introduction
This is a story like any other, in that it has a beginning, a middle, and an ending. But it is also unique, in that it tells a tale which has never
before been told, or at least, never in history ever been real, fully real, in a way that is uncompromising, brutal, demanding of our attention, if
only so that we will wake up to what is unfolding on the greater stage of our world as it is, not as we wish it could be. And again, all the elements
of a traditionally good story are here.. There is mystery, love, adversity, tragedy, hope & redemption, and it will perhaps encourage you, causing
you to reach out to grasp at the greater wonders of all Creation, to lead a life worthy of your calling, fulfilling your duty as a child of the
Creator. This is a story about good versus evil – and yet, the characters in which those archetypal themes are made manifest are often confused,
and the exact roles they play at various times, can be confusing. Ultimately, I hope you find something of humanity – both your own personal story,
and the greater epic of our lives together in this marvellous, violent, fragile realm – in the details as they are worked out within the bounds of
our time here together. This is the story of a child – later, a man – a strange & tortured soul, who spent thirty five years trying to comprehend
his reality, until he finally felt ready to tell the tale – having spent the better part of twenty five of those years wondering who he could tell,
and whether anyone would believe him.
This story necessitates a measure of selfishness, in that this story revolves around myself, and the life that I have lived – things I have learned,
the people who have loved & hated me, the dreams & the visions that I have been privileged to know & continue to know on a nightly basis – and the
glimpses of possible futures which have been revealed to me through the medium of those experiences. I apologise for being so bold as to write
voluminously regarding my own experiences (this is a 26,000 word essay – perhaps more of a miniature autobiography). I would rather not write in
this manner; however, I am now convinced that the time has come, that the greater awakening is upon us, and in the first instance, I must tell my
story - so we can be ready for the future, as it unfolds. I will relate portions of what has been revealed to me, as clearly & faithfully as possible
(I have composed a few threads recently which go into a lot of detail regarding certain very relevant prophetic dreams – please locate & read them
if you want to get a feeling of the depth of these experiences, for I only refer briefly to the actual details in this particular thread).
I have decided to post in sections, waiting to see if people want me to add more in stages, rather than dumping a 44 page essay in your laps in one
fell swoop. So please, vote with your comments & let me know if you want me to add more each time you're finished with one stage of the document. I
hope you will find it interesting & thought-provoking, and I wish each & every one of you Godspeed in the days, weeks, months & years to come.
The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes - and ships - and sealing-wax,
Of cabbages - and kings...
Beginnings...
My story begins on the day when I was given a mother. I remember thinking how exciting it was that I was going to have a mother, like the other
children had. I had heard that having a mother was a lovely thing, and I was greatly looking forward to it. But it had been a bit of a surprise –
I had lived to that point on the RAF (Royal Air Force) base in Eastern England knowing many caregivers, who had loved me & looked after me in their
own ways, yet I had no special bond with any particular person, that I recall anyway. This vague pseudo-memory of having had many caregivers is
something of a psychological inference, just a fleeting abstraction in my subconscious, nothing fixed in memory in an ordinary sense. But this was to
be a special day, and here is how it began – my earliest tangible memories.
Firstly, I was playing football (soccer) outside the 'nursery' on the lawn, with a group of several older children, perhaps five or six of them. I
was perhaps three years old at this point, and they seemed like giants to me, though they can't have been more than ten years old themselves. We
played for what seems like perhaps five minutes, until I slipped on the ball & fell down with a bump, in the same way that a million other three year
olds will step on the ball & slip over when they first attempt the game of champions. No harm done, I got up & walked around, I wanted to carry on
playing – but one of the adult supervisors stopped me, and brought me into the reception area of what I was later told had been a children's nursery
– but in truth, looking back, it bore far more resemblance to a doctor's surgery, with a waiting room & a high desk, behind which sat a
receptionist. There were no other children present anywhere within the facility, and the older children whom I had been playing with outside had
suddenly disappeared.
I was informed that I had broken my leg, which seemed ludicrous to me at the time, as I had no pain & could move around perfectly. But this was the
context within which I was told that my new mother would be coming to collect me, to take me to the hospital to get my leg fixed. Thoughts of having
a mother pushed all other thoughts about my leg out of my mind, as I began to wonder what she would be like – would she be nice, caring & friendly,
like in the stories read to me in times gone by? I was told by the receptionist to go outside & sit on the low wall by the road to await the arrival
of my mother. The whole area was now devoid of any other people – it was just me & the wall. I sat there fidgeting, looking around at the trees &
the landscape, until suddenly I saw her, coming into view rising up the hill, with a glorious sunset behind framing her in soft golden light. As
first memories go, this was a keeper – everything about the experience seemed designed to be memorable.
Mother & Family...
She was kind, friendly it seemed, and she took my hand & walked me off towards her car, waiting nearby. I don't remember the car itself, or the drive
to the hospital, but I remember bits & pieces about the hospital after arriving there. In the children's waiting room was a rocking horse, and the
usual assortment of 1980's toys. At some point I was sat down in a chair in front of a circle of chairs filled with doctors, at least ten of them,
all men & of various ages - but I couldn't see them properly, it was as though looking at them through cloudy water (this hypnotic suppression of
visual memory happened again later in life during MILABs). They kept me there for some time, asked me various questions about I don't recall what. I
remember thinking that none of them were interested in my apparently broken leg.. And then at some point someone came & put a cast on my leg, just
like that. No x-ray, and I'm fairly sure I would have remembered that unusual medical procedure if it had occurred in the context of remembering
other unique facets of the experience. Hypnotically suppressing the memory of the x-ray would be counter-productive, only making it likely that i
would one day put the pieces of the puzzle together. Unless that is what they ultimately wanted...?
Continued..
edit on SeptemberWednesday2219CDT01America/Chicago-050055 by FlyInTheOintment because: (no reason given)