I had gone into one of my mind rooms, where I visualize walking into a room and looking around at everything in it, and maybe talking to whoever happens to show up with the room. It's a good way to fall asleep, sort of lucid dreaming. I've been doing that all my life, thanks to insomnia, and I'm still surprised by the things I find in my head. I mean, who mocks the other person in the room about the decor, which was stunning, by the way. I told him I felt like I'd walked into his brain womb. It's my own head mocking my own head. But at least there was a chess board there. A very nice one, actually, all the pieces were hand carved precious stone, the board was marble, and it was set into its own mahogany console table. (Now you're wondering what in the world I mocked in that room.)
I mean, Clifford torus? Do the jeans represent the bending and folding of spacetime? I often think of what spacetime actually is while I'm doing laundry, because, you know, fabric. But Star Jars? Apparently that's really a thing, but I didn't know that. Or maybe I heard of it once and it came back to me in a weird riddle.
Years ago in one of my older fandoms a friend and I tried to set up mutual lucid dreamstates, not very successful as far as we could tell, but from those experiences I moved on to researching spontaneous remote viewing in dreamstates, which explains loads of weirdness throughout my childhood and some really cool stuff since. Ancient aboriginals around the world used to call it soul traveling and regard it as a very natural part of our existence, and I think we're all familiar with the concept of priests across a variety of religions prompting visions by some means.
Abominations like this shouldn't even exist. #facepalm It clicks out to a couple of funny paragraphs that include "So the Venn Diagram of "Hates Jar Jar Binks" and "old enough to find Benedict Cumberbatch attractive" overlaps greatly... How does one reconcile that horrific voice coming out of Cumberbatch's mouth? Who allowed this dichotomous abomination of love and hate to happen? MTV, how dare you dabble in doublethink! Shit like this is how Orwellian dystopias get started."
Here, click this one to go torture yourself at youtube. What I don't get is how every celebrity in the world who does impressions on any level can immediately pull a Jar Jar out of their sleeve, even though we ALL agree that's about as wretchedly low as it gets.
How does Benedict show up in EVERYTHING I pull up in a google search. Everything.
Maybe the bigger question is- was that him in the white jeans with the red Clifford the dog heads all over them. I honestly couldn't tell you, didn't get the guy's face.
I think starting back up with psyche guy last week must've opened up a whole can of Star Jars. When I go back tomorrow, I may have to dredge up the big chess thing. It's complicated. Even Freud could never have anticipated asexual aspie being forced to play chess at the tender age of 8-10 with a man who could out-argue a whole group of Jehovah Witnesses just so he could win over and over until I finally got the whole strategy thing down. #pokerchess During games I was also forced to play devil's advocate for his lengthy religious arguments so he'd be ready to win debates over everyone else in his whole life. This all happened behind my mother's back in a house where we regularly bled out and dismembered my pets so we could eat them.
Guys, we ate Jar Jar. And Freud is dead. "I won't tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you"- no, just grind my brain through having to be right and win all the time. My dad was super aspie on a stick in a heart numbing carnival of death. Not a horrible man, just practical. They all were back then. Faith comes first. Before everything. Before love. Little girls and boys around the world still grow up like I did and know exactly what I'm saying. I'm still trying to figure out Star Jars. Some kind of metaphor?
Say the right words.