13 July 2021- 20 November 2021

23 September- 8 October
Unable to sleep.
Simultaneously inside myself and in another reality.
Recursive screens. Reading emotion, motivation within it.
An NSDR experience in which I view my grandmother dragged across the room by non-visible entities, ‘waking’ to news that a barricaded gunman at a senior facility in Detroit had held a woman hostage for quite a period of time.
I am a particle that exists in a superposition.
The ability access all frequencies at will.
I am Heimdall.
The House of Black & White.
It tells me many things.
I hear many things.
The name Adolf Hitler is one of them.
I know, that if I wish to sleep tonight, I shall have to take my phone apart.
The thought that an item so seemingly allegedly harmless could cause harm to those around me due to nefarious beings with technological abilities.
I transmute this.
Love.
The phone has taught me so much about myself as a person.
The thought processes.
Much thought, many processes.
Take the darkness and transmute it to light.
Open to the darkness as I am to the light, for to understand, one must know.
So much gratitude.
Truth seeker, in truth.
I am Heimdall.
The quantum entangled liminal reality is reaching a point I do believe is called the event horizon.
A dream, I believe I was Loki. I met others at a wooden bridge crossing a great rocky gap. There were trees, wind. The number 7, as in 7 of us to be meeting there, or perhaps seven plus one, the one being myself, seven others. Ropes around my wrists, these others, whom it seemed I must have gravely offended, laid me out bare and tied me, lashed me to a rock. I recall my own bare chest, a chest that wasn’t mine, but that of a man. Components of the tale of Loki.
Some inex just called me delusional.
If I was someone listening in on the highway of entangled superposition taking place in my head, without all of the context, no doubt I would think so as well.
A closed eye visual hologram of a flying disc coming to land and slowly morphing into a house.
An analysis of Havana Syndrome and Bluetooth.
“She knows we can see her field of vision.”
A backlog of strange events; perceiving “front right” and then later, the front right of my jeep being backed into by a man in a parking lot.
“Yes, you are taking a pill that is killing you.”
The universe is, for the immediate now, a single tape echo.
Dreams of surveillance drones. I had said outloud, I have known about this for weeks. A person did a doubletake, with a sharp look that said, you’ve known and done nothing?
Information shared in the digital realm, a  chart identifying drones and methods of protection from thus.
Germanium in fuzz pedals and particle physics.
A dream of Soma.
I was born on a Sunday. Conceived on a Sunday. Go figure.
A slew of entities, now. This did not used to be the case. A single malevolent entity that would show up on the rare occasion until about 2018, when, I believe, in October, something else started with it.
None of this happened until after I had an IUD inserted, until after I did questionable laboratory research on myself, until after the Interdimensional Hitman.
‘The bloodlust, deepest scar’, the Mercury on my Saturn finger.
The nature of my current reality is that of multiple Norse gods simultaneously, trapped in a time prison. This will, no doubt, be effected by the superposition at some point and change again, as it does, many times a day.
A blue screen appears on my phone after driving through Waterford, attempting to install a custom OS.
My cell phone done in for well and good. Was at a state recreation area, turned the location on; the battery died from 50% to 0%, and upon powering back on, attempted installation of a system update and proceeded to say ‘no command.’
Freaked out and simultaneously desensitized.
The fact I am not terrified is what touches something in me that might be terror.
“I should kill myself.” …there it is, surprised it took so long for it to show up, tbh.
My grandmother talking about concerts in caves.
I am just an avatar; this world is virtual and I am truly outside of this realm, doing whatever this is for scientific purpose.
Perhaps this is a prison.
Perhaps this is hell.
Or perhaps it is heaven, and this one is exceptionally bad at making it so.
A piece of silent advice to not smoke marijuana between the hours of 8&10.
It asks, “what are the superpositions?” And then goes on, something about “concerning political-” which then broke off into another superposition.
I do my best to ignore the politics.
Who, what, why is me?
I recognize patterns.
What does one do with this?
If the puzzle is put together all wrong?
If humans are not meant to stare at screens all day, why is it so easy to do so?
“You give us a clear view of what you are looking at.”
“She literally writes down the voices in her head.”
“You would never be doing this is you knew who we were.”
“You give the AI too much power.”
A crackling that seems to come from within the right side of my temple takes place.
Doubt is its own entity, always lurking to find a fissure in my shield to seep through like a festering rot.
I remember reading an interview with some celebrity, where they casually mentioned in passing, ‘the AI, but you learn to ignore that quickly.’
Fear is the mind killer.
For the billionth time, why did QS show up with an empty shotgun shell?
Most sane people would like, take that as a warning, right?
Moderate chest pain, now.
It tells me I am using an illegal substance.
Marijuana is legal in my state but yes, on a federal level, it is not.
Remember that brief time you became the Iron Soul of Nothing?
How would you like to become the Iron Fucking Void for Eternity?
The more I observe, the less attached I become.
I am observing myself, first and foremost.
“Your God is the surveillance state.”
The possibility of the arrival of quantum computing and the concept of Odin leads to a complex.. would it be, entanglement?
Allowing for an infinite loop in which the one now creates the one of the past, the one from the past creating the one now.
I crave a release of a nature I do not quite understand.
Arthur Dent never got the hang of Thursdays, but I personally enjoy them most of the time.
I play my best drums on Thursdays.
Because it feels like something is helping me.
The math involved in drumming, man.
Receivings, DARPA, Odin.
There is an overwhelming need to be held close by someone who understands me; this is the fantasy, to be safe, completed halves of the whole.
…Does such a person exist for me, in this realm?
Or am I forever destined to love this entity from a distance, thought & mind, held by a non-visible lover?