I had a dream, a very strange dream about being “peacefully” enslaved by “well-intended” invading people who wanted to control my sexuality for life. It was all “peaceful” and “family-like” as long as I submitted by body to their authority, which claimed that sex was not to be had under any circumstances because it was from now on forbidden.
The dream was so vivid and so unpleasantly bizarre that I woke up with a 2019 mind, as if the past a year and a half have never happened, and I have not been bathing in the gradually warming water inside the pot.
Through the power of an intensified dream experience, an entire year and a half of abuse fell off—and as I looked around, I felt like I had gone traveling, and arrived in a bizarre sci-fi kingdom of distorted mirrors and people who had been poisoned by professional criminals, with great cruelty and precision. A kingdom ruled by cold-blooded psychopaths.
Like a fairy tale about lying villains.
As I look around, I don’t recognize this land.
What happened to us?
Force-masking little children and depriving their growing brains of oxygen?
Forcefully locking old people inside nursing homes and euthanizing some of them, in silence, with compete impunity, with zero attention from the public?
Chasing after free citizens with syringes filled with a lucrative concoction of carcinogenic nanoparticles and synthetic mRNA whose long-term effects are entirely unknown?
Silencing respected scientists and doctors who dare talk about the alarming data coming in regarding the safety of what’s in the syringe?
WTF?
And don’t give me this “health emergency” television narrative. Just don’t. It’s been a year and a half, and I am tired of deflecting bullshit.
It was okay to be terrified a year and a half ago—and we all were, and we all complied in varying degrees, and wore the stupid masks, and danced the dance of “two weeks to flatten the curve, and ____.”
But now?
Look around.
Where is reality?
The news narrative falls apart from the slightest poke. You breathe on it—and it falls apart. There is almost nothing true about it. And if you poke a little deeper, you discover with incredible disgust there never was.
I am screaming on the inside. We have been duped!!!
A lot of what they did to the elders in nursing homes was murder, and that murder was used to scare us even more.
A lot of what they did to hospital patients was medical mismanagement, some of which was also murder, and it was used to scare us even more.
The stats were rigged.
The hospitals weren’t overrun any more than they were in preceding years.
The diagnostic tests—nuance aside—weren’t suitable to diagnose clinical disease—and it was known—and yet they went right ahead enforcing them, to scare us even more.
The lucrative industry plans to introduce multiple mandatory adult injections on a massive scale predated the “pandemic”—and so did the plans to put everyone on digital IDs to control every aspect of our lives—and so did the plans to refocus the healthcare on “gene therapy” and “precision medicine”—and so did the plans to move education online as much as possible for data capture—and so did many other components of the wretched transhumanist reform.
Health response?
Really?
We need to stop doing this.
We just need to stop doing this.
We just need to snap out of it.
Wake up.
I love you.
Please wake up.
(Here is a segment of my interview with Mark Crispin Miller from April 2021. It still stands.)
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Just as you did, I found my muse in writing prose during the lockdown (although your work is more poetic). Every year at my blog, I do a monthlong Halloween celebration. It's a music blog, but last year I started putting up some parables and dystopic short fiction because I saw a need for it. Here's one from last fall that I think stands up to the test of time:
Watchtowers
One upon a time in a kingdom not so faraway, the king called his grand vizier to the royal chambers.
“We are in trouble,” the king announced. “A democracy has sprung up in the adjoining land. People vote for their king now, and they can vote him out. And women can vote too. Imagine! The hubris! If we don’t invade the democracy and take it over, it won’t be long before the people here think they can have democracy too! They’ll want to keep all their corn and soybeans instead of giving them to us. They’ll even want to grow crops other than corn and soybeans. This cannot be!”
“I don’t mean to second-guess Your Highness,” the grand vizier replied, “But we’re a little hamlet of fifty thousand people, and the democracy beyond the border has three hundred and twenty million. If we invade, that’s suicide.”
“We may be tiny, but we’re very rich,” the king replied. “That’s because we’ve worked our population to the bone. And they see what’s going on next door and it won’t be long before we’re toiling for them! So I have devised the perfect way to stay in power, in fact, to take over the democracy next door and then the world! Call the royal herald!”
The grand vizier called the royal herald. “Yes, Your Majesty?” the royal herald asked.
“Herald! I want you to go throughout the land and announce that a horrible boogieman has been sighted. This boogieman is the most evil boogieman of them all. He kidnaps children, preys on the elderly, steals crops and horses and will burn every shotgun shack to the ground! He has the power to destroy the harvest, to prevent childbearing and turn reasonable adults into babbling idiots!”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the royal herald replied. “But how are we going to prove this boogieman actually exists?”
“Leave that to me,” said the king. “Now get the hell out of here.”
The herald returned in a fortnight. “The people are all terrified of this horrible boogieman,” he told the king. “But what do we tell them next?”
“Summon the sherriff,” the king ordered.
“Yes, Your Highness?” the sherriff inquired.
“Summon all the serfs in the land and construct a series of watchtowers. And then man them with spies from distant towns, not from their own communities. That way the spies won’t have allegiance to the people they’re watching.”
“But what will they snooping for?” the sherriff asked.
“Anything,” the king replied. “Fornicating. Music-making. Congregating in groups of more than one. The possession of garlic or grapefruit.”
“Pardon me for asking, sire, but what are garlic and grapefruit?” the sherriff asked.
“Never mind. If we don’t act now, the whole population will be reeking of garlic and full of grapefruit juice and ready for battle…against us! In order to prevent such insurrective behavior I want you to deputize a posse and go around at night, when all the peasants are sleeping, and round up all the grandparents and the hermits. Then beat their skulls in.’
The king turned to the herald.
“Next, I want you to go around and spread the news that the boogieman is responsible for all this killing, and that the only way to find him and stop him is to build more watchtowers.”
So the sherriff and his deputies went around slaughtering peasants in their sleep, and the herald went around spreading the news that the boogieman had done it. He also announced that since there were no longer enough peasants to simultaneously attend to the harvest, the gathering of wood and the construction of watchtowers, they would have to build the towers with the timber from their own homes instead of cutting down trees in the forest.
The sherriff met with a good deal of resistance from the peasants, but after another round of killing, blamed on the boogieman, the peasants began dismantling their shacks and constructing even more towers throughout the land.
Next, the king summoned the royal envoy. “Envoy! You are to journey to that accursed democracy across the border and obtain a meeting with their leaders. Explain to them that we have been afflicted with a most frightful boogieman. He has terrible powers and has slaughtered a large percentage of our population. Here – bring this bag of royal gold with you. Whatever it takes, just get them to agree that the only way to catch this boogieman is to build watchtowers all over, just as we have done.”
“And if I run out of gold?” the envoy asked.
“I’ll put the royal counterfeiter…um…alchemist in charge of that. Go now and report back to me in a fortnight!”
Meanwhile, there was trouble all across the land. The king’s idea of putting people from faraway villages in charge of spying on communities they’d never visited before was most successful, and resulted in a steady stream of arrests and executions. But at night, some of the peasants began sneaking out and setting fire to the watchtowers. Several spies were horribly burned to death.
That winter was an especially severe one. With just tents made from muleskins strung together, and no firewood to keep them warm, many peasants froze to death. Again, the king and his herald blamed the deaths on the boogieman.
Meanwhile, the leadership of the democracy next door had become alarmed. This boogieman was truly as terrible and unstoppable as the envoy had described! Half of the country’s population was dead now, or so he’d told them. Something had to be done!
So the prime minister and parliament got together and announced that just like the kingdom next door, all efforts would be henceforth devoted to the construction of even higher watchtowers. The royal envoy also managed to convince the nation’s chief of public works, with a little help from a bagful of gold, that the right way to run a system of watchtowers was to man them with people from faraway counties with no loyalty to those they were spying on.
Meanwhile, all public works were suspended, and citizens were required to hide indoors until the boogieman could be spotted. And the royal herald worked overtime spreading the news that the boogieman had the power to instantly kill anyone who left their homes. Therefore, if someone was spotted on the street, and they were alive, they were the boogieman!
But people will be people, and it wasn’t more than an hour or two before the first citizen snuck out to meet her boyfriend. Overhead, a spy spotted her, aimed his high-powered rifle and blew the woman away. Of course, this was blamed on the boogieman.
But a lot of citizens didn’t buy it. And so it was that the residents of Port Gluteus blamed the sharpshooter from Minor Cerebellum for the killing, and overran Minor Cerebellum and scalped most of their residents.
As the days went on, more and people started to get hungry and snuck from their homes, only to be shot by the snipers in the towers, who then triumphantly posted snuff videos all over social media. It was in this way that the citizens of Ham Flats were pitted against the people of Pareve, and the residents of Stillwater succumbed to the hordes from Tippiecanoe.
One day a little boy, disheveled and rail-thin, emerged from the ruins where he’d been hiding. “Why are you all killing each other?” he asked. “Why aren’t you looking for the boogieman?”
“Because the boogieman is you, sucker,” the sniper in the tower above hollered back as he reached for his rifle.
And so it was that a tinpot dictator and his cronies from a tiny, inept little country of fifty thousand were able to invade and take over a nation of three hundred twenty million people – and reduce the population to one hundred sixty. The end.
This song was playing in my head in the garden as I picked "southern peas" a couple of days ago.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BMY7gG47fI
Yesterday I shared the tension I am feeling.
https://www.johndayblog.com/2021/07/no-longer-abstract.html
People tell me they are feeling it, too.
I thought it helped explain those crazy moments in history, like those that led people into WW-2.
The constant tension feels unbearable. Others are urging, cajoling, bullying and publicly-shaming us to do-the-thing, like everybody else.
Don't keep being weird. What's wrong with you?
A couple of friends of mine at work, both Registered Nurses, informed, responsible, good parents, are looking for a pediatric practice where they can take their kids, where they will not be looked at like lepers or gargoyles when they say they (the parents) "have not been vaccinated".
I called a practice where I used to work. They're still human to people who don't want vaccines. The culture also applies to adults who have good reasons not to want this bunch. I passed it on. It's safe to call Central Family Practice in Austin.
Jenny, my humanity-compass, my wife, has been feeling tremendously pressured and torn. It's not that she doesn't see the power dynamics and the stakes.
Jenny is a school librarian. She told me when people at school, coworkers got COVID last summer, fall and winter, and I privately talked with those people, and wrote them prescriptions for ivermectin based antiviral treatment. I also treated a husband with cancer, on chemo,
They all got better, and nobody paid me anything. Good Samaritan. I think it was 6 people.
That was wonderful. Everybody liked that. As spring progressed, it got harder and harder for Jenny to tell everybody "she was not vaccinated". Some of it came from coworkers , but also a lot from concerned parents, bringing their kids back to school in person, after a long time at home. Austin is a "blue city in a red state", and the parents at her school are mostly deep blue and wealthy enough to live in an expensive and intellectual part of town, the nice old mansion district by the UT campus.
Jenny is dreading going back to school and having to give the same "wrong answer" to .concerned-wealthy-parents again and again, day after day until she breaks and acquiesces and can be accepted as not-leperous.
"Accepting the jab is nothing more than a loyalty test to the narrative."
Somebody commented that on The Automatic Earth blog yesterday, and I like it a lot as an encapsulation of the social tension dynamic here.
The feeling totally sucks. It's unrelenting cognitive dissonance, making one feel anxious and shunned, and very insecure.
It's a feeling. Feelings are different from thoughts. Feelings don't usually respond well to being thought-at.
Narratives change by being resisted sufficiently for the question to remain open, as the evidence piles up that the narrative is wrong and dangerous.
then the paradigm has to shift. Tet-offensive, Vietnam. It happened. You might like other examples, but I lived that paradigm shift. Dad got back from a year in Vietnam just before Tet started, and I saw the whole societal shift unfold from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, where we moved.
Back to the feeling that sucks so bad, it makes you want to jump, cowering and shivering and shaking...
I feel it. What have I tried to do?
I don't mean to be vain, but all I can give is what I found when I prayed for my own guidance.
I have to meet the feeling of personal insecurity with compassion for those experiencing it, then it is not "I" experiencing it, but "I" am giving warmth and connection and support to those feeling it. In the societal-dominance dynamic, people are used against each other to create great tension by division and social pressure. Then, those group divisions are turned against each other, to kill each other until they are all exhausted and deeply traumatized, and willing to fully submit to power.
The Will of Love is the opposite of that.
I am trying to channel the Will of Love, which is to comfort my brothers and sisters who are shivering and cowering alone.
The power over us will no longer exist, when we comfort and love and accept each other.
Time will dissolve it.
https://www.johndayblog.com/2021/07/the-will-of-love.html