I know what books I'll be looking into this next year, thanks to this video, Earliest Examples of the Mandela Effect. That chick's research goes back to 1999 and actually uses some well thought out science, which will be fun. I watched another vid, which lines up with conclusions I've come to myself over the years.
For instance, I discovered that the most interesting thought process follows the question "If I could go back and tell myself anything, what would it be?" I took that question very seriously for years and decided that everything I am doing NOW is the result of this question. Everything I ever wanted to understand about reality and why we are here is all coming to me. I concluded years ago that I am affecting my past, and that a lot of the weird stuff I seem to go through might actually be from me at a later date. I've had far too many coincidences, remote views, dreams that come true, and deja vus in my life to not be meaningful in some way, and I gravitated to synchronicity as I was looking for answers, which I've talked about many times. I've 'always known' who I need to be and what I need to be doing, I just didn't always know how and with what at the time. It's like I had to accumulate experience and knowledge, like you do in gaming, to be able to level up and do bigger things.
Here is one example of that process. For years I questioned faith if people assume praying changes nothing once a certain time has passed. How can an omnipotent god be constrained by something like time? (Especially now that we can visualize stepping outside of time ourselves.) I didn't realize I had the opportunity to test this until I found out later it worked. I was on my way to nursing clinicals at an insanely early hour, and about halfway there I had a sudden urge to pray for my kids to get to school safely. That was not a daily habit back then, and I was very distracted with pain issues, so it felt weird for that to come so strongly into my mind. I took it seriously and focused a few minutes on asking for my kids and I to all arrive home safely that day, and that the day be easy for all of us because it felt like things had been so hard lately. After we were all home hours later, I found out the school bus had just missed being broadsided on a major highway by a big transport truck. The kicker was that happened before I prayed, so where did that big urgent feeling come from? I immediately thought of quantum reality and figured time going forward or backward has no power over anyone I could possibly pray to about affecting reality, and that meant my prayer was still very meaningful and important after the event had passed, particularly because I didn't know about it. I think that the not knowing somehow gives us more power to affect change, and I don't mean that *I* changed anything, but that I inadvertently asked it to change and it did.
The key is the not knowing. The whole point is about going with your gut and focusing on what you want. What do you REALLY want? Give that all your focus for a quiet minute or two. This has become a daily habit for me. I use the form of prayer because I honestly can't not believe in someone being more powerful than me being able to see all this stuff from the outside. Given the new breakthroughs in cosmological thought about simulated universes, this isn't that big a stretch. I think our wording is very misleading, instantly lending to downplaying intent and purpose, but it makes total sense to me that we mimic our bigger universe by creating more digital universes ourselves.
I've turned this process into a shared journey.
clicks to source
And of course I played around. Since every time I do a search for ANYTHING and Benedict Cumberbatch usually pops up in there somewhere (hence #bengruity lol), I thought I'd do a deliberate search for "Benedict Cumberbatch Mandela Effect" to see if anything pops up, especially since he's got one of the largest fandoms in the world possibly mass mind quantum changing everything around us, right. Well, guess what. The only things I could find at all were one person swearing his name had really been Cumberpatch, one person certain he'd played Doctor Who at some point, and one person swearing they'd witnessed him dying in a car accident with a girlfriend that apparently doesn't exist now. You'd think there would be a lot more weirdness around as big a deal as him. Maybe the fandom has locked him into place. Benlocked.
I wrote this draft on 1-14-16 and then walked off and forgot about it. I added a couple of notes today in orange. ~~TRIGGER WARNING~~. Seriously, if you're having a bad day on the edge, come back to this later, ok? Or if you go ahead and read it and trigger, pleasepleaseplease make sure you've got someone to call, ok?
I really hate the horrifying visions I get. They come out of nowhere without any warning, and then I'm stuck with the shock of them and there's nothing I can do about it. They've been happening all my life and I never talk about them because who can I tell without sounding crazy, and there's no place to put them because writing this stuff pulls in creepers and draws flies like you wouldn't believe. Plus, I used to imagine being locked up in a little room and experimented on.
I went back to bed after coffee and my workout. Sometimes it's luxurious, this time it was a disaster. I was letting my mind wander through free associating, bit of a chess game with someone here, maybe a little bit of a disagreement about a policy there, nothing at all to do with real life, and then it switched just like a TV channel and I was there, watching.
A very distraught young mother was yelling at her tiny little girl that she (the mom) did everything wrong, and this time she (the mom) couldn't stop sobbing and yelling, "I'm not doing it right, don't you see, I'm not doing it right!" She was a little pudgy and red faced from crying, I couldn't tell where they were exactly, the little girl was curly haired and only in a diaper, and the mommy picked her up and put her down, indecisive, and picked her up again and just jumped. And her body bounced horribly and broke, and the little girl was protected from the fall by her mom's body so she mostly just thumped, and then everything was horribly still and the little girl was sitting there not knowing what happened and started crying and crying, and there was no one around to come pick her up, so she sat beside her broken mommy not knowing what to do.
And then it switched off and I was back in bed. I can't lay there after stuff like that, I have to get up and distract myself with other things. I very rarely write about it, despite journaling prolifically for years. If I were to write out every single time this has happened, there would be several big volumes of short stories about all the many ways I've seen people die, and it's so real that I can smell and hear what's going on in the background.
I don't see these things on TV shows because I don't watch that kind of TV. I don't read these things in books because I rarely read books nowadays. I don't see these things in feeds because I mute everyone who shares the kind of stuff that triggers me. I'll be completely absorbed in something else and suddenly see a violent death pop into my head and vanish again right after it happens. This happens both awake and asleep, and when it happens asleep, it's usually so disturbing I wake up immediately, and very different from regular nightmares. I've never recognized anyone, have never known the locations, never find out what happens. Sometimes they are so real and I'm so 'there' that I'm confused to find myself back 'here', like nothing had happened. Sometimes I'm relieved to find myself back in my own bed, like I've forgotten this is my life, not that. (This has been happening since I was about 3 or 4 years old.) (It'll be in the book.)
I've looked into remote viewing and brain anomalies and everything in between, including all kinds of dream interpretations. I've mentioned it to a handful of people in real life, but it's such a creepy thing to talk about that I've stopped. I know there are other people who do this, too, and the one phrase that pops up that we agree on is feeling like we are witnessing stuff. Why this happens is anyone's guess. There seems to be no point to it besides being some kind of tuning device that randomly picks up some kind of energy surges. If dowsers can use sticks to find underground water (good article), I imagine brains can snap onto other people's energy-charged emotional experiences. Other than that, who knows.
A fan asked Wil Wheaton about getting on medication versus powering through depression. This was his reply, and it's really good, go read it. You’re not broken, and you’re not weak. Depression lies because Depression is a dick. I agree with this. If you're actually on the brink of something rash and can't think straight, omg please call 9-1-1 or someone to take you in to the ER. Brain chemicals have nothing to do with being weak any more than stomach chemicals giving you massive hearthburn have to do with being weak. It's a chemical thing. It doesn't self correct in crisis, you don't just wait it out until one day you wake up and it's all gone.
You guys watching me deal with depression- that's right, you're watching me under supervision because med reactions, right? Years of this, guys. If you can do the meds, do the meds. Don't think you can just shove all your stuff into a drawer in your brain and hide it from everyone.
Throughout my 30s I was pretty rabid to find out what was going on with me and devoured everything I could find on NDEs (near death experiences, which I've had), anthropological studies on dreams through human development and across all cultures and times, dreams in mysticism and religions, and anything actual science I could find on how brains work. I started respectably with Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and worked out from there.
The first scientific book I ran into that crossed into the realm of weird was Chaos by James Gleick, "historian of science, and sometime Internet pioneer whose work has chronicled the cultural impact of modern technology. Recognized for illuminating complex subjects through the techniques of narrative nonfiction, he has been called “one of the great science writers of all time." according to Wikipedia. I know, we scoff about wikipedia nowadays, but back then was still largely pre-internet, pre-fractals, the first inklings of string theory, and the ending chapter pulled in the science of artificial intelligence compared to mapping the human brain and how this new Chaos Theory could explain the wild leaps in evolution and the way brains work. (Lexx fans know I'm also a big Lorenz fan.) If you're a Lost fan and rememember all the weird science in that show, this is the kind of stuff I'm talking about. And of course, all this new science is already 'old stuff' now.
The last book I got hold of a couple of years ago was The ESP Enigma: The Scientific Case for Psychic Phenomena written by a real brain doctor. I've never claimed to be psychic (if I were I'd never have married my first husband), but I keep wondering why my brain 'makes this stuff up' out of the blue if it's not 'real'. (No, I'm not schizophrenic, in case you're wondering because I mention seeing a psychologist so often. I'm autism spectrum, which some think lends to psychic awareness, but I see all this more as a synchronicity thing that we're all part of.) (As you can imagine, I'm also a philosophy enthusiast.) It's nice that a neuropsychologist (a whole decade of school and stuff, people) attempted pulling a new book together around braining, but I still think Farscape hit the nail on how common and beautifully tragic brain phenomena is when coupled with regimes and coups and megalomaniacs. John Crichton was 'ordinary' and yet we see his brain picked and pulled apart in every conceivable fashion at every possible level, and survival still goes on.
Back to here and now. I've been a very good girl this week- got my money stuff all mapped out through end of March (I have $20 left in spending money till April), got my medical lined up through the spring (see a surgeon this morning about all the nerve work I've done in my arms in physical therapy and now what is the next step to halt or slow down nerve death), got back on track with my writing projects (no more yelling FOCUS! at myself), got the groceries stocked way back up yesterday (no more scraping bare cupboards for awhile) (picked up Black Mass for $12, woohoo!), and still staying pretty caught up with the chores around the house.
This post is me stalling. I need to be out my door in about an hour. Maybe I'll just get ready and then play minecraft while I drink my breakfast shake, which is really hot chocolate with a load of protein powder dumped in. I learned how to mine and forge yesterday in multiplayer. I like mining, very cathartic. Kai showed me how to spot where diamonds are and coax them out. I'm using this capture from 'Pinky' world in my rotating wallpapers, clicks out to big.
Who else needs some #bencongruity today? Here you go. Have a great day, guys.
I popped awake from a dream just after midnight with someone using that title in a sentence. So I'm sitting here bleary eyed wondering if that's really a thing, and behold. (Click pix for sources)
I also just found out that full frontal is a phrase used in t-shirt printing meaning the entire front is printed/printable, not just a restricted area, like this. Good to know.
I'm going back to bed now. Yes, without telling you the rest of the dream. Yes, there was sex, but I wasn't necessarily involved. No, the full frontal shirt line someone was saying had nothing to do with the sex part because it was long over. There was driving around a west coast city stuff, hanging out at a party stuff, talking to people stuff, lots of stuff I never do in real life. It may have been one of my 'spy' dreams, as I fondly call them. Maybe I remote viewed someone's afternoon/evening in San Francisco or something. Yeah, someone who was discussing t-shirt designs, I dunno, geez guys, gimme a break. I'm going back to bed.
Here, have something to help you go back to sleep.
p.s. I blame Larry for my potato chip craving at 1 a.m.
p.p.s. My first tweet link apparently sent a bunch of you off to into the wilds of internet shopping with no explanation. Sorry about that. Always test your links, kids.
I was in another country, making my way through a territory of very rich and very poor, looking for clues. I knew it was extremely dangerous and I had lost all contact with back up, but I was furthest in, so I kept going.
A dirt road used by a mining and construction company wound up a thickly forested mountainside, and I knew I stood out like a sore thumb to everyone walking on that road. Nearly everyone I met was walking. There were no vehicles other than a monster construction rig here and there, but most of those were shut down. Near the end of the road was a lush community hall, large and bustling with workers of all kinds, and as walkers arrived, they went looking for their areas to work. I couldn't help noticing there were a lot more children than I expected, also way better behaved than one would expect. Over a little time and sneaking around in and out of kitchens, large hallways, meeting areas, and staff areas, I pieced together that nearly all the workers in every capacity were more like slaves than anything, there for their lives, not because they got paychecks and went home at the end of the day, including the children.
I had to be especially careful of the children. The adults quietly sidling around were in a kind of acceptance where they could allow denial to cover their thoughts and just focus on their chores. The children were different- alert and ready to react, even though they obviously held themselves in check well enough. At one point, a little girl about six or seven years old dressed up in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry and makeup darted away from her little gang, grabbed my hand, and said with her head tilted and her eyes looking at me sideways, "It's further down than you think." She looked deadly serious for such a little girl, and I knew better than to assume I could talk to her. I only said, "What is, the depths of hell?", and she let go of my hand with an evil laugh, rejoined her little gang, and they continued on their way, one of the older girls quietly admonishing the one who talked to me. After that I felt marked, anyone younger than 15 glanced at me no matter where I was. Boys especially would make little taunts if they dared, because they didn't want to draw more attention to themselves, either. I got a little worried for a little while that one older gang of boys would jump me and knock me down. They kept following me around and whispering and laughing among themselves, but ducked back if I went near any place they could be noticed and get into trouble, so I got the impression they were bored and a little high strung with nerves while they waited for their work to begin.
All this time I was eluding being spotted by some very particular grown ups, ducking down behind rows of seating, dodging through a big coat closet, weaving through a busy kitchen, catching conversations from angles where I wasn't seen. I still have no clue what I was doing there and what knowledge I was gaining, but I felt some quickly growing concern that it was bigger and more immediate than anyone thought, and I had to find a way back out of there to get the information back to my own people. I didn't see how, though. I would definitely be noticed going the wrong way down the mountain, and I knew the woods were full of snipers.
Fortunately, some kind of warning siren went off, and the lush community building (very large, built right into the side of the mountain, everything in there screamed of money to burn) emptied out, and as I made my way back through the wide entry (reminded me of a convention center at that point) I didn't worry so much about standing out because everyone was headed the same direction, mostly children, still in their little groups, very orderly and quiet and frightened. We all headed back down the dirt road.
I was piecing together by this point that the girls were have supposed to have been part of the entertainment for a very large underground business meeting, and while some of the youngest boys were probably meant for the same, the older boys had other jobs, like gofers on up to heavy lifters and carriers. A few of the older boys had bikes, and one of the biker boys going by me stopped to pick up a couple of small silver tablets that had been dropped in the dust along the road, just smaller than a hand. They were obviously worth a lot, like a krugerrand bar, only a little bigger and heavier.
Some of the younger girls became a little frantic when they realized they were simply going back, which was understandable. They clearly only had the bigger girls to calm them, likely taken away from their parents, or even sold, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I had to find a way off that dirt road because heavy trucks were coming up, and if I were caught I'd probably be interrogated to death. I was thrilled to notice part of the road went over a lazy river, and I remembered the little girl saying "It's further down than you think." At that moment I felt a little hand again, and without even looking around I stepped up to the edge of the bridge and gauged the distance. It was a very long drop, but there was a deeper spot in the river we could plunge into if we pushed off hard enough. Without hesitation, me and two little girls, all holding hands, leapt off the bridge as hard as we could.
The water was warmer than I thought it would be. I've been in an icy cold river on a camping trip that took my breath away, but this river wasn't that cold. I knew all we had to do was relax and push up from the bottom when we felt it at our feet. Just relax and hold my breath. Don't worry about anything, push and float up. I could feel us floating up. It was taking a little longer than I thought, maybe I should start kicking a little. I was still holding hands with one little girl, and I couldn't tell if she was still holding hands with the other. I tried to look up and see how close the surface was, maybe about two more feet. Suddenly I lost my control and breathed in a little breath. I knew that meant I'd drown and started thrashing for the surface before I could start coughing, but in that very same moment I was also very surprised I wasn't feeling water in my lungs and didn't feel a compulsive coughing coming on.
I woke up and took a big breath. I was lying in my bed. I wasn't drowning and there wasn't anything else going on.
I do this once in awhile, maybe several times a year. I dream I'm someone else, and it's all very real. When I wake up I'm very surprised to find myself 'back', because I had no thoughts of myself or my life here during the dream. It took me a long time to figure out I'm not me as I know me in dreams like these. It's like I'm inside someone else watching everything that happens. I generally don't question anything or try to change anything because I'm not aware in the dream that it's not me. Usually what ends these dreams is my self awareness filtering through. I was holding my breath in my sleep because I believed I was in the water. I breathed in my sleep and believed I would drown. I've actually drowned several times in dreams like these, so I feel like I know what it feels like to drown. I know I didn't drown in this dream because what I felt was me breathing in my bed, not in the water. Whoever that person was in the river, I hope she got away. I usually never learn anything more once I have awakened. It's like I've put a book down or turned a movie off, and I can't pick it back up or turn it back on.
Being an observer in dreams doesn't mean I know what's going on. Mostly, I just remember stuff that happens, details along the way, but I have no memory or even a clue why I was infiltrating an underground meeting in another country, or what happened to cancel it and evacuate the building. I don't know anything else about who I was, like what my name was or what I actually looked like, but I'm pretty sure I was a woman this time. I got a strong sense of being under cover, but I didn't think about why during the dream. I only thought about each next move that had to be made. You can tell when my awareness starts filtering into this dream when I have my own memories about being in a much colder river. If I truly do experience another person when I have these kinds of dreams, I have often wondered if my own memories or fears filtering back in confuse them.
I've been having dreams like this all of my life. I remember telling my mother when I was still very small that I exploded. I wasn't able to tell her at the time that I didn't understand how I could explode and still be here. I tried to tell her I was a man. I think she was very disturbed when I tried to tell her my dreams, and I just learned to stop trying. I can still see that dream in my mind as clearly as I did then. I wore a suit and carried a case, I tried to get away, something went all wrong, I exploded. I was very surprised when I woke up and I was a little girl again.
Consider this post a teaser for my book. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get it out there.
By the way, there's a big Chuck watch on the 27th. My own tagged tweet is so buried I'm just grabbing the latest one at the moment. Click the snip to follow the Chuck Movie account. Sorry, I have no other info about where this is showing or what the plan is except this facebook group, which is closed, so it's up to you to dig. Good luck to Chuck fans, I'm not holding my breath, but I agree that was a cool show.
