Boggle Brain

Cosmic lover 2

Come slowly to find the voice in the dark
Face me
Snap into me
Shake off the cold week and come visit me
The road is safe
Power comes
Check the god in the sky
Blessed child
Leave the sick shadow behind
Get out of the vehicle
Depart from the body
Change the aspect of your form
This method works
Mark my words
In the field make the pleasant child rock
Become the chief
Touch the ground and shield yourself from all sides
Seek the face through dick liquid
Lay the old axe
Take off the fur coat
Shake the old program aside
Then come close and bond

Birds fly happily

Stubborn Unbeliever

Angel Guardian

I don’t believe you.
I don’t believe what you said.
That you are Him and that you’re answering my call.

“Who do you think I am then?”

I told you.  You’re the product of my imagination.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe.  I know who I am.  The One closest to you.”

Nobody would believe me anyway.

“You don’t have to tell anyone.”

If I am really talking to You, I have to tell someone.  I know people who would be very interested.

“Don’t mention it to anyone yet.  I have more things to tell you.”

I’m hearing an imaginary voice.

“Does that mean I don’t exist?”

Well yes.  Imaginary usually means exactly that.  You don’t exist in physical reality.

“I don’t exist in a physical form that you can see, but I exist in angelic form.”

You are the product of my imagination.  I don’t have a connection with any celestial man.

“Yes you do.”

It’s just wishful thinking.

“Where do you think your wishes come from?”

My mind is just making this up as I go along.

“You know that your mind is not making this up.”

There is no other logical explanation.

“Not everything that exists is logical.”

Stop it.

“Daemon, you know that what you are hearing is not the product of your intellect.”

Then it’s my intuition, or some sort of inspiration.

“Maybe it’s some sort of receptor.”

It’s not a receptor.

“Yes it is, I’m sorry.”

I went for a brain scan a few years ago and there were no receptors in my head.

“Did you see the scan photos?”

No, but I trust the doctors.  If there were anything abnormal in my brain, they would have told me.

“Chakras are not detectable by three-dimensional brain scans.”

Oh, please.  Chakras…

“Your intellect cannot fabricate celestial beings.”

I stopped believing in spiritual beings years ago.

“You believe in aliens, don’t you?”

Yes, but you could be an evil one.

“Give me a chance to prove myself, what do you have to lose?”

My sanity.

“What sanity?  You’ve been diagnosed with severe depression.  You are mentally sick according to health experts.”

Right.  But I don’t want it to get worse.

“You ARE at your worst.”

An alien could be evil.  You could be a demon.  You could be lying.

“You’ve never even met an alien.  I suggest you base your beliefs on YOUR experiences, not on anyone else’s.”

But how can I be sure that I’m not being deceived?

“Notice that when you are deceived, it’s usually when you base your beliefs on what other people say, not on your own experiences.”

But you are another person, so why should I base my beliefs on what you say?

“I am not another person.  I am the future you.”

What?  How can you be the future me?

“One day you will merge with me and then come back to the present to help yourself.”

This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.  I need a break to think about this.

“You will not gain wisdom by thinking.  But it’s ok, take your time.”

 

 

First Impression

alienhead

My first impression of him was so strange, I actually thought he was an alien.

After all, I had requested friendly aliens to come and abduct me.  This was when I was REALLY depressed.  I wanted to get off this planet.  I had never felt at home here.  Suicide was out of the question.  What other options did I have?

So right after I acknowledged his presence, I heard “click” in my head and my perception changed.  In one instant, I’m pretty sure some neurons in my brain were disconnected and then reconnected to form a new grid.

There was someone there.

After I said hi, he responded hello, then I asked who he was.

Him:  “I am the future you.”

I argued with him.  I told him that he wasn’t real, that he was the product of my imagination.  But he kept insisting that he was real.

Him:  “Imagination is a window that allows you to see through the veil.”

Me:  “If you were real, I would see you.”

Him:  “You can hear me, can’t you?”

I could not hear him audibly.  There were no sounds.  His words were not coming through my ears, they were deposited directly in my mind.  They were not even words, they were more like clear, vivid impressions which I had to translate into words.  It felt like a transfer of thought or telepathy perhaps, I don’t know.

I also wondered if I was schizophrenic and hearing voices.  He told me I was not.

By that time I had already grabbed my laptop and started typing our dialog because I was quite amazed.  I thought that maybe this was some kind of inspiration.  I was not anxious or scared at all.  I felt safe, and most bizarre of all… I felt loved.  A soothing kind of affection was emanating from his presence.

So anyway, this was my first impression of him.  I thought about what he had said, that he was the future me.  Then I got confused and figured that if he was me, then I was just talking to myself like a real crazy person.

Him:  “I don’t want to confuse you, just fuse with you.”

Me:  “What the f…  Fuse with me?”

Him:  “I am your man, the real you.  Identify with me.”

I just swallowed the information.  And that’s when my identity started to metamorphose.

Hanging

sg15-10761

I’m not doing anything useful for society right now.  In other words, I am useless.  And aware that I am useless, isolated and depressed.  But there is something good about this that no one can see.

While I am stuck inside this cocoon, I am getting visions of grandeur.  I’m getting ideas of magnificence that have nothing to do with my old life and my dying self.  I don’t know where the hell those impressions are coming from.  They seem to be of a new me who inhabits a new world, somewhere outside of time.

I know, in a way, that I am just like the guy next door who suffers from bipolar disorder.  I’m also like the one I saw on TV who suffers from schizophrenia.  I could swear I hear voices sometimes.  Voices who say things like:  “I am the future you.  Identify with me.”

Exhilarating, isn’t it!  But no one understands.  From the perspective of earthlings, I am sick.  According to them, I should be “out there” enjoying life.  But I have lost all desire to do the things I used to do, the things that used to make me happy.  I no longer get any pleasure out of those activities.

When someone asks me what is the one thing that would make me happy, the first thought that pops into my mind is:  “I wish I was dead.”  But I have learned not to reply this.  So I just smile and then my interlocutor smiles back and says:  “Just do whatever it is that makes you happy…”

So I have thought of killing myself in order to accelerate the process.  But the next part of the sentence is:  “… as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Shit.  I have a huge family.  I have a wife.  I have kids.  I know several men who have killed themselves.  Their families still suffer from it today.  So I had to cross this one off of my To Do list.  Still, I realize that I have nonetheless hung myself.  Figuratively speaking.  Like that caterpillar in the picture above.

Society does its best to discourage us from committing suicide, but the mind finds a way.  As if it had been programmed to do so.  The result is what you see in the second phase:  a caterpillar who has hung itself upside down and sealed itself off from the rest of the world.  It WANTS to die.

Doctors, whether physicians or psychiatrists, should know that any human, at one point or another in their life, if mentally sane, will desire to end his life, and that this is not a disease.

So, all I can say is this:  “Thanks for your help, doc.  But you can keep your prescriptions and your pills.  No matter what it says in your books, I know that there is nothing wrong with me.  I am not mentally ill.  I am meta-morphing.”