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In Dreams

Several years ago I had a series of nightmares, involving the subject of the unknown. In one I was pursued by a Greyhound bus and scrambled down an embankment, to have the vehicle charge down the slope, with its headlights beaming (I am into flying saucers in a big way and saw this as a UFO abduction scenario); I woke up screaming. Another involved me being in a 'U' shaped building, with my wife in one wing and me in another and a corridor between. Suddenly but very slowly the door behind me started to creep open, revealing nothing but a dark, empty space (yes, you guessed it, I woke screaming). A third dream involved me being in my old family home, in the kitchen, when the back door slowly crept open, revealing nothing again (woke burbling as I was in sleep paralysis stage and couldn't utter any other sound - in my childhood I had another instance of this and eventually got out of bed and dozed outside my parents bedroom, before going back to bed). A fourth dream involved the same scene but I had my old dog with me from present time and it warned me that someone was at the front door. Again it crept slowly open to reveal nothing but darkness. I think the symbolism here is simply fear of the unknown. When I attended the Leeds UFO conference, I mentioned these dreams to John Mack, the well known psychologist, involved with contactees.

Recently I had a super real dream that woke me. I suddenly saw to my right these waves that look a curled spring, where strong winds have whipped up an ordinary but gigantic wave in a storm. I

feared I had been cut off by the sea with water beneath my feet but then realised that I was

standing on the sea itself, with water all around me as I was in the middle of the ocean.

Afterwards it made me think of Christ on the sea of Galilee.

I have been woken several times in the middle of the night but it wasn't until this morning that I cottoned on why. I am back to dreaming about deep water and the one that woke me this morning involved a ledge I stepped on in the dream that was inches under water but then the water after that plunged into infinity (from the shoreline you simply couldn't tell what was deep water and what was shallow).

The second lucid episode of the night and the one that was freaking me out as a theme, was suddenly finding myself up high and realising where I was, like a sleepwalker waking up from a dream. This one had me on a ledge of an extremely tall building, while there were birds of prey flying across the way on top of a another building, in which the queen lived and was enjoying the spectacle

We were coming back after a long trip away recently and I kept nodding off to sleep (my wife was driving). Twice I woke up seeing representations of the dream content - once was the snow covered roads perspective, disappearing into the distance in reality and it was the same landscape I caught in the dream. The second was a reclining figure, which when I opened my eyes was the dashboard and the upright part of the passenger window. It reminded me of an advert where this sleeping girl’s form became hills.

I am not an academic but I do have a recurrent dream theme in being at university (I lived in Cambridge for a while and had a friend at Fitzwilliam college from the same town). This is I believe because I am always in pursuit of knowledge. Another regular theme is waking up needing to use the toilet and not finding one (in reality it is because at my age I need to urinate)

My conclusion about my own experiences is that it shows a continuum from the internal world of dreams to the outwards manifestations of phenomena in the real world.

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My PTSD story.

The symptoms I experienced along my 50 year PTSD journey (so far):

- Childhood bed wetting

- Heart palpitations and arrhythmia

- Constant anxiety and fear

- Inability to connect

- Visual flashbacks (3 distinct images)

- Panic attacks

- Dizzyness and fainting spells

- Vision migraines

- Light sensitivity

- Sound sensitivity

- Emotional dis-regulation

- Dissociation

- Sleep paralysis

- Sleep walking

- Nightmares and violent dreams

- Night terrors and animated sleep

- Obstructive sleep apnea (10 years)

- Vagal freezes/shutdowns while driving

- Nighttime body spasms

- 10 to 30 daily neurogenic tremors - Been shaking for 18 months now...

- Leg Length Discrepancy and right hip pain caused by Psoas constriction

- Chronic upper back and neck pain due to Leg Length Discrepancy

- Temporary loss of function in right arm

- Every IBS symptom in the book

- A sudden loss of 25KG (55lb) over 3 months

- Sudden hair loss

- A loss of confidence in my ability to perform simple tasks

When you write it all down it looks pretty obvious right?

But when it's all you have ever known then you adapt and get on with life... Until your body decides it has had enough of compensating.

Just posting this in the hope it helps someone else identify this insidious condition.#PTSD

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June 10th, 2024

Hi. I'm back yet again to vent. But this time, I'm not looking for any advice. I just need a place where someone, even just one person will hear me. Where I can put my emotions into words. Or at least try to. I'm not the best at words so I'll just do my best.
Today is the 10th of June. It is the 4th year anniversary of the day that I got really really sick and never got better. Even though, it had been building up for over a month when the symptoms had started and for the past fews days, it had gotten alot worse but this was the day it got really really really bad. And I experienced every single one of these symptoms that now are a daily second to second chore. Second nature. The hell that I live in constantly now. The new normal. That is why I associate this day with the death of my formal self. This is the day that brought me here. This is the day that killed me. Because I will never ever ever, no matter how much I try, ever be who I used to be before the summer of 2020. And honestly, I know what I'm about to say is really weird, but it annoys me so much how because of the circumstances I'm in, I can't even grieve this day properly. After my board exams, I had lab work at school so I had to go and practice for those at school which was extremely physically painful and hellish and it ended up being completely useless anyway because they weren't making us actually do the practice, it was mostly just having to go up and down the school stairs again and again and again for no reason and having to listen to my classmates' invasive and personal and often insulting and hurtful questions and comments about my condition. And now it's the time of the lab exams, today was the first one. I studied excessively for this and perfected it in every way. But when I got there, I realised I just wasted all my time and energy on nothing and was stressing about nothing because they were all cheating from their phones and the teachers did not care. I spent so many of my spoons on nothing. That really frustrated me. Along with how I'm practically becoming a full on bullying victim at this point. It was hell. And then on the way back, I slipped and fell and Injured my ankle and leg. My legs are already in pain 24/7 so I think I might honestly have a breakdown at this point. I haven't studied well at all for tomorrow's exam. I'm honestly really worried. I just hope it's just like how it was today but I don't know. What really has disheartened me in a way that I cannot describes is just how much effort I put into these board exams. Wasting my entire year, only for them to go absolutely horrible. In a way that I'm just praying to even pass. It really really really disheartened me. Genuinely. I don't wanna work hard ever again in my life honestly. But anyways, I really wish that I had the time and energy today, to just cry my heart out. Because my heart is filled to it's core with emotions but I am too exhausted physically to cry. Honestly, this June 10th was so so so different from all the other ones I've had. This time, it's in a different house than the one that I got sick in. And that hurts so much. I cannot tell you how much it hurts me to let go of that house. I just moved out a week ago in the midst of my exams. Actually, it hasn't even been a week. And this time, in starting to feel the feeling that keeps me alive fading. It's not as strong anymore. That strong feeling of nostalgia. I still remember so well, that summer, all those sleepless nights. When I would get up from my room after crying for an hour, and go to that bedroom that is so memorable, where everyone else was asleep and I would try to sleep there and just end up crying for hours and hours until the sun came up and I finally decided that I should stop starving myself and go to eat something. The next summer, where I was hit with the fact that it's been a whole year and it just won't end. When I realised, yeah, it's not gonna end. I feel so dead inside, so so numb, I remember that feeling of aliveness and I miss it so so much. That hope. The way that the world actually looked colourful. It feels like my vision actually physically changed. Like it's so grey now. So monotone. But it wasn't this way. The world looked alive. It looked normal. It looks grey now and feels like a wilted flower. Every single day, I'm still in the same pain that took over my being on the 10th of June 2020. And I cannot believe that I survived these 4 years. I really can't. It doesn't feel like I have. It feels like I died and this is all a dream before my last breath. It doesn't feel real. These past 3 years have not felt real at all. That first year felt like the realest thing that has ever happened but the rest has feel like a fever dream. I definitely went insane somewhere along the way. I feel confused by everything now. I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. And I never know what I'm doing. Even now, I have no idea what I have just wrote. It probably all sounds stupid. This little rant of mine. I've still got a whole summer left. To cry. But I don't know why. It just feels like it'll be my last summer. I'm probably wrong but it just feels like that. I'm scared, really really scared for my future because I don't wanna live like this any longer. But I've been saying this for years now and nothing has changed (at least not in a good way) and I know that this pain isn't going away any time soon, that I will continue on like this for a while. Everyday just reminding myself that I'll get to sleep at the end of the day or at least at some point. Only living for sleep. Sleep. A state where no pain can be felt and no thoughts can reach you. So blissful. Except for the horrific nightmares and that sleep where you keep waking up every 5 minutes. Haven't been able to get much sleep at all these days because of school but hopefully the exams will end this week. I'm sorry if none of this made sense or if it sounded cringey. I'm just really tired of pretending like everything has happened to me and that continues to make me suffer and will continue to do so, doesn't exist. I'm done with not talking about it. I don't mention it at all in real life. I don't know how I don't. I never complain about what happened to me. I haven't in like 3 years. And if I make even the slightest complain about my health, all I get are eye rolls in response. By the same people who have no shame in complaining about their small aches and pains in front of someone who should be in a hospital and not having to live a life with no accommodations. I just wait everyday for the day, where these illnesses do something to me that makes everyone have to take it seriously. This something could be death or something else. I don't really know. But to some degree, I know that slow torture is written in my fate. And invalidation too. So that day won't come. I'm sleep deprived so I should probably go to sleep now since I have to wake up really early for school tomorrow. Again, I know this whole rant made no sense and I should probably stop wasting people's times by using this app like a diary but I just want, anyone at all to know the pain I'm. If you actually read this whole thing, then you deserve a pat on back at least. Probably even an award honestly. Good job. And I'm really sorry for wasting this much of your time. I will try to go to sleep and then survive tomorrow and go to school with this broken ankle on top of the entire rest of this broken ached vessel that I exist in. I wanna say alot more, there's alot more things coming in my mind right now that bother me everyday of my life but I'm too exhausted right now so I'll leave that for another day. Thank you so much for reading this and goodbye for now.
#Fibromyalgia #ChronicIllness #MentalHealth #ChronicPain #Depression #Undiagnosed

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Stairway to Heaven, Part 1, a story with a nod to The Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy

It all started strangely enough – odd lights in the sky behaving oddly. Then came the funny dreams – funny bizarre, not funny ha-ha. Before I knew it, it was spilling over into the daylight hours. I thought I was going crazy. I started getting messages on the radio, in the papers, on the television. It was like the Twilight Zone or Outer Limit - ‘We will control the horizontal limits of your awareness. We will control the vertical limits of your knowledge.’ The only thing that convinced me I was sane was all kinds of odd people coming up to me and imparting strange information - people you would have hurried passed normally, embarrassed by their utterings. If it wasn’t for that I would have felt truly ‘alienated.’

Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night, maybe miles from where I lived, totally oblivious to how I got there or could have got there. It was like I was living my life in a trance. My appetite had gone and I felt exhausted beyond belief. The headaches I’d had as a child returned with avengeance. The sickening migraines had me vomiting down the toilet, without end. It was the old conflicts with different realities, reasserting themselves into what had seemed like a normal, everyday life. The nightmares of creatures that walked through walls, being paralysed in bed and unspeakable things being done to me, re-emerged. Who was I? What was I? What were they? It felt like I was in some weird science-fiction movie. All the certainties of life disappeared, crashing down the toilet pan, like the contents of my stomach every so often. I was down the rabbit hole with no way out.

Then came the night he when he appeared.

“You humans. You think you know it all and can do it all. It’s as though you truly believe the universe begins and ends with you, on this puny little planet in the middle of nowhere. You stupidly think money will solve all your problems. It won’t but conscience and consciousness could. No, you prefer addiction to materialism and screwing down what you don’t screw up. You worry about death and consider others as wrongdoers for stealing your goods, when in reality nobody owns anything or can. It’s just one of your many delusions. Likewise you worry about criminals harming your body, when in fact the true you is made of energy and can’t be damaged in any way, shape or form. If you didn’t think you were bodies, you wouldn’t threaten others with violence, in order to try to manipulate them. You think that a belief in the afterlife, means life will seem worthless and you will want to die quicker. Balderdash! It gives you reason to live. It turns you into missionaries, wanting to spread that joy. Oh you may die like Christian martyrs but not by your own depressed hand. Like Salmon swimming upstream, you will inspire others to live and want to live, seeking a better life and as acting as a torch to lead them into the future. Suppressives and depressives are scared to live and let you live, so stamp on and stamp out any free thought, any hope, in case it starts a fire that consumes their own limited dreams of conquest and domination, be it the world, their own country or their cultural heritage. Man must change and move forward, not wallow in self-pity and fear.

You don’t know how insane your race is. You think that by being serious that means you are sane but your behaviour suggests otherwise. You would be thousands of years more advanced than you are now, if you didn’t keep killing yourselves off in suicidal wars, revolutions and simple murders. Like Jason And The Bean Men in Twice Told Tales, you are willing to fight and kill each other over everything and nothing. You shoot down our craft, even though we are only flying over your territory on route to somewhere else. You don’t do that to civil aircraft do you, so why assume that just because we are more powerfully armed than you, that means we are hostile?

We could have wiped out your civilisation fifty years ago, if we feared you as much as you seem to fear us. You invade other countries at the least provocation or none at all, in your greed for resources. How could we land openly here and live among your people, when you massacre others others who have different beliefs, different cultures or appearance? Is it any wonder your world is quarantined? You’ve polluted your oceans, wiped out species after species and are now on the brink of another threatened nuclear war.

Pretentious fools, trying to prove you are what you are not. Proud monkey suits, lumps of flesh, piles of mud! Only a fool who is fooling himself, can fool another fool and that is not us. We have tolerated you as an adult tolerates a child but our patience isn’t infinite. You are an experiment gone wrong. We are spiritual beings made of energy, not flesh robots, so addicted to it that we have lost our true identity.”

At this point he disappeared in an explosion of exasperated light, then suddenly reappeared.

“Oh yes, we can condense energy into matter and vice-versa. We have no permanent form, unlike you.” He disappeared in a flash again.

Malcolm thought about what the being had said, deciding if it were true, logically it shouldn’t matter whether, we did blow ourselves to pieces and turn the planet into a nuclear wasteland or not. After all if everything is just energy…

“You are correct, it doesn’t matter, ultimately but we put a lot of work into this project, so forgive us, forgive me in particular, for being a little peeved.”

He was back in the corner of the room.

“Yes I read your thoughts by the way,” he said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

We have guided your efforts through the years or tried to, from shaman, then magicians like Dee and Crowley as your civilisation grew. Now it is sensitives and mediums like you. We nudged those you consider genius’s, through downloading data and through incognito appearances – God, I don’t know how many times we had to point out to Alexander Fleming the value of penicillin and the significance of what was happening in his Petri dish! In dreams we gave you pictures worth a thousand words – symbols you could make sense of. For instance Kekule’s benzene ring and Einstein’s general theory of relativity – now there was a bright man! Soon caught on to the implications.

We have always been here as far as you are concerned. Yes the ancient astronaut theory is true. Ancient civilisations were kick-started by us. You called us gods but we were, indeed are no different from you. As for previous ownership, ask the reptiles who ran the planet and existed here millions of years ago, before you hairy hominids arrived. These and other sitting tenants left strange artefacts that now reside in your museums, mostly hidden from public view. Yes, your authorities can do this quite easily but find it harder to hide structural anomalies. Vitrified stone forts and ancient architecture are evidence but most people prefer to believe the reasonable answers your government’s give or the unreasonable ones your religious authorities proffer as an alternative.

You people love your fairy stories. If you can’t understand something, you make up a fiction to explain it. In other words you lie to shut others up or threaten them with implied or actual violence. How you people have interpreted us through the lens of your own ignorance and superstition over the ages, has amused us greatly. In fact we have used it for own purposes at Lourdes, Medjugore, Fatima and elsewhere, to guide ordinary humans, looking for hope in the world that seems to have abandoned them.

We have also used séance room tricks, changing matter to energy and back again, to show what is possible, when mind overcomes matter. We used it with the alchemists and we used it with mediums, to guide you into the future.

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The Gods Look Down, a take on the ides of March

It is night. Rome is under a spell. Strange things are afoot. An owl was seen in the Capitol, in broad daylight. Men all afire walked through the streets. Dead women were seen abroad. Priests reading the entrails of slaughtered beasts, saw portents of doom and most telling of all, Caesar's statue wept blood. What more could the gods do to warn mortal man of the dangers now facing him?

"What a night? Who knew the heavens to quake so and light the sky with such a terrifying spectacle!" 

"Such weather reflects the hearts of men at such times." 

"You talk of Caesar?" 

"Be who it may." 

"I don't think Caesar can be that ambitious, after all he refused the crown three times didn't he?" 

"A joke between him and Mark Antony. A bunch of old laurel leaves thrust at him. I saved his life once, when he fell in the Tiber. Did you know that?" 


"I wonder if I should have bothered. It left him deaf in one ear and that's the one I spit my venom into. He thinks I must love him because I saved his wretched hide but that was then and this now. 'For always I am Caesar!' What a pompous ass! I detest the man. 

He lost the first Gallic war."

"But he won the second." 

"What about that disastrous invasion of Briton?" 

"The siege of Alesia was pure genius, with its two lines of defence; one to keep Vercingetorix in and one to keep reinforcements out." 

"Crassus was a fool to take on The Parthians." 

"I don't doubt it." 

"Without him the triumvirate as an alliance failed." 

"Does that mean you blame him for the civil war then?" 

"No but him and Pompey were patricians, men of class. Caesar is an upstart, a man of the people. Do you want to be ruled by a populist, a lover of the proletariat?" 

"Not I!" 

"Then you are with me on this?" 

"I am indeed." 

"Good for I have much to discuss with you then. Will you join me and some other like minded friends tomorrow night at my house for supper?" 

"Good. Until then Casca fair the well." 

Several days later…

"My dear I fully understand your nightmares and fears for my safety, after all I am the most powerful man in Rome but look Decius has arrived and I am expected at the Senate" 


"Enough, for always I am Caesar!" 

"Come Caesar, we must away. Great things await us!" 

"You know it wasn't only my wife's fears that detained me. I received a scroll from Artemidorus warning me of something but it was so vague, it was almost gibberish."

(They both laugh). 

"No names then? Nothing definite?" 


I've been through two campaigns against the Gauls and even visited that God forsaken rock they call Briton - cold, miserable, perpetually wet. Imagine the cheek of sending troops from there to support their fellow Celts. Perhaps they came across, not to fight but just simply to get warm!"

(they both laugh again). 

" I suppose Metellus Cimber's brother is going to petition me again about his return? "

" Alas Caesar "

" Well he's out of luck. I remain firm on this, for always I am Caesar! "

(under his breath)" And don't we know it! “

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Wish and vent.

Hello, writes here to say I hope you'll having a nice day and in either case wish you all strength, health and the best⭐ that you all may find new possibilities to come true.

Also just needed to write this of my chest:
Nightmares I really hate them. They make me feel exhausted, sad, angry and desperate. I do my best to fight on, but it's just damm hard sometimes, cause they are just so deep and nothing really works against it and don't know what to do about it. But I'll fight through the storm and the dark till I find the light. 💪
#Health #Nightmares

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The feeling of the unknown
Feelings of being so numb
It’s hard to tell what’s real
What’s not so real
The feeling of anxiety
The feeling of comfort not being there
Feelings of not being alone
But at the same time feeling so alone
It hurts
It’s a feeling of being so helpless
So hopeless
So lost
So confused
When will this end
When will I feel like myself again
It’s like I’m stuck in the unknown
I’m scared of what might become of me
What’s going to happen
Will I ever be ok again
Will this ever just go away
I just want to feel something
I feel so uncomfortable
Even in my own bed at times
The dreams can feel so real
But they’re not
They are only dreams
Nightmares at times
Oh how I wish I could just wake up from this nightmare
Oh how I wish I could just wake up and just feel like everything is going to be ok
The reality is I’m not ok
I need more help than what they can give me at this time
I don’t even know how to help myself
I try and try
Nothing seems to work
Feelings of joy creep in so very rarely
But then is gone within a second
Oh how I wish I could feel joyful once again
The feeling of the unknown can feel so scary


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My insomnia is constant and mostly managed by medication. But when it doesn't work and I spend all night alone staring at the wall, trying to distract myself but too tired to concentrate, I feel so lonely, and scared, like I'm the only person alive. It sets my mind into all sorts of upsetting scenarios that I'll always be alone, like everyone left forever and forgot to take me. It reminds me of childhood nightmares, but then I would get in bed with my Mum and feel safe again. I have no one now. Insomnia has taken so much from me#Loneliness

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HP Lovecraft Time, Duality and Identity Crisis

HP Lovecraft wavered between seeing human existence as being totally meaningless, lost in the vastness of the cosmos (see also Douglas Adams and The Total Perspective Vortex, in The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy as a portrayal of the same thing ) and ego building certainty from the historical stance. In other words his racism as seen in his support of The Color Line, by William Benjamin Smith and identification with his ancestral family home, Providence, Rhode Island must be weighed against his scientific realism on the futility of human life, when measured against the vastness of space and the immensity of time.

This personal and racial identity crisis shows in his work and perhaps his life (both his parents ended up in an insane asylum and he suffered night terrors. This condition is where the dreamer has nightmares that they carry over to waking, screaming in terror, sitting bolt upright in bed and not responding to the real world when mobile in this state but running around in fear).

H P Lovecraft’s main protagonist in several stories, wander vast alien landscapes or discovers alternative realities, co-existing within our own as in Dagon or At The Mountains Of Madness. If his heroes don’t lose their lives they may lose their minds, becoming crushed wrecks , whose world view is shattered by their discoveries. Only the modern horror / science fiction films of directors like Ridley Scott, have managed to capture these strange vistas of alien worlds, full of hostile life forms and the changeling angle of people not being what they seem / were (Kafka’s Metamorphosis also comes to mind in this context ). An example of Lovecraft’s attempt at this, includes The Rats In The Walls, where the hero sinks deeper and deeper into recidivism, the further he explores the secrets in his ancestral home ( the psychoanalytic movement would explore this area of the unconscious through the works of Freud and Jung, in dreamwork and relaxed recall on a couch). In The Shadow Over Innsmouth the hero discovers that he is tainted with the very genetic make-up he feared in the locals (Ridley Scott’s Prometheus harks back to this).

Lovecraft’s horror of coloured people and his fear of having ‘tainted blood,‘ has been disclosed as a possible reality in a scientific study which showed that people can indeed appear white but have genetic characteristics, revealing African ancestry. In psychological terms his reaction could be categorised as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), behind which lies the phobia of being contaminated by external forces, most notably germs but also other poisonous materials. In the film Coming To America, Eddie Murphy donned make-up that turned him from a coloured man into a caucasian. Imagine how Lovecraft or other racists would react to this trick being played on them and how it would shatter their certainty of superiority?

This whole question of identity (who are we really?) was also covered by Edgar Allan Poe in the story William Wilson and in the Roger Moore film, The Man Who Haunted Himself. Even Peter Sellers portrayal of Dr Strangelove , disclosed a man at war with himself. These two sides of reality or primitive versus civilised (past versus present) was explored by Robert Louis Stephenson in his book and various film versions . In the film by Amicus, From Beyond The Grave, David Warner faced this mirror image self or alter ego and in the end was replaced by it: two way mirrors can hide an unseen, unconscious predatory self which makes the conscious self, paranoid prey or victim of this unknown being.

Returning to Lovecraft, the 1993 film The Necronomicon, based on three of his stories, had a segment called Whispers, where one of the characters explained very eloquently to the female lead that once her human consciousness was replaced by one of the creatures she faced, she would see them in a whole new light and her old self likewise. Poe himself carried this theme forward in Ligeia, where the main protagonist’s second wife dies, coming back to life but with the personality of his first wife, reborn.

Even in our own lives is to be seen this dual nature of reality; the child, a clean slate out to fill the emptiness of experience, its primitive mind yearns for and at the other end of life, the wrecked body and mind of the worn out explorer (the shuffling zombie): the child comes from this state of nothingness and the old return there. Ouroborus or the mythical snake eating its own tail, reflects the future feeding off the past. In between lies lies normal life or continuation of existence. This conveyor belt of growth, leads us into the world with wonder and out of it, in the horror of knowing it is all going to end and not necessarily pleasantly. Horror is this dissolution of the body (the destruction of form) or the loss of our faculties.

Awareness is that blank slate, which records everything as it goes along (the camera, the observer, the learner, the child). It is the mindless dreamer, swimming in a sea of new experiences as opposed to the old person, drowning in a plethora of memories – a mobile library of saved information from the past, slowly rotting back into the dust it came from. Here we see in Lovecraft and others of that ilk, a fear of sleep as being that little death that takes us away, however temporarily, from the certainty of the created world around them and into the palette, where creativity can make hell in all its fear (the symbolism of dreams as envisioned by the psychoanalysis movement).

Those who saw Lovecraft only from the point of view, of schlock horror missed the dreamscapes and alternative realities, featured in his other stories. Freud would have understood the nightmare terror and Jung the archetypal figures, haunting those vast, alien landscapes. Lovecraft feared dissolution of the self (existential angst), not physical death so much as loss of identity. His horror at the idea of a sophisticated self being replaced by a more primitive version is not totally racial but one whose faculties have been lost through old age.

The past is the only thing we can be certain of as recorded time, whether individual memory or written archives by society. In memory is to be found a sense of identity (belonging) but the change that movement brings, erodes that certainty, however slowly and replaces it with a quicksand of sensory doubt. It is what leads to sleep deprivation, where fear of loss takes over from wakeful certainty. Ironically this cannot be avoided as hallucinations drags us screaming and shouting back into the world of dreams and visions (fluid reality), where nothing is what it seems – hence perhaps Lovecraft’s night terrors and powerful imagination.

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The path towards Color

From the darkness of
having to deal with a lot of stress, which leads to various health problems both mentally as physically. I find the nightmares, nausea and exchaustion the worst. Have tried so many things against it from therapies to medication to supplements, to diets, but nothing works. Sometimes it's just so damm hard to constantly having to deal with ptss. It makes me desperate, anxious and furious. I just want a normal live where I can be healthy.
I wish that for me and everyone who has to deal with stress whether it's physical and/or mental.
I added this drawing which represents the path to take from the dark towards color, an excouragement to go on to imagine and eventually find a world of wonder.
Wish us all the best!