the liquid mirror reminds me of the psych?? the cass told laura to build in a darkened room...Amazing how much time has passed before I find the will to provide a report on how my efforts have been going. I still don't quite have the will to cover "The Abject Schizo Years 2004-18" but I will make note of the recent recovery of another wierdo dream I had back in 1996. I always believed the years 1994-2004 to be a very quiet period in my life re- weirdness but I do now have the fresh memory of this particular dream. I found it very stirring at the time, and immediately made mental and written note of it too.
It was the summer of 1996, and I was back at home in Pembrokeshire for the summer, before heading back to London for my final undergrad year of work. At this point I was an amiable dullard with a penchant for lager. I was a tad complacent, and the time spent reading "the hard stuff" (eg- Nietzsche, Schopenhauer) was not yet yielding any fruits in terms of solid understandings. This came way later in life for me, as a 40-something those old arguments began to click into place. Very often in my life I've needed the patience of Job to make decent headway in my knowledge/being process. I plotted how I began my modern initiative to learn all that I can when I'm fully engaged with both the subject and the process of discovery. That process began with me 2 years later, reading a feature length interview and article on Oliver Stone and his movie JFK. That summer in 1998 was mind-blowing. that's what lit the flame for me, reading about the most blatant murder of the 20th Century.
But two years prior to this in 1996 is where my weird dream comes in. It came back to me in the usual way; just tumbles out of Pandora's Box and into conscious recall. After focusing on the war in Gaza all winter long, it's nice to have a wee jolt of fresh life memories coming to the surface once again. I feel like a little "i" within me has yawned, then said "I think I have some things you ought to know!". Naturally I'm all ears for the juicy visual recall in my mind to kick in then so I can make mental notes in vivid black ink. Looking back, I think this one was stashed away in the old sub-conscious for about 28 years for a reason. It's a bit of a strange one. The beginning of this dream continues to elude me, but as it unfolds into an abrupt conclusion is certainly noteworthy. I am my 21 year old self in the dream, moving around a futuristic mansion of some type. I gaze at the many portraits on the hallway walls, and enjoy sampling the ambience of many rooms. How I got here god knows, but that's where my memory of this dream starts off, then it gets weird. I find myself in two adjacent rooms, one an observatory, and the other an abstract vanity room is how I'd describe it. The observatory is all red and gold furnishing, the night sky is clear and many stars are visible to the naked eye. But there is also a powerful telescope here in this room too. I am completely alone in the dream, I see no-one else as the dream unfolds. Basically for about what felt like an hour or so, I've managed to ramble through this ancient house and find the 2 most interesting places in the whole joint. This is where the action is!
I gaze at the cool night sky from a golden dome overhanging the observatory. The moon is powder blue in a calm sky. Then I hear a noise coming from the adjacent room, the vanity room. Strange how these 2 rooms were the ones that interested me most! Unlike many I don't dislike introspection, in actual fact I gratefully embrace it. I enjoy seeing the opulent surroundings in this dream, it feels like it's a set from a classy 60s movie. In the dream I head to a golden door with a red handle. This leads to what I call the vanity room, because in there you face what you do not expect. This is what I've managed to gather from about 4 hours of dream recall work I've done today. Inside that room is the great unknown, but in the dream I have no fear. I hear a sound coming from inside the room so motion to the door and open and enter and face the noise face on. Then I see it. A large, about 20 feet oval mirror. And the reflection is made of liquid for some reason, and it can alter images at will at any point! This room certainly flummoxed me at the time 'cos it's taken me until 2024 to even attempt to write about it! In the dream I close the golden door behind me, and stand in this dark green, dank looking room with an enormous mirror in it. The lights in the corner of the room are muted but tasteful. The mirror of course is the main feature, my hour of dream-roaming in this great mansion has finally led me to this final destination, or so it seems! I approach the mirror with a fool's confidence, naivety can be very intrepid on occasions. I see myself in many shades and poses as the mirror does its liquid stuff, just forming and reforming images constantly. It's all very entertaining but at this point I have no idea where this dream is headed. Soon I do however.
I begin to hear a voice coming from within the liquid reflection, addressing me by name. He claims to be my friend. Naively, this appears to please me. The voice beckons me to step closer to the mirror, and I do as asked. Recalling this dream I'm constantly wondering "why do that? That's so naive! Stupid boy", my younger self had a lot to learn. By this point I'm immediately in front of this 20ft liquid mirror in a dark green room. I see an image of a shadow, a humanoid shadow within the mirror. It is talking to me. It says that we are old friends from beyond space and time, And that in learning new lessons let's embark on this journey together? It would seem that was direction the dream took. I stress that this was 1996 after all. I'd had many strange experiences by this point, but they weren't conscious knowledge by this point. So that explains my naivety in wanting to befriend a faceless shadowy humanoid in a liquid mirror! This is a really haunting dream. The room smells damp, and it's all dark green, save for this enormous liquid mirror! What an odd dream!
I hear the voice one more time, beckoning me closer to the mirror. The humanoid is big, about 8-9ft I guess, way bigger than me. I'm about 5ft 10in as it happens. For some reason in the dream I feel no trepidation with regards to these events and acts on my part! To my 49 year old mind this is a nightmare unfolding and a dangerous situation that needs to be carefully defused. Not wandered into willy-nilly with all the kind of insouciance that came with mid 90s anomie, A fool I was that night I had that dream for sure. So that has meant I've had to update my alien weirdo dream list. I had one in 1988, 2004, and also in 1996. So every 8 years I get a very powerful alien dream/experience. The plot thickens. Any way the dream gets spookier from this point; I'm marvelling at the beauty of the liquid mirror and I put my fingers into it to stir its reflection a little. Then it kinda ripples a little and the humanoid shadow is right before me now. he says to me that we should shake hands, and I agree! What an idiotic thing to do in a dream like this! It's actually a very tough dream to come to terms with for me, because every step of the way I do the wrong thing at each crucial juncture. As usual with me, good production values but not exactly cosmic wisdom is it? Why oh why did I think it was a good idea to place my hand within a liquid mirror to shake hands with an 8ft tall Alien Hominid? Maybe my years spent frequenting Soho pubs in 1994-96 had made me a tad credulous in new company? I dunno, but I sure know that I'd handle myself VERY differently if faced with a similar scenario today!
So, like a fool, I place my forearm fully into the liquid mirror, and I feel a strong clasp from within the other side. It's the humanoid. I begin now to withdraw my arm from the mirror, but the hand of the humanoid won't let me! He's clasping me tightly as I try to pull my arm from the liquid. Strangely there's no sense of physical struggle going on. It's just the energy of 2 competing spirits doing battle on a spiritual plane. Even now I wasn't scared. Anyway, I continue to withdraw my arm and the hand of the humanoid assents and lets my hand go slightly, so I'm looser. He doesn't completely let me go however. My hand and arm emerge from the liquid mirror, and a scaly reptilian hand is then suddenly seen by me, still gripping my right hand! At that point I cried out, awoke from the dream, and wrote a couple of paragraphs about it in my journal of the time. And now 28 years later I'm figuring it out. I did everything wrong in that dream, and woke up screaming after shaking hands with a devil! I dealt with this dream better than the 1988 visitation I wrote about on page 2 however, I was more worldly by this point, even though I was only 21 years old, so still pretty much a kid. And I knew little about Aliens other than X-Files by this time. Not the last Lizard dream I've had, but to my memory it was probably the first. I gave it some mind that morning and afternoon, wrote about it for a while and then filed it away for future scrutiny! I was friendly and sociable at home with the family, it didn't get me down. But it did spook me waking up that morning. The mansion felt real, and I could still feel the cold grasp of the reptilian hand!
Oh and one other interesting thing to note; that afternoon I was phoned by one of my flatmates and the conversation from him on the line was priceless! I've managed to recall all this now purely by writing about this dream today. His first words were "Hey man, we've gotta meet up in September in London, man, you'll never believe the dream I had last night......". Well, one phone call later, and all was confirmed; we both had variations on the same dream! What were the Lizards up to in 1996? I'll continue with my writing,'cos I'm digging up fresh memories of this period in my life. A very strange and spooky dream, and I wasn't the only person affected this time.
Reflections on a life of high strangeness
- Thread starter SlipNet
- Start date
thank you. maybe we could see some of your drawings? and i like the drawings of stonetoss..
SlipNet
The Living Force
Ah, I don't have a smartphone, so I can't upload my pictures to my laptop. I'm fully focused on writing at the moment, other pursuits like music and drawing have had to take a back seat. It's been very useful to see the small ink drawings in my journal notes however. Having the ability to represent images from memory has proven to be a very useful life skill. My visual sense is very well developed, as I've mentioned before. It proves to be very handy for dream recall in particular.
SlipNet
The Living Force
It reminded me of a great portal, a kind of stargate. Really interesting to note how casual and unflappable I was in that dream. I've become far more conservative and cautious as I've become middle aged!
I guess that 4d STS was doing a bit of scoping that summer, scanning the populace for fertile minds to subvert. My flatmate and I were both English lit students so our imaginations were primed for facing the unknown. And so it was that we on the same night had very similar dreams, though in his case he said it felt like he was shaking hands with Satan himself! With me it seemed more alien, not Biblical. In fact that probably explains why I was so blase in the dream in general. Clearly on a sub-conscious level I was now well prepared to face weird and spooky moments. I'm 49 now and nothing has changed! I'm prepared to face anything at this point.
SlipNet
The Living Force
The summer of 2004 was a terrible time for me. I suffered a complete nervous breakdown after the events I lived through in June of that year. I was sectioned and placed in a remote hospital for 2 weeks, before I found my will and resolve to get myself released. I returned to my home town in Pembrokeshire once again, a place which I still live in to this day. I was seeing transparent figures in the air, and I was hearing voices by this point. It was also extremely difficult to get any decent sleep for what felt like a few months at least. A strange alien force was toying with me that awful summer. My attempts to update my journal were initially tragic, just embarrassing doggerel from a wasted mind. Out of nowhere I got a new job in September 2004. I was crazy as a loon and should never have been working, but I was out of the system loop following my release from the facility in England. Technically I was an average Joe on the street. But I was already a raving schizophrenic by this time.
I was at a kind of ground zero on a spiritual level that autumn. I gathered my books, my cds, my dvds, all of the special stuff that had enriched and informed my life. Slowly I began redefining who I was as a contemporary being. On a scale of happiness I'd say about 25%. It was a really rough time. I had frequent nightmare dream scenarios where I was prey to demonic attack. The theme of being a vampire's victim became the winter motif, and parts of me during these days were highly dissociative. If things got too stressful, they were gone, outa here! I consider myself the roots of my spiritual tree, because I've been here watching, listening, taking notes, in all the times, good times and bad. I'm a constant aspect of my spiritual being who's paid his dues in order to reap the karmic and simple understandings to this day.
Between 2004-06, I worked 30hrs a week, drank red wine for fun, and sought refuge in blues music. I also smoked hashish with my elder brother during these days. Basically I was self-medicating because on a basic level I was traumatised by the events of June 04. Also it was the only way I could get some relief in my life, and for a fair while yet it worked out as a kinda manageable habit. Slowly my journalling improved in quality and content, and my poetry was flowing nicely too. One of the positive aspects of 2006 was that I got my first poetry published in an anthology. I began painting again too, with pleasing results. My brush strokes were harsh and physical. I was reacting to a whole lot of pent up rage about what I'd gone through. I sold a few pictures locally, and was now a published poet too, so art really was my humble salvation that year. I was a struggling schizophrenic in the main, but when in certain frames of mind I was now capable of moments of quite startling insight. Perhaps a result of suffering and spookiness causing the switching on of a whole host of fresh receptors? The summer of 2004 was my ground zero, but summer 2006 rivals it for sheer drama in my odd life. Ostensibly, things were ok. I had a job, a home, I had money and friends to go out on the town with. But I was mentally ill and increasingly paranoid when out in public. I smoked a lot of cigarettes during this summer I recall. I was looking forward to the football World Cup and was enjoying it to begin with. But I neglected my studies that summer, just watching footy all evening, and no reading. And so an unmedicated schizophrenic that summer was subjected to violent psychic attacks. My journal notes are patchy here, but I'll make note of what I can recall.
I first joined this forum in summer 2006, and began sharing my poetry almost autistically, with no introduction or any such formalities/obligations. Seriously, I was a functioning mental case, and my social skills were in great need of repair. I had read the Wave books and was onto SHOTW Vol 1. I'd also read Laura's 9-11 book that year, along with High Strangeness too. So I was still kinda high-functioning, but emotionally a little glassy-eyed, a bit lost. The brain was ticking along but the soul was somewhere else. That summer I began a period in June where I was hallucinating seeing transparent alien beings daily. I confessed what was going on to my boss, it finally broke me. I was signed off work in July 2006, due to "paranoid psychosis" according to my GP. I took 3 months leave to recover myself. I'd not properly dealt with the breakdown and UFO sighting of 2004, and now I was living as a functioning schizo case. Something had to give, so once again I retreated inwards, into my secret world. A domain where I was master. I read the Gods of Eden. I read C of Z. I seethed reading that book. I wrote poem after poem, just churning stuff out. I had 2 journals on the go, one just for poetry and another for more general musings. I did some good action paintings that summer too. For the first time in 2 years I gave myself a break and allowed my natural being to come out again. The job welcomed me back at the end of September and (touch wood )I worked for that company until 2012 with no time off ill. I just needed some crucial "me time" to just relax and recharge. And to self-express. The poetry I wrote that summer was subsequently published in 2007/8. The journals remained my anchor in a heartless world. But I was still aone dealing with the voices I was hearing. I've never really written about the voices on this forum before, and I'm a little hesitant to do so actually.
The main voice had a thin, metallic sonic quality, a thin voice, like a reed. It was mean, spiteful, and maintained an air of superiority. It was Zionist. It was a fervent anti-smoker. It was pro-war. It was everything I hated basically. I warred with that voice all summer in 2006. It had been with me since 2004, but now things had finally come to a head. My knowledge and being were still a bit sketchy though. I'd read a lot in a short period of time, but I didn't always understand the deeper meanings. My heart was in the right place, but my mind was still struggling sometimes to coherently understand my inner reality. I didn't know who or what the voice was. Was it a part of me? Was it an alien? An attachment? A dead dude clinging on? My journals are testimony to my grinding my gears over this. Twice that summer I had psychotic episodes, seeing big spiders when I was smoking outdoors. Reminded me of 2004 all over again. I could almost "feel" them moving past me. They looked like transparent spider shapes, as big as cars. Really freaky. The 2 times this happened caused dissociative states to kick in. Always, I'm the poor bugger who has to carry the can and experience EVERYTHING I go through. I'm the signature that rings true throughout the ages. I'm always here, good times and bad. I never quit, 'cos I've got nowhere to go. It's how I "found" myself; in short, in suffering. It lit up my receptors big time in the summer of 2006. It reached a climax on a stormy, sweaty night in July, the night of the World Cup Final, Italy v France.
I recall the night well. It was a heatwave in Pembrokeshire, and I'm chilling out at my brother's house on the other side of town. It was from this house that I saw a UFO in 2004. I wrote about it a bunch of times in this thread already so I won't labour that. I'm relaxed in a full living room with my brother. We are all just smoking and talking. My brother gives me some hashish and I get slightly stoned for an hour or so. I get tetchy after an hour and make my excuses and leave around 6pm. There are peals of thunder as I walked home that Sunday evening. I was expecting lightning but none obliged. I got home, opened a bottle of wine and ate a traditional Sunday roast with my Mum and Dad. then I switched on my TV in my study room, eager to catch the World Cup Final! I've watched every World Cup since Mexico 86 so it's become a ritual for me to tune in every 4 years. At this point the thin nasty voice is quiet, maybe the red wine has quelled him for a while. I'm the king of my castle this night. I;m 31, young, free and single. The voices have been terrible this past month, but tonight all is currently quiet. So let's watch Italy v France tonight and just be happy for this good moment.
It was a cagey game of football, as expected. Few good goal scoring chances were created. The game peters out as a 1-1 draw deep into extra time, when France captain Zinedine Zidane head butts Marco Matterrazzi in the chest! An instant red card, and the ageing French hero departs the field early just when his team needed him most. Italy win the match in a penalty shoot-out. I flake out after a bottle of Rioja and fall asleep soundly. It had been a typical day off work for me. I self medicated a lot during those years. After a breakdown in 2004 the voices arrived. by 2006 the voices all but departed. It was never going to make me a non-smoking, Zionist conservative. It admitted defeat, but other voices came in to fill the void. I'll cover the next few years of experiences in the coming posts. I'd won a particular battle but the larger war seemed more uncertain. My methods were unorthodoc but effective. But pride was going before a fall, and a rude awakening was awaiting me in 2007.....
To be continued!
I was at a kind of ground zero on a spiritual level that autumn. I gathered my books, my cds, my dvds, all of the special stuff that had enriched and informed my life. Slowly I began redefining who I was as a contemporary being. On a scale of happiness I'd say about 25%. It was a really rough time. I had frequent nightmare dream scenarios where I was prey to demonic attack. The theme of being a vampire's victim became the winter motif, and parts of me during these days were highly dissociative. If things got too stressful, they were gone, outa here! I consider myself the roots of my spiritual tree, because I've been here watching, listening, taking notes, in all the times, good times and bad. I'm a constant aspect of my spiritual being who's paid his dues in order to reap the karmic and simple understandings to this day.
Between 2004-06, I worked 30hrs a week, drank red wine for fun, and sought refuge in blues music. I also smoked hashish with my elder brother during these days. Basically I was self-medicating because on a basic level I was traumatised by the events of June 04. Also it was the only way I could get some relief in my life, and for a fair while yet it worked out as a kinda manageable habit. Slowly my journalling improved in quality and content, and my poetry was flowing nicely too. One of the positive aspects of 2006 was that I got my first poetry published in an anthology. I began painting again too, with pleasing results. My brush strokes were harsh and physical. I was reacting to a whole lot of pent up rage about what I'd gone through. I sold a few pictures locally, and was now a published poet too, so art really was my humble salvation that year. I was a struggling schizophrenic in the main, but when in certain frames of mind I was now capable of moments of quite startling insight. Perhaps a result of suffering and spookiness causing the switching on of a whole host of fresh receptors? The summer of 2004 was my ground zero, but summer 2006 rivals it for sheer drama in my odd life. Ostensibly, things were ok. I had a job, a home, I had money and friends to go out on the town with. But I was mentally ill and increasingly paranoid when out in public. I smoked a lot of cigarettes during this summer I recall. I was looking forward to the football World Cup and was enjoying it to begin with. But I neglected my studies that summer, just watching footy all evening, and no reading. And so an unmedicated schizophrenic that summer was subjected to violent psychic attacks. My journal notes are patchy here, but I'll make note of what I can recall.
I first joined this forum in summer 2006, and began sharing my poetry almost autistically, with no introduction or any such formalities/obligations. Seriously, I was a functioning mental case, and my social skills were in great need of repair. I had read the Wave books and was onto SHOTW Vol 1. I'd also read Laura's 9-11 book that year, along with High Strangeness too. So I was still kinda high-functioning, but emotionally a little glassy-eyed, a bit lost. The brain was ticking along but the soul was somewhere else. That summer I began a period in June where I was hallucinating seeing transparent alien beings daily. I confessed what was going on to my boss, it finally broke me. I was signed off work in July 2006, due to "paranoid psychosis" according to my GP. I took 3 months leave to recover myself. I'd not properly dealt with the breakdown and UFO sighting of 2004, and now I was living as a functioning schizo case. Something had to give, so once again I retreated inwards, into my secret world. A domain where I was master. I read the Gods of Eden. I read C of Z. I seethed reading that book. I wrote poem after poem, just churning stuff out. I had 2 journals on the go, one just for poetry and another for more general musings. I did some good action paintings that summer too. For the first time in 2 years I gave myself a break and allowed my natural being to come out again. The job welcomed me back at the end of September and (touch wood )I worked for that company until 2012 with no time off ill. I just needed some crucial "me time" to just relax and recharge. And to self-express. The poetry I wrote that summer was subsequently published in 2007/8. The journals remained my anchor in a heartless world. But I was still aone dealing with the voices I was hearing. I've never really written about the voices on this forum before, and I'm a little hesitant to do so actually.
The main voice had a thin, metallic sonic quality, a thin voice, like a reed. It was mean, spiteful, and maintained an air of superiority. It was Zionist. It was a fervent anti-smoker. It was pro-war. It was everything I hated basically. I warred with that voice all summer in 2006. It had been with me since 2004, but now things had finally come to a head. My knowledge and being were still a bit sketchy though. I'd read a lot in a short period of time, but I didn't always understand the deeper meanings. My heart was in the right place, but my mind was still struggling sometimes to coherently understand my inner reality. I didn't know who or what the voice was. Was it a part of me? Was it an alien? An attachment? A dead dude clinging on? My journals are testimony to my grinding my gears over this. Twice that summer I had psychotic episodes, seeing big spiders when I was smoking outdoors. Reminded me of 2004 all over again. I could almost "feel" them moving past me. They looked like transparent spider shapes, as big as cars. Really freaky. The 2 times this happened caused dissociative states to kick in. Always, I'm the poor bugger who has to carry the can and experience EVERYTHING I go through. I'm the signature that rings true throughout the ages. I'm always here, good times and bad. I never quit, 'cos I've got nowhere to go. It's how I "found" myself; in short, in suffering. It lit up my receptors big time in the summer of 2006. It reached a climax on a stormy, sweaty night in July, the night of the World Cup Final, Italy v France.
I recall the night well. It was a heatwave in Pembrokeshire, and I'm chilling out at my brother's house on the other side of town. It was from this house that I saw a UFO in 2004. I wrote about it a bunch of times in this thread already so I won't labour that. I'm relaxed in a full living room with my brother. We are all just smoking and talking. My brother gives me some hashish and I get slightly stoned for an hour or so. I get tetchy after an hour and make my excuses and leave around 6pm. There are peals of thunder as I walked home that Sunday evening. I was expecting lightning but none obliged. I got home, opened a bottle of wine and ate a traditional Sunday roast with my Mum and Dad. then I switched on my TV in my study room, eager to catch the World Cup Final! I've watched every World Cup since Mexico 86 so it's become a ritual for me to tune in every 4 years. At this point the thin nasty voice is quiet, maybe the red wine has quelled him for a while. I'm the king of my castle this night. I;m 31, young, free and single. The voices have been terrible this past month, but tonight all is currently quiet. So let's watch Italy v France tonight and just be happy for this good moment.
It was a cagey game of football, as expected. Few good goal scoring chances were created. The game peters out as a 1-1 draw deep into extra time, when France captain Zinedine Zidane head butts Marco Matterrazzi in the chest! An instant red card, and the ageing French hero departs the field early just when his team needed him most. Italy win the match in a penalty shoot-out. I flake out after a bottle of Rioja and fall asleep soundly. It had been a typical day off work for me. I self medicated a lot during those years. After a breakdown in 2004 the voices arrived. by 2006 the voices all but departed. It was never going to make me a non-smoking, Zionist conservative. It admitted defeat, but other voices came in to fill the void. I'll cover the next few years of experiences in the coming posts. I'd won a particular battle but the larger war seemed more uncertain. My methods were unorthodoc but effective. But pride was going before a fall, and a rude awakening was awaiting me in 2007.....
To be continued!
elevenfrom11
The Force is Strong With This One
Hi @SlipNet! Anton Parks is a french-german writer who essentially based his researches on ancient Orient cultures. Through a mythological-archetypal essay and by establishing links with archeological and historical documents, he talks about reptilian hyperdimensional realities. Some of your dreams made me think of what he talks about - you may find some clues, see you!
SlipNet
The Living Force
Here I'll try and make sense of the years 2007-12. A lengthy, arduous task, but I'm determined to commit my musings to print so here goes. As stated in the post above, in the summer of 2006 I was signed off work for 12 weeks due to what was called "paranoid psychosis". I knew little about mental health issues, and had no idea at this point that I was even mentally ill! I know that sounds absurd but it's true! I thought this was just a crazy life of combating demons and aliens in an uncaring world. That is exactly how my reality was for a good half a decade or so.
As mentioned before, the voices were my antithesis in terms of politics and stuff, and that made it a real grudge match in my mind to stave off anxious thoughts. I had many a panic attack when smoking cigs I can tell you. And in my journals there was a lot of very confused ideas about both myself and the world around me. Most of it was on the right track, but the details were lacking. Selling some paintings and getting my poetry published helped keep my spirits up during these years. I still drank (in my case red wine), and occasionally smoked a joint (with my elder brother). The only thing I'm actually addicted to though is tobacco. It was during these years of hard stress mentally, combined with a full-time job, that broke my will in 2006. So strange to reflect that, when looking back, by June 2006 the voices had me on the floor, crying and confused. Within weeks of this however, they had all but gone. I'll attempt to explain how this happened below.
By the time of the World Cup Final, I was on a one man decadence rampage. That night I drank a bottle of Rioja and smoked a load too. The voices were becoming less and less prevalent as I became increasingly intoxicated. I remember the times well; I was confused and very depressed, with a manic and scattershot mind. I was hallucinating visually, and still suffer this malady to this day. I see little 3-4ft alien figures, semi-transparent with a white glow to them. I first saw one in around 1983. But, for some reason, my "road to excess" actually did me a bit of short-term good. Whatever those voices were, they accepted (at least for now) that they were not going to be able to control how I live and think. I returned to my job that autumn and things for a while were more stable.
I was reading by this point a lot of books as recommended on this forum. I was first reading on here in spring 2006 I think, my handle of the time was Skystalker. This was the time when I dove head first into researching 9-11, Zionism, and UFOs in greater depth. My knowledge and being level was only superficial at this time. By 2007 my PC broke, and I didn't get a new one until 2010! 4 long years without any internet! It seems unthinkable to me now, I rely on the web for most things nowadays. My life settled into a pattern of holding down my job (which I did very well considering I was still crazy), reading from my extensive library, and going out on the lash with my local mates. I put real life over online life for half a decade, and came out of it a bit healthier for it. I was still seeing weird stuff regularly, and began taking medication around this time too. Around 2008 I became aware of a negative presence in my mind again. Again for some reason it was crypto-Zionist in its thoughts. It accused me of antisemitic opinions regarding the ongoing tragedies in Gaza. Maybe sometimes I could be a bit coarse in my criticisms back then, but I was never racist in any way. I also got heavily back into music and amassed a cd collection of about 400 of my favourite albums. Along with my books and movies, these items helped to anchor me; at least here with my favourite things, I could be me. It is also a testimony to the strength of the human spirit that I (at this point an undiagnosed schizophrenic) I kept working that job until spring 2012. I was fluctuating between ecstatic states where I felt anything was possible, and crushing lows where I feared monsters and ill-health.
During these years I also had a series of therapists to talk with. Mostly we talked past each other. The CBT therapist was too clinical and didn't understand me. We were constantly bickering about details. The more conventional psychiatrists I saw were easier to talk with and in retrospect I wish I'd reached out more and told them about what I was seeing and hearing in my mind. I still kept the juiciest information in my "Soul Chamber". Even I could not plunder its secrets, I could only make myself amenable to receive. So a series of doctors saw me over this period, around 2007-10. During these years I began using a PC in my local library, to shop and view the forum. I was still obsessed with UFOs, and politics was a big concern too. I'd reached a bit of a plateau by this time, I wasn't going past a superficial level of knowledge/being, but I was living a cleaner, more stable life. I continued to write, draw and paint, and my social life was decent. I still drank, but I began weaning myself off the whacky baccy by this time. My reasoning was pragmatic rather than healthy though, an important distinction; I was tired of the process of obtaining some, rather than wanting to live a healthier life. Hey, I was in my early 30s, you feel invincible at that age! So I was taking meds, drinking wine, and smoking cigs. Not an ideal combination in retrospect. My dreams were sometimes disturbing, and emotionally I was unpredictable. I wasn't hearing voices much at this time, but I kinda sensed that there was "someone else" in my mind. Just a nagging suspicion.
A good workmate of mine in 2010 repaired an old PC he had and gave it to me free of charge. I was very grateful and began surfing the web regularly for the first time since 2006-7. Naturally I found Sott and the forum once again to get my daily news. I began reflecting on the fact that I had been mentally ill for ages without really acknowledging it. I began also talking about it on here with an old former member called Smallwood. He was the one who made me realise, after about 7 years of suffering, that I was a schizophrenic. It did cause some friction in me, and I resisted accepting the truth for a while yet. But I was too proud, I had that male trait of stuffing unwanted thoughts and emotions away to be dealt with another time. But overall I was a survivor, 4d STS threw a lot of shit my way, and yet I was still here, with health, money, and a taste for the truth. Knowledge and being would not significantly grow for a few years yet however. In my next posts I'll reflect some more on some particularly juicy details from my "Soul Chamber" from these years, and chart how I began making real progress in my inner work only after suffering a terrible relapse in 2015. That's quite a big story, and I'll have to gather my notes for that job. Thanks for reading.
As mentioned before, the voices were my antithesis in terms of politics and stuff, and that made it a real grudge match in my mind to stave off anxious thoughts. I had many a panic attack when smoking cigs I can tell you. And in my journals there was a lot of very confused ideas about both myself and the world around me. Most of it was on the right track, but the details were lacking. Selling some paintings and getting my poetry published helped keep my spirits up during these years. I still drank (in my case red wine), and occasionally smoked a joint (with my elder brother). The only thing I'm actually addicted to though is tobacco. It was during these years of hard stress mentally, combined with a full-time job, that broke my will in 2006. So strange to reflect that, when looking back, by June 2006 the voices had me on the floor, crying and confused. Within weeks of this however, they had all but gone. I'll attempt to explain how this happened below.
By the time of the World Cup Final, I was on a one man decadence rampage. That night I drank a bottle of Rioja and smoked a load too. The voices were becoming less and less prevalent as I became increasingly intoxicated. I remember the times well; I was confused and very depressed, with a manic and scattershot mind. I was hallucinating visually, and still suffer this malady to this day. I see little 3-4ft alien figures, semi-transparent with a white glow to them. I first saw one in around 1983. But, for some reason, my "road to excess" actually did me a bit of short-term good. Whatever those voices were, they accepted (at least for now) that they were not going to be able to control how I live and think. I returned to my job that autumn and things for a while were more stable.
I was reading by this point a lot of books as recommended on this forum. I was first reading on here in spring 2006 I think, my handle of the time was Skystalker. This was the time when I dove head first into researching 9-11, Zionism, and UFOs in greater depth. My knowledge and being level was only superficial at this time. By 2007 my PC broke, and I didn't get a new one until 2010! 4 long years without any internet! It seems unthinkable to me now, I rely on the web for most things nowadays. My life settled into a pattern of holding down my job (which I did very well considering I was still crazy), reading from my extensive library, and going out on the lash with my local mates. I put real life over online life for half a decade, and came out of it a bit healthier for it. I was still seeing weird stuff regularly, and began taking medication around this time too. Around 2008 I became aware of a negative presence in my mind again. Again for some reason it was crypto-Zionist in its thoughts. It accused me of antisemitic opinions regarding the ongoing tragedies in Gaza. Maybe sometimes I could be a bit coarse in my criticisms back then, but I was never racist in any way. I also got heavily back into music and amassed a cd collection of about 400 of my favourite albums. Along with my books and movies, these items helped to anchor me; at least here with my favourite things, I could be me. It is also a testimony to the strength of the human spirit that I (at this point an undiagnosed schizophrenic) I kept working that job until spring 2012. I was fluctuating between ecstatic states where I felt anything was possible, and crushing lows where I feared monsters and ill-health.
During these years I also had a series of therapists to talk with. Mostly we talked past each other. The CBT therapist was too clinical and didn't understand me. We were constantly bickering about details. The more conventional psychiatrists I saw were easier to talk with and in retrospect I wish I'd reached out more and told them about what I was seeing and hearing in my mind. I still kept the juiciest information in my "Soul Chamber". Even I could not plunder its secrets, I could only make myself amenable to receive. So a series of doctors saw me over this period, around 2007-10. During these years I began using a PC in my local library, to shop and view the forum. I was still obsessed with UFOs, and politics was a big concern too. I'd reached a bit of a plateau by this time, I wasn't going past a superficial level of knowledge/being, but I was living a cleaner, more stable life. I continued to write, draw and paint, and my social life was decent. I still drank, but I began weaning myself off the whacky baccy by this time. My reasoning was pragmatic rather than healthy though, an important distinction; I was tired of the process of obtaining some, rather than wanting to live a healthier life. Hey, I was in my early 30s, you feel invincible at that age! So I was taking meds, drinking wine, and smoking cigs. Not an ideal combination in retrospect. My dreams were sometimes disturbing, and emotionally I was unpredictable. I wasn't hearing voices much at this time, but I kinda sensed that there was "someone else" in my mind. Just a nagging suspicion.
A good workmate of mine in 2010 repaired an old PC he had and gave it to me free of charge. I was very grateful and began surfing the web regularly for the first time since 2006-7. Naturally I found Sott and the forum once again to get my daily news. I began reflecting on the fact that I had been mentally ill for ages without really acknowledging it. I began also talking about it on here with an old former member called Smallwood. He was the one who made me realise, after about 7 years of suffering, that I was a schizophrenic. It did cause some friction in me, and I resisted accepting the truth for a while yet. But I was too proud, I had that male trait of stuffing unwanted thoughts and emotions away to be dealt with another time. But overall I was a survivor, 4d STS threw a lot of shit my way, and yet I was still here, with health, money, and a taste for the truth. Knowledge and being would not significantly grow for a few years yet however. In my next posts I'll reflect some more on some particularly juicy details from my "Soul Chamber" from these years, and chart how I began making real progress in my inner work only after suffering a terrible relapse in 2015. That's quite a big story, and I'll have to gather my notes for that job. Thanks for reading.
SlipNet
The Living Force
A fresh memory from 2006 has just popped out of the old grey matter. It was a bad dream that summer, would've been around May time. Maybe more a kind of psychic attack actually. I was deep in sleep when suddenly I felt very large hands gripping my throat! really frightening, and somehow this one was not mentioned in my journal of the time. Whatever was strangling me was strong, very strong. The cruel figure then asked me a simple question, I could hear it in my mind; "Will you join us?" was its simple question. I hesitated for a second before gasping a reply; "Yes, I'll join you". as soon as these words were uttered by me I awoke as if I had just suffered a nightmare! I don't know what I was agreeing to "join" that morning, but it was strong and it properly scared the hell out of me.
Around this summer the vibes were very unpredictable. In my crazy mind of the time, I was convinced that an "alien invasion" was taking place right now, and that people were oblivious to their enslavement because they were occluded. Perhaps with the attacks from 2004 and my near total mental collapse hadn't scared me enough, and perhaps a little reminder from 4d STS was necessary? It was a very scary experience though I must say!
Plus it also begs the question; who exactly did I consent to "join" in that experience? Yes I was threatened, but it still leaves a little nagging doubt in the mind. It's left me with something to think about anyway.
Around this summer the vibes were very unpredictable. In my crazy mind of the time, I was convinced that an "alien invasion" was taking place right now, and that people were oblivious to their enslavement because they were occluded. Perhaps with the attacks from 2004 and my near total mental collapse hadn't scared me enough, and perhaps a little reminder from 4d STS was necessary? It was a very scary experience though I must say!
Plus it also begs the question; who exactly did I consent to "join" in that experience? Yes I was threatened, but it still leaves a little nagging doubt in the mind. It's left me with something to think about anyway.
SlipNet
The Living Force
Another thorny issue that has returned to my memory from this 2006-12 period is the sheer amount of night terror experiences I had over the years. I alluded to it in posts above as being vampiric in tone, but it bears consideration in detail. Quite frequently I would awake screaming in my mind but not making a noise in reality. One night I was in conversation with an old musician in a dream, and when I raised the subject of vampires he bared his teeth and went for me! One night I was interfered with, I think it was in 2007. I felt my rib cage being physically assaulted as a gaggle of "voices" chatter and screech. Really frightening, and I made note of this in my notes from these days. I recall Laura saying she sleeps with one eye open, just in case. I've learned the hard way to agree, from grim experience.
Obviously my defences were poor, I was just one crazy kid facing the immensity of a 4d STS attack. I couldn't face them alone, and that is what prompted my return to this forum around 2010 when I got given a refurbished old PC from my work mate. Trouble was, I couldn't separate my 4d experiences (which were piling up in the back of my mind) from my increasing (and accurate) suspicion that I was mentally ill. Maybe both aspects dovetailed into a devastating slayer of my soul? Certainly, when I was attacked over this period I questioned what I was living for. But the old phrase "don't let the bastards grind you down" rang in my mind like a clarion call. And so I dug deep into my reserves of will and became a more determined seeker of wisdom. I experimented with many novel types of diet, with varying results. I was a curious and industrious soul during the period 2010-14 as a general rule. But I was now facing a tendency to be over-sensitive, and highly dissociative in times of potential stress.
Some of my drawings and paintings from this period hint at 4d manipulation in my reality. These pictures often featured lurid colours. This was a time when the voices went particularly quiet. I, over-confident to a fault, chose to ditch taking my meds. I began attending an artist's studio in town that summer of 2014 and the voices were stirred then for some reason. The studio was run by an ex UK Army veteran, an old mate of mine. We're the same age, but as men we're total opposites. He's a real man, I'm a pretender. During this period I was prolific in my output on the art front, and returned to my poetry too. At this time I also began a collection of short story synopses in a little notebook. Over the last 10 years I've often gone back and added to it. Got loads of little projects to keep me occupied. This grew out of a period when my life got difficult. This was the period 2012-15.
The job I had from 2004-12 was no more. Head Office closed our store down. I was gutted, I'd given this job 8 of my toughest years and now I was on the dole again! Over the next 3 years I'd take jobs that I was particularly unsuited to, and was fired by a few of them. They were sales jobs, and I'm just not a salesman. Don't have that gift of the gab to bullshit a customer. I look back on this period in my life with some sadness, because I was not having a good time. I occasionally fell off the wagon and would have nights when I got stoned with my brother again. I started selling some paintings from the art studio so at least there was some success, but I was approaching age 40, out of work, self-medicating again and low on money. In fact I was in debt to my bank at that time. In 2015 things came to a head to a very cold winter backdrop. I had a psychotic meltdown in my sales job in an electrical store, December 2015. why I took the job I still cannot explain. I bullshitted my way through the interview, saying the right things but not looking forward to the reality of selling electrical gear to Joe Public. The boss liked me for some reason, so I took the job.
The first week of this job was so stressful. I realised quickly that I was a complete Luddite and knew nothing about current-gen tech. Secondly, I was a shite salesman! I babbled, mumbled, and did the bare minimum in the 9 or so weeks I lasted in that job. One cold afternoon, I was working a shift there, and I made my excuses to go out for a ciggie break. I was out the back of the store, and as I smoked a cig my mind and eyes lit up. I could sense that I was being watched. I saw a white craft, about the size of a bus, smooth and oval-shaped, in the afternoon sky. It revealed itself for a micro-moment, then vanished! It didn't move, it just went "poof!" and disappeared. I couldn't believe what I "thought" I saw! I smoked a second cig just as an excuse to try and make sense of this moment. Was it real, or just a hallucination? In my life at this point I felt, as a man, that I was a bit crazy but I was surviving, just about. But the combination that winter of the return of the 4d stuff, vampire dreams, and the general tension I felt in a sales job where my talent for selling is so poor, well it really ground me down.
One night in December 2015, I got home from work on the late shift. I'd managed to blag my way through work and secured a few care plans for some sold TVs so I was not in any kind of trouble. I just knew that I hated my job, and felt (accurately) that I had a poor rapport with my work colleagues. In my old job from 2004-12, I worked with people I became friends with. These later jobs were different. I couldn't connect with the place nor the staff. I knew I didn't want to face a New Year working the day shifts selling stuff I knew nothing about! So, on this particular night I had a number of spooky experiences. By this point I think that I've seen it all, but I was unprepared for this series of psychotic episodes. I had a reprise of the old Vampire Artist dream. This time he turned up in my dream world this night, throwing slowly bouncing little rubber balls in my general direction. I swerve to avoid them as they slowly bounce towards me. Then he loses patience with me and throws a load of bronze age weaponry at my feet and challenges me to a duel. I refuse and struggle to awaken at this point. I wrote about this particular dream in depth in my notebooks of the time. Had I made an enemy of some artist on the etheric plane? Was it 4d STS taking umbrage of my increasingly conscious artworks of my own? Both theories are possible. In the following nights I had more trouble to endure.
I dreamt this cold winter night, where I was in a kind of theatre lobby. All of my pictures are on display on the walls of the lobby. It's a cold building, kinda 60s New Wave architectural design, but I'm pleased that in my dream I have my secret ambition; a one man show! Yeah. I know, pride before a fall. Never get carried away! Shambling ghostly figures have congregated in the lobby in my dream. I am informed by an authoritative voice that these are sleeping souls, viewing your artwork in real time! Now I was really impressed, and was keen to get any feedback from the souls viewing my hard crafted works. And so? Well, the feedback was almost unanimously negative. Any praise was muted, or delivered with a caveat that certain aspects let them down. I was downcast in this dream. 10 years of my personal efforts were struck down in what seemed like minutes. Was this really a dream, or was I tripping? I tried mescaline in 1999, and found it enjoyable but largely ephemeral. But people can be prone to "flashbacks"? Was I tapping into some 4d interface? With dormant souls? It spooked me and gave me plenty to think about that winter. I got a spiritual "reality check" so I guess I needed humbling.
I worked what would be my final shift at the electrical store that week, and Christmas was looming. I was depressed after my let-down on the art front, and was generally carrying a heavy load of anxiety. I didn't want to have to engage in bullshit conversation with canny punters today, thanks all the same. So I do something stupid. I have in my possession a small quantity of weed. I smoke it just prior to the shift beginning. I feel relieved and enter work as normal to begin my shift. Yes, VERY unprofessional on my part. Anyway, I got away with it and the shift went by with no dramas or tension. It's a bitterly cold night and I have to walk 3 miles home before I can properly relax. on the walk home all was calm and the roads were quiet. When i returned home I went online for a few hours, caught up with stuff, then went to sleep. I was relieved to think I had a few days off work (!), and I could reflect on my deflating dream experience from the previous night. Then I had my relapse into rank levels of absurdity. Truly, when the Cs said that no-one can stand alone against 4d STS, know that it is true! A series of flashing images were now being burned into my imagination. the voices were back, and this time they'd brought their visuals too. I was in for a sleepless night I knew that much, and I had no meds at this point to help me out. I just had to grin and bear it.
In part of a dream I came to become aware of myself in a masonic lodge. There was a great congregation of members, and I was being paraded among them as a "holy fool". They laughed and jeered as I tried to respond in kind. This lasted way too long for my liking, and so I sought to exit this place in the dream. Eventually I succeeded and I awoke in the usual confused state. What on earth was going on with me? I thought I was out of the woods after 11 years of regular stress, now my mind and my job were combining to send me straight back down to the floor again! I was feeling a growing anxiety that I was once again being targeted for "attention" by the dark forces that have been a constant in my life since the 1970s. I've documented the lot (so far) on these 4 pages. "They" were back, and this time they brought much more visual force to the party. In a way that's how they proved their point; their 4d "visual hallucinatory artwork" was devastating to behold.
I was struck dumb that night. I had a chat with Iain Duncan Smith in a sparsely appointed flat in my next dream. He patiently listened to my incoherent conspiratorial ramblings, then explained to me his perspective on things. Let it be known that at no point did he consider me a "holy fool" however, so amazingly for me I came away from this dream thinking he was a more decent man than my conscious mind would ever accept. So the plot did thicken. Then my dream shifted to a meeting and discussion with the then Prime Minister David Cameron. I turn up in his office (how I got there only the dream world knows) armed with my old blue copy of Richard Dolan's "UFOs and the National Security State Vol. 1". It's good to see the dreamer prepared for a change lol! Cameron is very serious, a little haughty, and not as clever or knowledgeable as he would like to seem. He listens to me intently, as I improve on my political rants to Duncan Smith, safe on home turf again, my interest in UFOs. Again, he listens intently, and accepts my gift of the book, "for his reading pleasure". The dream ends and again I wake up frazzled and discombobulated by what had unfolded. I make written notes later, luckily my memory of these events proved to be excellent, and I got the lions share written down the following year. At the moment in time however, I fell back asleep and into the "finisher". The dream that was going to floor me. The Caesar dream.
The production values in this dream were impeccable. I was out in some dusty Italian plain, and I was face to face with Caesar himself. He was in military garb, and he greeted me with warmth, charm, and sharp wit. I know, this doesn't sound like a psychotic episode does it? I was happy as Larry in this dream, we were just chilling and talking about myriad subjects. As you'd expect, he was very well-informed. Then the mood turned slightly. He revealed that he was aware that I had prayed to him for guidance when I was a porn addict in the years 2003-06. He reminded me that this represented my greatest weakness. My poor social skills made others more standoffish than normal. He said I had a LOT to learn, about women in particular, and that he had little faith that I would make any progress in this respect. This peeved me BIG TIME! I began arguing my case, as a child who was targeted by dark forces way back in the 1970s and has continually battled towards the light ever since. He listens and accepts that there is truth in my words. He still thinks I'm a little too complacent to make the necessary changes to my lifestyle. After a bit of extra chatter, he makes his excuses and departs the dream. I was left feeling okay about things. But he'd also diagnosed me. Someone who always wants to FEEL good. That's what I took away from this dream. I was using weed again on the odd occasion, but I was no longer drinking wine or even beer. Very strange that I'd have all these intense dreams in such a quick succession. It gave me plenty to write about in my journal.
The following day was a day off work. The voices were in my head from daybreak. David Cameron apparently thought I was a dangerous lunatic! I was completely delusional. Dreams and reality were conflated, and the voices were insidious, precise, and effective. All morning they provided a running commentary on my banal endeavours, hinting at something coming to "get" me. At one point I was alone that morning in the house, standing in the hallway, gently head-butting the wall. begging for it all to stop. I had no control over my thoughts. I was a grown man, 41, reduced to a manic wreck by some unseen force, and there was nothing I could do about it, or so I thought. Caesar said I could do more, but he said I lacked the necessary will to do so. This stuck with me, because always in my life in the back of my mind is the thought that I ought to be doing more with my life. I know, I'm hamstrung as a mental case, but there has always been periods of clarity and peace too. I don't want people reading my work here thinking I've lived through some "Hellraiser"-style horrific life. All told it's been a great life. I've had awesome experiences that have enriched my soul. Many friends have come and gone, and I've had to learn some hard life lessons along the way. I'm not looking for pity. But I am searching for knowledge, for experience. And explanations for weird phenomena, That's why I'm still hard at work trying to make sense of all the spooky doings over 4 pages on here lol!
Anyway, where was I? Headbutting the wall, begging for it all to stop. I gathered my will and phoned work. I informed them that I was having a nervous breakdown and that I quit. Then I wished the boss a happy Christmas and put the phone down. then I patiently phoned the mental health services and finally, after 11 years of stubborn resistance, I finally sought the assistance I needed, and this time I was ready to tell the full facts about what I was going through, no more bullshit. I thought I was recovering from my catastrophic 2004, but it was a fragile growth since then. A new approach was called for, and so it was on this path that 2016-24 truly takes shape. I'm looking forward to talking about some positive news in this section too! tjis is the modern age now. I'm back on twitter, reading sott daily, and from 2017 I'm back on the forum too, wiser and friendlier (I think) than in times past.
There is an old line in an REM song that gores "now is greater than the whole of the past", and it was with this line in minds I began proper therapy, and a new regime of ruthless self-analysis married to a growing taste for beer, and the contemporary self had 44 years or so's sorth of personal artworks, telling the story of my soul. I slowly began putting the notes together nad this is what you have read from me in this thread. I hope to make it of both personal use and of objective value. Since 2004 I have struggled with schizophrenia, that much I have surmised. Only since the mad winter of 2015 have I seriously addressed the flaws in my own character that were holding me back. It'll be good to get into this part, because I can demonstrate how I figured out an optimal "me" in this process. That part of me that was always taking notes, through good times and bad. this next part of the story is way more positive, and will be a pleasure to report. Then I guess the thread is done; I've accounted for weird abductions, UFO sightings, demonic attacks, vampires, little 4ft critters, the whole gamut. It's actually been a blast recounting all this and consolidating it in one handy place. I've learned a little about "what I'm like" as a person after watching how I present the facts on the ground. I like to think I've got good recall. I also think I'm way stronger for having gone through all that I did. Was it necessary? No. Did it break me? Almost. How am I nowadays? Emboldened.
Obviously my defences were poor, I was just one crazy kid facing the immensity of a 4d STS attack. I couldn't face them alone, and that is what prompted my return to this forum around 2010 when I got given a refurbished old PC from my work mate. Trouble was, I couldn't separate my 4d experiences (which were piling up in the back of my mind) from my increasing (and accurate) suspicion that I was mentally ill. Maybe both aspects dovetailed into a devastating slayer of my soul? Certainly, when I was attacked over this period I questioned what I was living for. But the old phrase "don't let the bastards grind you down" rang in my mind like a clarion call. And so I dug deep into my reserves of will and became a more determined seeker of wisdom. I experimented with many novel types of diet, with varying results. I was a curious and industrious soul during the period 2010-14 as a general rule. But I was now facing a tendency to be over-sensitive, and highly dissociative in times of potential stress.
Some of my drawings and paintings from this period hint at 4d manipulation in my reality. These pictures often featured lurid colours. This was a time when the voices went particularly quiet. I, over-confident to a fault, chose to ditch taking my meds. I began attending an artist's studio in town that summer of 2014 and the voices were stirred then for some reason. The studio was run by an ex UK Army veteran, an old mate of mine. We're the same age, but as men we're total opposites. He's a real man, I'm a pretender. During this period I was prolific in my output on the art front, and returned to my poetry too. At this time I also began a collection of short story synopses in a little notebook. Over the last 10 years I've often gone back and added to it. Got loads of little projects to keep me occupied. This grew out of a period when my life got difficult. This was the period 2012-15.
The job I had from 2004-12 was no more. Head Office closed our store down. I was gutted, I'd given this job 8 of my toughest years and now I was on the dole again! Over the next 3 years I'd take jobs that I was particularly unsuited to, and was fired by a few of them. They were sales jobs, and I'm just not a salesman. Don't have that gift of the gab to bullshit a customer. I look back on this period in my life with some sadness, because I was not having a good time. I occasionally fell off the wagon and would have nights when I got stoned with my brother again. I started selling some paintings from the art studio so at least there was some success, but I was approaching age 40, out of work, self-medicating again and low on money. In fact I was in debt to my bank at that time. In 2015 things came to a head to a very cold winter backdrop. I had a psychotic meltdown in my sales job in an electrical store, December 2015. why I took the job I still cannot explain. I bullshitted my way through the interview, saying the right things but not looking forward to the reality of selling electrical gear to Joe Public. The boss liked me for some reason, so I took the job.
The first week of this job was so stressful. I realised quickly that I was a complete Luddite and knew nothing about current-gen tech. Secondly, I was a shite salesman!
I babbled, mumbled, and did the bare minimum in the 9 or so weeks I lasted in that job. One cold afternoon, I was working a shift there, and I made my excuses to go out for a ciggie break. I was out the back of the store, and as I smoked a cig my mind and eyes lit up. I could sense that I was being watched. I saw a white craft, about the size of a bus, smooth and oval-shaped, in the afternoon sky. It revealed itself for a micro-moment, then vanished! It didn't move, it just went "poof!" and disappeared. I couldn't believe what I "thought" I saw! I smoked a second cig just as an excuse to try and make sense of this moment. Was it real, or just a hallucination? In my life at this point I felt, as a man, that I was a bit crazy but I was surviving, just about. But the combination that winter of the return of the 4d stuff, vampire dreams, and the general tension I felt in a sales job where my talent for selling is so poor, well it really ground me down.One night in December 2015, I got home from work on the late shift. I'd managed to blag my way through work and secured a few care plans for some sold TVs so I was not in any kind of trouble. I just knew that I hated my job, and felt (accurately) that I had a poor rapport with my work colleagues. In my old job from 2004-12, I worked with people I became friends with. These later jobs were different. I couldn't connect with the place nor the staff. I knew I didn't want to face a New Year working the day shifts selling stuff I knew nothing about! So, on this particular night I had a number of spooky experiences. By this point I think that I've seen it all, but I was unprepared for this series of psychotic episodes. I had a reprise of the old Vampire Artist dream. This time he turned up in my dream world this night, throwing slowly bouncing little rubber balls in my general direction. I swerve to avoid them as they slowly bounce towards me. Then he loses patience with me and throws a load of bronze age weaponry at my feet and challenges me to a duel. I refuse and struggle to awaken at this point. I wrote about this particular dream in depth in my notebooks of the time. Had I made an enemy of some artist on the etheric plane? Was it 4d STS taking umbrage of my increasingly conscious artworks of my own? Both theories are possible. In the following nights I had more trouble to endure.
I dreamt this cold winter night, where I was in a kind of theatre lobby. All of my pictures are on display on the walls of the lobby. It's a cold building, kinda 60s New Wave architectural design, but I'm pleased that in my dream I have my secret ambition; a one man show! Yeah. I know, pride before a fall. Never get carried away! Shambling ghostly figures have congregated in the lobby in my dream. I am informed by an authoritative voice that these are sleeping souls, viewing your artwork in real time! Now I was really impressed, and was keen to get any feedback from the souls viewing my hard crafted works. And so? Well, the feedback was almost unanimously negative. Any praise was muted, or delivered with a caveat that certain aspects let them down. I was downcast in this dream. 10 years of my personal efforts were struck down in what seemed like minutes. Was this really a dream, or was I tripping? I tried mescaline in 1999, and found it enjoyable but largely ephemeral. But people can be prone to "flashbacks"? Was I tapping into some 4d interface? With dormant souls? It spooked me and gave me plenty to think about that winter. I got a spiritual "reality check" so I guess I needed humbling.
I worked what would be my final shift at the electrical store that week, and Christmas was looming. I was depressed after my let-down on the art front, and was generally carrying a heavy load of anxiety. I didn't want to have to engage in bullshit conversation with canny punters today, thanks all the same. So I do something stupid. I have in my possession a small quantity of weed. I smoke it just prior to the shift beginning. I feel relieved and enter work as normal to begin my shift. Yes, VERY unprofessional on my part. Anyway, I got away with it and the shift went by with no dramas or tension. It's a bitterly cold night and I have to walk 3 miles home before I can properly relax. on the walk home all was calm and the roads were quiet. When i returned home I went online for a few hours, caught up with stuff, then went to sleep. I was relieved to think I had a few days off work (!), and I could reflect on my deflating dream experience from the previous night. Then I had my relapse into rank levels of absurdity. Truly, when the Cs said that no-one can stand alone against 4d STS, know that it is true! A series of flashing images were now being burned into my imagination. the voices were back, and this time they'd brought their visuals too. I was in for a sleepless night I knew that much, and I had no meds at this point to help me out. I just had to grin and bear it.
In part of a dream I came to become aware of myself in a masonic lodge. There was a great congregation of members, and I was being paraded among them as a "holy fool". They laughed and jeered as I tried to respond in kind. This lasted way too long for my liking, and so I sought to exit this place in the dream. Eventually I succeeded and I awoke in the usual confused state. What on earth was going on with me? I thought I was out of the woods after 11 years of regular stress, now my mind and my job were combining to send me straight back down to the floor again! I was feeling a growing anxiety that I was once again being targeted for "attention" by the dark forces that have been a constant in my life since the 1970s. I've documented the lot (so far) on these 4 pages. "They" were back, and this time they brought much more visual force to the party. In a way that's how they proved their point; their 4d "visual hallucinatory artwork" was devastating to behold.
I was struck dumb that night. I had a chat with Iain Duncan Smith in a sparsely appointed flat in my next dream. He patiently listened to my incoherent conspiratorial ramblings, then explained to me his perspective on things. Let it be known that at no point did he consider me a "holy fool" however, so amazingly for me I came away from this dream thinking he was a more decent man than my conscious mind would ever accept. So the plot did thicken. Then my dream shifted to a meeting and discussion with the then Prime Minister David Cameron. I turn up in his office (how I got there only the dream world knows) armed with my old blue copy of Richard Dolan's "UFOs and the National Security State Vol. 1". It's good to see the dreamer prepared for a change lol!
Cameron is very serious, a little haughty, and not as clever or knowledgeable as he would like to seem. He listens to me intently, as I improve on my political rants to Duncan Smith, safe on home turf again, my interest in UFOs. Again, he listens intently, and accepts my gift of the book, "for his reading pleasure". The dream ends and again I wake up frazzled and discombobulated by what had unfolded. I make written notes later, luckily my memory of these events proved to be excellent, and I got the lions share written down the following year. At the moment in time however, I fell back asleep and into the "finisher". The dream that was going to floor me. The Caesar dream.The production values in this dream were impeccable. I was out in some dusty Italian plain, and I was face to face with Caesar himself. He was in military garb, and he greeted me with warmth, charm, and sharp wit. I know, this doesn't sound like a psychotic episode does it? I was happy as Larry in this dream, we were just chilling and talking about myriad subjects. As you'd expect, he was very well-informed. Then the mood turned slightly. He revealed that he was aware that I had prayed to him for guidance when I was a porn addict in the years 2003-06. He reminded me that this represented my greatest weakness. My poor social skills made others more standoffish than normal. He said I had a LOT to learn, about women in particular, and that he had little faith that I would make any progress in this respect. This peeved me BIG TIME! I began arguing my case, as a child who was targeted by dark forces way back in the 1970s and has continually battled towards the light ever since. He listens and accepts that there is truth in my words. He still thinks I'm a little too complacent to make the necessary changes to my lifestyle. After a bit of extra chatter, he makes his excuses and departs the dream. I was left feeling okay about things. But he'd also diagnosed me. Someone who always wants to FEEL good. That's what I took away from this dream. I was using weed again on the odd occasion, but I was no longer drinking wine or even beer. Very strange that I'd have all these intense dreams in such a quick succession. It gave me plenty to write about in my journal.
The following day was a day off work. The voices were in my head from daybreak. David Cameron apparently thought I was a dangerous lunatic! I was completely delusional. Dreams and reality were conflated, and the voices were insidious, precise, and effective. All morning they provided a running commentary on my banal endeavours, hinting at something coming to "get" me. At one point I was alone that morning in the house, standing in the hallway, gently head-butting the wall. begging for it all to stop. I had no control over my thoughts. I was a grown man, 41, reduced to a manic wreck by some unseen force, and there was nothing I could do about it, or so I thought. Caesar said I could do more, but he said I lacked the necessary will to do so. This stuck with me, because always in my life in the back of my mind is the thought that I ought to be doing more with my life. I know, I'm hamstrung as a mental case, but there has always been periods of clarity and peace too. I don't want people reading my work here thinking I've lived through some "Hellraiser"-style horrific life. All told it's been a great life. I've had awesome experiences that have enriched my soul. Many friends have come and gone, and I've had to learn some hard life lessons along the way. I'm not looking for pity. But I am searching for knowledge, for experience. And explanations for weird phenomena, That's why I'm still hard at work trying to make sense of all the spooky doings over 4 pages on here lol!
Anyway, where was I? Headbutting the wall, begging for it all to stop. I gathered my will and phoned work. I informed them that I was having a nervous breakdown and that I quit. Then I wished the boss a happy Christmas and put the phone down. then I patiently phoned the mental health services and finally, after 11 years of stubborn resistance, I finally sought the assistance I needed, and this time I was ready to tell the full facts about what I was going through, no more bullshit. I thought I was recovering from my catastrophic 2004, but it was a fragile growth since then. A new approach was called for, and so it was on this path that 2016-24 truly takes shape. I'm looking forward to talking about some positive news in this section too! tjis is the modern age now. I'm back on twitter, reading sott daily, and from 2017 I'm back on the forum too, wiser and friendlier (I think) than in times past.
There is an old line in an REM song that gores "now is greater than the whole of the past", and it was with this line in minds I began proper therapy, and a new regime of ruthless self-analysis married to a growing taste for beer, and the contemporary self had 44 years or so's sorth of personal artworks, telling the story of my soul. I slowly began putting the notes together nad this is what you have read from me in this thread. I hope to make it of both personal use and of objective value. Since 2004 I have struggled with schizophrenia, that much I have surmised. Only since the mad winter of 2015 have I seriously addressed the flaws in my own character that were holding me back. It'll be good to get into this part, because I can demonstrate how I figured out an optimal "me" in this process. That part of me that was always taking notes, through good times and bad. this next part of the story is way more positive, and will be a pleasure to report. Then I guess the thread is done; I've accounted for weird abductions, UFO sightings, demonic attacks, vampires, little 4ft critters, the whole gamut. It's actually been a blast recounting all this and consolidating it in one handy place. I've learned a little about "what I'm like" as a person after watching how I present the facts on the ground. I like to think I've got good recall. I also think I'm way stronger for having gone through all that I did. Was it necessary? No. Did it break me? Almost. How am I nowadays? Emboldened.
SlipNet
The Living Force
My final selection of notes will cover 2016-24, a pleasing and important period in my life and particularly with regards to my mental health. After quitting my job in late 2015, I immediately contacted the local mental health services and had an outpatient clinic appointment within 2 days. This time I swallowed my pride and did what I had never previously done with therapists; I told them the WHOLE truth, warts and all, all the juicy details. As I recounted my troublesome incidents of recent times, the nurse took notes, consulted a doctor and gave me an emergency supply of tranquilisers. For 11, 12 years I'd steadfastly gripped hold of my reason whilst a whirlwind of insanity seemed to blow through me whenever it wanted to. I sobbed to the nurse, "enough of this, I can't cope!". Then I was driven home, on a cold late winter night. I was at ground zero once again, but this time I knew I was ill. Before I was in denial.
I slept well that night, finally relieved that I had done what I should have done all along; been completely transparent about my experiences. My written notes of recent times were sporadic and of a variable quality. Clearly the part of my mind that would just stoically go on without ever stopping to reflect, had to finally accept that this could not go on. Yes, I'd read a load of books. I'd spent a good 20 years or so researching hard and deeply on a great many subjects. I had some knowledge, but my soul was in trauma and chaos. My mental collapse finally brought me to my knees and I had to begin all over again. I needed emotional therapy, I'd seen too many weird things in a short period of time. As I lay there in my bed that night, I sighed and didn't really think much before dozing off to sleep. I was dazed, I needed basic 3d living, enough of this incessant weirdness!
I knew I had more personal things to sort out too, I was £6k in debt to my bank, and had no job. At this point I was living on around £25 a week, just pitiful. All my savings were swallowed up with interest charges from my bank. In the following days I was on a mission for clarity and seeking the help I needed. So I made a fresh appointment with my GP re:-meds, and I made a further appointment with a rep from the Citizen's Advice Bureau. I needed advice on my banking debt troubles, and I've never been good with these kinds of things. Anyway, I was sober, clear minded for a change, and on a real mission to sort my troubled life out properly for once and for all.
I had a booklet of fresh medical notes for my GP, and he added them to my extensive medical file. By this time I'd tried a variety of different anti-psychotic meds, with little positive results. However, the emergency pills given to me the night before, Olanzapine, was more effective. At least I slept well on it. So we agreed to try me out with this as my nightly medication. I still take this little pill to this day. After what I've been through, it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had a very good chat at the CAB to thrash out my financial troubles. Within a month, my bank wrote off my £6k debt, and gave me £150 as a result of a "banking error". I thanked the CAB rep who worked with the bank for me by gifting her a picture I'd recently drawn. I was very grateful to have this debt off my shoulders. So all I had to do now was sort out my unemployment benefits with a new bank. Within a month I had a new account, and was placed on disability benefits following a medical assessment. It was an amazing year, 2016. It was the year when I finally realised that being crazy, erratic, eccentric, and in denial was not working out too well for me. A lunatic with a sweet book collection is still a lunatic. Finally I grasped what it means to maintain my life on a basic level. Looking back now, some points really stand out:
1 No man is an island. For years I was too proud to admit I was ill, and admitting this lifted a weight from my mind.
2 Finally opening up to people and not wearing a thin veneer of sanity got me the help I'd needed all along.
3 Medication is helpful to some people, and I am one of them.
4 Slowly and methodically dealing with my immediate tasks was good for the mind and the soul.
5 It took me until I was 41 to reach this basic level of normality. Finally I was showing signs of growing up.
I suppose in my own way I had finally suffered enough craziness and needed to seek out calm and tranquility for a change. Not to mention tending to the basics of life in a thorough way too. I look back on this short period with real fondness because this was the spring board for me. I finally hit rock bottom, and I had nowhere to go but upwards. Within a year I'd be back on the forum, reading and learning, but for a while, the serenity of a basic 3d STS life was just what I needed. The weirdness of 4d could wait for another time. I pulled back a little from obsessing over subjects and just worked now on artistic projects. I returned to my journals and my notebooks. I still, after all this time, had my mind, and that was something to be exceedingly thankful for!
In the coming years I could engage with more commitment than before, aware now of my "shadow self", my Predator (who was running rings round me, as evidenced by this thread), and my Pandora's Box was seemingly exhausted. It's funny, after writing so extensively about 4d phenomena and mental illness in this thread, it feels slightly eerie to be living in a relative state of peace now. You kinda get addicted to the chaos after so many years! But thank God for peace! It's come about purely by owning up and being honest with myself, about all things. It's funny how it took me so long to get the basics right, but better late than never. The voices never really left though. I'll get back to them in a future post. Over the years I've come to accept that there'll always be "something" living rent-free in my head, but it's WAY more peaceful since the mania of 2015, I'll say that much.
There are a few tidbits to note for the years 2016-24, but nothing on the scale of previous years. in the coming years I'd come to focus away from UFOs and weird stuff, and get down to the basics. And with patience, time, and no little effort, those green sprouts of reason began to grow. I've noticed over the years that I cannot "will" a thing into happening. Life lessons tumble out of the Box all the same. Experience has brought a slow flow of wisdom into my mind, never too much to handle at one time. It's been truly an extraordinary effort putting this all into a written account. Almost at the end now though (or so I hope...). The darkest days for sure were behind me now (touch wood).
I slept well that night, finally relieved that I had done what I should have done all along; been completely transparent about my experiences. My written notes of recent times were sporadic and of a variable quality. Clearly the part of my mind that would just stoically go on without ever stopping to reflect, had to finally accept that this could not go on. Yes, I'd read a load of books. I'd spent a good 20 years or so researching hard and deeply on a great many subjects. I had some knowledge, but my soul was in trauma and chaos. My mental collapse finally brought me to my knees and I had to begin all over again. I needed emotional therapy, I'd seen too many weird things in a short period of time. As I lay there in my bed that night, I sighed and didn't really think much before dozing off to sleep. I was dazed, I needed basic 3d living, enough of this incessant weirdness!
I knew I had more personal things to sort out too, I was £6k in debt to my bank, and had no job. At this point I was living on around £25 a week, just pitiful. All my savings were swallowed up with interest charges from my bank. In the following days I was on a mission for clarity and seeking the help I needed. So I made a fresh appointment with my GP re:-meds, and I made a further appointment with a rep from the Citizen's Advice Bureau. I needed advice on my banking debt troubles, and I've never been good with these kinds of things. Anyway, I was sober, clear minded for a change, and on a real mission to sort my troubled life out properly for once and for all.
I had a booklet of fresh medical notes for my GP, and he added them to my extensive medical file. By this time I'd tried a variety of different anti-psychotic meds, with little positive results. However, the emergency pills given to me the night before, Olanzapine, was more effective. At least I slept well on it. So we agreed to try me out with this as my nightly medication. I still take this little pill to this day. After what I've been through, it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had a very good chat at the CAB to thrash out my financial troubles. Within a month, my bank wrote off my £6k debt, and gave me £150 as a result of a "banking error". I thanked the CAB rep who worked with the bank for me by gifting her a picture I'd recently drawn. I was very grateful to have this debt off my shoulders. So all I had to do now was sort out my unemployment benefits with a new bank. Within a month I had a new account, and was placed on disability benefits following a medical assessment. It was an amazing year, 2016. It was the year when I finally realised that being crazy, erratic, eccentric, and in denial was not working out too well for me. A lunatic with a sweet book collection is still a lunatic. Finally I grasped what it means to maintain my life on a basic level. Looking back now, some points really stand out:
1 No man is an island. For years I was too proud to admit I was ill, and admitting this lifted a weight from my mind.
2 Finally opening up to people and not wearing a thin veneer of sanity got me the help I'd needed all along.
3 Medication is helpful to some people, and I am one of them.
4 Slowly and methodically dealing with my immediate tasks was good for the mind and the soul.
5 It took me until I was 41 to reach this basic level of normality. Finally I was showing signs of growing up.
I suppose in my own way I had finally suffered enough craziness and needed to seek out calm and tranquility for a change. Not to mention tending to the basics of life in a thorough way too. I look back on this short period with real fondness because this was the spring board for me. I finally hit rock bottom, and I had nowhere to go but upwards. Within a year I'd be back on the forum, reading and learning, but for a while, the serenity of a basic 3d STS life was just what I needed. The weirdness of 4d could wait for another time. I pulled back a little from obsessing over subjects and just worked now on artistic projects. I returned to my journals and my notebooks. I still, after all this time, had my mind, and that was something to be exceedingly thankful for!
In the coming years I could engage with more commitment than before, aware now of my "shadow self", my Predator (who was running rings round me, as evidenced by this thread), and my Pandora's Box was seemingly exhausted. It's funny, after writing so extensively about 4d phenomena and mental illness in this thread, it feels slightly eerie to be living in a relative state of peace now. You kinda get addicted to the chaos after so many years! But thank God for peace! It's come about purely by owning up and being honest with myself, about all things. It's funny how it took me so long to get the basics right, but better late than never. The voices never really left though. I'll get back to them in a future post. Over the years I've come to accept that there'll always be "something" living rent-free in my head, but it's WAY more peaceful since the mania of 2015, I'll say that much.
There are a few tidbits to note for the years 2016-24, but nothing on the scale of previous years. in the coming years I'd come to focus away from UFOs and weird stuff, and get down to the basics. And with patience, time, and no little effort, those green sprouts of reason began to grow. I've noticed over the years that I cannot "will" a thing into happening. Life lessons tumble out of the Box all the same. Experience has brought a slow flow of wisdom into my mind, never too much to handle at one time. It's been truly an extraordinary effort putting this all into a written account. Almost at the end now though (or so I hope...). The darkest days for sure were behind me now (touch wood).