All of a sudden! It all went away. Any hope of getting anywhere. Gone. Perhaps the body of a human is but a chrysalis? Something that wears thin. Does the caterpillar fear its own transition?
For some unexplained reason my old aging Lincoln Continental sedan was the only car parked in front of Sears completely covered with snow in the dead of night. It was contingent upon me to move it or risk having it towed. The fact that I was there to begin with subjected me to the vagaries of the unexpected. Some form of violence by parties unknown. Predators perhaps looking for just such a situation where a motorist is alone within the confines of a vehicle their perception of outside events interrupted by the thick covering of snow blocking vision. Transported almost instantaneously to the bed in my own apartment laying totally paralyzed beneath the covers unable to move. Trying again and again to roll out of it as if some impending harbinger of doom was approaching but frozen in place. Tugging and pulling at the sinews of my extremities tangled in covers that seemed to weigh a ton. but receiving no response. That was until I finally woke up and realized it was a dream. Now awake basking in an amazingly uncustomary degree of clarity in the recall of this experience as well as a building list of classic symptoms including night sweats and occasional shooting pains in the chests wondering how much more time in this material plane do I have?
What ever the drama of the night though I cannot recollect the narrative I live in the wake of that experience throughout the morning. Does it matter? I catch instantaneous glimpses in odd corners of the day.
I cannot surrender to a world that is a prison. Run by fools for the behalf of criminals. What happens when regular people realize that they based most of their lives on the lies that they have been told since childhood? Belief collapses and the population begins to hate everything that they once held dear. A sort of emptiness appears. Live a corpse without entrails. A cleaned fish. The only satisfaction possible being in returning to the myth and reliving it like a movie. A rerun of one’s life imprinted upon its context. That is a very angry was of being! There can be no worse jailer that someone who was formerly imprisoned by their victim. Who in this world knows more about someone ha has robbed them of their innermost self through debasing them. The ‘boreau‘ then becomes a form of recognition of an intimacy that is unsurpassed in relationships that have conventional boundaries. Producing pain in those circumstances becomes the most exquisite form of pleasure. To torment those who have tormented you without mercy becomes a high art. An ultimate high. That is the real danger of this sort of mental violence that is advised against in New Testament virtues. It has nothing to do without he misfortune of the victim of retribution but the addiction of the party initially offended by the transgressions of that person who they will later take great pleasure in debasing.
If that sounds more than vaguely familiar then consider that those who have remorselessly taken power again and again are cut from the cloth of these sorts of persons. People who have no connection or conscience for those whose lives they affect. People that after a while realize that they have become totally reviled for their efforts and now become ruthless and uncaring for the unintended consequences of their ministrations. Nazi’s and their much more terrible counterparts in Marxist revolutionaries who drive their ideologies through conventional society murdering and traumatizing rather than administering competent rule. The only offering being leveraging nightmares through hatred’s long evident and deep seated. Waiting like rabid animals for a chance to sink their teeth in deeply in the arm that beats them. At that point, any arm will do!