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Last night, after a day marked by perfectly despicable news on the extremely personal front — my psycho mother — I got the full monte in my sleep. The hag didn't show herself until the end, but it began the way it always does, with the sensation that someone is bounding down the hall and then landing in bed with me. This time it only startled me, didn't scare me. I realized I couldn't move at all, but it didn't matter because I knew already there was no looming injury by an intruder... just the impression of it.
I had to pee. So I left my body to go "pee", and when I came back my whole desk was gone. I'm like, "Oh, neat trick," not alarmed, and back in my body, only now my body is levitating an inch or so off my bed. As I realize this, not alarmed, I'm not levitating anymore, and, of course, back thinking I need to pee. So I go "pee" again, not realizing I'd just done this and this time isn't actually answering the imperative either, until I found I could only squeeze out a few drops, and then from the "toilet" I'm saying to the presence I know is there but can't see, "Silly me, I just did that," and returning to bed I see the desk is back and there's a hag with a church lady hairdo standing grayly in the middle of the room.
Clearly, she wants to scare me. From the start, that's the deal, scare nines, but I'm not scared. I "walk" right up to her. I grab her gnarled hands and ask her why her nails are like little needles, does she think this is more terrifying? She says something awful to me but I don't remember what it was. It did hark violence in me and she did not get belted across the room, as all assailants do in waking life, but tried to hit back. It was going to turn into a tussle and I was not into it, so I woke up all the way instead.
I [actually] got up to [actually] pee.
I didn't turn on any lights.
I came over to my computer and deleted the indefatigable spammers before getting back in bed.
And, no, really, I didn't need to make sure I was safe, no replays of slasher movie scenes going through my head. No, I wasn't shuddering from my ordeal. There was the bit of adrenalin from punching the hag but I lost interest in even that really fast.
Pfeh.
These sleep paralysis episodes aren't regular dreams. It's waaaay more of the character of waking consciousness than of sleeping consciousness. That's why I am always vexed to find myself still in bed after thinking I've already gotten up, sometimes multiple times, like five and more. It feels so actual I keep being surprised to find I'm not actually out of bed for a bunch of times. Sometimes it is only a complete loss of patience that pulls me out of it and back into this plane of existence.
You might think I feel exhausted this "morning" but I do not. I actually feel better today for having finally gotten some REM... riddled with idiocy as it was. I was looking for the image to link you to this bit from Joseph when one of them took me to the Wikipedia explication of this ninny phenomenon, and was going to tie this experience to what he's saying about the cosmological problem with these transhumanist urges that keep popping up all over the place.
You want a real cosmology. Don't you? Not a bound to meatspace one. Surely? Don't be an oaf! You fuckin' slave. Go to the beach! Or get up on a mountain! Find a power spot at least! Get your head out of your ass. Everything depends on it!
In 1970... on 4 July to be exact... I rode in my boyfriend's Austin Healy Sprite up to Seattle with him. I was going to stay with my great aunt and uncle for the week while he was getting the fishing boat ready to go to Alaska. He'd work in the day and we'd go out at night and he put me on a plane back home at the end of the week. On the way up, on I5, it was 105º in Redding at 9am. We had the top down and I was slumped down in my seat, sort of leaning over onto the gearshift area, drowsy and keeping my face out of the hot wind, Blind Faith blasting out of all four huge speakers squeezed into the Sprite with us. We were going about 115mph, trying to get to Grants Pass so we could get in the river before our skin boiled off. We did. We parked and walked fully clothed into the Rogue River. Steve threw his wallet over his shoulder and back into the car on the way in.
In 1972... not summer... December... I was with my high school sweetheart, someone who'd kind of overlapped with Steve, but not really, but sort of in the same time frame and so had been a problem of sorts... at Stinson Beach. The beach was deserted and I'd stripped off my clothes and run into the surf, despite how cold it was outside and how cold the water was. I love being naked in the surf and you don't get many chances for it. So Bruce stayed with my clothes on the dry sand and I ran into the surf. Before I got all the way out of the surf, standing there with the cold Pacific rolling in and out, coming up to about my knees, starting to shiver, I looked across the water to Bolinas, noticed the sky behind the silhouette of the Bolinas hills turning red... noticed everything turning red... thinking it odd that it was turning red because it's always turning blue when I go into this headspace... and... blip.
I was back in Steve's Sprite, slumped over to avoid the hot wind. Completely. Bodily. Gearshift. Blind Faith booming all around me. Hot wind. Feelings. Thoughts. EVERYTHING. Entire. Utterly. Geographical space. Temporal space. Eh-ver-ee-thing. There. For about thirty seconds, maybe a minute... before... again, cruelly, there I was, naked, shivering in the surf, staring at Bobo and Bruce was trudging toward me with my clothes.
You don't need any motherfucking chips. You don't need any motherfucking drugs. All that needs changing is your deluded headspace. You think that's silly. Wuwu. Or you think you're going to die if you do that. You are SO full of shit your eyes are brown.
And so is Wikipedia and the "experts" who contribute to it. There is a dimension of consciousness where gray malign-ish beings want you to be terrified. Do you think that grounding yourself with implants is going to let you get past them to the good part? Do you think that taking things in someone else's logical progression... 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10... a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z... i before e except after c... is going to let you out of this hell? Do you think that getting better at doing hell with ease is the ticket?
Are you crazy?
always and any time....
