Writers of the Apocalypse * My Music
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
milab
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.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
missing time and oher stuff
It fucking happened again last niiiight! This time I was talking to my husband on the phone until the phone battery died. So I put it on the charger. I genuinely can't remember if he called me back or not. It seems like maybe he called me back on the house phone, which I had beside me in the bed, and maybe he didn't. But that's how things were when I went to sleep.
I wake up this morning, and the cell phone is in the bed with me turned off and the house phone is sitting on the vanity where the cell phone was. I turned the cell phone on: fully charged.
This isn't like me! If I got up to turn off an alarm, I would remember it. I've always remembered it. This is getting too weird!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
dream
It should be made to note that my husband called me after midnight on schedule. At about 02:30 hours I went upstairs to talk to him in the bedroom. I left the kitchen light on.
I was already feeling creeped out by that point because the house had that "they're here" feeling. I never feel safe when that happens. This is why I consciously made a decision to leave the kitchen light on; as a night light.
While talking to him in the bedroom I decided I wanted to go back downstairs for something. I opened the bedroom door to leave, and stopped.
All of the lights were turned off.
Stardrops was sleeping. I was the only one up. And I got creeped out even more. And maybe even a little frightened.
When I hung up with him after 4 in the morning, I put the phone with the earbud still in it on the dresser.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt nauseous and acid-mouthed. As I stood up to get moving for the day I noticed one of my cell phone charms was stuck to my nightgown. The phone was missing on the dresser. I had been sleeping on it.
This is the 2nd time in the past 2 weeks I've woke up with my cell phone not in the way I put it when I went to sleep.
I had a dream about a high electric fence, a place I'd been to before. Driving a car to leave something; some area where there were lots of people. And a crawldaddy. And clear water in a creek by the fence: perfectly clear water. And a shrine to "steffie" that looked very Hindu.
At first I was going to rescue the dolls on the shrine because I thought they were abandoned until I noticed the shrine, so I began straightening it out as it was obviously a mess from a recent rain storm. The Indian family that owned it came walking up to help me.
The crawldaddy I let go in the creek which was full of giant minnows. I bade it to live a full and happy life.
Somehow there was another fish involved: a big ugly one in the tank I had the crawldaddy in. If I had decided to keep the crawldaddy the fish would have ate it, and that's one reason why I chose the creek.
The crawldaddy wasn't mud colored because it had not been raised in muddy water. It was a light pale brown, almost flesh colored. I remember noticing that and how odd it was to me.
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