Social Accelerators (Part 2)

Reads: 105  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Second half of my story.

Submitted: October 18, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 18, 2011

A A A

A A A


It was during the drive to the CRC that the Big Moment happened.  You may have wondered by now that if this guy is a WA as he says, then how come no one noticed anything.  I will address this here.  I mentioned previously there exists a social fabric, sort of like the fabric of space-time.  The space-time fabric is affected by different celestial objects, but most notably by black holes, which warp it all the way down to the singularity.  Well I became a social singularity, completely warping the social fabric around me.  As the focal point of that warping, I was able to notice the changes in society that other people who weren’t the focal point were oblivious to.  It does sound convenient, but you don’t get to the level of body language I did without something bending.
 
Anyway, the Big Moment was a literal jolt to the nervous system.  I felt a pulsing sensation travel down then back up my spine.  Soon after came the second instance where I had no control over my body.  Somehow my left leg was tickled as a man drove past me on the left, whose passenger was holding up his phone and smiling out at me.  I bounced my leg up and down and words began flowing out of my mouth without me even thinking them, “Stop tickling me, I’m driving.,”  Other than that one man driving past, I was pretty much isolated during the time around the spinal sensation, which turned out to be extremely unfortunate for me.
 
When I arrived at my workplace, I parked a good distance down the road, and expected everyone to come out and greet me.  After a good 10 minutes with no one coming, I parked in the parking lot and stepped out of the car.  The first thing I noticed was that a bird flew low right over my head when it had all this space to fly around me.  Right after that a plane in the sky turned toward me.  Obviously, it had to turn to land at a nearby airport, but I contend just the fact that it turned toward me meant something.  Then I entered the CRC.
 
The security guard inside stared at me, tearing up at the eyes, and asked me for my Citi ID card.  He knew my social ability from interacting with me before, and seemed torn between letting me venture farther and doing his job, so I walked on before he could make a decision.  As I crossed between rows of desks and saw everyone intent on their computer monitors, I said, “No one’s talking.”  I couldn’t tell at the time if I was a glowing beacon for society or a sore thumb, but one thing was for sure:  I stuck out.
 
Keith was out for the day but his friend was at her desk.  She was the one person who made eye contact with me.  I thought, “It sure is quiet in here,” and she replied out loud, “I know.”  Strangely, it didn’t surprise me that she seemed to have just read my mind.  My body language should’ve elicited such a response, and she may have mistaken the look I gave her for one of incredulity at being fired, which the same response would have been appropriate.  In any case, my attention quickly shifted to the Vault entrance, where my supervisor and a security guard walked out.  The best word I can use to describe her steps is “programmed.”  She walked directly out, not looking at me, stopped, turned back to the Vault and walked toward the security guard who was just coming out, then made a bee line directly for me.  She seemed to have tried the perfect approach on me, but I had long since forgotten how to do that.  She said “Let’s go,” and I followed the guard with her behind me, expecting they had something glorious planned for me, like a news crew called to the spot.  I made fun of how the guard was walking by turning to my supervisor, nodding my head at the guard and marching like a drum major.  He turned around right at that moment and said “You trying to get me in trouble?”  When we reached the lobby, I sat in the chair, then my supervisor said “You need to leave,” with a look on her face that clearly showed she meant business.  I walked out of the CRC a little confused, and she followed me as I started to talk to Colby and his friend out by their truck.  I told her, “You’re getting good at that.”  She asked me, “Good at what?”  “Learning to control your body language.”  Again she said, “You need to go.”  Right before I entered my car I waved at her and gave a thumbs up.  She returned both gestures.  What a mixed bag of signals.  That was the last time I would (and hopefully will ever) see her.
 
A gorgeous day set into a beautiful night as I stopped for gas.  Of course, I still wanted to explore this odd new world, so I walked into the station and said “Hey” to the clerk.  He looked at me wide-eyed, then glanced at another customer and gestured with his head for him to come over.  After their transaction, he told me I needed to move my car.  So on to another gas station.
 
I realized I was a little short on cash and since I still wanted to see people’s interactive body language, I approached a man pumping intending to ask for a ten.  Same wide-eyed response as before with a loud and deliberate, “Look, you’re coming up to me and I don’t know you.  My daughter’s in the car and you’re making me feel uneasy.”  So I left him alone and entered the station, dancing very subtly to the store music.  The man came inside, and he and a small group of people including three older teens formed a circle, where he said, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but obviously there’s a problem.”  I thought, “Finally, something’s going to be done about me.”  The group broke off, and I walked outside, crossing the street not far behind the three teens.  They stopped and I caught up to them.  Meeting new people was absolutely no problem for me before the Big Moment, but now I was struggling.  The girl in the group seemed to have no qualms about showing her affection by hanging onto her boyfriend while I was around, leading me to believe they still sensed my social ability and respected my physical presence.  The third teen told me to stay there.
 
I sat on the grass outside the sidewalk and waited.  Getting famous was taking longer than I thought.  Finally two police cars arrived and I thought, “Now I’ll get to see some meaningful social interaction.”  Three cops talked to the teens low enough to where I couldn’t hear, then came over to me and asked me for my phone and the number to my parents’ home.  The officer with the phone walked off while the other two stood casually in a circle with me on the other side, with warm looks on their faces.  Still no one talking to me except brief utterances.  The female officer then started talking.  “You know, we talk about how to solve different problems in the world, like global warming.”  I said “Yeah?”  She said “Look over there.”  I looked to where she was pointing and saw a rabbit close by.  It seemed my magnetism was still working on animals, if not humans.  I said to the policemen, “You know, you guys do a good thing,” to which one officer replied, “Not me.  I’m just an old fart.”  The same officer and I later got into a discussion where he started to get upset with me and told me to lie on the ground.  He then walked away, and another officer spoke over the radio, and to this day I swear he mentioned the word “checkers” for some reason, as if he were joking with me.  I was growing frustrated and saw a guy walking past on the sidewalk, so I chased after him saying, “Hey!  I just changed the world!”  He turned back to me with a big grin on his face very briefly and at the moment he turned back around I was tackled straight to the ground with my hands held behind me.  The police opened the door to their car and asked if I would like to sit inside there and wait.  So I obliged before I realized that I wouldn’t be able to re-open the door from the inside.
 
My parents arrived and spoke with the officers.  I was getting bored so I started knocking rhythmically on the window and an officer reply-knocked on the back window, syncing up with me.  I followed his body language with my own as he circled the car and reached for the handle.  I reached forward with my hand and made an opening motion as he opened the door.  He said, “Striking a pose?” then abruptly shut the door.
 
Eventually I would be let out and I entered my parents’ car.  They were quiet and started driving off with no mention of where we were going.  My dad asked for my cell phone and mumbled out a question, “Will he be needing that anymore?”  We then arrived at St. Anthony’s Hospital.

The night was weird enough already, but the experience at St. Anthony’s took it to a whole other level.  The first thing I noticed was everyone in there looking at me.  My parents talked to the nurse on duty while I took a seat across from a man and thought to him, “I want to shake your hand.”  He said out loud to me, “Well are you going to do it already?”  So we shook hands.  That's another example of how our thoughts are written on our body language.

Soon a sick man on a hospital bed was wheeled into the entrance area.  The workers at the hospital seemed to invite me closer to the man, as if he wanted a better look at me, this novelty item in the world.  After I got so close the workers told me "That's too far," so I backed up and apologized.  A while later I saw the sick man with his eyes still fixed on me.  Right at that moment my dad walked right in my line of sight without looking my way, blocking my view of the man.  This is when I became aware of the phenomenon of using your body nonchalant to block a person's view of someone/something, or using your body and someone else's to frame somebody.  This is the first of three instances my dad blocked my view of someone and I became annoyed because I couldn't tell if he was conscious of what he was doing.  In any case, the sick man was wheeled out and a new hospital bed wheeled in, one that was empty.

I mentioned before that you should get your cell phone out ahead of time so a girl gets used to it by the time you get her number.  I began to get this sneaking suspicion that that was what was going on with the new hospital bed, a spot I would eventually be acclimated to but at the present moment I was too nervous and didn't want to go anywhere near it.  I wandered off in different directions but kept getting called back to the entrance room with the bed.  I could not for the life of me read the people around me and didn't know if they were going to just kill off the guy who did the most important thing the world had seen because he didn't fit in.  Fewer paths were available to me until just one:  onto the hospital bed.  I almost fell over on my own resisting but a bunch of people caught me.  I said, "I feel like you're trying to kill me," with a nervous laugh, then realized that was a stupid thing to say when the people around me just saved me from a hard fall.  So I finally hopped into the hospital bed.

A nurse must have sensed my nervousness as she walked to the head of the bed and held a reassuring face over mind.  Not smiling, just reassuring.  I realized my finger was already touching her arm by the time I saw her, either of my own volition or unconsciously, so I withdrew it.  I tilted my head to the left and someone said "Not that side again."  Then I looked up to the top of my head and another person asked "Hmm...what's up there?"  A male nurse mentioned the word "ecstasy" and he looked at me.  Now, he could have been saying, "Maybe he's on ecstasy," but the way he emphasized the single word and looked wide-eyed at me as he said it made me feel as if he just promised me ecstasy in the near future.  So the nervousness faded and excitement creeped in.  I knew my idea had profound implications for society, but I didn't know it would net me ecstasy.

They wheeled me into a room with a TV at the top of the wall opposite the bed.  The ecstasy nurse told me to take my pants off and I responded "You take your pants off."  He abruptly left the room, then an officer in the room said the same thing, so I obliged.  Afterward my parents took seats on the left side of the bed, and a nurse left a sample jar, asking for a urine sample.  No one pressed that I give that sample though, making it seem secondary to what was really going to happen in that room.

I tried leaving the room a couple of times.  The first time I followed my parents out and I was greeted right outside the door by a plethora of people flocking around the exit; everywhere I turned a new person would walk right up to me.  None of them seemed to mind being so close to my personal space.  It seemed to me my only choices were to learn to interact with these people or go back in the room.  The ecstasy nurse walked up and asked for my shoes.  I said "Here you go.  You can keep them as a souvenir."  He didn't laugh, but he did turn away immediately then walked off when I said that.  I called after him, pointing at him and saying "Awp, yeaaahh," amazed I could say something that would amuse such a tough crowd.  Before I shuffled back into the room I heard a nurse talking to my parents put a deliberate emphasis on the word "sarcasm," another word very near and dear to my heart, while exchanging a look with me.  That was the outside world I so wanted to join but was being blocked from.

The second time I tried leaving the room involved what I thought was a machine beeping outside the room in steady cadence.  It sure didn't seem out of place in a hospital and I noticed it shortly after reentering the room.  It produced two short beeps, but as I lay on the bed I noticed I could focus the two beeps into one.  I wondered if they were a symbolic representation of the two hemispheres of my brain.  I decided to check things out and no one blocked me this time as I walked out.  My mom stood back at the entrance to the room and called after me.  Then I heard the beeping float through the air right back over to her.  "Great," I thought.  "Even my hallucinations are telling me to get the hell back in the room."  So like a loyal little dog I re-entered the room a second time.

Now for the main event.  As I lay on the hospital bed I noticed I could, for lack of a better term, wind my brain from left to right.  With some effort, I cycled focus in a semicircle from the left side of my brain to the right side.  After the first cycle, I would start a new layer, again left to right.  The TV in the room showed cheering crowds at a football game, but I started thinking "What if they're cheering for me?  The individuals they focused on were looking directly into the camera."  After three or four cycles, I felt like I was peeling away from an old skin.  The TV stopped showing the football game and on a black screen showed me an arrow pointing right with a circle passing over it, left to right.  As if I hadn't gotten the picture already.  My dad moved from the chair on the left to rest on the floor to the right, so after each cycle I would end up at him.  The TV showed just a flashing circle, whatever that meant, and that was the last thing I remember before falling asleep for the first time in days.

My parents left sometime in the morning and when I woke a nurse drove me over to an outpatient center.  There a therapist evaluated me, saying a lot of negative things.  I noticed he was wearing my CRC ID card and I pointed it out, so he added "hallucinating" to his list of things wrong with me.  After he left I sat there wondering where I would go from here.  I wondered for how long would I be alienated and felt very much alone.  I didn't know at the time that my mind and the world had made an intimate connection, one that would sporadically persist for two months.

I walked out of the room after a long wait and entered the lobby, where I discovered a phone to use, presumably to call my parents.  The receptionist told me it was okay to use it, so I called my mom and asked her to pick me up.  I took a seat in the lobby and waited.

A man seated there was looking over at me, but I was too caught up in myself and ignored him.  Then he crossed one leg over the other and began wagging his foot around, the way people do when they're nervous, impatient, or bored.  I glanced at his foot, wondering when it was going to stop, and he started pointing his foot toward his head when he saw me looking at it.  I thought that was a neat enough trick to warrant my attention so I started a brief conversation with him where he talked about his son.  He didn't press the conversation, but did start wagging his foot around again when I stopped talking.  I turned my attention to a group of officers who just walked in and formed a circle just to the right of me, enjoying an exuberant group conversation.  Some of them made eye contact with me but none invited me to the talk.  Soon after my mom arrived and we left together.

We met up with my dad and stopped at his friend's house to install a peephole in his door.  My parents introduced me to the woman who owned the house and I said, "Hello.  I'm that one guy," at which she laughed.  My dad and mom stood outside and asked me to look through the peephole with the new lens.  I saw them and thought "Well if this isn't an obvious message that I should focus on my parents..."

Later that night I found I was able to wind my brain again.  I joined my parents in the family room where they were watching the swimming Olympics.  Two announcers seemed to be making fun of a swimmer's baldness.  Looking back, I can't tell if I completely hallucinated the announcers or if it was just a new way of looking at something that was already there, but they were the two funniest people I listened to in my life, I laughed that hard.  Maybe someone can confirm or refute this actually happening, but I remember them showcasing a swimmer's stats on a black screen with "It's My Life" playing in the background and the song title in bold letters at the top of the screen, as if they were making fun of the swimmer for spending his life practicing swimming.

During the swim I heard the announcers mentioning "one final test" as I was winding my brain.  I pointed at the green world record line and it followed my finger in front of the top swimmers then to the back of them.  I know from looking it up on Youtube afterward that no such thing happened.  Then I lost control of my body for the third time down the final stretch as I stood up and began cutting through the air with my arms as if I was swimming, syncing up with the American as he caught and passed the lead man just as the race finished.  I could feel the resistance in the air.  Of course this alarmed my parents, so I walked downstairs and watched a different program on nature.  The narrator hit me hard with the phrase, "And so the creature becomes another anonymous member to contribute to the larger community."  I went to sleep on that.

I didn't quite wake up in the morning.  All I can remember were these fits of consciousness.  My sister makes eye contact as I was coming out of the bathroom and immediately walks off, like I did with my dad.  Black out.  My parents try to get me out to the car by coming up behind me, touching the front of their knees to the back of mine and walking forward, forcing me to bend and walk forward with them.  I yell to the neighbor "They're making me do something I don't want!"  Blackout.  We're at a building in the city and I walk to a corner to take a piss on the world for what it was doing to me  My parents stop me.  Blackout.  Now I'm in a waiting room and I walk up to the TV to see if the people on there were responsive to me.  I'm called out so a woman can ask me questions and she seems to get impatient with me.  Blackout.  I'm on a bed in restraints, not knowing why, just that I'm conscious for the punishment of something I don't remember.  Blackout.  I'm sitting at a table with a doctor and nurses, and they seem to be beating around a subject.  Finally one of them asks, "Do yo believe in God, Chard?" and I answer "No."  Blackout.  Nurses are sticking me with needles.  Blackout.  A nurse cheers me on as I dance to some music while walking to a room.  Blackout.

My first memory after regaining consciousness for good was of a guy who looked like an old manager of mine who told me this was a place where people with qualifications help people with mental illnesses.  He said "Think you belong here?  Yeah, you belong here."  He left unsaid whether I belonged to the former or latter.  Then a mentally handicapped guy named Jack who had been rocking back and forth came up to me and stuck out his hand.  I gripped it and we shook, me grasping a crushed hand afterward.  He was a strong little fellow.

I regret not immediately asking for tests of ESP during my early days at the Metropolitan Psychiatric Center (MPC).  I found that the world was more responsive to my mind than just random chance.  I soon began this countdown thing where I would tell the world to do something in 5,4,3,2,1... For example, during a UFC fight I told the competitors to kick each other at the same time in 5 seconds, and sure enough they did.  Or flash something red on the TV, or say a particular word.  There were all kinds of things responding to my mind during that time, not the least of which was alienating people.  I would say that if anything could be noticed from this time from what I did, it was people's speeches being interrupted and being alienated on CNN, the channel that was on in the mornings at MPC.  I justified it by thinking that none of these people have something more important to say than I do.

I met Allie as I walked out of my room consciously for the first time.  She asked me "How's it going?" while everyone else behind the nurse's desk froze, sort of emphasizing her to me.  As an attractive woman, I thought I would get her to approach me by getting everyone to alienate her except me.  So as I was doing laps in the hallway I let the thought drift out there to alienate her until she approached me.  I saw two nurses standing with their hands on their hips and backs turned to Allie while she was grabbing something off the printer.  She then walked right up to me.  Score!

I began looking at things as having three different interpretations:  a surface interpretation, a dirty interpretation, and a meaningful interpretation.  My mom (this happened later, after MPC) set a lamp in my room and said, "The more you touch it, the brighter it gets."  Surface:  the lamp grows bright when you touch it.  Dirty:  genitalia become engorged the more you touch them.  Meaningful:  people become happier if more people touch their arm or shoulder.  My doctor at MPC would keep asking me if I was cheeking my meds, and in the world of those two swimming announcers that meant I wasn't getting laid.  My doctor's name was "Nguyen," as in "when" is this kid getting laid; my medication was "Haldol," as in "how it all" happened.

Tension began to grow between me and a nurse named Patricia, and not the good kind.  She kept laughing as she tried to put a blood pressure cuff on me; every time she touched me she got the giggles.  Then out of the blue she became angry with me.  Later she took me to wash my clothes, telling me impatiently to "Put it in there."  I really pissed her off once when I went to a drug counseling session when I wasn't on drugs.  She said, "I'm not even talking to you."  I responded "Do you have a grappling hook?" and she started to walk off.  I finished the thought by saying, "I feel there is a wall between us and would like to grappling hook over it."  We would reconcile by the time I left MPC.

The woman who let me go to the drug counseling session was named Betty.  I thought she was an average-looking middle-aged woman, a thought reiterated when she took me to wash my clothes and said "Just medium, huh?" about the load for her and about her for me.  In the early-going she was very flirtatious with me.  I thought "You're too old for me," and instantly she repeated the thought back to me, "I'm too old for you, Chard."  Well, thanks for agreeing with me.

My family visited me everyday.  They actually mentioned ESP once when my sister, her boyfriend and I grabbed some cards, paper, and nonlethal crayons to play "Pass the Trash."  Her boyfriend told her to pass him that joker she just gave up while it was still face down.  It was indeed a joker and she said, "You must have ESP or something."  Again I heard the acronym when an announcer during a football game mentioned the channel ESPNU, but he put a deliberate pause between the P and the N, making it sound like ESP and you.

It was mainly my parents that visited.  My dad would bring in peanuts and the patients were getting used to it.  Will, a high-functioning patient, was standing close to me during a conversation and I thought, "Isn't this a little gay how close we're standing?"  He then said "Want some peanuts?" when he didn't even have any on hand.  There could be only one meaning there and I had no choice but to crack up at that.  Just then another patient named Max started yelling at the staff, calling them niggers then storming off to his room.  Not too long after Max joined me, Will, and my dad at the table in the common room.  I was only talking to my dad at the time and it was the first time I mentioned I did the most important thing the world's ever seen, crossing the body language threshold.  Will and Max hopped right into the conversation, switching back and forth between downtalking and uptalking me, trying to praise me and convince me I hadn't done anything important at the same time.  I looked at my dad and he pointed back at them, letting me know I should be listening, either because what they were saying was important or because they would eventually defer to me if I spent my whole time listening.  Max brought up a point telling me to compare what I did to what Martin Luther King Jr. did, a point I would have taken more seriously from him if he didn't just use a derogatory term on the black workers there.  I said this was all just a joke to my dad, who quickly looked off into space when I glanced over at him.

This theme that my dad was respected by the world that started when he rested to the right of my hospital bed continued long and strong.  A woman on the phone who didn't even know my dad said, "So you're becoming a clone of your father, huh?" after I mentioned I had something to do.  My mom mentioned that she believes "there is a Father who watches over us," emphasizing the word "Father."  When she said it again, I pushed the point that by "Father" she meant Dad, which she conceded, something she would never do at any other time.  At a later time at my friend's apartment I helped him load a kid's seat in the back of his car and his brother walked up and said, "You just reminded me of your dad, Chard."  So weird to say that when he had never met my father.

One of my fondest memories during that time was again a volleyball tournament, this one at MPC pitting the different wards against each other.  Instead of mud, we played with sheets and water balloons.  After I walked into the courtyard I could see people reacting to me.  One guy told me "So you get a lot of girls coming after you, huh?"
Four groups of people were there:  one group in a corner, one group to the left of me, two groups playing.  And there was me, just sitting alone on the sideline.  One patient couldn't take it anymore and he walked up to me and sternly asked, "What are you doing?"  A nurse looked at me and smiled then turned to him saying "It's okay.  Just leave him alone."  During the game, a balloon splashed near Allie, and I told her "Allie, you just got wet."  She then asked me if I wanted to go in, and I told her I would just sit on the sidelines.  She asked, "So you see it as more of a spectator sport huh?"  I laughed at that and said, "I can go in there anytime I want," and walked off.  She called after me saying "Yes, you can," looking almost confused that she was playing into a little double entendre word game with me.  After the game I stood up on a bench and a nurse told me to get down.  I asked, "Am I too high?" and as Allie was passing she muttered, "You're way too high."

That night I lay awake in my bed, feeling the nerves in my body tingle randomly at first, like a stormy nervous system.  Nothing new there, I've been feeling tingling sensations since I was born.  They then became localized around specific organs: my kidneys, liver, and to top it off, they pulsed around my heart.  I fell asleep for a short time and woke very early in the morning.  I waved to the nurses behind the desk, not realizing they were sleeping, but a man down the hallway did wave back.  I started doing laps in the hall again and each time I passed the man the progression would be he would make eye contact, then smile, then chuckle a little and nod his head back as I passed him.  He did this every time, so I introduced myself to him.  The next lap I thought to him "If you can read my mind, say my name."  He said "Chard," but then followed it up with "can you throw away this piece of trash for me?"

Later in the day, I walked up to a nurse and asked her, "How do we learn?"  She answered matter-of-fact "By listening to other people."  She then walked over to another nurse and talked to her.  I noticed that they were framing Jack, who was rocking back and forth, as usual.  This was the first time, though, that I thought, "It sure looks like Jack is giving a random guy a blowjob."  There were all kinds of reminders of sexual things inside and outside MPC.  An orange sprayed juice all over me as I peeled it.  A woman stuck a long mop into the interior of a light indentation, rubbing it around the outside.  People bent over with their backsides to me all the time.  The TV would show people with their mouths opened wide.  After MPC, I wasn't feeling amicable to my dad after we had brought some wood home in the truck, so I thought to him "You can blow me."  He walked right up to me after that thought and asked, "Are you ready to unload the wood?"

I got into trouble quite a few times at MPC.  Being like a dog was a constant theme.  My dad asked me to go get a National Geographic magazine which featured a dog on the cover, basically a very ironic statement that I should go fetch something.  Once, when the staff was treating me like a dog, I walked away and then mooned the whole lot of them.  A nurse started walking forward with mouth opened wide either in surprise or to service me.  I was sent to the isolation room after that.  A cute nurse named Denise came in after a short while with a sedative and I lay there submissive yet imploring her to talk about this with me first.  She asked, "What are you doing Chard?  You know better than to act like this."  I couldn't tell if she was talking about my mooning the staff or my being submissive at that moment; maybe both.  It's just an entire world of hidden meanings and double and triple entendres that I hadn't noticed until after my night at St. Anthony's.

I stayed a couple of times at MPC for a grand total of about three weeks.  After leaving it for the final time, a drum was beating loud and clear when my parents and I arrived at the parking lot.  I thought, "Good way to announce my arrival in the world."  When we got home my dad said "Well I bet Lady (our dog) missed you a lot."  Maybe he knew something because when I got in she started whining and rubbing her head all against my legs.  I've been away from home for longer times and she never responded that way to me.

My dad and I went to go work on breaking down my car, but to get to it he had to drive through someone's yard, and he asked me if I thought it was okay he did so.  I said yes, and after we got out of the car the owner of that property came out and greeted us and asked us kindly if we wouldn't do that again.  My dad walked deliberately into my viewpath of the man.  Then we got to work on my car, taking out the screws of the doors.  I thought "Why are we messing around with my car when I should be getting my story out there?"  My dad then mentioned "Screwing around" when I had trouble getting a screw loose.  I responded, "Screwing around?"  and he said, "Now look, I don't want to have this talk with you.  You're in a lot of trouble."

Two of my friends came to visit me that night.  I had locked myself in my room saying I wouldn't come out until a news crew came to see me, and one of them put a candy bar in the space between the door and the floor and said "Look, I'm fishing for Chard.  Remember when we fished for our dogs with treats?  Well this is Chard-fishing."  When he pulled the candy bar back he said "Now I'm pulling it back; it's having an adverse effect on Chard," as if he had knowledge of the push-pull social dynamic.  I finally got out of my room and greeted them right outside the front door.  Caleb said, "You know, news crews only cover something if it's important, they don't have time to chase down every story."  Just then a light flickered on behind me and he said "Awp, I wonder what that means."  We then took a walk down the rocky road, where a bunch of cars were passing by.  Caleb asked, "What's with all these cars passing by?" as if he knew something was going on with me.  It seemed to me he had more knowledge of what was going on than he was letting on, either that or the world was just using him to send me messages that he was unaware of.

The messages would continue for a couple of months, slowly dying off.  Of course, I regret not doing more with the time and pushing matters so people could see that there is a world of perfect body language out there that can exist one day.  Instead I spent the time entertaining myself with what was happening around me.  One moment stuck out to me in particular:  at Altenheim where my grandma was staying, a bird looked barely on the edge of life lying on the ground.  My uncle walked up to it and it fluttered off as he sort of raised it up with his finger.  This was obvious:  a youthful touch is rejuvenating to the old and dying.  I know it seems like years off before we can live forever, but I say if someone can make this thing stick, it could happen sooner than you think.  I believe our bodies will start responding to our conscious thought.  So now my turn was up and I would have to wait for the next world accelerator to arrive and hope he catches his moment on video.  End of story, right?

Maybe not.  In November 2009, I started having these special dreams.  One theme they have been consistent on is all of a sudden during them body languages would sync up.  They are the most wonderful, sometimes very scary dreams I have ever had.  They paint landscapes that no artist could capture; one place my dreams know I'm fond of that crops up is a stone complex set high above a forest in an island with all sorts of waterfalls around it.  I always reach this giant hallway with windows for walls so you can look out on the island.  I walk down it and usually the dream will end right there.  Ever wonder what it's like to fall into a black hole?  Well that's one way my dreams have been nullifying my fear response; now, there's not much they can do to scare me.  I can ask my dreams questions sometimes but unfortunately I don't remember the answers, or sometimes they're nonsensical.  The reason for trying to scare me, according to one dream, is that otherwise the synapses in my spinal cord will close up.  I have no idea if this is true or not.  Light and darkness have been a theme in my dreams.  A couple of times my nerves have pulsed to the tune of music.  The best part, though, is the ecstasy.  I'm not talking about some sort of mystical ecstasy anyone can claim to have achieved; I'm talking about hardline true ecstasy.  There are four kinds: regular ecstasy, rollercoaster ecstasy which is accompanied by me falling through a tunnel or riding a rollercoaster (doesn't happen too often and is a real rush), buzzing ecstasy, and my favorite, liquid ecstasy, which feels like a euphoric liquid spreads out from the center of my brain to the outer regions.  I would love to be hooked up to an EEG to see what's going on with my brain while I sleep.  If anyone knows someone in the St. Louis area who does dream studies or works with an EEG, shoot me an e-mail at crystallizingshard@yahoo.com, I'm willing to take a lie detector test to prove I have been achieving ecstasy in my sleep.  Also if you have any questions about my story you can e-mail me.  Thanks for taking the time to read this.


© Copyright 2017 Chard. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: