WHAT. DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG? PART I

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