Super Psych and Prozac the Wonder Dog

A lot of people think I'm crazy -- but what can I tell you? Looks are deceiving to all of these people, probably. Or maybe they're nuts, though they won't have the documentation that I do. First impressions are rarely flattering ones, you know? And they are rarely true impressions, because when you don't know someone and you're about to meet them for the first time -- a room can become electic with nervous energy. I mean ... the buildup is almost overwhelming. Before the person finally walks into the room and actually gets around to greeting you is almost overwhelming. Though I was not always this way, I must tell you. I used to be cocky, suave, charming, funny, clever, really. And popular with the ladies, whom I always felt sorry for. But those days are gone, or were gone, in 1973, two years after I graduated from high school. Weird way it happened, too, the way it reared its head. They're not gone as bad as they used to be, but I will never be the same. However, I've been like this for so long ... I guess I am the same, with more years like this than not. After the service. I'll never be that person again, though I would like to be ... just to see how I might have turned out. What I mean is I'm still sick, though I couldn't see it, involuntary denial ... but I'm just more philosophical about it now.

I've come to be aware that social situations don't bother other people like they bother me, or really used to bother me. When I was in high school, it used to be me looking at all the nerds who couldn't bring themselves to speak confidently, especially not to females, and thinking to myself ... you poor bastard ... you don't know what you're missing. Now I know. I was practically overbearing, most certainly obnoxious to some people at school, being as cocky and good-looking as I was. But even that was a mask ... that I didn't know I had, from childhood. I didn't know a lot of things about myself ... until I had to. Or couldn't live with my family if I didn't. Talk about a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turnaround. It would be interesting, if it wasn't so sad. Socially speaking ... I went from the penthouse to the poorhouse. And being drafted and injured on active duty, my head, did a number on my civilian career, too. And I had one -- I was quite successful; but I couldn't sustain it, I would have just gotten one boss broken in, when that boss would leave and another one would fill the void. I ran out of psychic energy. And finally I crashed and burned, but it wasn't all that unpleasant, actually. It was like eating ice cream, but so much of it so fast ... that you give yourself a headache. It was wonderland, really, and still is, when I discovered who I was and what I was, and what I had always been meant to be. Though, until only the third blue moon in November since 1906, which in my case was November 30, 2001, I was in a fog. In a dream. Dead, though still walking around. Going through the motions. Doing reality as it looked like it needed to be done, based on what everybody else was doing, but in the process not being myself, and freaking out when everyone realized it ... and it would send me packing ... and me and my wife and family deeper and deeper into debt ... though I was sure one day that I was gonna be somebody and be a good, super good provider.

Now I have a new mission, in addition to my original mission, hoping that I can somehow bring the two together. I have no choice. I will die trying. Firstly, I am offering myself to the Tri-State Police, Highway Patrol, county, whatever, you name it, with my gift, which must be put to good use. And, at the same time, I'm offering myself to clinical psychologists, paranormalists, fortune tellers, whatever, but mostly academia, to learn from me about the things which I see that I do not believe are manifestations of madness ... but really going on in another dimension.

And thirdly, there is the matter of this leather satchel and what's in it -- which I brought back from the land of the gods, where I used to believe I had contracted evil spirits, and may yet have, but I think the possession thing is more in our minds, which can cause things to become manifest physically. I think when we wrestle with sanity, which is all about guilt and fear, or when we are being tempted to do something that we shouldn't, but we need it ... I think all these messages come not from within, as we have been misled to believe, but they are beamed into our dimension, mental telepathy, quantum mechanics, entanglement, altering light to hide in a wrinkle right beside you, though you can't see it ... at least not if you're looking right at it. You have to learn to use your peripheral vision ... like a snake has.

... to be continued.