I really don’t like to spend time worrying about birthdays, but since I started being sick they more feel like a mark on a doomsday clock. That’s a depressing way to think of it I’m sure, but since I have been unable to do anything since this started I feel I’m wasting time. I spend every day doing nothing of purpose. It’s like I’m just hanging around waiting to die. So it sucks to think about time because it slips by and unless you’re enjoying it, you’re wasting it.
I woke up with a panic attack again at 4 am. I dreamt of me doing a speech on my 63rd birthday and I was getting anxiety in my dream as I told those in attendance “it’s hard to believe 13 years ago I turned 50!” In my dream I started having an anxiety attack and next thing I know I’m awake having one. It’s terrible to waste time, but counting the time wasted is just magnifying it. I know it’s unhealthy, but my brain has done this all my life.
I don’t know why I’m so fixed on the life clock? After I finally calmed myself and went back to sleep I was awakened by one of the dogs licking my head to wake me. I let her out and sit in the living room with a cup of coffee. My wife is playing music videos on YouTube and cutting up our daughters softball shirts to make a quilt for her. All the songs that played I pointed out that the singers were dead. It started with Chris Cornell’s version of “nothing compares to you” where I jokingly said everyone who famously sang this song was dead. My wife drops her head and chuckled saying “HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE!” Her point being that on top of everything, those were the first words out of my mouth.
While I’m excited to get out into the pines today, I noticed that I’m good when there’s something I get to go do, or if I have a project to keep my occupied. It’s when I’m alone with my thoughts that the shadows overtake my thoughts. The other side of that is I spend so much time seeing past lives and the ghosts that linger that I really can’t avoid the subject of inevitability and death. Most people would think I’m insane. When you talk to me on any normal occasion I’m as grounded as the next guy, but talk about visions, spirits, spiritual energy, etcetera, and I sound like I’m a complete nut job.
I’m the guy who says things directly. To most I’m an asshole nut job who gets under your skin. To the few who know me truly and understand me, I’m a laid back guy who just has a couple loud moments. Nobody likes hearing that there hasn’t been an original thought for ages. Nobody likes hearing that we’re all going to die. “Why are you so grumpy and negative?” I’m not. I’m just honest. I’m autistic and hide as someone who is not. I learned to mimic very young. So I pass as a person who is not autistic. That means Is that I say things with the delicate touch of a sledgehammer to the face. Add in the mix of dealing with dimensional existences and seeing through the walls of separation, I see a lot of past present and future. I see and feel things most ignore, but for me it’s like a poison ivy rash that never heals. You can ignore it momentarily but it’s always there on your skin. You can’t stop your subconscious taking a pick or scratch. So needless to say I can seem like a bit much.
I end up staying home because I can tell the day was going to be busy. I mean everyone is suffering from crazy cabin fever. Everyone is like “fuck the pandemic” and out in force. So I instead stay home and hide in my hole. I only go out if it’s required, and when I do I’m like a field mouse looking out for the hawks about to swoop down and rip my into shades of bird shit! Besides, my day is busy enough with many journeys in the TARDIS of my mind.
All the noises tonight are loud. My rural town sounds more like a city. People everywhere are out in droves. Cars are revving their engines. Tires are squealing. Horns, dogs, planes and kids are all filling the air with noise. One noise breaks through the chaos and snaps my focus. In the tree on the corner is an owl. He calls out a few times and goes to a tree down three houses. And things quiet a little. There’s still road noise, but people sounds fade away.
I’m at my fire with a drink and a cigar. I call out to the corners and lay my offerings under the tree. Spring is just as busy for me as the fall. The veil is thin around the equinox. As it was last week it’s still a bit thin. The ground is opening up to start anew. I’m working outside to prepare for planting trees and and small crops of food and flowers. It’s still too cold at night, but I’m doing the groundwork. Laying my intentions into the dirt. With my sun allergy I have to do what I can after the sun sets. This time though it’s harder. My body is fighting me. The arthritis in my back hips and knees has been throbbing for weeks. This doesn’t stop me though. I’m building my sanctuary here. I will have to move my fire before the next full moon and tonight it’s all about letting them know that it will be here still just a few feet away.
So as I sit at my fire now, trying to rest my bones, I hear the flow of things passing my way. So I will sit and listen for a while and the owl will take my voice for a while. I will see through his eyes, and watch through his eyes. I will soar through the night bring stories from another time and place. I will share them another time, but I feel there will be a few to tell.
Off we go
No longer do I recognize myself. I look at pictures from the past and I don’t see me. I see familiar things, but I don’t see me. Things that are in my past, are passed by as if not existing. Who am I?
Sense of normalcy is gone. That’s the new normal. I still get dressed and play the part, but I don’t see why it’s important? I’ve never cared really about it. So if I’m playing a part, who am I?
I sleep. I wake up. I eat. I shit. All these things I do to identify as something, but who am I?
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow hasn’t happened. I was: I will, but who am I?
Lost in a sea of memories that are as distant as planets. Playing scenes from a movie nobody ever heard of. Separation. Removal. That was something, but who am I?
I go to the bathroom and wash my hands. I look in the mirror. Who are you?
Everyday it gets worse. My inability to deal with the mass stupidity that is Americans and their “right to freedom.” I have seen the mass movement of ignorance and stupidity waving as proud as they wave flags of fascist leaders and racist confederacy. Still to this day it is the sounding horn of there battle cry. My only response is to tell them to take their freedom guns, shove them up their asses and pull the trigger. The only way to end their spread of ignorance and hatred is to remove them completely. They don’t care about anyone else’s rights but theirs. You can’t educate someone who doesn’t want to learn. So the only thing to remove the tyranny that is fascism and racism, is death. Treat it as you would a rabid animal. There comes a point where you have to put ol’ yeller down. It’s for the safety of everyone else. On that same idea of balance though, we need to watch the ones who have their heads shoved so deep up their ass in a yoga pose that they think will make the world a better place if we believe in more fantasy and fiction. This mentality is just as dangerous.
It seems that no matter the instance, nobody takes any responsibility for their actions. Nobody wants to give a healthy dose of common sense. It’s all gone. We as humans are failing ourselves at a faster rate each day. It’s all about what gets likes or makes you the new standard of special. Why can’t you just be happy for what you have and not care about what others think? I know I’m flawed with my own intolerances, but I acknowledge them and work to do better. I no longer see that anymore. News is just more click bait for reality tv and advertising money. Every time you turn on the tv, you find yourself questioning if you’re watching a fictional show or news? You can’t tell the difference. Our lives are just a meme or a sound byte. We have completely invalidated our own existence. All we have to do to see what happened to the world to make it such a shit hole, is look in a mirror.
Sure I’m on a rant. When am I not anymore? I just seriously can not see the point of this world. I used to have hope for people. Now things have changed so much that I can’t find any light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve removed all social media from my phone, and I hide in my room. This is not healthy for me, but it’s far healthier for everyone else.
Rehydrating leathery dried skin, looks like a gelatinous mess. I saw last night as long dead giants had been resurrected after being found in the sea. They were dead and were dried up mummies that were found nearly a century before and were being transported back to the land of giants. The ship fell to a mighty storm and all were perished.
Now being found again, their remains were brought upon our shores by a cargo ship after a large flash appeared beneath the deep sea. The giant boxes of remains floated back to the surface. After they landed at port one of them suddenly reanimated and was returning to life. There were 2 one was obviously younger than the other. A mind of a child. Lost and confused, he hid in an old garage missing its mother. it hid and cried because everyone and everything they knew was gone.
It was found by some kids who tried to help them feel better. They were going to look out for them as if they were another sibling in the family. When they told their parents, their mom was overjoyed and proud of them for being so kind, but their father was unsure and stayed distant.
More strange events would start happening, as deserts started becoming lush green forests, and hot swampy towns became icy frozen wastelands. Rains fell and the seas rose. Cities along the coasts started falling below the waters.
While this went on, the family kept reassuring their new found sibling that everything will be ok.
As catastrophic anomalies wreak havoc on earths gravitational force and atmosphere, our lives become endangered. A drastic gamble is made and life has to start anew on a new planet that is stable, but with a stronger gravitational pull. Everyone is now twice as heavy. People who were overweight already are now plagued with overwhelming pain and find it too difficult to move, while the healthy ones now notice the extreme differences of trying to carry extra weight. As people struggle with this, there is a new hunger that plagues them. Nobody had the time to test the effects of this new planet. Now it’s too late, and they have to figure out their next steps while managing to stay alive with new appetites that turned so many into monsters. They had only seen in movies. On top of it, the harbingers called screamers that brought the doom of the previous planet are already showing up here. The glowing white orbs that used to be called wisps soar around making a high pitched noise that sounds like a high pitch scream. The screaming seems to trigger those who are borderline with the overwhelming hunger and frustration to snap instantly to the new ferocious monsters we become.
Driving in a small pickup, radio playing rock music that’s got overwhelming feelings coursing through her body. Happy, sad, strong, and weak all at once. She sings along “every time I’m falling down, every time I fall to pieces!” She’s happy in the memory but feels deeply they’re absence. She drives along the river, as her years fall down her face. What she would give to feel like that again. With them. She pulls off the road to a small clearing by the riverside between some trees. There’s ducks and gulls in the water. A gentle breeze wisps through the air. She takes a deep breath and walks to the water slipping her shoes off as she goes. There’s nobody with her, but she feels their presence. She closes her eyes as her feet hit the water. The smell of the river fills her nostrils. She knows she only has an empty place to go home to. She wonders how she can feel so depressed while in such a beautiful spot with perfect weather? She tried calling out, but no response comes.
About a half hour goes by, before she heads back to the truck. She’s going to go to the Dairy Queen and get some French fries and a sundae where she will sit and eat outside at the stone table. Dipping her fries in her ice cream, she feels the hold to this space let go of her. She doesn’t finish her food but gets up and throwing it in the trash, she decides the night needs some alcohol. She gets a bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes on her way home.
Sitting in the tub she drops the now empty bottle of vodka on the floor. She feels the quick sharp bites and lays back in the tub watching the water swirl it’s pinkish swirls. She thinks to herself “I’m so tired, I’m just going to go to sleep”
This morning I again started yelling out what I thought was gibberish. I relate it to a Tourette’s kind of outburst. I have what is an uncontrolled physical tic, followed by a vocal outburst of vocal articulation. but instead of noises or just curse words it’s articulated words. None I understand. I started running an audio recorder to capture it.
So far we’ve figured out a few of them. Afrikaans, French/creole, Italian, Portuguese, Navajo/Diné, Dakota, Russian, Icelandic, Gaelic, and this morning was the first time I ever heard Esperanto as I was yelling it in the car. Repeatedly I kept yelling the phrase esti mortanto. I have a neurodivergent mind. I’ve been diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder and have been a psychic medium all my life. Able to see and hear things others can’t all my life has caused me to be looked at as odd. My parents just said I was over dramatic with an active imagination, yet tell stories of me predicting unannounced visitors etc.
I honestly did not think Esperanto was a real thing. I heard on a movie the name Esperanto but thought it was some made up term. However, this does not explain the outburst of a language I didn’t even know existed escaping my lips. Then I realize that it’s what is the equalizer of all things.
Death comes for everything. One moments existence between eternities of non existence. Today I was reminded of that as my step father who passed away a few years back came to visit me. He took over the room. The random shuffle on my echo speaker became Murray’s playlist. The smells in the air became breakfast with him and my mother. I heard his horribly annoying laugh and it brought joy to my heart. I saw his face smiling at me with tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. He raised a bottle of Canadian and I heard the words “Put aside anger, sadness, fears. Life is short so drink your beers!” It was followed again by his laugh.
From birth we are dying. So in the time we have, we should truly live. We all die someday so why wait to truly live?
Tonight I’m struggling. Too many people. Too many crosses through timelines. I can’t hold a thought. Pains through my body as I bounce between them. The barrier that separated the lives is fading. Bleed through of each life playing in my mind like a bad episode recap. The anxiety starts to riddle my body with tremors and pain. My heart races as I continue to slip out of control.
I recently had the realization that many of my past lives is just genetic memory. Those who walked before me took those moments and it really hit them as something important. Something they should remember. This makes me now worry that as I have no children of my own, will I not be able to return? Is this my last time coming back? Will the genetics of my only nephew carry enough genetic code to give me a chance? What if he has no children?
This is the shit that goes on in my brain constantly. As often as I try to ignore it, I get pulled back to this cycle of thought. I think that if that’s the case, maybe the next adventure is a tree. Since I realize I want to heal the earth, maybe I need to become a forest. Do I star planting those seeds now? Have this body be buried in the middle of that forest when it’s taken it’s last breath. My rotting body feeds the ground that feeds the trees. The earth one day will be able to breathe again. Those who live on after that will take steps to change.
Dream: Forced to return to my childhood home, I’m already feeling disappointed in my situation. Trying to settle in to get a nights rest, I feel deeply unsettled. Suddenly my mother bursts into my room accusing me of stealing. She’s yelling and throwing my stuff around. She takes my wallet that was sitting on top of my duffle bag. She pulls all my cash out of it and throws it on the floor. She stands over it and urinates on the pile of money. Disgusted and angry, I grab my bag and take my wallet from her hands. I yell at her that I never stole anything and I’m done with the abuse every time I come home. I tell her I will never come back and that she is no longer a part of my life. I walk out the door. Vowing to be completely cut from any ties to my family.
Waking: Looking at this dream this morning, I was confused by it. What was it I was it I was to take away from this? The false accusations of wrong doing by family? The disrespect and soiling of all my hard efforts and it’s pay? The walking away and disowning of my family? I’m not sure, but I seem to be feeling like I’m being forced into making a decision I don’t want to make. Forced to accept losing all my past. Maybe I need to let go and move on, but from what? Clearly it’s something from my past and my family.
Thoughts: Letting go of the past trauma that has shaped me to my current state is hard to do. It runs deep into your deepest corners of your mind. The journey to reach the trauma that deep, isn’t something that happens overnight. It takes acceptance, perspective, and time. It may never go away, leaving a scar on your soul. This now gives you a choice. You can either let it define you and hold you back, or wear it as a badge of honour. Remind yourself that you survived the trauma and are not letting it hold you prisoner any longer. You do that by letting go of the hate and fear it caused and filling that space with love and determination. Like a scar being covered by a beautiful tattoo. It’s still there, but now when you look at it all you see is something you love and brings strength to your heart.