Important words for an addict, “My drugs,” because that’s numero uno when you’re a junkie, your drugs. Where are my drugs, how much of my drugs are left, how soon will I need to call my dealer, when can I make a run?…these are the only things that matter, when you’re an addict, especially if you’re on the needle. If you’re on the needle, you’re done. Done. Period. With all this fetty floating around, it’s just a matter of time. Barely anyone gets out alive already, ESPECIALLY once they’re on the needle. It’s a dark world, as self-centered as it gets, because all that matters, is my drugs.
You grab your spoon, your crusty spoon, so much dope has been on that spoon, dope, & hope, all gone. Waiting sucks, so you give it a little heat, just a touch, & swirl it around, then drop your cotton, maybe a new one, maybe a used one, doesn’t matter. Might be some residue on an old one, so let’s use that one, yeah. Now a fresh spike, oh no, it’s my last one, but it’s a freshie, so no worries. Pop it, stick it, pull her up, the gun is now loaded. Where will you hit?…gotta make sure the gun is in your mouth before you pull the trigger, look at all those places where veins used to be, damn, all shot to hell, fuck, look around, looking, oh there’s one, one little spot, got it. Stabby time, & stick, it’s in, just pull up some blood to make sure I didn’t go to far, oh yes, clean shot, looks good, looks good, & plunge away. There she is. Hey girl…mmmmmmm. Hey there sweet girl. Back in our room, aren’t we girl? Just you & I. Oh wow, the room is getting smaller, like a vignette, there’s that weird taste in my mouth, oh but the vignette is closing, yes, the room getting smaller, & smaller, eyes are closing, show is over, last thoughts, as the vignette closes down to a pin, one little pin of light, one eye barely still open, stay awake maybe?…what did you say?…shhhhh…then just let go. Let go. Bye. Your body pukes out foam, trying to stay alive, but nope, you shot too much, & there’s no Narcan, or anyone around to save you anyway, & you die, alone. That’s the end, the end of your movie, & someone will find you, or rather, your body, all rotting & stinking of gruesome death.
.This ain’t gonna be no PSA for “just saying no,” or some corny nonsense like that, nope. Just illustrating the world of the dope fiend, & what comes first. I’ve seen moms do dope with their kids in the car seat. It takes away everything you have, everyone you love, everything, dope takes it all, once you’re on the needle. I lived that world for a long time, much too long. Dark days…I’m amazed I’m still here, to be honest. Feels like I’m the only one left, & they all went the same way, impaled by the spike. The worst thing you lose, is your will to appreciate life, & particularly, time. Nope, just waste away, slow suicide, until one day you’re shooting ½ gram bags at once, just to get through a shift at work. It’s insane how dark this world can become. Wanna see? Here’s a video from Kensington, a neighborhood in Philadelphia, where it literally looks like a scene from The Walking Dead. Check it out.
Not good, is it? This is some new drug called “Tranq,” & I’m not very familiar with it, nor am I interested in doing the zombie walk, sheesh, look at these people. Does this look like “life” to you? Does it look like these people are “living?” Fuck no, & it just keeps getting worse & worse & worse. There’s thousands of these videos, it’s absolutely shameful. People lose hope though, when situations go south, & they have no money, & “life,” just seems impossible, BOOM, enter the drugs, & WHAM, you’re addicted, just like that. Over time, it grows, like a little troll in your gut, stabbing at your stomach when he needs his medicine, & the more time goes by, the harder he stabs, the deeper the knife plunges into the walls of your guts, & he yells, “FEED ME!” You get anxious, then you sweat, then your stomach goes berserk, then it’s hell, the hell of kicking dope. A hell that I reserve to wish only upon my worst enemies. One hell week, then you’re free. It seems like an eternity though, for some reason.
Yeah, it’s rough, particularly off the needle, which is why so many people die. They try to kick, they try hard, they fight, nothing works though to make the cramps stop, to make the pain stop, to make the manic mind stop. Nope, there’s nothing…except dope, of course, so then they go score, because the pain is unbearably rough, & they shoot a big shot because oh that pain, it’s so bad, & because they haven’t used for a bit, their tolerance is lower, & POOF, lights out. That’s it. Done. Out. Gone. Bye. You’re no longer among the living, & everyone who’s left has to clean up the mess you leave. Foam coming out of your mouth, piss & shit on your crotch area, maybe running down your legs, cold, blue, stiffened up, just a body, as the soul has departed, & that’s the end of that person’s story, just like that. Everything they did in this life, from being born to growing up & going to school & making lifelong friends & relationships & learning your individually respective talents, & then to leaving home, & going to college maybe, & then you graduate & because college is a total waste of time for most people, you bee-bop around until you find a job, whatever. Can’t speculate generally on lives after college, because everyone goes in a million different directions when that time comes. Some find a “career,” & go on to get married, & have some kids, & get divorced, & all that made-for-television kind of life. Some go other ways, & maybe they take risks, they gamble on life, & that’s their life, just rolling with the flow. Some stay golden, & they live in the neighborhoods with the big houses, & pools, & they’re virtuous, despite their wealth. I suppose they just got a better ticket for the ride, but all-in-all, you get the point, right? Everyone goes different ways, but some, more-so than ever, go the way of addiction. Doesn’t matter what you do, or where you come from, there’s been an addict from every socio-eco-demographic you can think of. It’s a monster, a virus, a disease, a cancer, all of it in one really, & once you’re infected, it’s for life, unfortunately. Such is the way of my drugs. Do you get it yet? When you’re on the sauce, the sauce is boss. Good quote. I’m gonna have to add it to my book, The Great Quote Hunt, but I digress, as usual. Where was I? Oh yes, there is nothing else but getting well, as they say, once that needle is in your arm. If you’re not banging away, there’s still hope for you, but like I said, in the beginning, if the needle bag is open, your life is about to close up for the night, the darkest night of your life.
Oh but look at the time; I just heard the attention span alert go off. That must mean it’s once again time to wrap up yet another article composed by yours truly. There were good times, & hell, there were GREAT times with the drugs, but in the end, the dope casino wins & you walk out with nothing left but your socks, sometimes not even those. Not to mention, there are serious long-term effects, mental AND physical, as the human body isn’t built to exist in such a way. Self-care is important, but self-medicating to dull your wounds is no bueno. It doesn’t last, it never lasts, ever, & sadly, every junkie always gets to that moment when the drugs are almost gone, down to maybe a hit left, then gone, nothing, & you tell yourself, “I got this, I can beat it; just need a few days of detox, & I’m good to go.” Ummmmmmm…that’s a hard “NO,” NO NO NO…that NEVER works, ever, so maybe the best bet for all of you reading this, is to just never do drugs. 99 out of 100 lose the war, so do you honestly believe that you would be the one to get out completely? Ah, the junkie mind, the priorities so out of whack, & all that matters, is that phrase, “getting well.” Until next time dear readers, rewind the tape & peep my last few posts prior to this one. Get your respective selves all caught up. I could keep going, I could always keep going, write-write-writing about life, but I have a book to work on, so I can’t spend all my time on these random thought-articles I post, nor the Foozers, not until my book is done. Like I said, there’s PLENTY to go backwards in time on to find some enlightenments here in my opus of sorts. Find the “SEARCH” query, type in anything, ANYTHING, & a few fish will always bite. Over 6000 pages here…oh yes, that’s right, you heard me, SIX-THOUSAND PAGES of my madness, transcribed for all of you of course, & for none of you at all. That is the way, & I abide the truth. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
Well, well, well…this guy…this fucking guy above me…What the hell is going on with these so-called judges in this country? Can they make the dual “justice” system a little more obvious? Sheesh. If it had been anyone who so much as leans to the right, they’d be in federal prison learning jailhouse rules so they can keep their butthole tight, but I digress. Okay, where was I? Oh yes, THIS guy. In case you’re not aware, & if you aren’t, you’re lucky in a way, because your mind is clear from the programming, but most of us keep on the news, even the fake news. I, & I’m definitively speaking for myself & only myself, have an incessant need to watch this artificial snowball-zeitgeist like a hungry hawk, as it gathers mass before it flys off of the mountain. I am arguably addicted, addicted to finding out the real truth about this planet, & all across the internet, there’s diamonds, diamonds of news, REAL news, where the REAL information is, you just have find it. I don’t even really know why I do this though. Maybe because it’s like a quest, a quest to find the meaning of life, & information gathering helps, but it fills your mind with a million little facts that more-often-than not are useless, as you search & search for the real treasure.
Nonetheless, let’s try not to shift gears & get off track; the focus of this article is on Hunter Biden, son of the current POTUS Joe Biden. You might remember him from a series of pornographic photos featuring Hunter, various prostitutes hanging all over him, doing footplay, oh, & several grams at a time being smoked of crack or meth, can’t forget to mention that. Hard to tell from what I’ve seen if it’s coke or meth, but they did find a bag of cocaine in the White House recently, so maybe it was straight-up crack, crack cocaine, concentrated cocaine, just like high fructose corn syrup, the crack of sugar. Ever wonder why fat people are fatter in this country than in any other country? Easy, because we put high fructose corn syrup in a lot of products, & people get addicted to it, just like any other drug. They crave it, go into withdrawals without it, then eat more. It’s banned in most countries, except the once mighty USA, & the reason for this is that the USA is now a testing ground for various eugenic think tanks, who look into the future, & contemplate how they’re going to systematically slaughter 85-90% of us by the year 2030. If you think things are bad now, just wait, the train hasn’t even left the station yet. Watch & see. Or don’t, & turn off your television, do your thing, & when the storm comes, hopefully you’ll be self-savvy enough to ride it out.
Back to the article, Hunter Biden is basically getting a little slappy-slap on the wrists for his numerous crimes, crimes that would land any of us into some shithole prison cell. For Hunter though, nope, he gets a pass, & not just any pass, as his plea deal includes “immunity from future punishment.” How bout them apples? Are you seeing the truth here? I know, I know, I would like more information too, so be sure to click the links in this article to read more. I put those here for all of you to use as a diving board when you jump down your respective rabbit holes, looking for more, always looking for more to deep dive in to. I don’t care about this fucking piece of shit, Hunter Biden, but I DO care about the way these so-called “ruling elites” get exceptionally reduced sentences when they commit crimes, despite what the evidence says. It’s this simple: if they are needed to be found guilty, & there’s no way to buy out the case, they’ll get a pissy little sentence and/or maybe probation, but to protect their demonic friends, they will occasionally take one all the way down, as a sacrificial lam of sorts. Hunter Biden is too significant to receive the latter treatment, so he’s just going to get a bullshit sentence, perhaps some community service, a little probation, no jail time whatsoever, a fine, & then he’s on his way, with future immunity from prosecution for any of his crimes. How fucked up is that? What else can I say though?
Nothing will happen to change it, no Divine reckoning, NOTHING, so what can be done? Is yours truly scribbling down these words going to help at all? Nope, & the AI could’ve write this in a fraction of the time it takes me to do my articles. I’m a ghost, basically obsolete, because human writers mean nothing, truth-seeking thought criminals, we regular folks, we mean nothing, to the supposed “ruling elites,” & because we are “nothing,” nothing to them, but not to us, obviously. They can use the judicial system to make sure that We The People are punished to the fullest extent of the law. If you’re one of the “elites” however, you only deal with what I illustrated earlier. You get the plea deal for a tiny punishment, & that’s it, but had it been one of us, with the same charges, we’d be beyond bankrupt from lawyer fees, & the eventual public defender, because you’re broke, will do nothing to prevent you from getting straight-up prison time for the crimes Hunter Biden committed. You’d be sentenced, publicly scolded, & exiled to 23 in & 1 out conditions. You’d be surrounded by rapists, murderers, institutionalized psychopaths, like hell on earth, but that’s where YOU go. Hunter, he gets to go home, & stay/be home, with no prison time, a silly little probationary period that means nothing, a free luxury rehab setup, & that’s it, that’s the punishment for him, & I’m sure you can see the difference in the 2-tiered justice system, yes? There’s so many examples of this too, throughout history, & the key is to DYOR, Do Your Own Research, to discover for YOU, not for my broke black ass. Until next time dear readers, what do we do? We Do Our Own Research, because it’s easy to read summaries & short editorial diatribes, but to be complete, one MUST do the work, look things up, look everything up if you want, read about anything you don’t know, there’s so much access, so much information, out here in the digital ether, for free, you just have to look for those diamonds. Free your mind. They’ve taken everything from me, everything from us, except our words, our hearts, & our mind, so guess what? We win. So sayeth FisH™ 🎏
I’m going to assume that most of you have no idea what the title of this article means, but no worries, the FisH™ abides, as always. Just click the link here, on the word METANOIA, & you now have a new word to add to your lexicon. It essentially means a spiritual breakthrough, but like THE BREAKTHROUGH, breaking on through to the other side, literally. Coincidentally, this happened to your truly not so long ago. It’s too bad it took so long for me to find that word for myself, because if I had, I might have made some better choices. Unfortunately, I came up in the public school system indoctrination camp, in the Dirty South, no less. Yep, my lily-white ass had to ride the big banana bus, right through the black part of town. Those old school descendants of southern slaves, oh man, they stunk so bad. I think I have some repressed PTSD from those times, & I haven’t thought about it for a long, long time, until just now-ish. This keeps happening, more & more, & at this point, it seems like a life review in real-time, & that’s no exaggeration.
Visions, vivid visions of memories, going way back, exponentially becoming more prevalent by the day. No idea why it’s happening, but I’m glad it is, despite my dire financial life situation. I also have a bit of anxiety, over the fact that as I mentioned earlier, it feels like a life review, of sorts. Is this what happens before you take your last breath? Yikes…I guess we’ll all know shortly, won’t we? Oh dang, I must mention the dreams, these insanely lucid dreams, & when I get to get a bit of sleep, I go beyond astral traveling. I have no recollection of being here, or anywhere, for that matter; it’s as if I am somewhere else entirely, maybe even another planet and/or dimension, I don’t know. I know I love being there though, & I surmise that when we dream, we’re in a space that encompasses 3d, 4d, & 5d, all at the same time. It’s not full 5d, because you’re subject to time, but 4d time is distorted because of the influence of the 5th dimension. Ever had dreams that seemed to last for hours, even days sometimes, then wake up & realize only an hour or so has gone by? That’s the distortion I just illustrated, time still moves forward, but forward like a drunk driver, all over the place. Of course, we can’t forget 3d, because as I said, it’s 3d, 4d, AND 5d, all at once, like some bizarre backroom liminal space. You still have a body, somewhat, & there are still elements of this 3d world, as far as landscapes, & solid objects, but you cannot manifest said elements, at will, as you can in 5d.
These dreams, these visions, my personal metanoia, the Big Breakthrough, what can it all mean? It’s all so surreal; I wish I knew why, ya know? I DO KNOW, & I know that I know, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t remember. As 5d immortal soul beings, we know everything; we know music, the highest math, we know it all, but when we descend down here to 3d, POOF, it’s all gone, & this life should be a life of remembering what you already know, but it isn’t for most of us, right? Nope, this world has been hijacked, hijacked by soulless devil-worshipping scum, & turned into a prison planet. The divide between the proverbial guards, & us inmates, grows grander by the minute. That’s right, inmates, we’re all inmates down here in the peasantry, & the so-called “ruling elites,” they’re the guards. There’s fewer of them, a lot fewer, & yet they rule, but why? I’ll tell you why…it’s because they keep us inmates divided, & fighting each other, rather than us fighting them. We could take them all down in a an hour, but how can we, if we can’t unite as one undivided unified force? Divide & conquer, & it’s nature, the psychology behind it, oh yes, I figured it out. Goes beyond the Hegelian phrase, & even though many people have heard of “divide & conquer,” have they really thought it out? Think about the teaching, the instructions given to said ruling elites, reading book after book, listening to mentor after mentor, giving them the esoteric knowledge of how to divide the populous in order to rule them. It’s one of their secrets, one that I’ve discovered, & as promised in countless prior posts, I am here to find the truth, THE REAL TRUTH, then expose it by publishing these articles, passionately illustrating these truths, for all of you.
I want us ALL to know, to remember, not just them. FUCK THEM. Jesus Christ, it’s as if that movie They Live is a documentary, not science fiction. Could it be true? Could reptilian shapeshifters make up these “ruling elites,” & maybe that’s another buried treasure trove of knowledge & information? I’ll have to speak more on that next time. Before I wrap this Foozer up, I’ll try my best to detail one of these dreams that I can recollect. Ready? Set? GO GO GO…
This one that I remember well, & try to ponder often, also haunts me in a way. Picture a beachside bungalow, one story, a white house with an angled roof, atop a cliff, that overlooks an ocean. Think of Washington State, the coast, or Oregon even, with those steep cliffs that overlook the Pacific Ocean, & this house, like I said, was white in color, with two pillars prior to the front door. What happens when we go though this door? I’ll tell you, I’m in there, with one or two other dudes. We’re all connected in a way, but there were these rules, these unusually odd rules in this house. I recall a couch, a bed, & a TV broadcasting some kind of colored static alien program. I would be in all 3, as the time passed, as the roles seemed to rotate. The TV guy, the couch stretcher, & the sleepy sleeper. I can somewhat remember going outside a few times, & having this feeling of novelty, as if I was in some outerworldly dimension. I’m sure I could spice it up into some kind of short film, which I just texted myself to do, as a reminder, but I digress, now where was I? Oh yes, in & out of this house, rotating positions, & as I said, there were rules. What rules?
Great question, thanks for asking. The rules were unspoken, yet known, known like a second language. There was no question, the rules were the rules, & for some reason, I was…unable, you could say, to break them, yet never gave breaking the rules a thought, not even once. Maybe it was more like…obligations. Yes, forget the word “rules,” & think of them as obligations. Obliged to who though, or what? I have no better word than “God,” at least a god. These obligations weren’t written on the wall, there wasn’t a telephone in site, or a computer, & certainly no internet, yet, as I said, I was obliged to abide them, & could care less about no phones or internet. There never is in any of my dreams, never the phone, never the internet, never any concept of money, lending much to my theory that this world is artificial, & no longer following the natural order. Regardless, there I was, with the other guys, inside this little white house, then outside this little White House, for days & days in my dream, but all within an hour or so of 4d time in this 3d Clownworld. I told you, time is distorted when you dream because you’re much closer to 5d, where you higher self exists, your TRUE self, not this mask-wearing ego 3d-self I exist as, when I’m in the waking world. That’s right, days & days went by in this dream, & consistently consisted of the rotation. I can’t remember what happened when I watched the multi-colored static TV. I seem to remember it was possibly instructing me, but about what, I cannot tell you, because I cannot remember. It sucks that we can’t remember dreams as they totally happened; we can only recall pieces at best, & nothing at worst. Let’s illustrate this rotation now, shall we?
Moving on to the bed, rotation one. I don’t think I slept while laying down onto this bed in my dream. Can you imagine, sleeping in a dream, like some kind of Inception, but no, no sleeping. I’m pretty sure it was a full size bed, pushed up against the wall. Oh shit, let me describe the main room this all happened in, so you can add more detail to the figurative picture I paint for you, as if I were the great Bob Ross, & you were one of my art students, so let’s paint said picture. Opening the door of the house, you come to a large living room, the wallpaper is gaudy, like those flowery wallpapers you might find in circa 1970’s London, & to the left, is the bed, perpendicular to that wallflowered wall. One white pillow, & a white comforter, but no sheets, & it’s just as I said, a white comforter & a white pillow. Temperature didn’t appear to matter, however, so sheets or blankets mattered not. A foot or so from the bed’s foot, there was a walkway. No door, just a walkway, a dark walkway, as dark as a moonless night in a middle-of-nowhere sort of darkness. I don’t remember anyone going through said walkway from this languid living room, nor anyone, or anything, coming from the dark side into the living room. It was ominous though, I knew that. On the floor against the opposing wall from the front door, sat the television. One of those older TVs, circa 1987 perhaps, broadcasting this watercolored swirling static with symbols I cannot recall, only that they were popping up now & again. There was most certainly an…an…annnnn…an alien, yes, an alien feel to it, for lack of a better descriptor. The floor of this living room, by the way, was old hardwood flooring. Real wood mind you, but old wood, & I would guess it would be analogous to a 50-60 year old house here in 3d space. That’s the left side, & an intro to the tv space, but what is happening on the right wall?
The right wall is identical to the left wall, except instead of a bed, there’s a couch to stretch out on, which, as I said, was part of the rotation. There’s also another mysterious walkway, with nothing but the darkest of dark, should one choose to walk on through that portal to the darkness. It’s directly across from the walkway across the way, just past the foot of the couch. I know, I know, how can a couch have a “foot,” right? Wrong, & the answer is quite simple; the answer is…is that it faces the television. I don’t know what’s through these walkways, however, & neither do the other guys in this wonky white house with me. Wait a second, just who are the other guys in this rotating game, you might be wondering, yes? After countless hours of trying to remember, I think they were…well they were me, me in three different manifestations, like triplets, all bound to the obligations of the rotation. It almost felt like a video game , & the whole dream, consisted of me, myself, & I, either on the couch, or on the bed, or sitting a foot away from the TV on the floor, watching this bizarre, water-colored static emanating from the television. What can it all mean? Regardless, it’s one of the dreams I can recall very well, so I thought I’d share it with you, because the FisH™ abides, & you know this.
UPDATE: Yours truly had a fresh dream, that went on for a day or two, in the dream, but in real-time, ohhhhhhhh…maybe 2 hours, give or take 10 minutes. As I mentioned earlier, dream “time,” which is the 4th dimension, is distorted, due to the fact that you’re between the 3rd, 4th, AND 5th dimension. Anyway, I had this dream; I was at a party in this dream, a party of maybe 20-30-40 people, & somehow I knew them, ALL of them, despite never ever never meeting them in the waking world. How can that be? Who are these people? Nonetheless, there was love all around, & I was maybe 20 years younger than I am now, dressed in board shorts, sandals, & nothing else, & my board shorts were a bit big for me, so I had to keep pulling them up because my ass, & occasionally my shwing-shwang, kept popping out. No one seemed to mind though for as I mentioned, it was all love at this party. Again, there were no cell phones, no internet, & had no recollection of being here in this world, as if I truly was in another dimension. Oh, I forgot to mention this, I was there, but not quite all-the-way there, which gave me a sense of feeling kind of…drunkish, you might say. I wasn’t drinking; I wasn’t even interested in getting drunk, but my equilibrium was way off. Lots of stumbles, lots of malfunctions while trying to grab things, yet my mind head was completely sober. I could think like normal, but getting these thoughts to come out was proving very difficult. Maybe it was the time distortion, I don’t know, but regardless, I kept stumble-walking around this surreal party. A couple of girls, younger girls, were trying to get me to do the hat trick with them. They were wearing jeans, & tight tank-top shirts, one blue, & one red, & they wanted the big D, from me, obviously, but unfortunately, I never followed through. I feel like I changed my mind & went to look for them, but they were nowhere to be found. Bummer. Who else was at this party?
Great question, thanks again for playing. Oh let’s see, there was a hodgepodge of white dudes, black dudes, a bunch of hot white girls, & maybe one or two black girls, & they were all drinking from a big punch bowl that never seemed to run out of whatever the beverage was that was in there. I don’t recall drinking any, but as I said, my body felt “drunk,” for lack of a better term. It felt more like the feeling you get when you go heroic with Xanax. Your mind still functions in a relatively normal manner, but your body, your body stumbles. Bumping into walls, dropping things, & not giving a fuck, yes, that’s Xanax for you bubblegummers out there who have never taken it, much less in a large dose. I know the feeling all too well, sadly, so if I had to equate my physical state, it would be more like Xanax, rather than booze. Now, if you ever mix the two, booze & Xanax, prepare to have your mind erased, & to wake up with zero recollection of what exactly happened when you were drunk & xanaxed up. It’s a terribly dark drug, pun intended, because that’s what happens when it wears off. You only see black, total darkness, when you try to remember what you did. I digress though, as always, now where was I?
Oh yes, the big party…everyone was drinking from the big punchbowl, people were laughing, joyous, truly having a good time. Perhaps I should have tried the mysterious punch, but I didn’t, I just kept walking/stumbling around, babbling to everyone I encountered, & as I mentioned, I knew them somehow, & knew them quite well, but had never met, nor ever seen, any of these people in real time. Also, I knew this house the party was happening in, as if it were my own house, but again, I had never been to this place here in 3d world, much less lived in it, this house I was in, yet somehow, I knew it. It felt like I was back home, kind of, as in when I went outside, there was a familiarity as if I were in the beachfront town I came from, but it wasn’t. Nope, it wasn’t back home; the scenery, if you will, was different, the roads, the businesses, the houses, all of it was different, yet strangely similar, as well as exceptionally familiar to me as well as everything else. I recall seeing the names of some of the businesses, but I can’t remember what the names on their respective marquees above their buildings said. Distortion distortion distortion. Oh damn, just had a vision, a vision from a dream I’d forgotten about, but since I literally just had this vision, POOF, it came back to me. Let me finish the party illustration, then I’ll come back to this vision I just had.
It’s not gonna take long, since I’m almost at the end of describing the punchbowl party dream. What else can I say, what did I miss? Let’s see…party party party, missed a threesome with 2 hot younger broads, didn’t try the punch from the punchbowl, was stumbling & bumping due to equilibrium failure, I knew everyone somehow, as well as the big party house, & there was an almost a tangible energy of pure love betwixt myself & the party goers. I remember walking out of the house, turning right at the end of the walkway up to the house, followed by a little walk to the west I assume, because it was a sunny afternoon, & the sun was setting behind my view of the buildings ahead of me. I remember a split in the walk way; think of a “Y,” & that’s how it appeared to me from my vantage point. There was a business at the crux of the “Y,” with a sign, but for the life of me, I can’t recall what the sign said, as well as the rest of these signs. When I try to remember, it all just looks like jumbled letters, along with symbols & numbers, on these signs. It wasn’t a foreign language, it was more like codes, of some kind, but I have no idea what they translate into. Who put these signs up in this town? How did I know everything so well? What is going on in my fish-eyed brain? Is a dream really just…a dream, or is it more than that? Maybe it’s less, what do you think?
I think it’s individually subjective, but who’s doing the subjecting? Gah, I know, I know that I know, I know I have the answers within me, but for some fucking reason, I cannot find said answers. It’s incredibly frustrating; it’s frustrating, it’s depressing, it’s heart-breaking, all the above, & I’ve never felt so alone in all my life, wayyyyyy out here on my island, way out, all the way out to the tightroped perimeter of sanity, & I think there might be no way back, not here in 3d Clownworld at least. Yep, it’s looking like my ship has unprecedentedly entered uncharted waters, waters filled with ghost sharks, ready to rip me apart, limb from limb, should I decide to abandon their proverbail ship & try to swim for the shore, the shore of silence, the shore of safe returns. It looks so peaceful on this figurative shore, but if you’re stuck on an island, with no ship, there’s nowhere to go. Can’t stay on an island forever, now can you?…but how long can one stay on a ship before finding a sanctuary on land? Here I am digressing again, & just to finish up the illustration of the party dream, I went walking toward the V part of the Y, to the point where the road splits, leaving me to go either left or right, if I were to keep going in this generally westerly direction. I didn’t, however, & once I got to the spilt, I took a hard right, going off-road, in order to circle around & go back to the party, which I did, as if I knew exactly where to go, cutting through yards, until I got to an alley, which led me right back to the house. Want to know what I saw when I got back?
Of course you do, & since the FisH™ abides, I’ll tell you. Upon returning to the party, there was a lot less people there, & these people were all new. None of them, not even ONE, were there before I went on my walkabout. I knew these newbies too though, somehow, & knew them well, just like the others. More walking, stumbling, socializing, basking in the glory of the love between all of us, with ZERO recollection of this world, even yours truly, who is typing this in my present, while you read it in my past. That’s right, two different yours trulys, with two different minds, in one strange brain, probably in one body. I cannot know until I look into a mirror in a dream. I’m saying “mirror,” over & over in my head, with the hope that the concept of said mirror, will imprint into my mind & create synapses so that I can maybe, just maybe, dream about it, if I sleep tonight of course. My sleep has been so fucked up lately. Dreams, that last notably longer whilst dreaming, as opposed to a couple of hours I sleep in real time here in 3d. The dreams, on top of my visions, might be helping me in some way I am missing. Obviously, my dumb ass has no clue how to find whatever I’ve lost, but yep, definitely missing something. The answers are within me, I know it, God damn it I know, I KNOW, but I also do NOT know. Nope, don’t know a God damned thing, much less the meaning of dreams and/or visions. Of course, I’ve been searching the interwebs, like a group of hound dogs chasing a deer, & it’s all over the place, which leads me to believe that no on has a clue what is happening with dreams/visions. If they did, wouldn’t they all be saying the same thing? The reason we have dreams, as well as visions, should definitely NOT be subjective. Come on now people, there’s an answer for why it happens, of course there is, doesn’t everything have an answer, per se? We haven’t found the answer to dreams, or visions, so a bunch of power-mad morons with a PhDeeznuts write books to give people interpretations, disguised as “answers.”
Holy tap-dancing Jesus, this has turned into quite a post, & I’m just gonna stop, & wrap this one up. I could keep going, & going, & going, but the human attention span stop sign got ran about 4 paragraphs ago. Until next time dear readers, chronicle your dreams, for they have to mean something, right? So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🎣
“Chronicle your dreams; it’s the only way to remember them.” Fish F Fish🎣
Are “choices” real? Plays into my previous article discussing free will and soul contracts; I don’t think soul contracts are real, & free will, that’s anyone’s guess. I’ve done a million things against my “free will,” so I’ll stay right atop the fence on that one. Not to mention, I have very vivid dreams, particularly lately, where I have literally ZERO connection to this life here in 3d Clownworld. ZERO, as if I’m existing in totally different worlds, with a different head. What can it mean? Why is it that I’m always waking up back here though, with little to memory of existing in the other place, why? Damnit, I feel like I know, deep down in a vault I no longer have access to, vibrating way down here in 3d. Nonetheless, I know, & I know I know, but as I said, the proverbial key has been lost to open those doors. Why? Who did this to me, to us, to humanity? What do these so-called “ruling elites” know that most of us do not know? Fuck that, I want answers, & I want them NOW. Severe head injuries, as well as drugs & vaccines, have kept the hamster running on the wheel upstairs, but that’s about it, so I can only speculate as to how many other people have functioned and/or are functioning in a seemingly permanent alpha state. Like I’ve been on auto-pilot, for so fucking long. The fog suddenly lifted fairly recently though, & the floodgates unleashed a torrentuous maelstrom of brain activity, including these dreams I’ve been having. What can it mean, what can it mean, what can it all mean?
Back to the topic…”choices,” are we really choosing anything? If time travel is real, then all of this is always happening & thus, has already happened, implying we’re just playing out an endlessly unchanging consciousness. I think about these things all the time, & again, I KNOW THE ANSWERS, but they’ve been buried so deep, for so long, & without a map to find them, how would one know where to even look, ya know? I still haven’t found the map, but I do believe I synchronously found the first treasure chest, filled with jewels of information, & golden truth, as to what is really going on here in this 3d Earth plane. I’m sure I don’t need to illustrate the notion that something is off here, WAYYYYY off, do I? Does all of this seem “right” to you? No, I already know it doesn’t; it is wise to trust that gut feeling that this world is…artificial, if you will. That’s because it IS, because if it’s all built on a foundation of deceptive lies, then there’s nothing real about anything, ANYTHING. It’s ALL a lie, & I am sick & damn tired of being lied to. I want to know the truth, THE REAL TRUTH, & I want to know now. Fuck you compliant alphabet agencies keeping the Great Secrets, fuck you supposed “ruling elites” for hiding the Real Truth, fuck all of you. All for your own nefarious purposes, living like royalty, & while the rest of us sink deeper into the stinking shit of poverty by the day, you fuckers get more powerful by the minute. The divide is growing exponentially. What is this power accumulation for? WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS??? I want to know, because we not “living,” per se in this life; it’s just a slow death, a slow suicide really, if you’re killing yourself every day just to survive. That is how they justify what they do, they trick you into blaming yourself, & if you believe that, you give them dominion over you, & your immortal soul.
Ugh, it’s so dreary outside today. Like 55, overcast, raining, haven’t even seen the sun for a few days, nor felt it’s divine warmth. Lots of time to think my thoughts, or channel them, no one really knows where thoughts come from, or do they? YES, of course we know, only we don’t know that we know anymore, because they’ve poisoned everything to keep us docile, docile & complacent, complying with whatever whims your masters might be whimming. Masters, & slaves, trapped on a prison planet. Most people are slaves obviously, slaves to money, while the masters vie for power. WHY ARE THEY SO POWER MAD??? GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…FUCK FUCKING FUCK, WHAT IS IT THEY KNOW THAT THEY KEEP HIDDEN??? It’s maddening, clearly, so I’m gonna wrap this up for now. It’s too gloomy to be maddened by the revelations & self-realizations arising in the bungled brain of yours truly. Until next time dear readers, do you like being enslaved? Why don’t you want to be free, free from chains that have your own initials on them, why? Maybe there’s no way out, but I’m still going to find a way, even if I have to come through the fucking walls, I WILL find the truth someday. This I choose, for you, not for me. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all… 🎣
“Even if I have to smash through the walls of this prison planet, I will find freedom via truth someday.” Fish F Fish🎣
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 