Monday, March 21, 2011
Tonight I had a dream about a family with two children. Bits of what was happening to them came to me here and there. I have a faint memory of watching a man sit in a chair, burning alive. I was watching from the ceiling. And he just sat there. He'd set himself on fire with his mind somehow. The room was pretty barren and the chair had straps on it I *think*; it looked sort of like an electric chair. When the setting switched, there were these two boys - or perhaps a brother and sister - that were bike riding down a bike trail in the woods. There was a sign that said something like restricted area or something. I was standing there and saw them pop out racing; maybe running from something. There was a man in uniform standing there as if he'd expected them to come out there who told them, "We told you not to come this way" or something like that. I remember a flash of his dress blues out of the corner of my left eye. Then this dark-haired woman with her hair in layers came out of the trail on her bike. The children were stopped just a ways up the path and waiting. She looked at the man and did something with her eyes. The man began to vibrate so much you could see it, and it was killing him. So, she was using a sound weapon with her mind. I remember thinking, "What am I watching?" Then I remembered the man in the chair and I said, "Oh. I'm watching Firestarter." The mother killed the man and then told the children to ride, ride as far as they could. I could feel her grief. She was going to stay and face the music and let them kill her while her children get away. And the the setting switched. I was in the desert; there were a few ex-soldiers there. It was almost post-apocalyptic, like Mad Max or something, and there was one soldier with shaved hair. But I knew he would be blond. The boy came up to him; the boy was much older. I can't remember what was being talked about. I just knew that this man was the only one capable of raising the children well.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
So let me tell you this thing, because when I get to it my thoughts jump. I can think of it alone or when not trying to communicate, but otherwise it's a necessary secret. To hell with these secrets. Maybe I'm one of the bad guys, so what if I am? So what if I'm not? I was told enough times all these years that I'm a bad guy. I'm sure such a revelation isn't going to effect the outcome of anything. If I truly am one of the bad guys, people figure it out on their own and go away on their own accord. Would I rather just talk, then, and treat things as if I were with my own. And if my own are there, they will stay. The chair was invented out of a necessary need to remember. It was a fixation at first. I think I was 15, when I was obsessed the most with memory recall, reincarnation, and the tricks of soul containment. I conceived of the idea of "finding" the chair one night as I lay down to go to sleep - that's when I did most of my thinking. Still is. I decided in my world of inner fantasy that the "mother ship (the one in the mountain)" would have a chair to bring forth memories. It would have to have this, because that's one way to figure out what soul you have in that body you've discovered. It's a way of making sure of who is whom. So I decided finding that machine would be the answer to my problems. I'd find it, I'd have the quick track to remembering everything and getting the story in order, and in this way I could capture others, scan them, and find my "army" again. So I'd think of this chair often. I'd picture it's design in my head, how it would work, where the electrodes would connect; the works. But later in life, perhaps a year or two later, I for some reason came to the conclusion that the chair was simply going to have to be invented. There was no getting around it because in my mind the mother ship had went from this fantastic box full of ancient artifacts to an empty shell that had been stripped of everything. I can't quite remember what I was thinking at the time. So my dream time went from worrying about finding a chair into worrying about how to improve memory recall; to resurface the souls buried within. It was always very important to me, the art of it. I guess that's why I've pondered and worked at it for so very long. And then I stopped thinking about it on the surface as much. There have been times through the years I thought about it, but over time you know how it goes. And after a while you write things off as dreams and silly fantasy. I knew I went to "work" a couple of weeks ago, so for shits and giggles I had Choshu remote view to it and tell me what happened. She was a little astounded a bit: White and Stupid came for me, and then we teleported to our vehicle. There was not walking outside. She described out how I rose out of bed to meet them: she's never seen me do that before, but I'm familiar with the way of it. I've freaked people out with it a few times. :-P And then she said we went to the West Coast, to one of the underground labs, and there I played with my chair. Because that chair was that alter's life work, and she was very fixated on the situation. She also described how I and the man at the lab who met us (White and Stupid left us to our own devices apparently) talked like long-time co-workers as I walked down. And I said,"Oh, that old thing," as I remembered about it. Oh yeah. Forgot. And then two days later I came across a reference by some of the MILABs who also remember the thing, only being in it. Can't say I remember ever using it on myself, or really it aside from the conception all those years ago. But eh. I suppose. When I'd first thought of this thing, I had no intention of using it to jumble memories. It could be used as an eradication of course: to forget everything forever would be a capital punishment. But never did it occur to me over here that it could be used to confuse and inject. But I suppose that would only make sense.