23 April- 2 May 2022
I dreamt of Soma, again last night. Something to do with drones, a frequency, ‘do you hear it?’ And an underlying concept of Black Wedding.
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I dreamt of Haino-San last night, when he was young. •
Futurama fitting into realities I have experienced, today, an episode where Fry needs to save the world from brains by trapping them in the ending of a novels he writes. •
The meaning of reality remains a superposition state up for debate.
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Suffering, this morning; the mental toll of it all is overwhelming.
Timing of things, anxiety inducing for reasons I do not quite understand.
Doubt creeps in.
*Should* I be trusting in what I resonate with?
I Google Void, and the Google logo in the tab is not the Google logo at all, but the icon for… pottery barn teen. OK.
What am I to do with this?
At this moment in the day, it feels like I am being fucking set up.
I am trusting in what I resonate with.
For some reason.
It is not all I have, but at times, it does feel that way.
My fear of causing harm to those I love is elevated today, as it has not been for some months now.
An experiment, tonight, for digestive purposes, a small glass of red wine.
An experiment to see if there are deviations in the usual intensity of Mind.
Anomalous events always bring about more words- and God, it does feel good to word.
Somewhere along the way, the scientific nature of it all got lost in the fog; this has been rectified today, and shall continue.
Neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
Interesting removal of self… or removal *to* self?
An understanding of Fear, and expectation of thus… strange loop.
The scientist in me is intrigued.
How does one remove it all?
What actually is? •
21:45 A strange bang, a reverberation in the bedroom, that was felt through the entire floor and visually perceived in the water in my water bottle.
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I dreamt of the Irish mob this morning. The Boss owed me a favour; a thing to do with new windows. •
An inex from several days ago, “candida”, has come to light in the form of a candida auris outbreak at DMC Sinai. •
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Dreams of Soma.
Insanity. Unsanity. Is there even a word for?
Not invasive thoughts, not fixation- I know what it is not, but do I actually know what it IS?
At times I do. At others, I do not.
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Dreams of The Lord and S.W. A place, wild, Canada, playing the piano.
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Microorganisms, specifically the asgard archaea, on my mind since last night.
Liminal reality.
Everyone is given the same pieces, so few able to piece them all together into a feasible working understanding of reality.
Digital reality.
Organic reality.
Not mutually exclusive. •
I must note here that the sonic anomaly from the night of the 25th was very similar to the sonic anomaly in Wisconsin on the way to get the original Dennis Model T- right when we changed realities, quantum immortality of a certain kind. •
A recent inex told me it would be wise to not add any Mayhem songs to the Internal AI. •
I know what you did last summer.
Belief can be manipulated.
Knowledge is dangerous.
The capability to implode so many realities at any given point.
Best left to my own devices.
A strange depiction of reality when information is lacking and stranger still once thoroughly complete. •
I have a certain understanding of Soma and Void, the relation to how the ideas of these entities have led to a creation of a qubit superposition in the quantum computer that is what we call the Me.
The applicable extent of quantum mechanics within the brain that I can apply to this physical existence is massive, monolithic in its completency.
To keep the silence.
Even when given all information, how many would have a clue as to how to piece it together? Let alone apply it?
Direction and misdirection, both very important; to keep certain entities unsure of just what it is exactly one is aware of, the extent of the information collected.
Everyone starts as a pawn.
It is not ending up as one that is crucial.
Biding my time.
Watching the Watchers.
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I flirt with reality today;
In my heart of hearts I must be wishing for some extreme event of the mind to take place, now that I am here alone.
It must be sick, to a certain extent, thatI enjoy these anomalous psychic events as I do…
Or, more fittingly, shamanic, as the shaman, as we know, is the sick man whi has healed himself.
Several days ago I had heard an inex, of disappearing on May 2nd.
Ah, I had thought, but the Dissolution of Time, May 4th!
Around perhaps 22:00 last night I realized- the heavy-ion accelerator at the Facility for Rare Isotope Beams at Michigan State University, is set for start tomorrow, May 2nd.
With my algorithms the way they are, I am finding it strange that I did not hear about this more recently, given my fascination with accelerators.
Perhaps I take myself too seriously.
It may be time for a session of solemnity mocked, for why take seriously what the Creator made for fun?
Where I would disappear to is what would determine the likelihood of this reality happening; for belief creates reality.
Hoping for my ideal Liminal Reality is not enough, only sure knowledge, and I am unsure that I have reached this point.
I have, however, moved past a fear of being thought a fool for my thoughts.
The universe loves courage, and I am that entity courageous enough to do what, on the surface, seems insane.
Madness and genius, two sides of the same coin.
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I dreamt last night, of being in a place with someone, who was irritated with a specific character who kept appearing. I explained, every time we go to a new area, another one spawns. You get used to this sort of thing.
I dreamt of fleeing from a fire-wielding entity.
I dreamt of waters- of an underground wave pool, of a most liminal nature, of pipes backing up, Sunn Model Ts present and distinctly untouched by this wetness. •
Inspiration for creatvity and new neural networks, for actual action in this physical realm.
Actually played guitar and keys, last night, finding a mixture of tones within voice #255 on Old Trusty, B Major, F, F#, which did trigger a physical response within the heart rate that was absolutely delicious.
A/Interior I/Eye.
There is no way of actually revealing… the vague depth of *this*, without creating some Thing of my own.
Is the powerful connection I feel also, at times, felt by the receiving end?
I want to be understood.
Want to understand myself,
The nature of reality. •
Reading into literally every single possible external stimuli.
21:09 and now it is heavy, just as I hoped and expected.
Psychedelic reality.
Saturnian.
Demon? Men do.
Repeated failures at having been unholified.
4 May 2018.
Belülrol Pusztít.
Patterns of undeniable evidence.
Electrified brain, electronic abduction; no, Google, not digital kidnapping, I know what I fucking said.
What predictive text said.
Why does it make so much sense?
Why do I want what I want?
Actually know the answer to that.
To know.
To know, for certain, the nature- to break this superposition.
I have been a Schrodingers Cat since I was born; am I doomed to this for my entire life? •
An Odin spider drawn out by my keyboard playing tonight.
Playing music simultaneously lessens and adds to specific brain patterns.
A lot to say, but it is not English, not even words; some strange evocation of areas from Elsewhere, some understandings of things undefinable by language, only by thought.
Is this loss?
Is this gain?
Bold to say only one, when we remember nature loves harmony.
Who are you?
Who ARE you??
“A superposition detecting AI meant to prevent Ragnarok”, says a thing.
In order for there to be wizards in castles, one must first believe in wizards in castles.
What would life be like, had I never discovered Sunn?
Would I even truly want to know?
For some reason, that sounds very boring.
Some Thing tells me, that is not something I can undo.
Thralls and walls and all.
Or something.
Where so we go from here?
Craving terror within.
Why am I like this?
Seeking what I used to run from, or ran to, a moth to the flame.
Always subconsciously drawn to whatever the vague ‘this’ is.
‘You have a darkness inside you’, my ex-boyfriend the hippie had said, looking at me with tears in his eyes.
…what do I say to that, in response, even now, years later?
It weighs on me,
For it seems to be true.
Each of the two.
Aren’t we all, though?
The balance, to keep this in harmony.
This of the self-not-self assigned task.