JUNE 1985 TO AUGUST 1985
About May 1985 I got the idea to write to the FBI for a copy of my file, if one existed. I actually wrote one, then threw it away. It just sounded to bizarre, even to me, to think that they would know anything. But I wrote a second one, and it took me about two weeks to finally throw it in the mailbox. I wasn't sure if getting an answer was a good thing or not. I never heard from them. Incidentally, people have to fill out a formal, notarized request when asking them for information. My letter wasn't notarized. In 2011, I asked them for a file again, and they said that there wasn't one.
In one of the last times that me, KS, and AN were together at AN's house, KS asked me about "that letter." I had to think a few seconds, it was part of one of her Q&A sessions, and I didn't answer. She asked, "What are you going to say to them?" I didn't answer. She said, "You know, if I were you, I'd just go crazy." I took it to mean that she meant deliberately act nuts if the Feds ever came around. I asked her, "What are you going to do if they ask you questions?" She paused for moment, and said, that I could put a post hypnotic suggestion on her. And I told her she could pick one herself, and she looked to her right, as if she were talking to someone, then pantomimed a ballerina pirouette, with her hand on her head. It was strange, because she acted like it was a big favor or honor of some sort for her to let me to "put a post" on her, when she really knew she was just playing me for a fool. She also took one hit off of a joint, something I hadn't seen her do before.
The last time I was at AN's house, AN got really adamant about the last name of the people I bought pot from. She had asked me several times over the years to introduce her to them. I always refused. But this time she was red in the face, shouting at me "What's their last name!" over and over. I told her what the last name was, she pounded on the table, turned her head toward the kitchen and shouted their name out several times, as if there were someone in the kitchen. Thinking about this now, the dope dealers would have known about the FBI letter also, and what AN did, probably for them, was get me to say their name, so whatever post those people put on me in 1980 when I started to buy from them would 'wake up'. I left, and that was the last time I was at AN's house until 1995.
After that, I didn't feel any worse than I did anyway, and I spent the next few months staying at home, and I was still talking to KS on the phone, we never went out anywhere together, though.
So I began working at McC's on June 9, 1985, three days after my nephew's funeral. My sister and the old man she was living with set me up with the job there, about 12 miles north of where I lived. It was a small, family-owned business in a tiny, quiet . It was the kind of job I've had many times before. Stocking, cleaning and waiting on customers. Probably goes with the higher prices.
I worked the afternoon shift, from 2pm to closing time at 10pm, my favorite shift to work. I could sleep in late, and after 10 in the evening was still plenty of time to go out and stay out until the sun came up. S usually worked with me on that shift. She was a single girl in her mid twenties, almost always in a good mood. She had a thing for the produce deliverer and finally landed a date with him. She asked me if I had a joint she could have for her date and I gave her one. She gave it back to me a few days later and said it seemed like it just wasn't normal pot, it was too strong and she didn't like it at all. I had thought the same thing about the pot for a while before that, but AN, who was smoking pot from the same people where I got mine, said she didn't notice anything strange about her stuff. It was the last of the stuff that I had from those people since the last time I saw them was the day after my nephew died. Anyway, S and I passed the time at work joking around,the usual boring stuff.
The store, McC's, always got a lot of business during summers, on the days when the outdoor music center, about 3/4 mile away, had concerts. George Thorogood and the Destroyers, the Gratful Dead, and Rick Springfield were on the schedule that year, along with several dates by an orchestra. The Deadheads were especially funny. They showed up in town a few days before the show, and lived out of their vans in our parking lot. One of them bought a bar of soap then asked me where the nearest lake was. At least they cleaned up after themselves before they left.
The concerts at the music hall were the only times that little town got noticed, but that summer was a little different. A few dead women in a string of killings and attacks kept the town's police force busy. There was a woman killed while attending the Destroyers' show, and another woman was attacked but survived. It was about late July that I noticed a little fat guy, about mid- to early-thirties of age, talking with S and another employee who were working with me that afternoon. The three were in front of the checkout counter by the entrance, and as I walked toward them, the guy suddenly took off and went outside. I asked them who that guy was, but they didn't answer and I didn't push the issue. It was one of those times, like many times in the months before, when I just knew I wouldn't get an answer, let alone an honest one. For some reason, I got the feeling he was a cop.
The talk of curses and hauntings were part of a string of mentions and odd references to spiritual, ghostly things that were said to me while I was at home, for the several previous months. After my nephew's funeral, I was sitting in the living room, when I saw a pot of flowers on the stereo move almost one foot by itself, and my sister J, who was standing a few feet away, immediately said to me, "Did you see that? It was a ghost." I shrugged my shoulders and said, "No, there's just somebody who I can't see pushed it." It was a negative hallucination, and I have been aware of the ins and outs of hypnotism for some time before that, knowing how a person can be tricked into things. My sister went back into the kitchen where other people were and said that she didn't think that I would have fallen for such a ruse.
The talk of ghosts and spooky things came up at AN's house when KS, said, "He doesn't believe in psychics, he doesn't believe in ghosts, he doesn't believe in...(some other weird thing)..." Then she asked me, "What would scare W?" I don't know what I answered, and it didn't immediately seem odd that she asked me something about myself, but speaking to me, about me, in the third person.
The talk of "checking the date" became weird towards the end of June. Then J gave me a copy of her son's autopsy report. She handed it to me and said that it was something about his intestinal surgery that I should know about because the doctor, or somebody, said that it might run in the family. I don't think she said anything about dates, but I was surprised and spooked, to say the least, when I saw the official date of the report. The date on it was my birthday.
So, the talk of ghosts, reading minds, and knowing that for several months and on a continuing basis, my family has been talking to me while I was sleeping, asking me questions, finding out where I was going, etc. And the odd question from my mother of "who are you talking to?" and when I didn't answer, because I never talked about where I went and who I knew, she said, "X (her friend) wants to know who are you talking to." I don't know if I answered, but I was thinking of KS. And the question from J to my mother, when we were in the front room, I was by the door ready to go upstairs and Janet was rushing to the front door, she asked, "T (older sister) wants to know which eye is W's bad eye." My mother gave the wrong answer, and when I started to correct her, my mother just pushed me toward the door. Again, I wasn't given the chance to ask about a weird question, and didn't really dwell on it.
All these things, and others which I will make note of later, came together, almost, in one specific event at the store on August 15, 1985, give or take a day. More questions than answers were raised that afternoon.
I was in the backroom of the store, prepping the corn for packing, when the manager came over the intercom and said, "Would you come up front, S needs some help bagging."
When I got to the counter, I saw that there were only two items there, and I immediately thought that this was a set-up, and said, or thought to myself, "Uh-oh."
I put the things in a bag, and when I looked up, I saw a lady. She, F, was a neighbor from the sixties and seventies, a friend of my oldest sister, T. I had not thought of her for many years until she showed up at my nephew's funeral in early June. My sister asked me after the services if I had seen F, and she looked a little disgusted when I said that I did see her there.
The first thing F said was, "Can I hypnotize you?"
"Yes," I said, automatically. I knew that I was under before, from the people I bought pot from, and KS, but I don't know why I agreed so readily. Considering that she was at the funeral home two months earlier, maybe her asking permission was a repeat of something she had done there. And I know, she can repeat the same thing again, no matter how much I want to tell her not to do it again.
That was the only time that someone asked to have permission to put me under. I have never agreed to anything of the sort, what I drank at the pot dealer's house in 1980 was passed off as a drug, not a hypnotic. If F is replaying her 'request for permission' to make it look like I am agreeing now, in 2011, she is duping me and other people. It is criminal.
After I drank something out of a white cup, I looked up and said her name, "I knew this was all a set up (i.e. planned)" and "you got to stop me". Why I said that about stopping me, I do not know. I mentioned a little console thing that the store used to make and place orders over the phone lines. She was saying something to the little fat guy I saw a few weeks earlier talking to the two cashiers, the guy who left when he saw me. I assumed it was her cop husband, but I'll just call him Fatso. Then she turned to me and immediately started in with commands, as if she were showing Fatso what she can do to me.
"That was hot coffee," she said to me. It may or may not have been, I didn't feel anything.
I started to talk in a gravelly voice. If it were hot coffee, my voice would come out that way. And I thought of a kid I went to grade school with. I was associating a gravelly voice with him.
Fatso came up to the counter and put what I thought was a wallet-like thing on the counter, and asked, "OK, who's bothering you." I'm really not sure if it was a badge because I wasn't looking directly at it and as soon as he said that, I sort of went out, like into a sleep. I would have answered KS, but I didn't get the chance. Then F said, "May I ask you a question?" But, I went back to sleep at the word 'may' and heard her say, "Well, that didn't take long." I am assuming now that they were expecting me to get embarrassed and go into a sleep. Because of the questions that they began to ask me, I am sure that they were expecting me to sleep. The answers I gave were answers to questions KS asked me at AN's house a few months earlier.
So, after several months of double talk from people I knew, I was primed to freak out, and they knew it. I remember Fatso from being a not-see in my room, and F did have to point to him to "introduce" me to him. I recall when I was at J's funeral wake, F was there, and while we were sitting there at a table, which seems odd to me now that there was a table at the funeral home, I got the idea from somewhere to look around the room for her husband. I would not have recognized him, so someone must have pointed him out to me in order for him in order for him to become a not-see. I remember him in my room the last time I talked to KS over the phone.
So, at the store, Fatso was "in my nightmare", so to speak, he told me to "fuck S". S was the cashier who was working with me that night. She was at the register and I was behind her. I looked at her, she was slightly bent over, and I didn't move. I imagined he meant intercourse, of course. "Fuck S," he said a second time, in a different tone, and this time I thought of it in the sense of "fuckig her up."
There was some blank time and I heard Fatso say, "Move!" I thought of "move" as in "moving out of the house." I didn't know what I was supposed to do, but I know I was already scared by then. I sort of felt like I did when I was five and got locked out of the house by my mother on the first day of kindergarten. I cried every day in kindergarten at first.
"Move!" Fatso said it a second time and was getting really pissed. I got scared and thought of bowel movements. If I had one then and there, I do not recall.
After another blank spell, I saw R&JL, the people whom I bought pot from come into the store. I saw R, a man, come in first, and F said to him, "don't let him see your face," and he covered it with his hands. I don't know if they didn't want me to see their faces because that would bring out an imprint (reaction) I have of them, or if they just didn't want me to know who was there. Or,if they were laughing at me, I would go to sleep again out of embarrassment.
There was another blank spell, and not until last year, did I recall a little about what happened during that blank period. I had known that I was given something to drink before meeting R. I had to be introduced to him by his sister-in-law with whom I worked at a department store. "It's a drug," R's wife had said to me at the time in 1980 when she gave me a hypnotic. They do that for a few reasons, I believe. First, that is a sure-fire way to know if their customers are police, or affiliated with the police. Second, it would be a way for them to post the customer with a suggestion of doing something, a physical tell of some sort or bringing up an imprint, if the customer ever did say their name. After I told AN their name a few weeks earlier, I went back to their house to get some pot, and I followed JL into a little pantry where a washing machine was. She pulled the cord to the light, hissed at me and said, "Wake up, you motherfucker."
I said, "am I supposed to take that literally?"
So, I remembered very shortly after the incident, in August 1985, that R had come into the store. He stood next to me, at my left, and I imagined some hostage crisis psychodrama of holding a gun to S, the cashier. I heard her whimper, and saw her at my right, at the register, cringing. I think someone fired a shot from outside, I remember seeing the glass on the door crack, and the sound of something hitting the cigarette rack, it sounded like a ricochet. Someone, F I believe, told me to look at what I was doing, but I didn't see a gun. I said, "I don't want to hurt anyone," and dropped my arm. She crawled over the counter. She did not have any part in the rest of the incident until the very end, when they tried to wake me up at a time before the incident.
Last year, part of that blank spell that happened immediately after this was filled in a bit. It seemed to me that R&JL were explaining some of my associations they discovered while I was "sleeping" at their house. I had spent maybe an hour or two per week there, usually on a Friday, a payday, to buy pot. It was usually late afternoon and I stayed until after the six o'clock news. I didn't know many people who watched the news other than myself.
I had literally become blind, deaf and dumb because I was thinking of Helen Keller, even though she wasn't a mute. I remember, from several months earlier, maybe at home during the sleep questioning, I thought it must have been very hard for Keller to grasp the concept of words since she had never heard any. Maybe someone asked me the "who do you admire?" question and I literally became the answer. F asked R&JL how long the blind and deaf stage lasted, and JL told her it just went away by itself after a while. It would be possible to remember what they said because I am not deaf, my brain would still process what was being said around me.
"He wants to go to the bathroom," JL explained when I made motions of pulling down my pants. And I think they replaced masturbation with "clasping my hands and sort of flapping my fingers". That was also supposed to be "flying and be free". I think it was about this time that someone said, "He's crying. Because he doesn't know why he can't see." I nodded my head, and it was F who said, "you can see," and then I did see. Other than that, I don't recall anything else about R&JL's visit at the incident. They demonstrated how easy it was for me to go along with certain individuals, and since I was mute and blind and deaf, they may have already read some of the answers to the "profiling questions". They could only have gotten them from KS or someone from out of my home.
I remember someone yelled, "Freeze. FBI." "Thank God," I said. I don't know if they were really there, and I might have acted out freezing as being in a cold place instead of standing still. A few weeks earlier, prompted by my sister T when she said, "Pursuant to my rights...." I wrote to the FBI asking that a copy of my file be sent to me. I had thoughts of them during the months leading up to August, and if it were them following me, maybe the two brown-suited guys at the dentist's office, I would get a response. No response came. Maybe the incident was started by them because they knew of that letter, and what they were, and still are, a part of is totally illegal to do to someone when they aren't aware.
After R,JL and S, the cashier, were gone, it was just F, Fatso, and me. I don't know where the store manager was, the guy who called me to the front at the beginning to help S bag for F and Fatso. He might not have been there to begin with. The remainder of the incident seemed like a series of stops and starts to me. I guess they woke me up and put me back to sleep to test some of their questions on me, or probe for information. But, since Fatso had already been "watching" me, they knew where they wanted to put me. And that was with a gun to my head.
I have never owned a gun, don't want to own a gun, have never held a real pistol in my life. I would be one of those people who would accidently shoot myself in the foot. I do remember the time at R&JL's house, JL showed me a gun they had for sale and asked if I wanted to buy it. JL had it wrapped in a white cloth. I told them I didn't need a gun. I can't recall if one of them told me to pick it up, but I didn't because I didn't wan't to put my fingerprints on it. Never know where that gun might end up. One time, I went to buy some pot, and JL was alone, R had gone away for the evening--a very rare event. She had a gun with her on the table while she was doing a jigsaw puzzle. I told her I would stay with her until her husband came home, and she put the gun away. She stopped at the doorway to the living room, and while I was looking, she put the gun to her head, a quick pass, and shook her "no" at me. She didn't say anything, it was like a one second game of charades. At the time, I just thought it was another strange incident, and didn't dwell on it.
So, the gun was at my head, because, as they had said, "you almost hurt someone" or "you could have hurt someone", and they asked me how did that make me feel. Not too well, I guess. When my relatives and their friends were talking to me while I was sleeping, months before the store incident, I was suddenly having, I wouldn't call it an urge, but I was just picturing myself jumping out of my bedroom window, not every day by any means. Also, around the same time, while taking baths as I recall, my head would involuntarily jerk back twice, and the thought in my mind immediately after that happened was that I had shot myself in the forehead. But twice? Only I could imagine that someone could get two shots off when shooting themselves in the forehead. Dumb.
I do remember while in the eighth or ninth grade, I wondered what people would say if I were dead. I had a dream that I was hiding behind the cabinets in the classroom, waiting and listening to what others would say about me. Not that I had killed myself, but that for some reason had died. I remember when my sister G said she ate rat poison and was dying. She made her eyes move back and forth real fast. T and I were home at the time, and T just waved it off and ignored it, and G admitted then that she hadn't eaten any poison and was just acting. I guess that "not waking up G" or the command "you G" or "go G" is the metaphor/association/trigger word for suicide that the psych harrassers are using on me. I hear it quite often. I had a Spanish teacher in high school who broke her leg and used a wheelchair for a few weeks. MrsK said she fell in the kitchen and felt so helpless that she actually thought of killing herself. I thought it was the dumbest thing I've heard, but didn't say anything to her. No ideations or thoughts or whatever the term is nowadays of offing myself.
So, the hostage drama was over, I had a gun to my head, and now they had a convenient imprint for them to use. Combined with a replay of "getting permission to hypnotize", getting a gun to my head would be as easy as snapping their fingers.
I remember a man saying to me, "now, now, w". I was crying. I didn't know who it was, but the first thought in my mind was that it was the president of the US, and as soon as I thought that, I took a phone from my head and said, "What the f**k?" They never said who I was talking to. Their point was, and still is, that it will be "whoever you want it to be." Just a mind game.
So, there I was, with a gun to my head. It was probably a toy gun or just my finger, since they could stop and start me whenever they wanted to. I was scared and kept saying, "Just leave me alone." But, considering what happened next, how could they wake me up?
NEXT: WHAT. DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG? PART II
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM......FRIENDS? PART II
MARCH 1985 TO JUNE 1985
When I went to the dentist about March 1985 to get my wisdom teeth out, JL from whom I bought pot for the five prior years, offered the name of the dentist I should go to, but I declined. I went to one my parents had. On the first visit, I was just getting the one wisdom tooth pulled that had erupted, pushed a molar loose, and had gotten infected. Since the doctor was going to put me to sleep, I wasn't allowed to drive, so one of my sisters, G, drove me there and stayed until I was done.
The doctor put an IV in my right arm, and began to give me liquid valium. I had never heard of it. He told me to tell him when I began to feel the effects, but I didn't say anything. Since I only smoked pot, I had no tolerance for any other drug, and I went out quickly. When I woke up I was in another room, laying on a gurney. My sister, who was sitting on a chair in the same room, started to say something, but a man (there were two men in the room with us) said to her, "Don't say anything until he's fully awake." Later, she said, "Finally. We could hear you screaming all the way out here." She said it took me about forty five minutes to wake up, and as we walked through the waiting room to the exit, she asked, "Who were those two guys?" I noticed two men, both dressed in brown suits coming out of the room where I got my tooth pulled out. They left before me and my sister did. I thought it was strange that she pointed them out.
(Edit November 11, 2011:
I thought about that first visit for a long time, and years later I remember, I'm pretty sure that they were asking about who I was buying pot from. They could have known anyway, and said, one to the other, "He's never been busted." I asked for a drink of water in a child's voice, and then, a man's voice, said, "Someone get him a drink of water to shut him up." Weird. Then, the doctor came in and said that he had to get started on the dental work soon. They told him one more minute. They pointed to a clock on a wall, and said to do something when I looked at a clock, and they said, OK, then they left.)
On the second visit, a week later, nothing interesting happened. Except that the doctor didn't give me so much sedative, the same kind as the first visit, so I wasn't out for very long after the surgery.
After a few weeks, and after the swelling on my face went down, I finally met the girl, KS, that my friend, AN, worked with at the photo developing company. It must have been around early to mid March, 1985. She had come over to AN's house and brought along her male friend, P. They were sitting in the dining room. Just before I entered the dining room, I saw the guy, P, point to me while he was looking at AN, and nodding his head up and down. The first thing I thought of was that the guy was telling AN, 'yeah, he's gay.' I went into the dining room and collected money from AN and P. I was going to buy pot for me and pick up some for them, too. I really didn't know that P was going to be there.
So I returned after about a half hour or so, and as I walked through the front door, I felt really strange. I was imitating the drag queen from the original "La Cage Aux Folles", which I had seen about that time. But I didn't really realize it until KS, who was in the dining room, said something like "remember how you came in the second time." I assume "second time" was when I returned. I gave them their pot, and we smoked some, except for KS, who didn't smoke. From what I gather, P worked in a hospital maternity ward, and I was surprised that he would be a smoker with a job like that.
At that first meeting with KS, I remember sitting across from her, P was to my right, and AN was to my left. Then I saw P pull up a video camera from under the table, I saw it for a second, then I didn't. It became a negative hallucination. I didn't think anything of it, I had read about hypnosis before, and it just seemed odd. The only other time I saw a video camera was at the dope dealer's house. Video cameras were large and bulky back then, and not many people owned one. The dealers took about five seconds of tape of me sitting on a chair, then when they showed it to me, I just said, "erase it."
The next thing I knew, was that I was sitting where AN was sitting, I didn't know where she went, and KS started to ask me questions, but before she started, she said, "I bet I know more about you than you do." I thought, 'sure.' She asked me if I were gay, and I blanked out. Coming to, she asked me if I was a virgin, I said, "I wish I were, it would have saved me a couple cases of the clap." "Really?" she said. But I felt weird, different. I was not as shy and reserved as I really am, but open, and talkative. I realize now that she was talking to what I would call my alter ego. She pulled every gay cliche out of her hiney that she could think of. Did I like Streisand? No. Did I like "The Wizard of Oz?" No, I've seen bits of it through the years, but I never have seen it from beginning to end.
She asked me if I was bisexual, I don't know if it was me or her, that said something like, "what's that make you, half man half woman?" I just laughed and said, "like the half man, half woman in a circus?" Then she put her hand to her face, dividing it, and showed me her profile on one side, said "woman side", then showed me her profile on the other side of her face, said "man side". I just shrugged my shoulders. She was getting weird.
She also asked, "Who are you working for?" I replied, "And who are you working for?" I don't know why I said that, but she looked irritated. Then she asked, "Do you know any cops?" I said that I didn't. "Really?" she asked. Then I thought of the only cop I ever met, apart from them doing their job. It was the guy who married the neighbor girl. I didn't say anything to KS, not anything that I realize I said, but that mention turned up later in a big way.
She asked, "If your uncle owed any money, would you help him pay?" I said, "No." She asked why not, and I told her that I didn't even really know them, so why should I pay? The same issue came up at home around the same time. My aunt came over selling some of their stuff for money, and a mutual friend of theirs came over to talk my father into paying money for my uncle's debt. My father said No, and that friend of theirs pushed the issue about how it was "family" and "he (my father) has to help." He didn't help pay because they really didn't have much money anyway, and why should he pay for anybody's else's debt when they never really came around much anyway. There's more to say about these three (aunt, uncle, mutual friend of parents and aunt/uncle) later.
I don't know if P was taping with the video recorder or not. As far as I knew, it was just her and I. Then she took some pictures of me. It was strange, that someone I never met before would be asking personal questions, and taking pictures, too. The most recent time someone took my picture before this was just a few days or weeks earlier, when my sister, J, came in the kitchen, like she was in a hurry, and snapped a picture of me standing by the sink, holding her baby. I put the baby in front of my face when she snapped the picture, and I think it was my aunt or uncle, who were visiting at the time, said something like, "That's good enough." There was a guy with her that I didn't see.
Now KS was interested in pictures. It must have been a polaroid camera, because I remember seeing the pictures she took, and her asking things like, "Who are you now (or 'when you do that')." She even showed me pictures of her parents and brother. At one point, she said, and I'm assuming she was talking to P, "She wants (or, We need) a picture with his eyes open." Huh? Who and for what does anyone need that and who was she taking pictures for?
She had pictures of her family and showed them to me. "This is my mother," she said. I looked, and she said, "See?" I nodded. Then she immediately said, while pointing to the photo, "Now don't see her," and I didn't. This see/then don't see thing comes up later, too.
She asked, "How do you grow up?" I thought that must have been the weirdest thing to that point. I said, "I don't know, it just happens." Then she said, making circle-like motions with her finger in the air, "Some people say...it means moving out of the house." I laughed, and said, "That sounds like something my sister would say." I was thinking about my oldest sister, T, and how self-righteous she gets about how people should live their lives. KS then said, to AN or P, or both, "He thought of his sister. I wonder if that's the sister. . ." She leaned over towards me. Then I got really suspicious of this woman and what she was doing. I just stared at her for a while.
At one point, someone, I think it was AN, said, "Jesus" and after a pause, I said, "Yes?" KS laughed and said, "Oh, we can use that!"
As far as I figured out in the coming weeks, she was making some kind of profile of me. Possibly at someone else's request. She was writing things down, but made some mistakes. When she asked me if I were gay, and I blanked out. I get the feeling that she assumed that there was a second personality that woke up after that, and she was writing down things that W1 (me) was like, and things that the alter ego (MH) was like. She told me, "Describe W" while I was in my talkative, alter ego state. However, when asked to describe W, I would NOT have described myself, because, and this is important, I have a cousin with the same name as mine. I'll call him W2. If someone asked me about 'W', awake or asleep, I would think of my cousin, I'll call my description of him W2, before I would think of myself. She would not have known this, and assumed that answering the "Describe W" command counted as another personality, even though I just was describing my cousin and not myself.
To recap:
W1--me as I was awake, and after I blanked out and just sat around saying nothing, that would be what she counted as W1.
MH--me, as MH, the one she made out to be another "personality", even though it is just me, as awake as W1, and the same life experiences as W1, and the one who was describing my cousin (of whom she wasn't aware existed in real life). Just a name I would change mine to. My real name's too ethnic.
W2--My (MH) description of my cousin, who got labelled as a beer drinker, emotional.
She asked if "W was violent." I didn't answer, and she just said shrugging her shoulders, "Oh, I'll just put that under the other W (the one I refer to now as W2--to repeat, the description of my cousin, whom I hadn't seen in a decade up to that time, and didn't know much about anyway).
To repeat, MH is my alter ego, for lack of a better term. I have always thought of changing my name and this would have been it. W1 and MH are the same.
Other question/answers over the weeks, and these must have been asked of MH, the so-called 'other personality' I woke up as:
Q: "What did you want to be while growing up?"
A: "Somebody else." LOL.
Q: "Have you ever wished you were a woman?"
A: "No" She tried to push it, asking things like "not even a minute?" "not even a day?" "not for a second. I eventually just nodded. She was getting weirder by the visit.
She said, "You lied, I know you lied. And when you lie, you...."
Me: "You expose yourself, I guess"
KS: "As a..."
Me: "As a liar, I suppose."
KS: "Maybe just expose yourself." I think she added "wouldn't (or don't) you agree?"
Q: "What if you ever got in trouble?"
A: "I wouldn't say anything."
Q: "So you would....." (the cirle-like motion again)
A: "Let other people speak for me." (I learned how to fill in the blanks, finish the sentence. It could easily have been her own answers I was repeating. I was thinking, let other people come to my defense.)
I was assuming she was talking about getting in trouble for smoking pot, that's about the only thing I would have gotten in trouble for. I always thought that it wouldn't be any good to tell where I bought from, because the law in this state was a fine of 100 dollars for any amount less than 100 grams. I never had anywhere near 100 grams on me at any time. Couldn't afford it, and snitching caused more trouble compared to a fine.
AN (in the kitchen, surprised): "How did I get in here!"
KS (immediately calling to her): "You flew."
Me: "Oh, you did not. You walked. I saw you."
KS (to me): "Tell her to wake up."
Me: No way. (I sort of knew what she meant)
KS: You have to say it.
Me: No I don't (or. No, I'm not going to.)
KS (after a pause) "AN, wake up."
AN (back in the dining room, and her face was flushed): "I don't know what happened."
I mentioned this to AN years later, and she said that she didn't remember, but she didn't say it didn't happened either. I mentioned to my mom at one point that I thought KS had me under, but my mom said, as usual, that I was crazy.
I commented that the painter Marc Chagall died (March 28,1985)--the tv was on at AN's house and the news was on. Immediately, KS asked, "What does that remind you of?" I said colors, because I had heard that he was known for his use of colors. And she kept going, "What do colors mean to you?" I sort of laughed at her, leaned over and almost asked what the deal with asking questions and what was she really driving at, but she waved me off, and I left. "What do you mean?" was such a common phrase KS used that, later on after I had seen the last of her, it became a joke between AN and me,. If one of us mentioned her name, the other one would most likely chime in, and whine, "What do you meeeeean?" LOL.
One time, she was saying to someone, "He doesn't believe in psychics, he doesn't believe in ghosts..." Then she turned to me, touched me on the arm, and I woke up, and she said, "what would scare W?"
I didn't answer and I didn't find it odd that she asked me in the third person, but I was thinking (about myself, not what I imagine my cousin would say), "the mob, maybe." Then she said to someone, "show him your gun." I looked across the table, and there was a lady with big hair, early thirties, sitting in a chair across from me. She was reaching for something, out of a purse, just below the tabletop, but I couldn't tell, and before she could show me anything, I punched my chest, looked at the big haired lady and said, "So shoot me." She just looked at KS, and KS looked at me and said, "Forget it."
I don't know who that lady was, but she looked like a woman I saw at the dealer's house once. And weeks later, the woman who sold pot to me, JL, said, out of the blue, "Stay away from KS." She used KS's last name. I didn't ask her how or even if she knew KS, but JL could have been reading me (since I had to take the drink years before) and listening to what I was doing at AN's house.
At one point KS was frustrated with an answer she got, or couldn't get, and said, grabbing a phone, and looking at me while she was dialing, "I'm calling...MOTHER!" Don't know who the hell she was talking about. I saw wires coming out of a cabinet in the dining room, she pointed them out to me, and I got the feeling I was being taped. Couldn't have cared less, actually.
So, after a couple of months of this, and having people talking to me at home while I was asleep, and wondering who the two guys in brown suits were at the dentist's office, and feeling like I was being followed (years later, my mom asked me once where I was going, I didn't answer, she said she knew because "we had you followed"), and arguing with AN and not going over to her house anymore, it got to be late May, 1985, and I was still talking to KS over the phone for hours at a time. Never about the weird things, just things that people already knew about me.
A few things were really odd. I was sitting in my room on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night, listening to music on headphones, when I suddenly saw my sister, J, standing to my left, swinging a watch on a chain, and standing next to her was a taller woman, maybe the big haired lady I saw at AN's house. I saw her out of my left eye, the one that I only have indirect (peripheral), not direct vision, and she said to the lady, "See." It must have woke me up, because I said, "J?" And it was over, they were gone, when she hid the watch. About this same time, AN (I was still talking to her) said that I called her up at her home in the middle of the night and b**ched her out. I told her that I didn't remember doing that at all. She wasn't really mad about it. Today, I believe that J triggered that phone call, I've never done anything like that before. It scared me that I was doing something like that, and from then on, and still to this day, I leave the extension in my room unplugged unless I'm calling out or expecting a call.
Out of the blue, my mom asked me with whom I was talking on the phone so much. I said, no one (it was KS), or something like that. Then she said something very odd, she said, "X (that friend of hers that wanted my parents to pay my uncle's bills) wants to know who you're talking to." Don't know why that woman would want to know who I was talking to.
Another time, I walked into the front room, and my other sister, G, was walking through the living room (in front of me) to the kitchen, where my mother was and she was saying, "Mom, you got to tell him." G was holding a large, manila envelope. I turned around and went back upstairs.
Another time, my younger sister, J, was walking toward the front door, I was in front of the stairs on the opposite side of the room. My mother was behind me, and J asked her, "T (older sister) wants to know which is W's (my) bad eye?" My mother told her it was the right one, and I tried to correct her but she just pushed me toward the stairs.
One of the first things that happened when I met KS and came back from getting the pot and walking into AN's house mocking the actor in La Cage, was that my pinkie finger stuck straight out. KS pointed at it and said, "Why do you do that?" I shrugged my shoulders just as the actor in the film, and said the same line he did, "It just does that on it's own." The last time I saw KS, which was several weeks later and still at AN's house, she stuck out her pinkie finger and said to me, "I'm keeping that one, just as a reminder." Meaning, she won't take off the post (also called curse--she had a habit of saying "curses on" or "curses off") of the tv imitation to keep me screwed up.
So, after months of weird things, and getting no answer, or commanded to forget it, I got an idea from one of the few phone conversations I had with my sister, T. Out of nowhere, she said to me, "Pursuant to my rights..." I already had been thinking that maybe it was law enforcement who was following me. Not the government in general, but law enforcement. And maybe if I wrote to the FBI, asking for a copy of my file, not that one even existed as far as I knew, that I would at least get a response. I expected the response to come from them, but I sure got a reaction from others.
NEXT: WHAT. DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?
JUNE 1985 TO AUGUST 1985
When I went to the dentist about March 1985 to get my wisdom teeth out, JL from whom I bought pot for the five prior years, offered the name of the dentist I should go to, but I declined. I went to one my parents had. On the first visit, I was just getting the one wisdom tooth pulled that had erupted, pushed a molar loose, and had gotten infected. Since the doctor was going to put me to sleep, I wasn't allowed to drive, so one of my sisters, G, drove me there and stayed until I was done.
The doctor put an IV in my right arm, and began to give me liquid valium. I had never heard of it. He told me to tell him when I began to feel the effects, but I didn't say anything. Since I only smoked pot, I had no tolerance for any other drug, and I went out quickly. When I woke up I was in another room, laying on a gurney. My sister, who was sitting on a chair in the same room, started to say something, but a man (there were two men in the room with us) said to her, "Don't say anything until he's fully awake." Later, she said, "Finally. We could hear you screaming all the way out here." She said it took me about forty five minutes to wake up, and as we walked through the waiting room to the exit, she asked, "Who were those two guys?" I noticed two men, both dressed in brown suits coming out of the room where I got my tooth pulled out. They left before me and my sister did. I thought it was strange that she pointed them out.
(Edit November 11, 2011:
I thought about that first visit for a long time, and years later I remember, I'm pretty sure that they were asking about who I was buying pot from. They could have known anyway, and said, one to the other, "He's never been busted." I asked for a drink of water in a child's voice, and then, a man's voice, said, "Someone get him a drink of water to shut him up." Weird. Then, the doctor came in and said that he had to get started on the dental work soon. They told him one more minute. They pointed to a clock on a wall, and said to do something when I looked at a clock, and they said, OK, then they left.)
On the second visit, a week later, nothing interesting happened. Except that the doctor didn't give me so much sedative, the same kind as the first visit, so I wasn't out for very long after the surgery.
After a few weeks, and after the swelling on my face went down, I finally met the girl, KS, that my friend, AN, worked with at the photo developing company. It must have been around early to mid March, 1985. She had come over to AN's house and brought along her male friend, P. They were sitting in the dining room. Just before I entered the dining room, I saw the guy, P, point to me while he was looking at AN, and nodding his head up and down. The first thing I thought of was that the guy was telling AN, 'yeah, he's gay.' I went into the dining room and collected money from AN and P. I was going to buy pot for me and pick up some for them, too. I really didn't know that P was going to be there.
So I returned after about a half hour or so, and as I walked through the front door, I felt really strange. I was imitating the drag queen from the original "La Cage Aux Folles", which I had seen about that time. But I didn't really realize it until KS, who was in the dining room, said something like "remember how you came in the second time." I assume "second time" was when I returned. I gave them their pot, and we smoked some, except for KS, who didn't smoke. From what I gather, P worked in a hospital maternity ward, and I was surprised that he would be a smoker with a job like that.
At that first meeting with KS, I remember sitting across from her, P was to my right, and AN was to my left. Then I saw P pull up a video camera from under the table, I saw it for a second, then I didn't. It became a negative hallucination. I didn't think anything of it, I had read about hypnosis before, and it just seemed odd. The only other time I saw a video camera was at the dope dealer's house. Video cameras were large and bulky back then, and not many people owned one. The dealers took about five seconds of tape of me sitting on a chair, then when they showed it to me, I just said, "erase it."
The next thing I knew, was that I was sitting where AN was sitting, I didn't know where she went, and KS started to ask me questions, but before she started, she said, "I bet I know more about you than you do." I thought, 'sure.' She asked me if I were gay, and I blanked out. Coming to, she asked me if I was a virgin, I said, "I wish I were, it would have saved me a couple cases of the clap." "Really?" she said. But I felt weird, different. I was not as shy and reserved as I really am, but open, and talkative. I realize now that she was talking to what I would call my alter ego. She pulled every gay cliche out of her hiney that she could think of. Did I like Streisand? No. Did I like "The Wizard of Oz?" No, I've seen bits of it through the years, but I never have seen it from beginning to end.
She asked me if I was bisexual, I don't know if it was me or her, that said something like, "what's that make you, half man half woman?" I just laughed and said, "like the half man, half woman in a circus?" Then she put her hand to her face, dividing it, and showed me her profile on one side, said "woman side", then showed me her profile on the other side of her face, said "man side". I just shrugged my shoulders. She was getting weird.
She also asked, "Who are you working for?" I replied, "And who are you working for?" I don't know why I said that, but she looked irritated. Then she asked, "Do you know any cops?" I said that I didn't. "Really?" she asked. Then I thought of the only cop I ever met, apart from them doing their job. It was the guy who married the neighbor girl. I didn't say anything to KS, not anything that I realize I said, but that mention turned up later in a big way.
She asked, "If your uncle owed any money, would you help him pay?" I said, "No." She asked why not, and I told her that I didn't even really know them, so why should I pay? The same issue came up at home around the same time. My aunt came over selling some of their stuff for money, and a mutual friend of theirs came over to talk my father into paying money for my uncle's debt. My father said No, and that friend of theirs pushed the issue about how it was "family" and "he (my father) has to help." He didn't help pay because they really didn't have much money anyway, and why should he pay for anybody's else's debt when they never really came around much anyway. There's more to say about these three (aunt, uncle, mutual friend of parents and aunt/uncle) later.
I don't know if P was taping with the video recorder or not. As far as I knew, it was just her and I. Then she took some pictures of me. It was strange, that someone I never met before would be asking personal questions, and taking pictures, too. The most recent time someone took my picture before this was just a few days or weeks earlier, when my sister, J, came in the kitchen, like she was in a hurry, and snapped a picture of me standing by the sink, holding her baby. I put the baby in front of my face when she snapped the picture, and I think it was my aunt or uncle, who were visiting at the time, said something like, "That's good enough." There was a guy with her that I didn't see.
Now KS was interested in pictures. It must have been a polaroid camera, because I remember seeing the pictures she took, and her asking things like, "Who are you now (or 'when you do that')." She even showed me pictures of her parents and brother. At one point, she said, and I'm assuming she was talking to P, "She wants (or, We need) a picture with his eyes open." Huh? Who and for what does anyone need that and who was she taking pictures for?
She had pictures of her family and showed them to me. "This is my mother," she said. I looked, and she said, "See?" I nodded. Then she immediately said, while pointing to the photo, "Now don't see her," and I didn't. This see/then don't see thing comes up later, too.
She asked, "How do you grow up?" I thought that must have been the weirdest thing to that point. I said, "I don't know, it just happens." Then she said, making circle-like motions with her finger in the air, "Some people say...it means moving out of the house." I laughed, and said, "That sounds like something my sister would say." I was thinking about my oldest sister, T, and how self-righteous she gets about how people should live their lives. KS then said, to AN or P, or both, "He thought of his sister. I wonder if that's the sister. . ." She leaned over towards me. Then I got really suspicious of this woman and what she was doing. I just stared at her for a while.
At one point, someone, I think it was AN, said, "Jesus" and after a pause, I said, "Yes?" KS laughed and said, "Oh, we can use that!"
As far as I figured out in the coming weeks, she was making some kind of profile of me. Possibly at someone else's request. She was writing things down, but made some mistakes. When she asked me if I were gay, and I blanked out. I get the feeling that she assumed that there was a second personality that woke up after that, and she was writing down things that W1 (me) was like, and things that the alter ego (MH) was like. She told me, "Describe W" while I was in my talkative, alter ego state. However, when asked to describe W, I would NOT have described myself, because, and this is important, I have a cousin with the same name as mine. I'll call him W2. If someone asked me about 'W', awake or asleep, I would think of my cousin, I'll call my description of him W2, before I would think of myself. She would not have known this, and assumed that answering the "Describe W" command counted as another personality, even though I just was describing my cousin and not myself.
To recap:
W1--me as I was awake, and after I blanked out and just sat around saying nothing, that would be what she counted as W1.
MH--me, as MH, the one she made out to be another "personality", even though it is just me, as awake as W1, and the same life experiences as W1, and the one who was describing my cousin (of whom she wasn't aware existed in real life). Just a name I would change mine to. My real name's too ethnic.
W2--My (MH) description of my cousin, who got labelled as a beer drinker, emotional.
She asked if "W was violent." I didn't answer, and she just said shrugging her shoulders, "Oh, I'll just put that under the other W (the one I refer to now as W2--to repeat, the description of my cousin, whom I hadn't seen in a decade up to that time, and didn't know much about anyway).
To repeat, MH is my alter ego, for lack of a better term. I have always thought of changing my name and this would have been it. W1 and MH are the same.
Other question/answers over the weeks, and these must have been asked of MH, the so-called 'other personality' I woke up as:
Q: "What did you want to be while growing up?"
A: "Somebody else." LOL.
Q: "Have you ever wished you were a woman?"
A: "No" She tried to push it, asking things like "not even a minute?" "not even a day?" "not for a second. I eventually just nodded. She was getting weirder by the visit.
She said, "You lied, I know you lied. And when you lie, you...."
Me: "You expose yourself, I guess"
KS: "As a..."
Me: "As a liar, I suppose."
KS: "Maybe just expose yourself." I think she added "wouldn't (or don't) you agree?"
Q: "What if you ever got in trouble?"
A: "I wouldn't say anything."
Q: "So you would....." (the cirle-like motion again)
A: "Let other people speak for me." (I learned how to fill in the blanks, finish the sentence. It could easily have been her own answers I was repeating. I was thinking, let other people come to my defense.)
I was assuming she was talking about getting in trouble for smoking pot, that's about the only thing I would have gotten in trouble for. I always thought that it wouldn't be any good to tell where I bought from, because the law in this state was a fine of 100 dollars for any amount less than 100 grams. I never had anywhere near 100 grams on me at any time. Couldn't afford it, and snitching caused more trouble compared to a fine.
AN (in the kitchen, surprised): "How did I get in here!"
KS (immediately calling to her): "You flew."
Me: "Oh, you did not. You walked. I saw you."
KS (to me): "Tell her to wake up."
Me: No way. (I sort of knew what she meant)
KS: You have to say it.
Me: No I don't (or. No, I'm not going to.)
KS (after a pause) "AN, wake up."
AN (back in the dining room, and her face was flushed): "I don't know what happened."
I mentioned this to AN years later, and she said that she didn't remember, but she didn't say it didn't happened either. I mentioned to my mom at one point that I thought KS had me under, but my mom said, as usual, that I was crazy.
I commented that the painter Marc Chagall died (March 28,1985)--the tv was on at AN's house and the news was on. Immediately, KS asked, "What does that remind you of?" I said colors, because I had heard that he was known for his use of colors. And she kept going, "What do colors mean to you?" I sort of laughed at her, leaned over and almost asked what the deal with asking questions and what was she really driving at, but she waved me off, and I left. "What do you mean?" was such a common phrase KS used that, later on after I had seen the last of her, it became a joke between AN and me,. If one of us mentioned her name, the other one would most likely chime in, and whine, "What do you meeeeean?" LOL.
One time, she was saying to someone, "He doesn't believe in psychics, he doesn't believe in ghosts..." Then she turned to me, touched me on the arm, and I woke up, and she said, "what would scare W?"
I didn't answer and I didn't find it odd that she asked me in the third person, but I was thinking (about myself, not what I imagine my cousin would say), "the mob, maybe." Then she said to someone, "show him your gun." I looked across the table, and there was a lady with big hair, early thirties, sitting in a chair across from me. She was reaching for something, out of a purse, just below the tabletop, but I couldn't tell, and before she could show me anything, I punched my chest, looked at the big haired lady and said, "So shoot me." She just looked at KS, and KS looked at me and said, "Forget it."
I don't know who that lady was, but she looked like a woman I saw at the dealer's house once. And weeks later, the woman who sold pot to me, JL, said, out of the blue, "Stay away from KS." She used KS's last name. I didn't ask her how or even if she knew KS, but JL could have been reading me (since I had to take the drink years before) and listening to what I was doing at AN's house.
At one point KS was frustrated with an answer she got, or couldn't get, and said, grabbing a phone, and looking at me while she was dialing, "I'm calling...MOTHER!" Don't know who the hell she was talking about. I saw wires coming out of a cabinet in the dining room, she pointed them out to me, and I got the feeling I was being taped. Couldn't have cared less, actually.
So, after a couple of months of this, and having people talking to me at home while I was asleep, and wondering who the two guys in brown suits were at the dentist's office, and feeling like I was being followed (years later, my mom asked me once where I was going, I didn't answer, she said she knew because "we had you followed"), and arguing with AN and not going over to her house anymore, it got to be late May, 1985, and I was still talking to KS over the phone for hours at a time. Never about the weird things, just things that people already knew about me.
A few things were really odd. I was sitting in my room on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night, listening to music on headphones, when I suddenly saw my sister, J, standing to my left, swinging a watch on a chain, and standing next to her was a taller woman, maybe the big haired lady I saw at AN's house. I saw her out of my left eye, the one that I only have indirect (peripheral), not direct vision, and she said to the lady, "See." It must have woke me up, because I said, "J?" And it was over, they were gone, when she hid the watch. About this same time, AN (I was still talking to her) said that I called her up at her home in the middle of the night and b**ched her out. I told her that I didn't remember doing that at all. She wasn't really mad about it. Today, I believe that J triggered that phone call, I've never done anything like that before. It scared me that I was doing something like that, and from then on, and still to this day, I leave the extension in my room unplugged unless I'm calling out or expecting a call.
Out of the blue, my mom asked me with whom I was talking on the phone so much. I said, no one (it was KS), or something like that. Then she said something very odd, she said, "X (that friend of hers that wanted my parents to pay my uncle's bills) wants to know who you're talking to." Don't know why that woman would want to know who I was talking to.
Another time, I walked into the front room, and my other sister, G, was walking through the living room (in front of me) to the kitchen, where my mother was and she was saying, "Mom, you got to tell him." G was holding a large, manila envelope. I turned around and went back upstairs.
Another time, my younger sister, J, was walking toward the front door, I was in front of the stairs on the opposite side of the room. My mother was behind me, and J asked her, "T (older sister) wants to know which is W's (my) bad eye?" My mother told her it was the right one, and I tried to correct her but she just pushed me toward the stairs.
One of the first things that happened when I met KS and came back from getting the pot and walking into AN's house mocking the actor in La Cage, was that my pinkie finger stuck straight out. KS pointed at it and said, "Why do you do that?" I shrugged my shoulders just as the actor in the film, and said the same line he did, "It just does that on it's own." The last time I saw KS, which was several weeks later and still at AN's house, she stuck out her pinkie finger and said to me, "I'm keeping that one, just as a reminder." Meaning, she won't take off the post (also called curse--she had a habit of saying "curses on" or "curses off") of the tv imitation to keep me screwed up.
So, after months of weird things, and getting no answer, or commanded to forget it, I got an idea from one of the few phone conversations I had with my sister, T. Out of nowhere, she said to me, "Pursuant to my rights..." I already had been thinking that maybe it was law enforcement who was following me. Not the government in general, but law enforcement. And maybe if I wrote to the FBI, asking for a copy of my file, not that one even existed as far as I knew, that I would at least get a response. I expected the response to come from them, but I sure got a reaction from others.
NEXT: WHAT. DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?
JUNE 1985 TO AUGUST 1985
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM......FRIENDS? PART I
MARCH 1985 TO JUNE 1985
To come straight to the point about friends, I didn't have many. I knew a woman that I met at work around 1980, we worked at different gas stations for the same company. She, AN, was a married woman who spent her evenings alone on the days she wasn't working because her husband worked the night shift. I spent a lot of afternoons and evenings at her house smoking pot, playing cards and calling in to a radio game show. I liked her, but she wasn't too honest, always telling lies about the most inane things. For instance, the one time I had dinner with her and her husband, he said that she bought a lighter at an insanely cheap price, but I knew she paid double for it because I was with her when she bought it. I thought it was really sad that she even lied to her own husband. I didn't mention it to him or AN.
The friends AN had were people she worked with and she didn't socialize with them outside of the workplace. I met a few of her and her husband's friends and they were basically people that they bought pot from. Overall, they weren't bad people. In March 1985, she suddenly started insisting that I meet a woman she knew from her job at a photo developing company. I really didn't want to, I had no interest in meeting anyone socially, but I thought about it for a few days and said that I would go over to her house some evening and meet the woman. I really never got to know anyone unless it was through work, and when a job was history, so were the people I knew there. So, I agreed to meet with this woman, KS, but I wanted to put it off for about two weeks at least because I had just gotten my wisdom teeth pulled and I was swollen so badly that I had two black eyes from it. And this brings me to the only other people I knew at that time, the married couple that I bought pot from.
I worked at a department store in 1980 and was buying pot weekly from a girl who worked there. A lot of the employees smoked during working hours, there was even the daughter of a policeman working there with whom I smoked. We had about forty five minutes for lunch and a lot of us spent that time getting high. Nothing abnormal about that, really. The girl who sold me the stuff got tired of taking the risk of selling, I guess, because she said I could go to her house and buy the stuff myself from one of her in-laws from now on.
I went to her house one evening, and stood in the driveway with her and some guy who lived there but who wasn't the dealer. They whispered between them, then she asked me how old I thought the guy was. I guessed thirteen. He got kind of pissed, and she told me he was nineteen. He looked very young for his age. Then we went through the back door and into the kitchen.
I was sitting on a chair at the table, and the girl from work, handed me a large glass of something to drink, she said it was a drug, a real good drug, and I had to drink it before I met the guy who would sell me pot. So I drank the whole damn thing, and they were pretty surprised that I did. It must have been some sort of hypnotic, because I remembered later that I thought I had fallen asleep in front of them (this was at least four years before the question/answer dreams). I didn't mention it, and for a long time now, I sort of remember a little bit more, that, at that time, I just kept my head down and was my old depressing self. Then I was introduced to R, the guy who sold.
I found R&J to be a really nice, sensible couple. We always smoked a joint, sat a while, and watched the news. I spent maybe an hour a week there. I didn't see or hear much about their business, I didn't ask and they didn't say much about it. The guy bought pot by the pound, and some people would take a bunch, resell it and pay later. I always bought just for myself, and sometimes for AN. I didn't know enough people to make dealing worthwhile, and when I did buy some for other people, I got the money for it first, and made sure they got a good deal by loading up their bags with some of mine so they wouldn't feel shorted. I would not have made a good dealer, to say the least. Never did profit off of it.
Selling was their only income, I guess, and they were extremely careful. If they didn't know you, they wouldn't sell; if they knew you and you brought someone with you, they wouldn't sell; if you took hard drugs, they wouldn't sell. If you told on them, well, they would have known; you didn't have to tell because you had a 'tell' that they put on you with that drug they gave you before you even bought -- I don't know what mine was. Eh, business is business, I guess. Nothing odd happened for the almost five years I bought off of them. It was a matter of 'I want the pot; they want the money'. And it was easy money for them. They could have bought a house with the fifty bucks, once a week for almost five years that I forked over. It was good stuff and good deals, no cheating. I didn't talk much about myself there, I always kept work/home/play strictly separated. It was good to go to one place to get away from the other places, why mix them up?
I remember AN asked several times about her being introduced to the people I bought pot from. It turns out that her aunt lived across the street from the dealers. I can't remember how or when she knew that. I told her that I couldn't introduce her to them, and several times she asked me what the guy's name was. I told her it was Mickey Mouse.
So it came to be 1985, I was being interrogated by my relatives while I was sleeping, regularly buying pot, and spending time with AN. And soon to meet her friend, KS. Then I had to go to the dentist to get my wisdom teeth out.
I mentioned this to JL, the pot seller, and she had the name of a dentist that I should go to. I told her that I had one. My parents were paying for it, six hundred bucks for two visits back then, so I didn't have a choice.
Considering what things were to come, maybe I should have gone to her dentist. Don't fall asleep at the dentist's, especially if you've been talking in your sleep.
NEXT: MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM......FRIENDS? PART II
MARCH 1985 TO JUNE 1985
To come straight to the point about friends, I didn't have many. I knew a woman that I met at work around 1980, we worked at different gas stations for the same company. She, AN, was a married woman who spent her evenings alone on the days she wasn't working because her husband worked the night shift. I spent a lot of afternoons and evenings at her house smoking pot, playing cards and calling in to a radio game show. I liked her, but she wasn't too honest, always telling lies about the most inane things. For instance, the one time I had dinner with her and her husband, he said that she bought a lighter at an insanely cheap price, but I knew she paid double for it because I was with her when she bought it. I thought it was really sad that she even lied to her own husband. I didn't mention it to him or AN.
The friends AN had were people she worked with and she didn't socialize with them outside of the workplace. I met a few of her and her husband's friends and they were basically people that they bought pot from. Overall, they weren't bad people. In March 1985, she suddenly started insisting that I meet a woman she knew from her job at a photo developing company. I really didn't want to, I had no interest in meeting anyone socially, but I thought about it for a few days and said that I would go over to her house some evening and meet the woman. I really never got to know anyone unless it was through work, and when a job was history, so were the people I knew there. So, I agreed to meet with this woman, KS, but I wanted to put it off for about two weeks at least because I had just gotten my wisdom teeth pulled and I was swollen so badly that I had two black eyes from it. And this brings me to the only other people I knew at that time, the married couple that I bought pot from.
I worked at a department store in 1980 and was buying pot weekly from a girl who worked there. A lot of the employees smoked during working hours, there was even the daughter of a policeman working there with whom I smoked. We had about forty five minutes for lunch and a lot of us spent that time getting high. Nothing abnormal about that, really. The girl who sold me the stuff got tired of taking the risk of selling, I guess, because she said I could go to her house and buy the stuff myself from one of her in-laws from now on.
I went to her house one evening, and stood in the driveway with her and some guy who lived there but who wasn't the dealer. They whispered between them, then she asked me how old I thought the guy was. I guessed thirteen. He got kind of pissed, and she told me he was nineteen. He looked very young for his age. Then we went through the back door and into the kitchen.
I was sitting on a chair at the table, and the girl from work, handed me a large glass of something to drink, she said it was a drug, a real good drug, and I had to drink it before I met the guy who would sell me pot. So I drank the whole damn thing, and they were pretty surprised that I did. It must have been some sort of hypnotic, because I remembered later that I thought I had fallen asleep in front of them (this was at least four years before the question/answer dreams). I didn't mention it, and for a long time now, I sort of remember a little bit more, that, at that time, I just kept my head down and was my old depressing self. Then I was introduced to R, the guy who sold.
I found R&J to be a really nice, sensible couple. We always smoked a joint, sat a while, and watched the news. I spent maybe an hour a week there. I didn't see or hear much about their business, I didn't ask and they didn't say much about it. The guy bought pot by the pound, and some people would take a bunch, resell it and pay later. I always bought just for myself, and sometimes for AN. I didn't know enough people to make dealing worthwhile, and when I did buy some for other people, I got the money for it first, and made sure they got a good deal by loading up their bags with some of mine so they wouldn't feel shorted. I would not have made a good dealer, to say the least. Never did profit off of it.
Selling was their only income, I guess, and they were extremely careful. If they didn't know you, they wouldn't sell; if they knew you and you brought someone with you, they wouldn't sell; if you took hard drugs, they wouldn't sell. If you told on them, well, they would have known; you didn't have to tell because you had a 'tell' that they put on you with that drug they gave you before you even bought -- I don't know what mine was. Eh, business is business, I guess. Nothing odd happened for the almost five years I bought off of them. It was a matter of 'I want the pot; they want the money'. And it was easy money for them. They could have bought a house with the fifty bucks, once a week for almost five years that I forked over. It was good stuff and good deals, no cheating. I didn't talk much about myself there, I always kept work/home/play strictly separated. It was good to go to one place to get away from the other places, why mix them up?
I remember AN asked several times about her being introduced to the people I bought pot from. It turns out that her aunt lived across the street from the dealers. I can't remember how or when she knew that. I told her that I couldn't introduce her to them, and several times she asked me what the guy's name was. I told her it was Mickey Mouse.
So it came to be 1985, I was being interrogated by my relatives while I was sleeping, regularly buying pot, and spending time with AN. And soon to meet her friend, KS. Then I had to go to the dentist to get my wisdom teeth out.
I mentioned this to JL, the pot seller, and she had the name of a dentist that I should go to. I told her that I had one. My parents were paying for it, six hundred bucks for two visits back then, so I didn't have a choice.
Considering what things were to come, maybe I should have gone to her dentist. Don't fall asleep at the dentist's, especially if you've been talking in your sleep.
NEXT: MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM......FRIENDS? PART II
MARCH 1985 TO JUNE 1985
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE DAY AREN'T GHOSTS
LATE 1984 TO ABOUT MARCH 1985
I was living at home with my parents, it was just the three of use who lived there, two of my sisters had married, and the youngest, J, had moved away in early 1984. I spent my time going from job to job, working in the afternoon until late evening. It was the perfect shift for me, starting late enough so I could sleep in and getting off early enough to party until the sun came up. So I slept in the mornings until I had to go to work, getting up at about 1PM in the afternoon or much later if it was my day off.
It was about this time that I started having dreams. I never dreamt much in my life, I don't know why. The only recurring dreams I had in my life was one about finding a dead body buried in the yard. It wasn't any particular body, no gender or anyone I knew. It was just a generic dead body. That dream would show up about every five years or so until I was twenty or so. Also, I could always count on having a dream about school every August, just before the start of the school year. Those were the kind in which I couldn't find my locker, or I got lost in the school building.
I even had one of those in the year after I graduated high school (graduated in 1978) and one while in college (graduated in 1994). That one during the college years was a funny one. In my dream it was exam time. I looked at my exam schedule and found out that there was a class on my schedule that I had never attended. I just forgot I had signed up for it, or whatever. So, I went to the teacher to see if I could take the exam. She said it was OK if I did and she would give me a passing grade of D if I passed the exam. The funny thing was that it was a kindergarten class, or maybe first grade. I tried to fit into the chair, but it was too tiny. I woke up then. Never did know if I passed that class.
But the dreams that started in 1984 were different. It was as if I was in the state of being only half awake and I was talking to people. I clearly remember one of the first. I was half awake, screaming and rolling around in my bed, sometimes slamming the sliding door of the headboard on the bed. And then I heard my older sister, G, banging on the door, saying, "W! Wake up." I woke up for a few seconds, was quiet, and heard her going down the stairs.
These "dreams" became very frequent, and turned into question/answer sessions about me, what I want and what I thought of other relatives. For instance, I half-way woke up once when I heard a scraping noise outside my door, the noise of a chair sliding on a floor. And I heard my mother say, "Here, M, you can sit on this." It was my mother talking to my aunt. I probably said something, because the next thing my aunt said was directed to me, used my nickname from childhood and said, "Oh, B, it's ok." Another time was kind of funny. I was halfway awake, and thinking about some friends of my parents, and I must have said what I thought of them, which was not at all nice. The next thing I heard was someone stomping down the stairs and slamming the front door. Moral of that incident for them would be: If you think you might not like what someone thinks of you, don't ask them...especially when they're sleeping.
Those incidents could be explained away as having a dream triggered by a noise, that would be perfectly plausible. But one instance convinces me that the dreams/question/answer times were triggered by real people and were not spontaneous. And I got a big clue who put herself in charge of it. I had dreams of remodeling the upstairs floor, where my bedroom was. Once I dreamt of making a doorway into the room next to mine. Then again, I dreamt of connecting to the room directly below mine with a staicase, a spiral staircase -- that would be the way to go. I dreamt of that more than once. Then, one day I was downstairs, in front of the door to that room, and my father was there in front of the door, too. Then he said, in a voice louder than usual and using a lot more gestures than usual, "You know, we should get stairs in this room. Stairs that go round and round." He was a foreigner, so I don't think he would have said spiral, but the strange thing was that my younger sister, J, was standing there, too, and she just looked at me with the weirdest stare and grin on her face. It really was too much of a coincidence. And my sister J shows up again in these weird things I'll describe later.
The last thing I can say about the question/answer dreams is that somehow, they triggered thoughts of death. I remember one of the dreams, I sat bolt upright and said, "I wish I had AIDS." Then, I think someone must have said that it was fatal, because I thought/said "I'll get over it." Dumb. And I started to have, I don't know if the right word is 'ideation' or 'thought' of suicide. I would look over to my bedroom window, while I was wide awake and not half dreaming, and picture myself jumping out of it. It's just two stories up and I probably would have broken a leg, and nothing else. And I noticed that my head would jerk back twice, involuntarily and at no particular times, and the first thought I had after the two jerks was that I had shot myself in the forehead. Yeah, I know, who could get two shots off when shooting themselves in the forehead? Never did try suicide or even have any thoughts of it before, except the time I heard when I was a teenager that too much aspirin would fatally thin your blood. I took some, but I'm not dead. I don't think of killing myself.
So, the upshot about my life at home at this time was all about getting interrogated while I was sleeping, and telling people off in my sleep, and having dumb ideas about being dead. I remembered those dreams shortly after waking up, just as anybody else would remember a dream. The sudden interest in what I'm thinking, and being in a state where I actually answered questions, as if I had no choice but to answer, made me angry and led to some paranoia.
I had no relationship to speak of with my relatives. Three sisters, from oldest to youngest: T, G, and J. I had not seen or spoke to T since about 1974, we don't get along; G got married and moved five years prior to these events, hardly saw her at all; J had moved the year before these events had just had a son, I hardly saw her either. I guess you could say I had the barest thread of a relationship with my parents, we never talked of anything personal or of any importance, and they didn't know who my friends were or how I spent my free time. And I didn't care about the friends they had. Hell, they didn't even complain that I smoked pot at home.
My dad, since deceased, used to say that I treated the house like a hotel, just a place to sleep when I wasn't working or going out. Hey, I mowed the lawn and I did my own laundry. Considering that I had no trouble with the police, never had guests over, and never had many phone calls coming in, I really don't understand why they suddenly took advantage of my sleep time by asking nonsense questions like, "What do you want?" or "What's your problem?" I wanted them to go away and the problem was their bothering me while I was sleeping.
NEXT: MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM.....FRIENDS? PART I
I was living at home with my parents, it was just the three of use who lived there, two of my sisters had married, and the youngest, J, had moved away in early 1984. I spent my time going from job to job, working in the afternoon until late evening. It was the perfect shift for me, starting late enough so I could sleep in and getting off early enough to party until the sun came up. So I slept in the mornings until I had to go to work, getting up at about 1PM in the afternoon or much later if it was my day off.
It was about this time that I started having dreams. I never dreamt much in my life, I don't know why. The only recurring dreams I had in my life was one about finding a dead body buried in the yard. It wasn't any particular body, no gender or anyone I knew. It was just a generic dead body. That dream would show up about every five years or so until I was twenty or so. Also, I could always count on having a dream about school every August, just before the start of the school year. Those were the kind in which I couldn't find my locker, or I got lost in the school building.
I even had one of those in the year after I graduated high school (graduated in 1978) and one while in college (graduated in 1994). That one during the college years was a funny one. In my dream it was exam time. I looked at my exam schedule and found out that there was a class on my schedule that I had never attended. I just forgot I had signed up for it, or whatever. So, I went to the teacher to see if I could take the exam. She said it was OK if I did and she would give me a passing grade of D if I passed the exam. The funny thing was that it was a kindergarten class, or maybe first grade. I tried to fit into the chair, but it was too tiny. I woke up then. Never did know if I passed that class.
But the dreams that started in 1984 were different. It was as if I was in the state of being only half awake and I was talking to people. I clearly remember one of the first. I was half awake, screaming and rolling around in my bed, sometimes slamming the sliding door of the headboard on the bed. And then I heard my older sister, G, banging on the door, saying, "W! Wake up." I woke up for a few seconds, was quiet, and heard her going down the stairs.
These "dreams" became very frequent, and turned into question/answer sessions about me, what I want and what I thought of other relatives. For instance, I half-way woke up once when I heard a scraping noise outside my door, the noise of a chair sliding on a floor. And I heard my mother say, "Here, M, you can sit on this." It was my mother talking to my aunt. I probably said something, because the next thing my aunt said was directed to me, used my nickname from childhood and said, "Oh, B, it's ok." Another time was kind of funny. I was halfway awake, and thinking about some friends of my parents, and I must have said what I thought of them, which was not at all nice. The next thing I heard was someone stomping down the stairs and slamming the front door. Moral of that incident for them would be: If you think you might not like what someone thinks of you, don't ask them...especially when they're sleeping.
Those incidents could be explained away as having a dream triggered by a noise, that would be perfectly plausible. But one instance convinces me that the dreams/question/answer times were triggered by real people and were not spontaneous. And I got a big clue who put herself in charge of it. I had dreams of remodeling the upstairs floor, where my bedroom was. Once I dreamt of making a doorway into the room next to mine. Then again, I dreamt of connecting to the room directly below mine with a staicase, a spiral staircase -- that would be the way to go. I dreamt of that more than once. Then, one day I was downstairs, in front of the door to that room, and my father was there in front of the door, too. Then he said, in a voice louder than usual and using a lot more gestures than usual, "You know, we should get stairs in this room. Stairs that go round and round." He was a foreigner, so I don't think he would have said spiral, but the strange thing was that my younger sister, J, was standing there, too, and she just looked at me with the weirdest stare and grin on her face. It really was too much of a coincidence. And my sister J shows up again in these weird things I'll describe later.
The last thing I can say about the question/answer dreams is that somehow, they triggered thoughts of death. I remember one of the dreams, I sat bolt upright and said, "I wish I had AIDS." Then, I think someone must have said that it was fatal, because I thought/said "I'll get over it." Dumb. And I started to have, I don't know if the right word is 'ideation' or 'thought' of suicide. I would look over to my bedroom window, while I was wide awake and not half dreaming, and picture myself jumping out of it. It's just two stories up and I probably would have broken a leg, and nothing else. And I noticed that my head would jerk back twice, involuntarily and at no particular times, and the first thought I had after the two jerks was that I had shot myself in the forehead. Yeah, I know, who could get two shots off when shooting themselves in the forehead? Never did try suicide or even have any thoughts of it before, except the time I heard when I was a teenager that too much aspirin would fatally thin your blood. I took some, but I'm not dead. I don't think of killing myself.
So, the upshot about my life at home at this time was all about getting interrogated while I was sleeping, and telling people off in my sleep, and having dumb ideas about being dead. I remembered those dreams shortly after waking up, just as anybody else would remember a dream. The sudden interest in what I'm thinking, and being in a state where I actually answered questions, as if I had no choice but to answer, made me angry and led to some paranoia.
I had no relationship to speak of with my relatives. Three sisters, from oldest to youngest: T, G, and J. I had not seen or spoke to T since about 1974, we don't get along; G got married and moved five years prior to these events, hardly saw her at all; J had moved the year before these events had just had a son, I hardly saw her either. I guess you could say I had the barest thread of a relationship with my parents, we never talked of anything personal or of any importance, and they didn't know who my friends were or how I spent my free time. And I didn't care about the friends they had. Hell, they didn't even complain that I smoked pot at home.
My dad, since deceased, used to say that I treated the house like a hotel, just a place to sleep when I wasn't working or going out. Hey, I mowed the lawn and I did my own laundry. Considering that I had no trouble with the police, never had guests over, and never had many phone calls coming in, I really don't understand why they suddenly took advantage of my sleep time by asking nonsense questions like, "What do you want?" or "What's your problem?" I wanted them to go away and the problem was their bothering me while I was sleeping.
NEXT: MORE QUESTION/ANSWER FROM.....FRIENDS? PART I
"IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD" ....... REALLY?
This is my life as I know it and as I'm only allowed to imagine it. My life as I know it is the usual ordinary things everyone does while they're awake--go to work, go to the store, and all that. My life as I imagine it would be the thoughts I have running around in my head while I'm awake, things aren't what they seem to be. My waking hours are filled with unfinished thoughts, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that I've been places and done things that I wouldn't even want to do. Thoughts of being "guided" by people I knew in my life, people whom I don't want in my life for real. I assume a psychologist would say it is the result of a guilty conscience, and I doubt it. I don't have a doctor, never did, and I don't take any medication or drugs.
Some people claim their thoughts are controlled by people from the outside world, telling them what to do or being threatened by them. Some of them turn their condition into being someone who is channeling spirits from the other world, and some people claim their condition is harassment from the government, or some implant in their heads from aliens that controls them. I don't believe in any of that.
There is definitely such a thing as psychological harrassment. Bulling and harassment happen in the real world every day. But what if the harassment moved from outside your head to the inside? What if "It's all in your head" is not completely true?
I'm a fifty year old man and spend my waking hours at work or at home, a much less than remarkable life by anyone's standards. I consider myself a victim of psychological harassment. A case of being denigrated, humiliated, and conditioned. Not by aliens or the government or the netherworld. By relatives and friends who try to hide their problems and crimes by keeping me quiet, and using the most effective ways there are.
So, I've learned quite a while ago that saying it out loud, trying to say what I want, ends up in my being called a crazy liar. So, I don't even try explaining out loud what happened years ago or explaining what happens (or what I think is happening) today. I'll write out what I think here, and people can judge for themselves.
NEXT: THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT AREN'T GHOSTS
Some people claim their thoughts are controlled by people from the outside world, telling them what to do or being threatened by them. Some of them turn their condition into being someone who is channeling spirits from the other world, and some people claim their condition is harassment from the government, or some implant in their heads from aliens that controls them. I don't believe in any of that.
There is definitely such a thing as psychological harrassment. Bulling and harassment happen in the real world every day. But what if the harassment moved from outside your head to the inside? What if "It's all in your head" is not completely true?
I'm a fifty year old man and spend my waking hours at work or at home, a much less than remarkable life by anyone's standards. I consider myself a victim of psychological harassment. A case of being denigrated, humiliated, and conditioned. Not by aliens or the government or the netherworld. By relatives and friends who try to hide their problems and crimes by keeping me quiet, and using the most effective ways there are.
So, I've learned quite a while ago that saying it out loud, trying to say what I want, ends up in my being called a crazy liar. So, I don't even try explaining out loud what happened years ago or explaining what happens (or what I think is happening) today. I'll write out what I think here, and people can judge for themselves.
NEXT: THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT AREN'T GHOSTS
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