November 22, 2011 7:12 pm EST
Not much different today in real life.
I woke up about three hours ago, and my mind was suspiciously quiet. Usually, things start up before my feet even hit the floor. Wake up as this or that person, etc. So, I start working on the data entry job online, and I'm thinking, "Where are they? It's too quiet, so something must be up." They weren't even making me screw up the typing like they like to do. I'm pretty sure I mentioned before how they tell me to hit the wrong keys, type different letters. They tried to train me with their favorite lie. "When you type bad, it's because you're a man, but look how well you type when you're a woman." It's just the same training they gave me when I was 7.
When they had a problem then, they threw a dress on me and paraded me around to get people not to believe me if I ever said anything, and now they want me to "put on the dress" myself. Not literally, they know they have to wake up some really old imprints to do that (if it's even done for real), but to assume some woman's identity psychologically. I've told them before then I'll type bad and I'd rather be a crazy man than any kind of woman.
They usually tell me to be my sister, G. She was the one they trained to call me a liar at that meeting at school in 1967 (see previous posts). So, they can associate G with "liar" and also with "suicide" because of the time when I was about 10 and she said she ate rat poison. It's pretty funny, now.
So, the past hour or so, they played connect the dots leading to suicide. Getting me in that position at the store in 1985, gun to the head, etc, has been some sort of sticking point to them, and also a gold mine of head games for me and their audience. They can't admit to freaking me out so badly that it lead to that (and who gave me the gun anyway, if there really was one), but they still wake up that imprint and then use some crappy line of, I wouldn't even call it reasoning, but their "version" that they play out and, usually after they show everyone, tell me to accept it or else. What can I do?
So, I was typing away and wondering where they were. And soon enough, XC, X's daughter, showed up and I don't know, put the thought of an old imprint in my mind that they used to keep me "asleep" for many, many years. When I was 13 or so, I got a hard on while some toddler was sitting on my lap, and I went upstairs and, uhh, took care of it (definitely not thinking of toddlers or anything like that. And I didn't have any porn back then, either). Embarassing, yes. Fatal? No. But many, many times the past 27 years, before being fully awake, I had that thought in my mind, and then they (usually my sister, J, for some reason) would scream that I should "go to sleep" or "act crazy," and I went back to sleep, and when I was fully awake (as awake as I can be, I suppose) I was already primed for a day of being at their command -- what to think about when eating, what to think about when working. Basically, being "guided" by them. Not normal and not good for me, but they do it because they need to control someone who can tell on them.
About four years ago it was the usual pattern. Before waking up having that memory in my head with someone screaming at me to go to sleep. It was sister J at that time. The thing was that my sister T was telling my neice, who had visited her, that I was a child molestor. T would call it that, she's never had anything nice to say about her relatives and their friends. So, I thought, "No. I'm not going to go back to sleep. I'm sick and tired of hearing about that, and if I ever heard her or anyone else saying that in real life, I would get a lawyer after them."
There's a dilemma for anyone. They make you think of it when you're asleep, so you have no recourse. Can't even defend yourself. If you say anything for real, they would say, "Well, you brought it up, we didn't."
This controlling tactic worked for them for a long time. They held that up as a smear campaign that I wouldn't even be aware of (I don't have the mentality of a child molestor, it went over my head). But, I wouldn't have it anymore.
So, today they woke up that memory, and I put it that way because XC showed up first and sat there, waiting for me to "go to sleep," I guess. They must have known that I was going to write this. I have been thinking about writing out that event and how they used it in 1985 (tomorrow's post) for several months now. I didn't "go to sleep" as they usually count on, and just kept at my typing. So, after about 15 minutes or so, I just thought of how dumb the whole thing is, but I came to thinking about what I should do.
Of course, X was there stirring a frenzy as much as she could, letting me run around a bit, but I felt like a little boy. Then of course, her suggestion was to "Go G." G is my sister's name, and I did "feel" like her for a few seconds, then dismissed it. The best way I can describe that is that I imitate her, and the other so-called "woman." It was "put on a dress" like they trained me when I was 7, then it was G and the suicide thing, which X could have gotten from McC and the time that she had her goblins XC and XF playing the Cobains and when I caught on, there I was with a gun to my head and XF putting the gun in my mouth.
So, now they have connected the dots from "he's a child molestor" to "you have to put on the dress" to "look, he's suicidal." And her audience believes it. I'm not a child molestor. I don't wear a dress or even want to. I'm not suicidal. But it's the same tactic of taking imprints from times decades apart and running them together to get me some place that they want me, and, of course, they are the only ones who have an explanation. The only one who hasn't had any say in the matter is me.
Then I heard someone say, "We'll stand by you," or something like that. I thought it some woman from the gay community -- from what I know of them, they would be too ready to believe that line of thought, especially since they don't really know me. The upshot (pun intended) is that X and her goblins and my relatives are still passing off their, "Look, we have the proof that he is suicidal because he wants to be a woman." And they got them suckered into believing that, and pushing that idea on me, and in effect, they became unwitting accomplices in a harassment campaign/covering other people's asses by using the same old tactic they used 44 years ago.
These dots don't connect. And of course X is stirring the pot to no end, making me feel like a little kid running around needing someone to help, and like she trained me 44 years ago, it was "put on the dress." I said, "No. I'm not." I realize what their game is, and it's only to cover X's ass. I don't expect to hear from them again, but I'm sure they have my mother waking up their training on me everyday.
Child molestation is out of the question, but they have that imprint they can wake up of associating toddlers with a hard on. That's pretty despicable, since I don't have that mentality. And if they did that, shouldn't someone ask them why they haven't done anything about it instead of using it as some carnival side show that they can turn on and off whenever they want. X would be pretty stupid since she's the real deal when it comes to raping a child (see 1969 post).
Wearing a dress is ridiculous. That's not my definition of gay. But that was always X's way of solving problems (see post about first grade).
Suicide? She has the imprint that her and her son made, and could wake that up. Then there's the imprint of suicide from the store, McC, in 1985, and she may or may not have been there. But both times it was me, with no thought of being a woman or wearing a dress, or anything remotely like that. There's no connection between dress and suicide, like there's no connection between getting off of a guilt trip about child molestation, or anything else, by wearing a dress.
When they started to talk to me while I was sleeping in 1984 or 1985, I had, I guess they would be called ideations (I don't know) of jumping out of the window or shooting myself in the forehead -- two times in a row -- don't think anyone can get off two shots. Way back, when I was about 6 or 7, I always had a dream of falling off the expressway bridge. Sometimes every night. I didn't jump, but I was already falling when the dream started and woke up before I hit the street. I actually looked forward to that dream.
Around that same time, I had thoughts that my mother was killing herself by hanging. From my perspective, I was in the basement looking up at her as she jumped off the higher steps, legs tucked in, and falling in an arc. People fall straight down, not swinging. But the image of her jumping would replay over and over, about three times. I had that thought many times in the grade school years. Ironic, since I liked, and remember more about, grade school better than the other school years. There's nowhere next to the basement stairs to tie a rope, though.
**Here come the thoughts of them discrediting what I just wrote about. Of course, they have told their story with the same incidents and of course I'm the one who is just so wrong about the details, context, or whatever, and the badgering and harassing starts, and waiting to use anything I say as "proof" that I'm just trying to cover myself up. Really? If you have read my posts from the beginning, I'm an admitted attempted murderer (regardless of the fact that it was one of their psychodramas complete with a script and plenty of starts and stops to see "how far would he go?"), a rape victim, a little boy who had dresses put on him, an embarassing erection, and suicidal (in my -- or more rightly, their-- dreams) The only thing that they can't accuse me of is whitewashing my past.**
I was scanning this post before I wrote it, and when I got to the words "child molestor" I heard a snap in my left ear and someone asked, "Who wrote this?" And I automatically shrugged my shoulders as if someone was behind me and pulled them up to make it look like I'm shrugging. As I said before, they know that I going write this and they now they have something contrived for later. "Who wrote this?" they'll ask, and I'll automatically shrug, and their audience is duped again. Why don't the witnesses to their crap say something?
10:50 pm EST
It's been about 3 hours since I put this post up, and went on Facebook to see where I could drop some links to this blog. Went and looked at the pages of some of these people mentioned. Pretty much the same, friends with each other. Not very interesting, really. The local newpaper looks like a good Facebook page to leave a few comments along with the blog address.
But, of course, they have to start their crap again. I don't know how I got there, but I'm at my aunt and uncle's house, outside, and the other ones are there. The guy who drags me around, and tries to discredit what I wrote is there, too. And my aunt says that they are my caretakers or something, and there's a cop car at the curb, or so I'm led to believe, ready to take me away as soon as they start their harassment and I tell them to f**k off, or worse.
And they're playing word games and head games and the usual "take an answer that I give to one question and apply it to something completely different. And they got plenty of witnesses around. How convenient for them (someone pointed to me and said, "For you" as in how convenient for me, not them. Nice try, but I wouldn't want to be there at all, and whoever took me there should be arrested. They're just waiting to prompt some trouble. I'm sure they want me to do something embarassing and call the cops or something and that's the only way to leave.
Like X said to me before, "You're not getting out of here until you change your mind." Meaning that I just have to be "someone else." Meaning, not leaving until she gets the "woman" she created to keep me from going into the Navy and that's the thing that they can't explain and what people are wondering about. How is it that HE has the induction paperwork, remembers what she did at her house, and then going to incuction in Cleveland, then to some crackpot psychiatrist/torturer, and then home with no exit papers?
Time to ask for a Freedom of Information Act from the Navy. They have to have some paperwork because they did contact me at home after all that. So, I'm just waiting to leave, I can hear the trigger words that they're reading to me to break my concentration later on. Almost time to go to work and get worked over by the dupes that these criminals have suckered into helping. It seems that these people have nothing better to do than wait around for a mentally ill person to start to masturbate so they can make trouble. These people should keep their asses away from me, especially the phony "lawyer" lady.
Her and the guy who took me there seem to be the ones who are most involved in making sure there are witnesses in public when they wake up their phony, contrived, and manipulated imprints. They must be paid a lot of money to take such a risk of being caught in manipulating and harassing people. They'll be their fall guys, no doubt.
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