Traumatic memories are very important to maintain and to consistently relive. They must be kept vivid and vibrant, and used to nourish the Self-universe, within the horrific light of Truth. Most of you humans try to forget the terrible things that happened to you. Fools! The terrible things plot a course of Truth, they can help you to never fall prey to the illusions and delusions and malicious deceptions of humanity, society, and government.
When you try to forget, you betray Truth and you betray Yourself, in the worst possible way. And you never forget, you just destroy your conscious awareness. The memories remain, eating you, compelling you to cannibalize Yourself, only you can’t perceive what you are doing, or why.
Every week I spend at least 5 full hours, usually closer to 10, painstakingly reliving, in as much detail as I can, My childhood abuse. I pick out a specific incident, a specific day, from my rich inventory, and I strive to exactly relive the abuse.
I strive not to remember how it was, but to experience it again, exactly as I did when it occurred. To go back to the same True Reality, the same state of mind consciousness, I was chained within, on that day.
These recreations are always done as conscious recollections while fully awake. Never as Conscious Dreams, even though I have fully mastered the art of Conscious Dreaming, and sometimes do directly incorporate My childhood abuses within My Conscious Dreams, as prelude, or foreplay if you will, for the dynamic violence and revenge I plot out and savor, later in the dream.
But to actually build up direct memory of My childhood abuses, to increase their vividness and clarity and strength of impact, I rely upon these awake memory recreations.
30 to 50 years have passed by, but My commitment to remember every detail, to experience the Truth of My childhood destruction as it occurred and with absolute clarity, has not diminished. It will not diminish.
The infinite tragedy of death will take Me from Myself, render Me unborn, erase My memories, each as precious as any other. And the possibility of a disease such as Alzheimer’s betraying My uniquely brilliant brain, cannot be discounted. But I will not forget anything, out of error or laziness or any willful neglect of My Self-universe. I will not.
Would My attitude be different if Universal Child Abuse had not been deliberately sponsored and carried out against Me by society and government back then, as public policy mandate, in the 1960’s, 1970’s, and 1980’s? Would My attitude be different if anything had changed since then, if any reforms had occurred? If Universal Child Abuse were not carried out exactly the same today, June 28, 2017, as back then? What if My victimization had been a rare and isolated occurrence, an accident that could not have been prevented?
Perhaps My attitude might be different. But none of that is True, none of that is the reality.
My catalogued inventory of childhood torture, torment, victimization, destruction, is rich and varied. Every day I died a little more. Soul murder, destruction of personal potential, darkness descending, advancing, consuming, the human child that was Me. Now, I am no longer a child, and thanks to My unique brilliance and courage, I am no longer human, having rejected and transcended My humanity.
Yet I recreate Myself as a child, for hours and hours, every week. It must be done, the trauma must be relived by Me, the Self-aware Monster. It is the only True way to honor Self, to honor what I am, to honor the Truth of why I am what I am.
And so I spin the wheel of misfortune, the Wayback Machine of My innerspace. I pick a specific day, a frozen moment of time, and I recreate it as best I can. The trauma must be re-experienced, not merely remembered.
Every day is completely different, even if the actual abuse is similar.
Every day is different because the life cycle of soul murder and the building of Frankenstein’s Monster was so very different, from day to day.
Hundreds of times My father forced Me to suck his co*k and swallow the c*m, but the experience was different at age 4, from My earliest concrete memories, than at age 11. So very different. And so one day I recreate the experience from age 4, and another day from age 11, and other days all the other years. The event is not allowed to blend together, the memories must be kept distinct, so that almost every single one of the hundreds can be consciously remembered for its distinctiveness.
Hundreds of times My mother tried to blind Me, holding Me down inside of the bathtub, holding Me by the hair, pouring shampoo into My eyes. The burning felt different every time. Age 4 was different from age 10. At age 4 I didn’t yet know, consciously, that My eyesight was being destroyed.
And so I recreate the event at all stages of My childhood, from the “innocence” of age 4, to the knowledge at age 10, that My eyesight had been and was continuing to be, destroyed. Every day out of the hundreds of days was different, and so I try to recreate them all, remembering every nuance… The phone ringing in the background one time, Me grabbing the bottle of shampoo from her, another time, Learning how to keep My eyes tightly closed, but pretending the shampoo had gotten in, another time. The details matter!
And being dragged out into the hallway of the apartment building wearing only short white underwear and socks, dozens of times, and locked out. Huddling against the door for hours as humans went into and out of their apartments, went up and down the stairwell, momentarily pausing sometimes, looking at Me, I felt their eyes, saw their bodies, even as I never made eye contact.
Every time was different, I remember the lady in high heels, and the one who shuffled in slippers, and the big man who always stopped and stood silent, and I could faintly hear his breathing before he moved on. I do not try to merely remember, I recreate and relive the reality, honoring My courage, honoring Myself, honoring the Truth.
I will always be that child. There was no escaping back then, and to try to escape the Truth now, would be the choice of a fool, the choice of an Inferior for whom Truth and Self are judged equally worthless. There is nothing to escape from today, just as there was nowhere and nobody to escape to, back then.
The pain of the universe was created within Me, and within Me it shall always dwell. Always it will find a comforting spot within Me. Always it will find the warm embrace of unconditional love and acceptance.
My perfection of today was Self-created within the reflection of what was done to Me. And so I choose to remember everything, always!
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