lay in seeing souls, but that was about it. I first had to learn not to be afraid of them, as often they were frightening and gruesome, in order to understand why they were coming to me. I gained initial insight into that dynamic on my own, then later learned specific techniques to help them transition. There are many ways to accomplish that purpose, some as simple as opening space and ‘pushing them’ up, or literally escorting them through in an ecstatic trance state. Others that I’ve found useful involve Middle World journeys to release them (solo energies and group), and a group Brazilian mediumistic technique called mesa blanca, which focuses on the release of suffering spirits.
Ultimately the goal is for the souls to move to their next experience of themselves peacefully. Life force isn’t created to be stagnant. It is progressive, evolving energy that needs to maintain challenging experiences to raise its consciousness. Stuck in place, that elevation of awareness can’t happen, and that’s when problems begin. Sometimes releasing life force goes more smoothly than others. Often souls who are invested in the chaos they create in the formed world are less likely to move on, and encouraging them to do so requires skill in counsel, negotiation, and protection. In many cases, the dead don’t realize they are dead, and that reality can be very upsetting to them. Again, finesse is required. On rarer occasions, they just refuse to move on, and this requires a mutual respect. As with the living, we can only be where we are; we can’t force ourselves or anyone else to be where they are not.
A caveat to releasing the dead is, sometimes the spirits in this realm aren’t of the deceased. There are different schools of thought on this scenario, of which I find souls that were never in form require a different approach to address their needs and release them. These usually are energies that have languished for centuries, or longer, if not are elementals and collective buildup resulting from the planet’s etheric grid being congested. Places, structure become entities separate from the people who dwell in them, and sometimes need to be cleared. Nature spirits sometimes need to be appeased and released. Sometimes people become attached to spirits or loved ones, and in the process of depossesion that spirit needs help moving on. The scenarios of psychopomp work are unique and possibly infinite.
It is our nature to keep moving, progressing. When any facet of our diverse souls doesn’t grow, All Things staggers under the weight of that stagnation. My approach to facilitating that has been to teach classes on how to die, as with all things, education goes a long way. In that way, education itself acts as a soul conductor. And in learning how to die, most of us truly begin to live.

The Dead Time Dawns – Max, the Crystal Skull

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of encroaching darkness. The light will return soon enough.

Max, the Crystal Skull

This experience occurred several years ago, when I had the opportunity to do a reading with one of the world’s foremost crystal skulls – Max. An Afternoon with Max.

The Dead Time Dawns – All in a Day’s Work

Raleigh Skyline

Raleigh Skyline

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of encroaching darkness. The light will return soon enough.

I wrote this piece several years ago, when my workspace started talking back. Indeed, the spiritual is never separate from the mundane… All in a Day’s Work.

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

The Dead Time Dawns – Faeries in the Garden

Faerie Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of encroaching darkness. The light will return soon enough.

I didn’t disbelieve in faeries, I just hadn’t seen them before. This story isn’t creepy, per se, though it recounts an experience very much outside of our everyday observance. Or does it? Faeries in the Garden

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

The Dead Time Dawns – Hotel Phillips and Murderous Insomnia

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of encroaching darkness. The light will return soon enough.

In this particular story, I was staying in a hotel in Kansas City, MO, and even though I traveled alone, at no point was I alone in the room. Hotel Phillips and Murderous Insomnia

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow: Paranormal Day is Here

This week I was invited to guest blog at Author Exposure, in honor of Paranormal Day.

Extraordinary Everyday
~Kelley Harrell

For intuitives and sensitives, Paranormal Day is everyday. The thing is, we don’t often get to talk about this way of being, so the fact that real people are out there having extraordinary experiences round the clock is unmeted. Maybe fear is part of that omission. Understanding that some people are visited by spirits, that some really do converse with animals, perform miraculous healing, or inherently have access to other dimensions can be challenging. Maybe it’s cultural skepticism, the fail-safe imperative to back away from what isn’t readily understood, or to grab it up in hopes of unraveling its science. Maybe such sentience is far more common than we think, but the sheer mind-blowing truth of what is too big to process, too challenging to revere, languishes as coincidence, chance.

I’m a lifelong intuitive who really does see dead people, hears the voices of Nature, and connects with the etheric field of All Things. As a neoshaman writing for years in my column Intention Insights: Q&A From Within, about personal experiences of the wyrd to help others find meaning in theirs, I can indeed attest that the ecstatic, the mystifying, and the creepy thrive. Beholding such isn’t miles beyond comprehension. In fact, it’s a stone’s throw away. The only difference between those who perceive the subtle world and those who don’t is willingness. To have the will to perceive what lies outside accepted awareness requires confidence. Cultivating the confidence to become more aware is comprised of learning that all sentient data is information, and instilling the habit not to judge that information. The latter of these two is what trips most people. Should you glance up and see that the sky is magnificently teal with purple polka dots, instead of instantly telling yourself that you must be crazy or ill, accept for that second, for a thin slice of being, the formed world presented a sky that was teal with purple polka dots. Perhaps the very next second, the sky is cerulean blue dotted with wispy clouds. This subsequent observation doesn’t negate the initial one, or vice versa. Both stand as valid, equal data. They are, perhaps, different kinds of input sourcing from divergent levels, but both are valid and equal. While this seems like a silly, frivolous example, the ability to see beyond the veil is cultivated in the banal. Frequently, moments of interconnected realities are expected to be grand AHA! affairs, and there are certainly those. Most common, instead of recognizing the etheric in mundane observation, we deem unusual perceptions irrelevant when they don’t fit an expected context. The unseen is everywhere, coursing through the things we see and encounter everyday. The connection to All Things is intact, even if we are not aware of it. The task is raising that awareness.

So the next time you see something that isn’t really there, or you know something you can’t possibly… understand that it’s all real. Allay the question of its existence and of your own perception. You cannot perceive what is not real. Your mind won’t allow it. Relax into knowing that you are part of All Things, and that connection offers you certain insight. Within that insight is no fear. As your fear of the unknown dissipates, so does the veil.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kelley is an author and neoshaman in North Carolina. She is author of Gift of the Dreamtime: Awakening to the Divinity of Trauma, and has been published in many journals and anthologies. Her column, “Intentional Insights: Q&A From Within,” conveys contemporary applications of animism and shamanism through addressing concerns in her readers’ lives. Kelley’s shamanic practice is Soul Intent Arts, and she is vigorously involved with the worlds in and around her.

Saturn’s Gift

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of the darkness, and know the light will soon warm!

Saturn. The name of the Roman god elicits shudders from historians and astrology enthusiasts, alike. The wielder of justice, the task master, the great leveler of the playing field. Saturn, the planet, is no less all business. With the intention of forcing you to face what you have not, this stellar body moves into a new sign about every three years. Practically speaking, this means that it occupies the exact location in the natal chart once roughly every 28-30 years. Saturn Returns, as such are known, are surrounded by much hype largely because they bring three years of intense personal clearing and transition. Considered a cosmic vice that will bear down on what you have not prior been able to release or move, rumor was that after all the intense purging managed by Saturn, the impartial judge would leave his tenderized charge a gift. Little did I know how hard I would work for that gift, or what that gift would be.

For me the fun began in March of 2001, with a car accident that left me in extreme pain for about three years and health conditions to manage ever after. The first year after I had intense kundalini explosions commonly referred to as a spiritual emergency (when the soul evolves more intensely than the psyche can manage). That was the conclusion of my first Saturn Return. Next came Saturn taking up station in my sun sign, which is not a common synchronous event. Where most people have the approximate three years’ liaison with Saturn, I had six. It was a profitable time during which I wrote and published Gift of the Dreamtime, inadvertently bringing me a great deal of healing. Willing to accept that as my gift at the close of my Return, I elected to follow Saturn’s lead for the next three years.

In July of 2005 I was staying alone in a hotel when I became aware of a presence in the room. I had already cleared the room, as hotels usually require such, and I was surprised to find a spirit there. When I closed my eyes I saw a spiritual manifestation of my grandfather. He told me that he was leaving and that he wouldn’t be back in this realm in form again. It was a peaceful interaction, though I carried no particular sadness at his announced departure. In my childhood he had sexually assaulted me on numerous occasions, the healing of which was thoroughly brought through in my Saturn Return. The next day, the day that Saturn left my birth sign in 2005, my grandfather died.

Despite the fact that I wasn’t close to him in any loving sense the news hit me fiercely, literally leaving me dizzy and needing to sit. My life force changed on the spot, some primordial thread passed from him, to my father, to me. In my lack of grief I felt oddly raw for a long while after, in a way that I couldn’t articulate. I felt as though I was exposed energetically and couldn’t regain grounding or protection. Aware of this lack, I focused on connecting with my spiritual allies and left the situation in their hands.

During this time one of my cats, Phoenix, began to act strange. He had made clear to me early in our fifteen-year relationship that he was my familiar. I had asked him what that meant, exactly, and he said, “I’m your companion.”

“What does a companion do?” I asked.

“Keep you company,” he replied. I didn’t ask him anymore questions. In that timeframe after my grandfather’s death I frequently found Phoenix talking with a presence in the guest bathroom. He always sat facing a particular spot, staring at it and caterwauling deep conversation. If I interrupted he would glare at me until I backed from the room, then he would continue talking. I didn’t know what was happening but it was clear to me that Phoenix wasn’t alone. As Phoenix was unfazed, excellent energy judges that cats are, I left him to it. My sense of the dynamic was that Phoenix was orchestrating something and I was not part of it.

By February of that year we began finding blood in the house–huge crimson sprays on the walls and carpet about 6-8 inches in diameter. At the time we had two cats and a dog, all of whom presented perfect health. Two months later, Phoenix began to show signs of vestibular imbalance, and I was at last with him during a projectile nosebleed. Mystery solved, this condition followed a pattern of him being immobile for days, then he would bounce back to light, life and playful kittiness. Evident to us was that his body was under extreme duress, though his veterinarian found no cause for or proof of his symptoms. I felt keen dismay at his odd decline. Having facilitated the deaths of several animal friends, upon talking with Phoenix I expected him to advise me of his life plans and what role I might play in them. To my surprise, he told me to do nothing. He told me that he was finishing work on another plane and that he would tell me when it had been completed. Clear to me was the fact that if I did facilitate his death to alleviate my grief it would be against his wishes.

Saturn by George Pencz

Saturn by George Pencz

The pattern of gruesome explosions continued, along with Phoenix’ chipper little personality telling me to hold the space for him to complete his work. He began to talk to his friend even more. The presence in the house became overbearing and by this point in my grief, my ability to fend off unwanted spiritual influences was almost nonexistent. Phoenix had stopped sleeping at night and was talking nonstop. He still ate well, groomed, and kept to his usual routine of napping in the yard and his favorite sunny spots about the house. Frequently I asked him, to his annoyance, if he was ready to die. He told me repeatedly that he was not and that I was, with no ambiguity, not to euthanize him unless or until he specifically told me to. He told me that he had work to complete here that would be more beneficial to do while he was still in form, and that if I euthanized him before that point it would complicate his process radically. Sadly, I left that governance to him and listened closely.

All the while that we had been supporting Phoenix other strange things began to happen in the house. Our dog began to exhibit vestibular imbalance, and lights began to flicker randomly throughout. I noticed changes in my own health. Within the space of about two weeks my hearing degraded significantly and I suddenly manifest problems reading. It was as if I had rapidly become dyslexic, only it wasn’t just that letters and words inverted on a page. I began seeing symbols that I didn’t recognize suffused with blank spaces mid-sentence. I felt that something major was going on etherically, a very profound shift of wiring, so to speak. I consulted the neurologist I had seen after the car-crash. Brain scans came back clean and the neurologist insisted that I had always been dyslexic and didn’t realize it.

One morning that August, Phoenix began crying in the wee hours. I gathered him around 3am and we lay on the couch. About an hour later I was awakened by a bright flash that settled into a horizontal sheet of white light cloaking the room. I sat up and observed that I could see above and below the hovering blanket of light. Phoenix began crying in my arms while the dog and other cat became agitated and left the room. Again there was a blinding flash and one of the computer monitors turned on. Instantly after that the four computers in the room simultaneously turned off. The room was deadly silent in the absence of the technohum, and I felt a masculine presence in the room. It hit me then that Phoenix had been buffering this energy and that his ability to continue buffering it was declining. Initially, I was very startled. Then, as is common for me when entities create physical intrusions, I became angry. I approached the monitor and saw that despite the fact that the desktop was displayed, none of the computers were on. I switched the monitor off and was livid.

Realizing that I was too emotionally involved with the situation to affect it I called on a colleague to help. Right off the bat she isolated that my grandfather was clinging to me and was manipulating my lower chakras. She didn’t know anything about my past with him, and I was genuinely surprised to hear her assessment. She went on to say that he was intentionally interfering with my sleep cycle to disrupt my usual healing work in my dreamstate, and that he was specifically dumping his karma on me to avoid having to do the work himself. My many spiritual interactions with him had always been very peaceful, very compassionate. I was genuinely taken aback to learn that not only had he not transitioned thoroughly, particularly after his visit to me the night before he died, but that he was lingering to cause me more harm. When I told my friend this she informed me that the aspect of him clinging to me now was not the higher, balanced being I’d seen so many times and the night before his death; rather, it was the earthly consciousness that was deeply troubled and still perpetuating abusive patterns.

Properly armed, I came home and thanked Phoenix for his work and cleared the house. I closed those of my grandather’s chakras that had remained partially functional after his demise. Three days of persistent entity release rituals transpired before I felt this suffering aspect of his consciousness completely transition. When it did I told Phoenix that he could relax and that he no longer had to do the work alone. His relief was evident, but he told me that his work was still not complete.

DSCF0610On 21 November I was admitted to the hospital with appendicitis. While I was waiting for surgery Phoenix came to me and told me that he was ready to move on. I lamented that I couldn’t help him and he assured me that there was no rush. He just wanted me to know he was finished. On 10 December 2006 we went to the vet with Phoenix, though we came home without him. His deathwalk was very difficult for me, yet it became clear in that procession that Phoenix had released me from very old, harmful misogynistic life threads. I also felt that he was paving an opening for radical etheric change in my life and in his own destiny. At that point I realized in our time together just how much Phoenix had contributed to grounding my life force. Physical evidence of that etheric transition came in March of 2007, when after having further health concerns I went to a new neurologist. In the brain scans that she did scarring was present, indicators of a series of minor strokes that left several physical markers, countless unseen ones.

What, then, did Saturn gift me? A deep and lasting release from limiting patterns. It may not be as exciting as a science toy, but it felt really great nonetheless. A budding insight into the vast . A budding insight into the vast and incomprehensible nature of consciousness. An opportunity to work through lingering anger toward my grandfather. An understanding that part of grief is the changing etheric field. An appreciation for the physical manifestation of widening awareness. More than any of those Saturn left me thankful for unconditional love and soulful support most evident in a truth of Wise Women lore that says when her familiar leaves Woman steps into her true power.

Higher Consciousness Shopping

Real Wyrd - A Modern Shaman's Roots in the Middle World by S. Kelley Harrell

Read more spooky stories in “Real Wyrd – A Modern Shaman’s Roots in the Middle World,” my collection of true paranormal experiences as a lifelong intuitive.

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won’t tell–the occasions when things don’t go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of the darkness, and know the light will soon warm!

Apparently the American trend of vast strip malls is a bad idea, energetically speaking, as it seems I have quite a few stories of odd experiences in them. I’m fairly sure I’m not the only one. This event in particular happened in the Winter of 2006.

On my way home from work one day I went to the newest, shiniest Wal-mart in Raleigh. The whole MegaloCenter area on which it is situated is very discordant for me and I don’t go there often at all. As it was, a specific item that I needed was only at that location, so off I went. From the second I passed through the enormous automated doors something was wrong. I literally felt a twinge in my head, like a synapse torqued funny and the tingly effect of it rippled through my whole body and into my etheric field. I truly should have turned around and left immediately but my consumerist hunter-gatherer instincts were having none of it. Once inside the fluorescent patina reflected off my skin and I hesitated to get my navigational bearings. When I did, I noticed something very odd: it sounded like a radio was on, inside my head.

I am quite clairaudient so I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the buzz at first. As I made my way through the store, I began to realize that when I passed directly by certain people, the buzz would clarify into distinct words and phrases. I noticed that the voices changed as I passed by different people. I passed a young couple and had two voices go through my head at once, lovebirds individually cooing over each other. Then I passed a woman and heard a proliferation of expletives about having to find a specific item for someone else. It wasn’t until I passed a little girl of about six or seven years old holding the hand of an old man that I realized what was going on. When I passed her I heard a little voice begging for someone to please get her away from this mean man, I realized I was hearing peoples’ thoughts. I was spontaneously, though unintentionally, cosmically eavesdropping. I recognized the phenomenon for what it because it happens almost every night when I lie down to sleep. In hypnagogic states most people see abstract visuals—blurbs light or random scenes, until they shift into sleep. For those who are aware, this state is the precursor to lucid dreaming. I do sometimes see odd visuals in pre-sleep but most of the time I flip through the bandwidth of the Universe, hearing anonymous conversations, voices, music. It quite literally sounds like a radio dial skimming stations, never quite settling on one for any length of time, though the phrases that manage to come through are distinct. Sometimes I hear several conversations and languages before I fall to sleep. This bedtime ritual I gave in to early in my childhood, and I never really think about it too much.
However, standing in the middle of Wal-mart I couldn’t think of anything. My head was full of everyone else. I had never felt anything like it before, and frankly I never had reason to consider it possible. As soon as I processed that the little girl was experiencing deep distress about the man with whom she walked, I began to project back to her, telling her that she was powerful and she could overcome anything that she needed to. I told her that I was with her and loads of angels and lightbeings walked with her, and that we would all do our best to take care of her. I felt sick at that point. I didn’t want to hear anything else. I forewent the object of my trip and started to make my way out of the store.

As soon as I stepped out of the door there was an audible crackling in my head and I had an instant migraine. It hurt so badly that I was in disbelief that I wasn’t bleeding somewhere. I hadn’t had a migraine in a few years, and never had one so suddenly. My head hurt all the way home, and I still heard voices that whole time. I lay down, everything spinning inside me and out. I tracked the pain to a specific spot in my head and in it I felt a rapid exchange of information—the cosmic equivalent of some Universal mainframe. It wasn’t harmful, per se, but it seemed that the physical pain itself was coming from the furious exchange of data. I asked my guides to come in and facilitate as gently as possible whatever was going on in my brain, and in about 45 minutes the headache was gone, and I was the only one in my head.

I maintain that the ground beneath that shopping center houses some kind of hyper-charged grid that is not getting along with the supersuburbia atop it. I don’t know what alignment of elements triggered the event in the store—timing, aliens, dental work, planets… I don’t know.

Personally, I like to think I was upgraded.