I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to say that before. Even my wife agrees with me. She doesn’t know what to think, either.
But that’s okay. I’ve decided to add to my pile of issues to resolve a new pile called: “I Don’t Know What To Think”. And to that I’ll add a lot of stories from my childhood. (If you’re interested in that, they’re right over ‘there’, in our ‘Little Shop of Horrors‘ – which isn’t actually as bad as it seems. In there you’ll find stories like “The Nuclear Child“, or “War Games” – games I played as a kid. And for those of you who envision those childhood war games you may have played – trust me, these were not those. They were far more advanced than some game you may have played. Just read it, or you can trust me on that. And there’s many more examples like it. I have written but haven’t posted the one about Fliegerhorst, the base with underground levels. I know for a fact that the CIA was there; I recently found a G.I. posting the information; another one mentioned those nuclear bombs I saw there – he said they were covered with dust and on one of them someone had written: “With Love – To Moscow”. So I know at least part of my memories from there still hold true; ring with fact – there’s some evidence to support them (outside of myself and ‘my’ own memories, I mean).
Now I’m the first to admit my memory is somewhat faulty, but . . . (long slow thinking here about what other people have said about me and my remembering things). When it comes to technical details, visualization and ‘things’ (science stuff? I don’t know what ‘things’ means – in ‘my’ kind of lexicon, ‘things’ can mean anything at all – or nothing at all – but something in some sort of way. Kinda confusing there – but so am ‘I’ – even regarding my ‘own’ being(s). (. . . and I can hear my insiders giggling, tickling me down to my ribs and funny bone – they ‘liked’ me adding the ‘s’. They’ve become a bit more open here lately and insistent on being more involved in ‘my’ own day-to-day activities . . . which is okay, but sometimes a bit troubling, like with last night and all . . .
I had gone onto my ‘About’ page – just checking some things, looking to see if the list was straight so to speak (I am writing a very non-emotional, non-analytical, non-descriptive bullet pointed list of my ‘life events’ (and things . . . lol)). I keep running into ‘trouble’ over in Europe – where I can’t remember a thing for a long time in a row; I can remember sometime before – my dad hypnotizing me (or at least trying to – if he did he wouldn’t have given the command to ‘remember’; quite the opposite, he would have given the one to forget – forever – this sort of thing). And I definitely remember him trying to . . . most definitely. It’s the kind of thing you don’t forget; not readily, not easily.
People say I have a good memory about a lot of things, but for some no memory at all.
After last night I lost my entirety of childhood memories, starting with “13” (that personality’s memories) – and then ‘fading on down’ until one by one all my childhood years were ‘wiped out’ (as in becoming unclear, as if seen through a fog; distant-distant) – and I was glad I had written things down (LOL, see that “Little Shop of Horrors”, guys – talking to my interior crowd. “We’ve already wrote things down. Too late now, lol’ing I am.” ) Then the memories started fading upward in time, wiping out my ‘childhood’ from teen days on until I was about nineteen or so.
What was really funny was that ‘they’ had ‘me’ so wiped out that I couldn’t even remember my ‘blog’ – the other one, the one I keep on Little Shop of Horrors just for this kind of eventuality – just in case ‘the system’ or someone – or in this case, a ‘group of someones’ – shuts down.
But it’s weird like that, being DID. Just kind of an ‘insight’ into things for those who don’t know it, are curious what it’s like. What ‘sponsored’ (the word I find I’ve been using) this ‘attack’?
Well, it was that comment I found and made a subject of my last posting (as well as on my Facebook account.) All the while “I” am panicking . . . well, not panic, but yes – panic by some of my ‘insiders’, kind of the ‘real thing’. I hear warnings from parts I don’t know saying I shouldn’t be posting this, la-da, I’m gonna be punished – all this real soul-threatening kinds of sh**. (And yeah, it’s about god and sh** <- meaning the devil himself). And . . . well, of course the logical and the scientist in me (as well as my deeply religious part I ‘got’ last year on ‘behalf’ of all of us – which really runs deep, by the way) – are all saying “bullsh**. It’s all a load of crap.” Thinking that it’s some kind of training and/or ‘programming’ in us which was/is used to force and keep our mouth shut . . .
Kinda like that gesture that guy made on the tarmac by the plane. He was one of the workmen helping to load the luggage. He looked up at me on the 2nd floor and gave me the ‘be silent’ motion a few times (drawing a finger across his lips) . . . crossed himself . . . pointed to his temple real close (think) and went back to his job . . .
Little things like that.
Just when I had pretty much convinced myself it wasn’t real – none of it was; that none of it could be. Could be a psychologist friend – he was raised by an Army member of the Intelligence; it is odd that we happen to be friends – and nearly lifelong ones at that (I met him when I was 15 or so). Goldy was his name (still is). Odd . . . given that tag-line I used (golden waves of shit or something like that) and that the words “Project Almond” kept coming into my mind when I was ‘over there’ (think: a kinder, gentler notion than what the CIA/MKULTRA did . . . one sponsored by the Army for their children overseas . . . in the event of a nuclear exchange/explosion/war of somekind . . . so that they could survive in a post-war apocalytpic environment . . .).
Again, the logical, adult host in me is saying that’s gotta be a lotta bullshit – because who plans things for that long, spanning multiple generations, going into details like ‘programming some kids to take care of one another’ . . . kinda like that psychologist friend has been doing for me (when it started; we sometimes talk, not much – he’s busy, job and kids). But he has been the one who has offered the most invaluable advice some of the time about how to handle ‘it’ and deal with ‘it’.
“If you start looking for coincidences, you will find them,” he gently admonished. “So . . . quit looking at it like that.” But even he agreed: throwing out eighty percent of ‘them’ (what happened overseas) is like throwing the bathwater out with the baby. That twenty percent is sobering; troubling somewhat. Even to him.
“There’s no doubt something happened!” he said upon my return, getting out of the mental hospital where they put me for being in bliss (go figure: it’s just how the system works). He had ‘heard’ that I’d gone crazy – and upon reflecting about a dozen times, he realized: He couldn’t believe it. “There’s no doubt something went on,” he continued to remind me, “But you’ve got to accept: there’s some things you’re never gonna know. Never going to be able to find out about yourself.”
Now tell me. What kinda life is that?? (I’m only sorta half-joking right here.) Wouldn’t YOU want to find out what your life was like, what you went through – what the hell happened last year???
I know I would. I would like some answers very much, sir, and a double helping, please!
That comment that got left on my ‘About’ page: Probably just someone f’ing with me, a part of my mind is saying. After all, there was a lot of s**t going on back then. ‘We’ don’t know. I assume I must have read and approved it. But then again . . . selective ‘blindness’? Selective memory probably comes into play.
And then last night. That ‘note’ I wrote back to ‘them’. I couldn’t believe I wrote that thing! Actually ‘sitting there’ watching my hands writing it – feeling the thoughts form – and incapable of stopping ‘it’ (though I know – if I had REALLY tried – I could have. I just wanted to see where ‘it’ was going with this thing; how much ‘information’ it might reveal as I was ‘feeling’ around in my mind trying to ID the thing . . .). And posting it was a nightmare – my ‘littles’ were kicking and screaming; all the alarm bells were on, the sub horn was blowing, saying ‘dive! dive! dive!’ – and ‘they’ all went under . . . .
LOL, whutta Crew I bring to the table sometimes. A bunch of scared kids and a diver. (don’t ask me who the diver is, I don’t know, LOL!) But I ‘switched’ right there after the first few sentences of that post – going from anaylsing it to ‘thanking them’.
Like I said: time to make a new pile. Of unresolved issues. Only THIS one’s never gonna get resolved.
and lets call it a list of things I don’t understand.