Just some things...

[Kol]

Our third date saw my first kiss, and was nearly the end of my life when I realized there was no gate blocking the flightline.

Since it was intentionally difficult to find a place to be alone on base, we had to sneak out to the golf course at night to get away from everyone. We sat on a park bench facing each other, and Heather suggested we play a game. Her idea of a game was that we should lock eyes. I remember raising my watch up to her face so that I could see how close we were to curfew. Soon of course, I forgot about curfew and found myself moving towards her, with my hands running through her hair of their own accord.

We tried to find a place to lay down, but the only area was in the open. We walked to it, but the grass was wet, so we settled back onto the bench. Moments later we realized the flightline was less than a few feet away as a C-130 landed, sending us both completely deaf.

I wonder now if that was a warning.

I still kept all my briefings and meetings, still kept in touch with the Sgts, and still did well in my school. I called my base in DC and talked to one of the Sgts there. And things continued on as normal.

 

[Kol]

Since it was so hard to find a place to hang out on base, we ended up going into town each and every weekend. We had subs and went to the mall, walked along the beach, and saw The Titanic when it came out. Neither one of us was allowed to have a car, and I remember paying $50 one way for a taxi fare to a museum.

More and more all we did was find a place to hide and make out. There were plenty of hidden places, underneath the pier at the beach being one of the better ones. We would take the bus into town early in the morning, go to the mall for a while or walk through Toys R Us, then head to the beach for the rest of the day, basically for heavy make out sessions. I believe the longest single kiss was a little over three hours.

What a way to spend your day.

So of course, school began to see less and less time for studying. My Sgts noticed this, and one of them (Toncry) made sure I knew she thought my girlfriend was 'wrong' for me. But of course I didn't listen one bit.

The girls in my flight (that I marched) found out (as did everyone) where I prefered to spend my time, and picked on me whenever they could. The sound of the entire secretary pool going "awww" is tantamount to fingernails on a chalkboard at 4:30 in the morning.

I began to have serious problems in school, because I hadn't studied, nor did I understand, the material. The career field had a 75% washout rate, which meant that only 25% of the people who tried to make it did. I began to think I wasn't one of those 25%. But had I been trying, this would have been different.

Meanwhile, my time with this girl crossed the line and the making out became plainly sexual.

 

[K9Guardian]

I'm going back to scool after screwing it all up over a girl.

And here's a trick... If girls go "awww", smirk and act like they are complimenting you. If they glare at you, smile.

ou went from a lowlife to a guy commanding troops...

 

[Kol]

I'm going back to scool after screwing it all up over a girl.

...But it wasn't screwing things up that I'm getting at.

On March 7 of 1998, my curfew was at 9pm, because I had a test the next day. It was Sunday, and we'd had to clean our dorms that day. I stuck around for the duration of the chores, then slipped away to be with Heather. This had to have been close to 7 or 7:30.

It was raining that night..it was *always* raining in Mississippi. The two of us scurried around on base, unable to leave and unable to find a place to hide. We crossed behind the Personel building on base, where all the records were kept, and came across a gazebo behind the building, hidden by a few trees.

Meanwhile, across base and back at the squadron, the guards assigned to the male and female dorms had just changed shifts, at 8pm.

Since it was raining, it made things that much harder to see, and we figured we had found a good place all to ourselves.

And so you can imagine where this began to go.

It had taken about half an hour to walk clear across base to find our hidden corner, and by the time 9pm curfew rolled around, neither one of us had any idea of it.

Sgt Toncry was on duty back at the squadron. It was mandatory that bed checks be done every night, and my Yellow Rope was just about to make the surprising discovery that I wasn't there.

9pm that Sunday night, Heather was completely nude and I was laying kisses across her body as I scrambled for a condom, trying to do three things at once. This would be the first time we'd managed to find a place to actually have sex. Sinful, and of the fallen nature, but completely normal.

It started to pour down rain, and (I can still see this so clearly in my mind) I remember Heather shaking a little from the cold. A car went by, and we hid for a second until the headlights went by. About to have sex in a public place, having forgotten evidently all about college and my faith, but still, completely in the norm for just another human being.

At 19 and with my first real girlfriend, I really had no idea what I was doing. Unfortunately, that has never in the history of humankind stopped a man before. I was happy for a moment just to absorb it all and take it all in before I actually ..whatever. Since I was the tiniest bit unsure of myself, I decided to just let everything run on instinct.

I know this isn't polite conversation and I *apologize*, but there is a reason for detailing things like this.

I found I had the desire to pin her arms to her side, and so I did. I had her leaning up against the side of the gazebo just a little, and I fussed at her to keep her eyes open, although she complained she couldn't. This seemed to make me unnecessarily irritated, and beyond that there was something else, but I couldn't place what. I pushed her legs up a bit more, placed myself in a better position, and shifted myself to slide into her body. I was about as close to actually being inside of her as you can get. And as I looked up to her, I began to slide myself into her.

*

*

*

*

And absolutely EVERYTHING went wrong.

I seemed to be in two places at once. I was on top of this girl, looking up at her, but I was also just behind myself, watching things from a few breaths away. Some part of me was *terrified*. Not of "losing my virginity" or even of being a disobedient Christian or a backslider. This was a fear beyond death.

There was a veil, a curtain over everything, over every single thing in the world. The trees had a curtain, the grass had a curtain, the rain and the sky and the moon, they all had a thin covering over them. There was some kind of life or shine coming from them, but it was all covered up and I could barely see anything was there at all.

There was a veil over myself as well, and it kept me from seeing anything in front of me for what it really was. There was an eye in the center of my forehead, and it was about a single slit away from becoming completely closed. Once that closed I knew I would be blind, and then I would lay down and die, because that's what I was meant to do.

There was a film over my physical eyes, and not over them but over the remains of what had been Adam's spiritual side. This film had begun to dissolve, as if acid had been poured into the center of them, and looking through them, everything looked completely different. It made me feel different, and it was a trap because everything seen through those eyes was a false image with no real basis but the fallen nature.

There was a trap laid by what I was about to do. As soon as I passed inside of this girl's body, there was a spiritual poison designed to infect me, not to start carnality but to inject me with more than enough to overwhelm me with it.

Satan was real because I remembered he was real, and I remembered as well where I was. I was on earth, and the earth was Satan's mausoleum, where dead bodies were put away in order. There was no other purpose to the earth. I remembered that the gods came here to die because everyone was dying and that creation was over with. You were covered with illusion, lain down to sleep, afterwards died, and were given a false life, a fake dream, to ease you into your real, permanent death.

I had dreamed all about Heather before, when I was 14. A man with blond hair had come to me in my dreams and told me where God was leading me, and that I would be tested to see if I would give in to immorality like everyone else.

There was a presence near me, not with me or even around me, but close by. As if there was a wall past the world, past the air, and that on the other side of that wall there was a man. He was evil and very strong in some way, and I had known him a long, long time ago, and he had kept himself alive and around by doing very evil things.

Some part of me was horrified beyond belief and afraid for its very life over what I was about to do.

I seemed to have access to memories I wasn't normally aware of, but none of them made any sense. They seemed very much to be from a past life.

All of this happened in the space of about 5 seconds.

I pushed my girlfriend away from me and began to get dressed. It was then that I realized we were half an hour past curfew.

...

 

[K9Guardian]

I... was relieved you didn't blow it....

I'd say something about having "balls of steel", but that doesn't work in this case.

 

[Kol]

I'm not sure you understand..or maybe I don't. The only reason I didn't have sex with that girl was that I was suddenly scared witless.

Something was horribly wrong, not just with me but with everything. I wasn't really afraid of God in that moment, or of sin, or of my choice of sin. There was something else, which I didn't understand, and that thing, whatever it was, forbid me from this girl.

The first thing that came to my mind was that I was a psychic, and that I had just seen my guardian angel protecting me. This guardian angel had been a friend from my past life, and that he had returned to help me. I believed this was who I'd seen beyond the "wall".

I began to believe that intercourse would close my psychic eye and forbid me from seeing things as they really were. I hadn't had any type of "psychic vision" since the "wind" feeling as a 9 year old, but it all came back to me very quickly.

...

 

[Kol]

I got back to the squadron and tried to sneak Heather in. The plan failed because I had forgotten the dorm guard shift ended at 8, and I didn't know the new guard.

I was in my own dorms taking a shower in a hopeless daze when two airmen came from Sgt Toncry's office to escort me to her.

I refused at first to give who I'd been out with, but of course everyone and their brother knew who it had been. I didn't argue that night with my punishment. There was no reason to, it wouldn't have done any good. As it was, Toncry told me she was going to give the minimum punishment possible.

I was given a letter of reprimand as opposed to an Article 15, for directly disobeying a lawfully given order; breaking curfew. I was not charged with anything else. I was made permanent P1D1, relieved of being a student leader, and relieved of all additional duties.

The next day I took my test at school but didn't understand most of the questions, let alone the answers. I hummed the ending theme from FF4 while I picked random answers to fill in. That afternoon I learned I had failed, and washed out. I had officially failed out of my career field.

The most painful thing for me was the next morning, watching another airman take control of my flight and march them away to school. I watched from the squadron picnic area, across the street from where the flights were. I was on the verge of tears, and everyone around me was absolutely quiet.

Despite how simple a thing it was, and how long ago it was and how little it matters in the greater scheme of things, thinking back to that morning still hurts more than anything else in the entire twisted episode.

...

I was put on permanent details (menial tasks) until I was reclassified into a different career field. It scared me to think about it, but I had *no* idea what job I was going to get. I was not the only reclass, but this didn't help me feel any better, because several of the reclasses were made SPs, Air Force cops. I knew that if I were put there, I wouldn't make the cut and I'd be kicked out of the military as unfit for service.

I spent every moment I had left with my girlfriend, until she graduated and was given orders to Japan. I stay behind, sweeping sidewalks as opposed to working on Air Force One, stuck in my uniform until 7pm, when I was forced to stay in my room the duration of the night.

In the daytime, I begged and pleaded with the ranking Sgt to relieve me of my punishment. He refused:

"Reclassed airmen don't get favors in my squadron. Reclassed airmen don't belong in my squadron. Reclassed airmen don't belong in my Air Force. Now get the hell out of my office."

Pretty soon everyone else seemed to graduate and leave, as I was forced to hang around awaiting new orders. The Sgts knew who I was, but none of the new people did. At the end of March or so, I still received my promotion, and had the questionable joy of being the only Airman since most of the other students were all Airman Basics. So I was just some weird guy who was always sweeping, didn't go to school, and was always watching people without saying anything. People began to think I was some kind of informant or spy for the sergeants or Office of Special Investigations.

And finally I got my new orders. They were making me a mechanic.

 

[Kol]

I took leave, went home, and tried to act cheerful. When I came back to leave, I didn't stay on base but in a motel room instead.

Heather had always smoked, clove-filtered cigarettes. I hated it, but didn't complain because they were flavored and made her lips taste like candy or cherries. I bought a pack for myself and began to smoke them in the motel room. I ordered a pizza, watched an old episode of In Living Color, and an episode of Mysteries of the Bible on A&E. I took two tylenol pms and fell asleep.

Eventually I was flown to Sheppard in Texas, and started training for my new job.

I was more than a bit shell-shocked. I felt resentful and bitter, and since leaving Keesler, had become more than a bit self-loathing.

The first day at my new squadron I learned that the career field was not ignorant of reclassed airmen. They hated them. The Air Force seemed to think that mechanic work was what you did when no other option was available, and the squadron resented this I guess. Every rule was strictly enforced. For me it was like going back to boot camp. I didn't fit in, argued with everyone, and was occasionally cussed out or put in my place by students I didn't know.

I begged the sergeants to let me become a student leader, and was somehow granted to march my own flight but never anything more.

My flight hated me and I routinely screwed up in marching them.

Our classes were half instruction and half hands-on. While learning in the shop one day, I asked my class leader in the most sarcastic voice possible if there was anything I could be working on as the other students disassembled an aircraft engine.

"Yeah," he said, "suicide."

I had no respect for authority and I would take every opportunity available to tell others how pitiful their careers were.

Once, when we were put on break, I heard two sergeants call me over from where I had been leaning on a soda machine.

"Are you on your little 'break", one asked me.

"Yes sir, I am on my break," I said, completely polite but obviously sarcastic.

"What are you doing, holding up that drink machine?" In other words, I shouldn't have been leaning on the thing.

"No sir, I don't believe I am anymore." I was supposed to be afraid of sergeants, but this one had not expected someone like me. Not at all.

"Well then, why don't you go outside and drink your little soda?"

"Yes sir," I said. I snapped to attention and gave my reporting statement. The sergeant looked at me as if 'what the ??', and beside him, his supervisor even looked up.

"What is it, airman?" he asked.

"Sir, you have white socks on, but I thought it was against AFI 36-2903 to have anything other than black socks showing in uniform."

Beside the sergeant, his supervisor broke out into what my granddad would have referred to as a something-eating-grin. The sergeant almost lost his temper and it was extremely hard not to smile, but I managed.

"OH, is that what you think?!" he fumed.

"Yes sir," I said calmly, "that is what I think."

"Well you go out and finish your break and I'll bring you the regs since you seem to be confused about them."

Of course, I was right, and the sergeant brought me the regs, which said that I was right; white socks are only allowed to show during exercises or contingency operations. But I didn't push the matter, and that sergeant never bothered me again.

I tried to help at church but screwed up passing the collection plate and counting attendees. I continually made mistakes in marching. Nothing I ever did turned out right.

I read my Bible more than ever, went to church every Sunday, and did everything right as far as I could. And everything continued to go wrong.

Eventually I graduated, and was given orders to California. By the time I got there, I was a very bitter and hateful person...

 

[K9Guardian]

No one thinks I'm a spy, but plenty worry after m mental health.

Punishment is punishment.. You eat what you cook.

One saying I read that stuck in my mind: "If you wash ten thousand windows, people will only remember you fur the one you fell through."

 

[Kol]

No one thinks I'm a spy, but plenty worry after m mental health.

Punishment is punishment.. You eat what you cook.

One saying I read that stuck in my mind: "If you wash ten thousand windows, people will only remember you fur the one you fell through."

People *always* think I'm a spy. I guess I look suspicious. Hmm...

And I didn't have to "eat what I cooked". I was extremely fortunate, because I could have been discharged or lost my rank.

 

[K9Guardian]

True. To both. A Raistlin wannabe must look pretty conspicuous.

Still, you did get the crumbs.

 

[Kol]

I learned to work as a mechanic, and was decent at the work. Eventually though I transferred to the night shift, and over the next two years worked not on aircraft engines but in the tool room at Edwards.

People quickly saw me as distant, cold, and other choice words which one or two had the guts to call me to my face.

I switched my clothes, my habits, and my life, because the perfect, ordered world had obviously failed me. My tastes in music changed as well, as I looked for heavier and more "different" music. I read a lot into the lyrics of my songs, and usually imagined they were about God and the Devil.

Instead of beautiful Andrews in Maryland, I was stuck in the Mojave Desert. It felt like the end of the world, and I was not alone in my belief. All of the 'apocalypse' movies are filmed in the Mojave.

The more I dwelt on things and the more I read my Bible, the more and more I hated God.

One of my favorite bands was Corrosion of Conformity, and I thought a lot about the words to their songs:

Dirty king, dirty king, now you're strapped in for the ride
It's so hard to be a fighter when your hands are always tied...
I want to, I want to, I want to, but my hands are always tied...yes indeed
I want to, I want to, I want to, but my hands are always tied...Mr Clean
I wish I had myself a dime for every time I cursed your GD name...

I imagined this was how God had treated the Devil. Or anyone else for that matter. Brand them a traitor and set out to kill them. Satan couldn't even preach his message, because everything he ever tried to do, God stopped him. His hands were always tied. I thought back to Job and wondered what kind of god would let a man be tortured just to prove his superiority. Satan would have won so many times, but God never fought fair. Adam chose the Devil over God, so God punishes Adam. The entire world goes its own way, and so God destroys it in. He has his "chosen people" massacre thousands of innocent people, all to further His own aims and no one elses. It wasn't that God cared for the Israelites. He wanted His kingdom, and He just used Israel to do it.

And why was the Devil always seen as the bad guy and Jesus proclaimed the hero? To me, the Devil was more heroic. I thought back to Daniel 9, when the Antichrist sets up his own form of worship in the Temple. The Devil knew he was going to lose, he always did. Yet he continued to fight on, tooth and nail through the ages, knowing that he could never win against God, finally culminating in a role he knew would mean his death, all so that, for just a moment in time, things could be the way they were meant to be.

And the best Corrosion song of all, Shake Like You:

Beginning of this world swelled with mankind
Who built a tool to kill a fool and lead the blind?
Invent a rule to keep you down and call it 'sin'
then stand behind the wall and watch the games begin

Heaven was empty because God was out killing everyone for not bowing down to Him. Satan was just a fool, and God was going to kill him for it. So God came up with this imaginary thing called "sin" and watched people tear each other apart.

Separate by class but keep the middle low
instill the orders with a border just for show
give them weapons and let them have their piece of mind
then tip them off so they can kill what's not their kind

I had started reading 1 Enoch a lot, and these four verses made me think of the fallen angels and the giants. According to Enoch, the fallen angels wanted their sons the giants to rule the earth, but God gave the giants weapons and set them all to kill each other.

If tales come true when judgement's due they'll call us liars
and stick us in their 'hell' and set our souls on fire
remember sin, your only friend, he saw you through
hallucinate with hate, and watch them shake like you

I somehow decided that Satan's belief was that man should rule himself and that 2/3rds of the angels were going to hell for the philosophy that they believed in. Sin was just an excuse, just a convenient way to call His enemies 'traitors'.

I wondered if God would send me to hell. I decided that some things were worth dying for.

Off duty I began to dress a bit gothy, but traded the all black for some blue and dark red, since it was more fashionable. I couldn't get anything pierced and had to keep my hair short, but I pushed the regs on its length and dyed it black to suit my mood.

I had AOL and even though the age of the chatrooms was over, I still went there once in a while and otherwise talked on AIM. I met a girl with a SN of something like "smurfychik" and started to talk to her more and more. She lived in California, though about 3 hours away, and besides her disabled dad and the money her mother had left her (I think she died of cancer), she didn't really have much for her in the world.

I began to really get into vampires and monsters. I bought all the White Zombie and Rob Zombie cds and let them play as I slept. I rented all the Crow movies and started to get into zombie flicks a lot.

I continued to study my Bible, though mostly on my own, and bought a Strong's Concordance and just about every apocryphal book I could get my hands on. It didn't take me long to decide that my favorite was still Enoch.

 

[Kol]

It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful. And when the sons of heaven saw them, they became enamoured, saying, 'let us take wives for ourselves from the daughters of men, and beget children'.

Their whole number was two hundred...there were chiefs of the two hundred, and the remainder were all with them. Then they took wives, whom they began to approach and with whom they began to cohabit...

And the women conceived, and brought forth giants.

Azazel taught men to make swords, knives, shields, and breastplates, the making of mirrors, of bracelets and ornaments, the use of paint and makeup, the use of every valuable stone and all the diverse dyes...

Amazarak taught all the sorcerers and dividing of roots...Barkayal taught astronomy, Armers the solution of sorceries, Akibeel heavenly signs, Tamiel astronomy, and Asaradel the motion of the moon...

The Lord said to Michael, 'Go and announce to Semyaza his crimes, and to the others who are with him, who have been associated with women...and after they see their sons slain, when they see the perdition of their beloved, bind them for seventy generations underneath the earth, until the day of judgement...'

"Go tell the Watchers, the sons of heaven who have deserted the lofty skies, and their everlasting station, who have polluted themselves with women...that on the earth they shall never obtain peace and forgiveness of sin. For they shall not rejoice in their offspring, but shall behold the slaughter of their beloved, and shall lament for the destruction of their sons...

...and they shall petition for ever, but shall never obtain mercy and peace."

This quickly became my favorite story.

The angels who had been assigned to watch humanity descended instead to start families and have their sons rule the earth. The fallen angels taught men secrets for which God later destroyed the earth. God decreed that the angels were to be forced to watch their children be slaughtered, and were afterwards to be locked in what Peter calls "Tartarus" (2 Peter 2:4). Here they were said to beg forgiveness daily, but never obtain it.

The sons of the angels were given their own punishment:

Now the giants, who have been born of spirit and of flesh, shall be called upon earth evil spirits, and on earth shall be their habitation. Evil spirits shall proceed from their flesh, because they were created from above; from the holy Watchers was their beginning and primary foundation. Evil spirits shall they be upon earth, and the spirits of the wicked shall they be called. The habitation of the spirits of heaven shall be in heaven; but upon earth shall be the habitation of terrestrial spirits, who are born on earth...

Demons are the souls of the sons of the fallen angels.

The spirits of the giants shall be like clouds, which shall oppress and corrupt the earth...they shall be concealed, and rise up against the sons of men and women...

I tried to find books and movies on the subject, but there was nothing there worth watching.

More and more of my time was spent in hating God and blaming Him for all the crimes of the world.

 

[Kol]

At some point in 1999, I met the girl I had been talking to online. I will only say that she had lied about her age and that she was too young for me to go out with comfortably. I decided though to continue to see her anyway.

It was a 3 hour drive to Bishop, where she lived. Her father was home all the time but a very bad pill addict. He was an alcoholic on top of it all and seemed to care very little what his daughter did. The only time he ever really spoke to her was to cuss at her. I was *surprised* to find he didn't care who I was or what I was doing with his daughter in the least. As I said though, I don't believe he cared at all what his daughter did. Most times he was so out of it, either on pills or liquor, he never even woke up from where he slept on the couch. Sandra would always say, "dad, I'm going out" before we left the house. I don't believe he ever once replied, other than to fuss about something in the house.

Since there was very little to do in Bishop, we would either hang out at the tiny Wal-Mart, or go outside the house to sit in the woods together. There was a ditch (I think it may have been for the sewer lines) and a boulder beside this, and I would sit on the rock as my girlfriend picked flowers and grassblades out of the ground.

This girl was way too young and completely naive, and she had no one in the world who was there for her. And I am in misery to say I took complete advantage of that.

I learned that she cut the inside of her upper arms on a fair basis. At times I would watch her do this as she tried to make blood drip into her candles. Her room was the tiniest excuse for a living quarters I have ever then or now seen; my dorm room on base was much larger by far. I remember asking what she wanted to do with her life. She had no idea, and I think most of it was because no one had ever given her the thought that she was a human being like everyone else. The room was a tiny twin-sized bed in the middle, with a single dresser and a closet packed with junk. A television sat on an old stand in front of her bed. One of her favorite things to show me was anything her mother had given her, and it should have made me sick because her mother was the last good thing she'd ever had in her life. This poor girl had never been allowed to grow up. I should have been ashamed of myself to be there with this emotionally battered girl and not do something to help her.

It makes me feel absolutely miserable to write all of this now because I had become such a horrible person.

I forced her to listen to all my music, which was horrible for me to do. Coming home from leave once, my buddy Jason even commented that it sounded evil. There were times when Sandra would say something which I knew bothered her, but I did nothing to help her feel better about herself. I never gave her compliments or tried to make her feel like a good person. She was my codependant, and I needed her weak because she wasn't my friend, she was my prisoner, just like all codependants.

I made out with this girl, in her bedroom first, and it was obvious she had no idea what she was doing. I never felt as if we were in love or "passionate" for each other. I wanted a girl, and Sandra let me do whatever I wanted because she thought she was supposed to..and probably because I was the only person who she could listen to.

Since I had to work during the week, and since she was in class, I would drive up on the weekends and rent a motel room. I felt like royalty compared to where she had to stay, and I think it came across to her the same way. Egotistical slime that I was. After a while I began to take Sandra back to my motel room, and of course not long after that I began to pressure her for sex.

During the interlude between Heather and Sandra, I had worked out in my mind all my supernatural crisis and come to a fair understanding of them. Numero uno, I was a psychic. My family had all been able to have dreams of the future, and I had come to believe I was no different. I though, must have been blessed more than others, because all my episodes were so clear to me, and reaccurring. I figured I must be a psychic, or, as I learned from the internet, a 'sensitive'. Sensitive to the psychic world.

The second thing that seemed obvious to me was that sex somehow deadened your eyes to the spiritual world. I somehow worked it out that this was why virgins were sacrificed, and why catholic priests weren't allowed to marry. (I know, what???) I had never had a problem with any other act with Heather other than vaginal intercourse, and so I decided I should not engage in this venture.

I hope you can see what a fool I was. I was a stupid, ignorant animal of a person, and all my stupidity bought me was hatred towards myself.

So, (and I'm sure you wanted to know this) I talked this poor virgin girl into having *ahem* anal sex. And I refused to have normal intercourse with her, and I'm sure she wondered what was wrong with me. I ordered sex toys from Xandria and had the sheer audacity to send them to her house, because I was afraid of someone opening my mail or of the base refusing packages from that company. Her father should have sobered up and wondered at what was happening to his daughter, and then he should have come out into the yard and kicked by sorry backside black and blue. And just about every weekend Sandra was sick because I made her drink epson salt so that I could do what I wanted to do.

But there is something to that, and to all of this. And I didn't come on here to tell sick sex stories on a Christian website, but I want anyone reading this to understand all the little things that make me believe what I believe. And my behavior here, although seemingly peculiar, is one of them. It will later make sense in the greater scheme of things.

I remember driving back to Edwards on Monday morning (I worked swing shift) and being in that situation, and feeling as if I had done something so similar once before, I could almost remember but not quite. It was something to do with driving from a long distance and coming to violate this girl. She wasn't anyone I knew, she definitely wasn't from any of my pre-existence memories. I had never dreamed about her before, but there was something to it.

I was very truly beginning to believe I had lived a past life.

And the very first time I had sex with her, I had yet another strange, bizarre 'memory'. At first things were fine. But the experience seemed to awaken different parts of my mind, and one of those parts was saying that something was different for me. Not anything to do with the girl or the method, but with my body. And I realized it was because I was circumcised. I didn't think I should have any reason to miss or even think about what I'd never really had, but somehow I could 'remember' sex without being cut, and even with a condom and all, tell the difference. It was like skipping eight of the ten steps. 80% of what I was supposed to be feeling wasn't there. And I had no idea how or why I should be able to tell this, let alone right away.

I had already lived once before.

...

 

[K9Guardian]

Yes, Raistlin wannabe. ::nod::

For a moment there, I could have sworn I'd dreamed you'd change your CF character. Those feelings are weird.

 

[K9Guardian]

Come on, buddy. Tell me you beat that thing.

That monster lives in us all.

It frightens me, sometimes.

 

[Kol]

Why do I encourage you?

Anyway, no, it wasn't almost over, it was all just beginning.

Once I finish this story, it's over with. I will have paid my dues and buried it all behind me. This story is my last weekend of community service. No more orange vests for me. On to school and the new life in Christ, and no more dwelling on the past or depression caused by the things I've done.

My bizarre life, on public display on the internet. I hope that eco-nazi Al Gore is happy with his little Frankenstein.

............

Some time early in '99, the whole episode at Columbine took place, when two HS students went on a killing spree, and shot and killed others at their school. I walked around the corner one night to hear most of my work crew (about half a dozen people) joking about me doing the same thing. The closest thing I had to a friend asked our supervisor what he would do if I came in wearing my trench coat and carrying a semi-automatic.

"First thing I would do is see if I was close enough to take him. If not, I'd try my best to hide behind an engine."

My friend's name was Dan, and I ran into him again that weekend. There was a light party in the dorms (there was a party every weekend), and he was just one more drink away from being drunk. He was sitting outside another guy's room, on a walkway overlooking the picnic area and the main group of people outside. I had been walking the dorms, trying to find a microwave IIRC. There were people downstairs drinking, and there was no way I could have cooked my food there, because I couldn't have stepped over all the beer bottles on my own to make my way to the microwave.

"Whoa, David," he said, "you look ****ing gothic..."

I tried to ignore such a stupid comment and asked him in a very rude manner what he was doing. This seemed to break the last bit of the dam holding back what he wanted to say. I'm dead-set against drinking to get drunk ("which leads to debauchery"), but sometimes it gives people the ability to say what needs to be said. Well, that night it let him say what he needed to say to me. I ended up sitting there with him for at least an hour or so as he told me off, and I ended up promising him I'd never repeat any of it, so I won't here. But one comment hit me and for some odd reason affected me where nothing else anyone did had.

"I remember what it was like to be a cold-hearted ***** like you," he slurred at me. "I hope you have fun in that lost little world of yours, and I hope it does you a lot of ****ing good, because it sure is costing everyone around you."

I don't know if it was the thought of hurting people around me, or of just him telling me to my face what I had become, but it got to me. At the time I just gave him a dead and very cynical look and he told me what to do to myself. End of business. But I mention this because I think at that point in my life I was in a rage, and I think now i understand why. I think my conversation that night held a mirror up to my face, and I realized what I had become in life and what was happening to me. I think, spiritually speaking, I was finally dying, and just like I would see in other people later on, this puts human beings in a rage against all creation. The final death throes.

He ended up becoming (as I've said) the closest thing to a friend I had while stationed there in California.

Call it like it is, people. 'The truth shall set you free.'

Anger and rage do nothing. The world knows you hate it, and it doesn't care. It won't even bother to look your way. Expressing that to other people does nothing. It is ineffective, because it doesn't cut them, it cuts your ties to them. I hated the world because it was chaotic and there was nothing good in it. But attacking others severed my only passage to any kind of order or sense. So basically, what they say is true: you don't hurt them, you only hurt yourself.

 

[Kol]

I had built a "shell" around myself, and I now believe this is what people do, just before their spirits die inside of them. As it is now, today, I can go out and interact with people, and if every last one of them tells me to go to Hell, I can go home and pray for them, and the Spirit will comfort me and heal me, and I can move on. People without Jesus can't do this. It requires something stronger than yourself. At best, you find some drug, some opiate as I call it, and attempt to numb the pain with that. But doing so never repairs the damage, it just numbs you to its effect. Strong people last longer than others, but none of them have the sheer health to put themselves on the line and open themselves to the possibility of pain, outside of the Lord Jesus Christ. Most Christians have not learned to depend on Him enough to be able to do this, let alone those without Him.

So you begin to avoid situations that could hurt you, and eventually this leads you to find your own corner and hide in it. People hide in their careers, their children, their spouse (by FAR the most common), anything which they don't think can ever leave them. This corner gives them their self-worth. My corner was my self. I was different, and no one could change that.

I created a series of false "selfs" to throw out at people, so that, if any one of them were attacked, I wouldn't be hurt because what they had aimed to hurt wasn't really me. I became false in front of other people, and hid who I truly was so that no one could ever hurt me. If they can't find you, they can't hurt you, right?

Beyond this, I built a shell all around myself, so that if someone did find me, nothing could get through. Nothing anybody ever said affected me, because it couldn't get to me.

In a certain sense, this is effective. It does stop the pain, it stops it from coming in. What it also does though, is starve you to death. "I'll give you a choice," the Devil says, "death by sword, or death by famine." So many people choose famine. But you don't have to do this. You have to die; that is what this world is for. You are not going to make it out alive. If *I* couldn't do it, nobody can. Every trick, every secret, every thing in the known universe which can be exploited, I exploited. I had the will, I had the spiritual health, I had the desire to do and be good, and the best guidance in the world to help me along. But I died, we all do, and there is not a single thing you can do, alone or all together, to change this. What you do *not* have to do, is you do *not* have to let the story end at your death.

...

And this is what I would end up doing.

Remember the Matrix: nothing you ever do here can tell you who you are. Nothing in this world can explain you one bit, because none of it is real. You are what you are, created in perfection, and nothing but the Creator can change, alter, or restore that one ioda. You can't choose to change. Outside actions do not affect what is inside, because those actions take place in the world, and that world isn't even real. Dreaming you become a man does not make you a man. The only power you have in all creation is whether or not to let God shine through you, and restore you from the corruption caused by sin. Nothing inside of God can become worse, and nothing outside of God can become better. You choose only where you stand. And that is the only true power available to men.

 

[Kol]

Around the end of that year, the blond-haired man began to come to me in my dreams.

I really need you to follow along here. This becomes a bit complicated.

It began with having dream versions of my childhood OBEs, which I remembered. I would dream about the people involved, or about the castle I had seen myself in. Sometimes I would relive part of the experience, with a mix between memory and dream. I remembered how I'd felt in those experiences, and realized it was how I'd come to feel in this life as well.

The bhm appeared about 4 or 5 feet away from me as I stood in some kind of gray, nondescript "mist". I remember him asking me if I remembered him this time, which I did. The next thing I remember is asking him if he was going to tell me this time who he was. I was very rude and insubordinate in doing so. I don't remember what answer he gave me. The next thing I knew, he began to talk to me about my life.

He told me that I was going to bring trouble on myself with the people I was surrounding myself with, and the choices I was making. Those choices were leading me to worse and worse places in life, and would eventually lead me back to them. The first time I heard this 'them' I didn't know what to make of it, and let it go without asking.

He then began to show me where my life was heading, in crystal-clear detail. I was going to be given a choice to become an OSI agent (the Air Force intelligence agency..somewhat). I would have a medium-level job and be fairly successful but never rise above that. I would meet a woman but never marry her. Eventually I would become a captain and I would lose this, because I would become involved in classified information and become too interested in it for my own gain.

There were a whole slew of these memories and dreams that didn't make sense to me, and some of them seemed to be about the future. It started with dreams I'd had as a seven year old.

The last dream that I remember having around this time was that I was in a castle...I didn't know what a castle was yet, so I thought the dream was about a cellar. The only cellar I knew was the one beneath my granddaddy's patio, so I figured the dream must be about that place.

...everyone had turned the cellar into a fort, because monsters were coming and it was the end of the world. The monsters looked like dogs, but they were all black and mean. There was a woman, and a man, and a lot of other people, and they were all my friends. I remember walking around and talking to a bunch of people and going flying sometimes to see if anyone was coming after us. In the dream, something was wrong with my voice. It felt like I had rocks in my throat. The woman had blonde hair, and I was in love with her...

For some reason I'd originally thought of the place as a castle, but I could see now that it was panelled with pure white, plastic-like walls. Everything seemed hightech, and from this I concluded it must relate to my would-be life as an OSI agent. Originally I had connected these dreams to pre-existence, but I realized then that the two castles were different; what was more, the people in the second castle weren't celestials-they were all human. Both memories took place on earth (I'm shaking as I'm writing this!), but the second one didn't have the same people involved as the first. So despite what I had previously thought, they weren't connected.

So I realized then that the "them" the bhm kept referring to was the people in this second, human castle, and that my bad choices in life were leading me to being in that situation, as this unhappy OSI agent.

He told me I would not enjoy my life then, because the thing that gave me my "rule" would also be my greatest pain.

I was tired of being told my own efforts and desires in life were useless and that I should just give up and let God rule my life. I fired back with as much venom and hatred as I could. "Oh, you mean like the church would?"

Something absolutely wicked and malevolent seemed to stir across me in that moment, and I basked in the pure glee of it, I saw the bhm begin to disappear like smoke. He quickly stopped, and faded back in. He looked as if he were trying to steady himself, as if he were riding a horse and trying to calm his mount. As if some protective power had reacted to me or what I'd said, or...something, and he had to reassure that power that he was alright.

He then called me 'David', and told me he couldn't make my choices for me.

And that is all I remember about that first occurance.

 

[Kol]

Despite all this, I felt that I wasn't such a bad person in life. Everything I'd done was because it had to be done, and the only way to survive this life was to survive the dark things in it..and to survive them, you had walk along beside them. I still believed that I was "chosen", just as Arnold Murray had said, and that everything I was doing was leading me to that moment at the end, when I would stand up for God. I remember flirting with the idea of not doing so, but even now I don't know how seriously I considered it.

Everything in life, I reasoned, was to lead me to that moment, the "end of the world", when everyone would know what their parts were, and would carry them out as they should. If it happened in my lifetime, then good. If not, then I should still prepare. Nothing else mattered but destiny, the end result. No matter the path you took to get there. You did what you had to in order to survive.

Since I wanted to be prepared and to grow spiritually in knowledge, I went into town and bought my first pack of tarot cards.

After studying the deck and the cards, and going online to read about the history of tarot, I realized that few people knew what they were really for. Tarot was not designed to tell the future. Life was a test designed by God, and there were multiple copies of that test. Tarot narrowed down those copies until it told you which one you had. If life is a test, the tarot is a cheat sheet.

The card I drew more often than anything was the Hermit.

I had set out uneducated and alone, and the past influences were the same as the future influences. I had been dealt a bad hand, and set into a situation like the previous situations. Everything I ever drew reversed itself the next time I tried it. I had been separated, and had gained in knowledge. Now I had to decide whether to keep that knowledge with myself, or share it.

Most of all the answers in my life were shown to me back then. Those answers now belong to a question I no longer care to ask. Thinking back, it all reveals how Satan and the entire philosophy and system is so ignorant. The Devil can't comprehend the real answer. He can't grasp the truth, can't conceive of it. "The Light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it..."

Nevertheless...

Things continued on, and all my thoughts about my future and my path in life made me think that I could get further if I asked God for help. I remember praying so many times that I hated Him just as much as i loved Him. More than anything, I wanted the ability to control things, to have a big part of world, because that was where I felt I belonged. It wasn't greed, but a sense of belonging I was after.

He didn't seem to want to grant it on my time, so I decided to set out to gain it on my own. I wasnt trying to disobey God, I instead thought I would make myself strong and knowledgeable and then come back to Him a better person. It was like there was a mission, and I wanted to volunteer. I felt little and weak though, and although I prayed to be made somebody important, it didn't seem to be happening. So I figured I would make myself big and strong for God, and that then He would love me, I would become His favorite like the bhm, and that then I could serve Him like He should be served.

So I began to welcome my guardian angel into my life. I had read that everyone has one (or at least most people), and Arnold Murray always taught that God's chosen people all have one. So I began to open my heart and mind to mine...