Posted by: Sk | February 11, 2009

11 Firework in amaretto

It’s good to come back to some kind of normal perception of things, although I don’t know exactly how this did happen, either. It was already difficult to understand how it had happened that I had landed somewhere in the whereabouts of Cerberus’ cave, perhaps already half inside and half outside, and although I remember clearly a moment where I confess to myself being fed up with knowing everything (the fact that I think it does certainly not mean that I knew everything – but it is a fact that I had the feeling of knowing too much, and this subjective impression I wanted to get rid of), and perhaps my confession was just a prayer to upper realms in order to get some help to reenter a more common and normal, let us say, human life, as, as far as I could evaluate at that moment, I had finished by belonging to angel’s or demon’s ranks, just sliding around the psychic world from one point to the other of the world.

In fact, looking at it from my actual perspective, which, as said, was obtained the same mysterious way than the first, although I finished by having some explanation for the first, and I will still have to find the proper chemical background for the second, the situation looked more than worse. To say, that even to know everything does not put you in a more privileged situation.

Imagine you live in a world where you have almost no physical perception: neither pain, neither hunger or thirst, no desire to sleep. I remember I spent 5 days without eating nor sleeping, just because I had some interesting subject I was dealing with, and that I said to myself, after, that it was about time to go to sleep just because, it was not normal. Heavy awareness of what normal could be is of greatest help in order not to die of exhaustion in complete unawareness, for example, but it doesn’nt help you to get this most relaxing feeling of tiredness that comes before you actually fall asleep, which, I remembered one day, had been there one day, a long time ago, and I wanted definitely to get back. Things were different before, I finished by remembering, but I couldn’t remember how.

If it were to specify now which facculties had gone lost inside of some other’s mistake, if it were one, I would say, not only any kind of physical awareness but also the social awareness, as well as immediate reality. The social awareness which I hadn’t considered before as even existing, I remembered slightly, was some kind of heavy weight on your chest or even some darkening of understanding arising when you were about to think too far or to move too quickly into one or the other direction. Of course there are many types of people, but it is a fact that whenever you thought something like ‘put a bomb somewhere’ (I never thought on the other way, but just to give some blundering example) your mind was invaded by all sorts of nervous frights and reminders of possible horrible consequences as jails and newspaper articles and terrible shames, which made the thought disappear very quickly, just in case. There are psychic clouds accompanying concepts, so that, for example, the army is something you never get to near of, you never know, but just in case, too, or illegal activity, or many other things. Not that you know why, nor why the concept has such a cloud, it is just like that, and you know you feel much better if you don’t touch too much to fundamental concepts. These clouds had disappeared. In fact, behaviour may be determined up to a certain extent by what you know you can do or not, but it is really different if there is some feeling attached to the whole, like fright or respect or just some distance. And the feeling was none, although the concept remained.

I had to observe that Xristos was living inside of the same realm than mine precisely because he shew no fright in consequences and kept himself inside of certainly a more limited intuition of the limits of law, without leaving those, though, inside of his given understanding. Reality had no social conditioner, but was just a game with law and regulations, which warranted survival and even adventure. A quizz of intelligence.

The problem is, one day I started laughing. I don’t know how that happened, either. I managed to establish some hypothesis concerning a psychological reaction implying the rejection of the awareness of fright or danger (as you don’t feel fright anymore, it is some abstract coordinates that can only be translated by the terms of danger) by simply making fun out of everything. I remarked, that the same psychological reaction implied up to a certain extent the fact of deriving some self satisfaction out of splitters, as you have no social consciousness that may be a backing for the value of whatever you may do. On top of that, whatever I may have done was hardly to be seen by a common mortal and if it had been, I didn’t know how much the world would have appreciated my doings. Thus, I remarked, that the very fact of finding green pepper in a small greek village, was given a whole amount of stars in my own evaluation table, which finally led to the suspicion most schizoid and /or psychopathetic megalomaniac tendencies were in fact nothing but reminders of this psychological mechanism.

The problem is, I was making fun on everything and as, I thought, it was just inside of my limited psychic realm, it wouldn’t bother excessively the outer world. It’s not that I wasn’t very serious sometimes. But the serious had shifted towards abstract subjects and the world, as social organization, had absolutely no marks that may link it to anything serious in my new conceptual world, so that it was just a nice object to make fun on.

It’s true that I started to remember what my older apprehension of things had been, when Sask crossed the hall that day, and I had the horrible feeling I had done something terribly wrong, see, if this poor person, who unluckily seems to exist, knew about all the jokes I’ve made about her. Which I hoped she would never get aware of, and in any case, it was a really good start to try reconstructing my former world again, were it on different parameters.

In fact, the moral apprehension had gone completely lost. Law existed and thus luckily, some reference on what could be done or not, but the awareness of shame or guilt was none anymore, as was kept only the consciousness of some getting out of law, but without attached feeling. Thus I used to deal with whatever as abstract and theoretical subject, without awareness of the fact that people don’t talk about a certain number of subjects in a certain way, even less myself, who, from nature, am quite to very shy, and don’t like excessive public exposures of my private life and related, I must say, abstract subjects. AHN wrote a furious letter as answer to one of mine where I was trying to explain to her that the image obtained in sexual interaction was representative for intellectual patterns, which I simply could not understand, as such an interesting abstract subject.

Independently of these obtuse reactions to my understanding, I continued my abstract observations with some detached humour, of which irony was not lacking, and managed even to translate whole series of coded lines or messages into some more socially correct language, which AHN seemed to imply, did still exist somewhere.

The problem would be, I didn’t know at that moment, what the whole was about. I knew that Xristos was moving in exactly the same patterns, as he was always there when he had to be, and we even had long conversations in more or less the same language that refered actually to the price of wheat and other, AHN would have listened to, certainly, with some deep despise. I wouldn’t have cared of, anyhow.

At one moment I start suspecting that it may be true there’s being some kind of awareness of the moment of death, as quite peculiar things arrive to my consciousness and start making some tests. A man who had spent his life in Canada, comes back to the village with a neck cancer and is just waiting for the day to die. That day, as usual, Xristos was in the wherabouts with the doctor, as usual, too, when Xristos starts a conversation on eternal life and what I figure out would be the paradise. I think ‘is just dead’, and at that very moment a phone call to the doctor informs us of the fact that the man of Canada has just died. Hmm. A coincidence?

I keep the situation as referential for some ‘disposition’, an environment that has been defined as related to a dying soul. In fact, it is that something had struck my attention. Nobody died in the whereabouts. To the extent, that I think one day ’should die all together now, in order not to attract attention.’ That year, in the space of 4 weeks, seven people died one after the other. These events were common. Consciousness seems to be attached to a point in awareness which is not only the one you may think is the presence of near death, but has left the particular identity of the self to bath in some realm where dying souls arrive as to a shore swapped dying fish.

Now wait. What the damn am I doing? Are these ‘messages’ I’m decoding with greatest happiness of living, I’d mean, psychopaths, or may I further hypothesis so far so as to be obliged to think these were dead souls? Hmm.

It’s true that Odyssee talks to the dead after some kind of ritual and thus does the necromant for Saul. It’s true that it seems it may be possible.

I often work with double or triple hypothesis whenever something strange happens. It could be psychopaths, and then, this series of consequences or implications, It could be dying souls, and then that series of consequences, or it could even be dead, and than, another series of consequences. In any case it is strange, even weird. As usual, I just leave things happen. I don’t care very much what it looks like if you say such things in public, important is that a certain series of thoughts or images have crossed my consciousness at a certain moment, and whatever it is, may have some symbolic meaning.

I keep two interesting cases for further observation. Sask dies at a certain moment in a car crash with a tree or something. I say, dies. Looses consciousness, perhaps. And says: Can you come? Why not, I answer, is this reason enough for you not to die? The same for Natasha. It is snowing in Sankt Petersburg, or what I think may be this town, as I don’t know the town. She dies, too. Looses consciousness, perhaps, somewhere near the Nevska – I hope to identify correctly through Dostojevskij’s descriptions -, and says ‘You’re an angel?’ ‘If you want to,’ I answer.

It can be psychopathetic lines, some message perhaps I’ve as usual intercepted. Perhaps though, not. Let us see.

It’s a fact that I don’t speak neither Russian nor Hebrew. It’s thus not words I hear, but some ‘waves’ in meaning, which I translate to a for me affordable language. Perhaps even deliberately misunderstand. Who knows. What has happened? Is it a fantasy? Is it somehow related to reality, and if yes, how?

That I’ve managed to translate these impressions into some representation in images does certainly not imply the factual language used for transmission were not the same bizarre psychopathetic language that had shocked AHN. Let’s make some test. The coordinates in psychopathetic language for a psychic type arriving to my awareness in an image implying possible death are those transcribed in ‘Manual of a soldier’. If this person is the one whose image (physical appearance) seems to correspond to the one I have baptized Sask, is there any real link between those ‘codes’ and some reality?

There is. These lines lead to the completely accidental finding of two pictures of the same. And it is these lines, as I’m using an embettered psychic type I was developping on the other hand in order to track a fourth refracted. To say. Sask’s psychic type, I had more or less synthesized in 1993, is a third to fourth, which is not that bad, but not good enough for my purpose. I’m building up a false symbiosis in the logic of love in order to create an antivirus for the wicked fourth. And an embettered third to fourth could be a solution.

Having put the happening with the car crash in file: under observation, I’m though still using lines refered to a psychic type as having appeared during this event. And it is these lines that lead to the finding of these pictures. There is thus some kind of relationship between one thing and the other. Of course, it would be much easier to get direct information. But what, it’s for sure that person does hide herself away even much better than myself. Direct ressources are up to none, and the question remains.

Although it will perhaps be impossible to know whether Sask had ever had a car crash that would become my passport to enter Israel in 2003, it seems to me there is evidence enough for the following facts: without wanting to suspect there could possibly be a hell or some corresponding heavens, it looks as if it were possible to think the realm of souls allowing the perception of ‘x’ that could be identifying coordinates of people who are dying or dead, as if, living memory may absorb information from a more general pot than the one arriving through more individual experiences. If it is dead people or just identification coordinates that are kept in the memory of some and thus happily transmittable, is in fact, indifferent. Death has a language and this language is perceivable in more or less conscious way by common soul. If this is so, it is possible to think a psychopath is nothing but acting inside of logics that may be lost in time even for thousands of years and this explains also their peculiar identity association to great characters of history = it must be some approximative time environment for the given logic.

Death in double death, were my identifying lines around 2002. Take a, Natasha as seen in the Nevska, and then b, as Sask in her car crash, and myself in the middle in lines of possible death. A wonderful construction in order to catch a psychopath. Which shows what? That these lines build up … a ghost. Invisible image of a psychic logic that has no coordinates of reality so that a common human mind does simply not ’see’ it. Which may mean, even ghosts exist.

I’m very honest. I saw one. One day, just standing in front of me, as visual impression, without physical mass, at King David Hotel in room 203. “See,” I thought, “you can’t harm me from there where you are, because I’m still living. Shouldn’t have fallen into my trap.” And he left.

If all this is true, there are certain implications for the understanding of the world we’re living in. Death among life is illness, and to have to take this into consideration implies to define even illness differently. And this without considering the obvious danger arising from such ‘constructions’.

Weren’t I a good example, Sask?

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