Being in a shoot-out with a man that started to go on a killing spree from seemingly one moment to the next. After having my right hand torn into shreds by the impact of a bullet that he was shooting at his daughter I was able to overpower him eventually. When inspecting the dead body I found a grimoire-like book. It was written in spanish, but not in coherent sentences but in words that had been pieced together randomly and without relation to another. From certain sentences I could see other sentences floating over the sheets; I couldn’t make out the language but the words had been written in spirals, with red letters. The spirals stood out to me the most and I think that they somehow activated the behaviour of the reader.
The father of the dead man was flipping through the pages briefly; he changed almost instantly and tried to attack the remnants of his family. I decided to take the book with me, to prevent any further damage. Sadly I can’t remember any of the sequences regarding the spanish words.
Approx 1 hour of spontanous out of body session. I could feel my entire body while walking around in my own bedroom; I could even feel the stitches and the bruised areas on my foot with each step. I stayed inside the house with that session because I didn’t want to risk to walk around in less forgiving areas with the injury. But I find it peculiar how my foot was feeling the pain and how it didn’t bring me back into my body; I could carefully check back with myself laying on the bed but I could also return to every other spot of the house. I haven’t meditated or prepared anything for that. Maybe my energetic body is confused over whats going on with my physical body.
While I am still in recovery from the surgery I was told that I wouldn’t be able to operate a car until well into December; therefore I asked my family to arrange the funeral of my great aunt and great uncle around one single week of December where I am not able to get to the funeral because I’d lack the designated driver (my partner), who is on a business trip in another country during that week. The burial place is several hours away from my home and there is no way I could make it in time with the little public transport infrastructure around this godforsaken place.
I might or might not have mentioned that my family consists mostly of absolute cunts and that I avoid them as much as I can for that reason.
So. Of course they pick the exact week for the funeral where I would not be able to attend; I wasn’t able to attend the funeral of my other great aunt this year because my parents decided to hide the date from me until very shortly before. They “forgot” to tell me. So this time I told them that this is not possible and that there should be a different week for the funeral to take place. My father (who hasn’t inherited the house of my great uncle, thats what you get for being an absolute cunt ) simply tells me that if I couldn’t attend its “unfortunate” but also that “it is what it is”. While using my name as a bait to get a hold of an eulogist who wouldn’t travel that far for a job if it wasn’t for me. Or my affiliation with the deceased.
They clearly want to keep me out of the loop; its not as if they haven’t stolen inheritance money from me before and I suspect that they are currently trying to weasel their way into whatever is written in my great uncles and aunts testaments.
Meanwhile I haven’t told them that my partner suddenly got the info that his super important business trip will be postponed until somewhere in January for some reason (some reason = I had a little thought implant session towards his employer, to see if I could broker some days from that trip towards myself).
I will not let myself be kept away from my own duty in this whole situation.
But I will “forget” to tell them that. Surprise and stuff.
I think that - as little as I contribute by the means of experience or deep knowledge or meaningfulness, unlike many other people of this community - my rambling participation can serve as a tale of hope. If Pariah can do it, basically everyone else can. I think thats pretty neat.
Marking a half of a year of being sober. I would usually say “6 months” but rawdogging this reality for one half of an entire year sounds more impressive in my mind. In the meantime I had some experiences that could have easily pulled me back into the bottom of a bottle but I didn’t cave in one bit. I was a bit worried about soon to be expected festivities and its impact on my endurance but after basically speedrunning almost the entire “could lead to a relapse” Bingo card I feel very optimistic. I am actually looking forward to waking up the day after without the physical remnants
Thank you, Leraje. I don’t count the days anymore but every single one without that stuff is owed to your interference in the first place. This generational illness can fuck itself, mate.
My incisions threads came out the other day and the whole procedure has left me with an abysmally swollen and pain sensitive foot (imagine you’ve broken all of your toes at once and you’re in that bruising stage that slowly and very perceptibly slides into the healing phase, with your nerves and damaged capillaries all over the place and you get what I am currently experiencing). Its a PERFECT specimen for a healing experiment, so off we go.
This time I decided to use a candle as a “pain eating device”, programming myself to let the pain melt into the wax that gets eaten up by the flame slowly but steadily. I had a small vision about the “pain” in question, it was symbolized by an iron star with a pulsing red core in the middle. In my mind I was melting this little thing in the candle flame. The pain is still there but it is mixing with physical numbness that comes in tiny sparkly waves.
A quick card reading about the course of this healing: Tree, Clover and Key. Yummy. I will let the candle burn tomorrow as well, I think I won’t benefit from feeling less pain too much in terms of resting myself otherwise
Quick interim result for now: the blood flow of that foot got actually much better already. The pain feels more manageable and less intense. I will grumpily take it slow (holy fuck, some people actually live like that because they choose to, I am on the verge of going insane over the lack of exercise and daily activity )
A promising little start, lets serve the pain to that candle like a restaurant
A former friend is visiting me at my old home. I am fond of neither. I decide to be as polite as possible to her while explaining that I am not really up for anything as I need to take care of my wound. She wants to have a sleepover and I halfheartedly agree. Later that night I find myself laying on the couch; my former friend is straddling me and she looks down at me with this weird expression that I have never seen before on her face. I tell her to cut it out, that this is hurting me and that I am not in the mood for whatever she has planned. She grins down at me and mocks me in a very strange voice “Oh, it hurts?” She rams the tip of a scissor into my right thigh and she feels so damn heavy, like she is made out of stone. I grab a chair from nearby the couch and smash it into her face. She rolls off of me; I ram the leg of the chair in between her eyes with a sickening crunch. This creature still looks like my former friend but as it is laying dying there is paper white skin taking over her features, like she is transforming to a… worm?
I limp out of the living room and pass the kitchen; a dude that I don’t know is waiting there in the dark for me. The power went out in the meantime, as it always does in such scenarios. He pulls me into the dark kitchen and attacks me with a large knife; I let it stab into my left upper arm while a searing hot pain pulses through me. He relaxes his grip around the handle of the knife a little, so I grab the blade with my right hand, breathe away the pain and gain control over the knife. He is much taller than me but the movement makes him stumble forward; I slash his throat open and get as fast out of the room as possible. I doubt that both of them are truly dead. The lucid part of my brain suggests to set fire to the whole house and I do so with the touch of my hand. A wall catches fire while I limp out of the hallway into the dark of the night. Fire has always been an effective weapon against this weird darkness in my dreams. Something pulls me out of the dream. I can feel a dull ache in my upper arm and my thigh.
The pain has completely subsided sometime yesterday. It was so good that I could actually tolerate sleeping in my favourite position again, leading me to snooze in until well into the early noon. I haven’t slept that good since the surgery. I am tempted to move around more because of this but I know that this is not the most sensible thing to do. Pain eating candle + visualization: check.
The many forced interactions with them the last couple of weeks stirred up old traumas and wounds and I already made an agreement with myself that I will cut off contact completely when all of this is done. This time I don’t care at all about who is about to die next or what needs to be taken care of. I will only respond to my legal obligations in the most minimum way. I will also be more open about this in my current environment, because keeping it in the closet has led me into some very weird situations (for example we recently had a family day at my company and some coworkers tried to be very helpful with planning extra hotel rooms for my parents). I will not let this situation silence me from a point of shame or discomfort any longer.
I had nightmares the last couple of weeks for every single night, each one about a segment of where I suppose certain things from my internal conditioning come from. Its hard to look at and its painful to consciously pinpoint the exact moment where things went to shit again. I suppose that this nights dream was some sort of “final purge” in response to the flimsy bridge that got burned yesterday. In this nights dream I was puking up lots and lots of blood; it soaked my clothes, the furniture and the carpet, it made the ground slippery, it flooded down from the sink. I just let it go, without any hurry or panic, without trying to control it, without trying to keep it inside of me. For a few seconds I thought about how this is the blood I was letting for them for such a long time and they still always demanded more. Here you go, mate. Have all of it.
I remember that I was fighting against something that I can only describe as a black and all consuming fog. Its physical presence made whole realities and worlds disappear. I don’t recall why that was a bad thing in my mind or when I decided to pick up the fight. I don’t remember much details from that battle, either. I remember that I called on “letting the truth prevail over everything” at some point into a physical manifestation, but again: I miss the context completely. Someone used this situation and tried to wound me for their own benefit but they got pretty much bamboozled by their own hand and it was a satisfying thing to watch before I went unconscious from the battle.
In the next sequence I remember how I was moved on a floating stretcher through the tunnels of the Falak serpents. Leraje and four large sheperd-like dogs guided this strange expedition. I remember serpents coiling and moving along the tunnel walls, watching our every move. I didn’t feel fear or discomfort, I was simply tired and the muted underground setting was contributing to my need for a nap. Someone explained to me that this will be my place to get some rest and to restore my physical health - I was pretty much dented after this battle-, as per an agreement between Falak and ???