We Had A Blast at Disneyland

We went to Disneyland on Monday. My sister suggested it a couple months back because it was a trifecta of opportunity: 1) she had the day off. 2) it was a Tier Zero ticket day, the cheapest at $104, and 3) best of all, it was Halloweentime, which had started about a week earlier. 

I'm a little kid where Disneyland is concerned. I can't sleep the night before, so it turns into a marathon for me. I get there as early as I can and stay until after the rides close. This time, I tossed and turned the night before, from about 11:30 til 5am. Then, I said "the heck with it" and got out of bed. I got ready, then backed out of my parking space at 5:55am. Still dark out. No traffic til the Santa Ana I-5 interchange (medium bad), then back up to speed until four exits from Disneyland Drive. Then it came (almost) to a dead stop and ended up costing us a half hour. I had hoped to make it in time for the Rope Drop, which I've never done (have you?), but even with all the last-minute traffic, we still managed to walk through the magic archway at 8:07am, seven minutes after the park opened and the earliest I've ever been there.

Main Street was already filling up.

Why do I say "we"? Because I had already decided that You were coming with me, and I had you in mind from the start.

That's right. You were in the passenger seat of my car (sorry about the traffic). I told you we were gonna have a blast and we did. You rode with me on every ride (in spirit, which was especially cool on The Haunted Mansion), and we stayed until almost midnight.

I hope you didn't mind the (almost) 16-hour day.

What's your favorite ride at Disneyland? I'm guessing the Mansion, which was of course decked out as The Nightmare Before Christmas for Halloweentime. But what's your favorite ride besides that?

I'm not sure I can pick one (many people would say "Pirates"), but my favorite Land is Fantasyland for sure. Always has been, ever since I was a kid, and I always make sure to hit every ride. The lines weren't too bad this time, all throughout the park (average wait: 20 minutes, longest wait: 45, some rides we just walked right into).

If people saw a guy in black clothes, flourescent green shoes and and orange cap walking around mumbling and thought he was weird, that's because they couldn't see you walking with me.

We did other stuff, too: watched the Disneyland Band for a while (playing jazz and John Philip Sousa); we saw a Halloween Parade led by Cruella DeVille and including Snow White, the Evil Queen, the Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland, and the Wicked Stepsisters from Cinderella.

We went on the Storybook Land Canal Boats, one of my very favorite rides (how about you?)

Only one coaster-ride this time: The Matterhorn. Thunder Mountain was closed and we didn't wanna wait an hour for Space Mountain. We went on Tiana's Bayou twice and got soaked both times (I ain't wearin' no plastic poncho!)

24 rides in all (a few twice). We hung out on Main Street until apprx 11:45, said "thanks" to Walt Disney in his apartment above the Fire Station, then took the tram back to the Mickey & Friends parking garage and temporarily got lost because we forgot we were in the Pixar Pals section. But there was no traffic on the way home. We got back in a hour.

Thanks for coming with me. I love you.  💗

Happy Fall

I hope you had a good week. Yesterday marked five years since Pearl died, so its been an introspective time for me, but in a good way because I still feel her presence. I've been listening to a lot of the music I used to play for her in her later years, including Canterbury rock, of all things: groups like Caravan, Egg and Steve Hillage, all of which got her tapping her feet in the mornings as opposed to the classical stuff on KUSC (I love classical but it made Pearl sleepy). I've also been remembering the Halloweens I spent with her at her house, ten in all, and the first seven with Kobi, her dog (and my pal), who would dress up in his Pumpkin Poncho and spangled collar. Kobi in costume was a magnet for trick or treaters. Pearl and I had a blast handing out candy, and carving jack o' lanterns beforehand. We always had horror movies running all day long on TCM. My years as her caregiver were some of the best of my life, and it's amazing to know that you were part of those years. Imagine me seeing you in church, in 2016 perhaps, and having no idea that I knew you. Now, I wanna know all about what we did together, how many personal encounters we had -  everything!

I know I wasn't with you all the time, or even on a regular basis, but however many times we were together, they were meaningful and important enough that it has resulted in what I'm feeling now, and what I hope you're feeling. To me, the persistence of these feelings is astounding because they were buried in me - I wasn't aware I knew you - and yet they came to life all these years later. 

I'm a little concerned about stresses you may be dealing with (and if you aren't please disregard this), but I want you to hang in there because "We've got this", and I'll tell you right now - no one can stop us. No one can prevent us from being together, provided it's what you want. 

The bottom line is that we live not far apart, and I am going to be in church before the end of the year. I'll be there on Christmas Eve for sure, and if it's sooner, I will post it here to give you advance notice. Or, if you are planning to attend a service, just give me a hint when, and I'll be there. Then we'd actually be in the same room.

Let me know as much as you can, if you can, and if you want to.

I love you and am with you all the way. 💗

Halloween Queen

I loved today's pictures! You look so perfect in that dress and (and gorgeous, too). No one does Halloween like you -  it's not even close, and the person in second place would be miles behind you.

Man...I would love to go with you to one of these events. There seems to be a lot of them now. In the old days, there were the theme park Halloween makeovers (Knotts, Universal, Disneyland) and a few Haunted Hayrides. There was also the legendary Factory of Nightmares, which for a few years was held right here in Northridge at Devonshire Downs. I went to the very first Factory in San Fernando in October 1975 where Alice Cooper appeared to promote his first solo album. But there were about ten thousand people ahead of us in line and he left before we got in.

Getting back to the recent past, consider that you and I have actually done a Halloween together. Mostly in a car (and also at two houses), but still, we must ask: was it amazing?

I say yes.

In fact, it was an All Time Halloween.

It would be off the charts to do another one, but this time in the classic sense, or maybe the supernatural.

Do you like ghostly things? Walks and such. Observations of shadowy places?

You and me could do the All Time Halloween Walk.

I'm already "in the season" too (I kind of always am), and I just finished reading Paul Tremblay's "Dead But Dreaming of Electric Sheep", then immediately began "Halloweenland" by Al Sarratonio, a writer who specializes in the holiday. I also started re-watching the original "Dark Shadows" series (1966 -1971). 

I like to look for Halloween in the ordinary places, too, like the crook of a tree or a chipped-up empty parking lot, when the light changes as Summer meets Fall. Halloween can be seen in the drapery of a stifling room... and of course in backlit spider webs, of which I am the photographic King. 

Is there any chance we could do another Halloween together?

(gigantic love and xoxoxoxo) 💓

Hope All Is Well

Just popping in to say I hope everything is okay. If not, let me know, and if you ever need me for any reason, I'm not far away. As I've said, I wish we could communicate more directly, but that would be up to you (and I understand if it's not possible at the moment). Having said that, I've assumed two things, which is why I write to you here at the blog in the first place:

Firstly, I've assumed you were the second writer on my birthday card. The chain of events involving that card is uncanny. As I think I mentioned, it took me until early June to notice the two types of handwriting, but after I noticed it - wow. Shortly thereafter, I had two dreams involving you, and at the time of those dreams, I only knew you as a church member. Within a week after that, I remembered January 17, 2010, and discovered that I'd not only met you, but that we knew each other... 

The second thing I've assumed is that you read this blog. I base that on intuition, and on recent evidence involving a response I asked for and received. I could be wrong about your readership, and if you don't read, that means you aren't aware of any of the things I've recently written, and what I know about you and me, which is now extensive.

But my intuition errs on the side that you do know (whether you read or not). You know how I feel about you, at the very least.

This Summer has been a life-changer for me - because of you, and because of the things I've remembered.

You have changed my life (no exaggeration). You and I have different abilities in the extra-ordinary sense, but we are very closely matched in many ways. I think we belong together, though again, all of this is new to me. You are much more attuned to the situation than I am.

But I am right here, I am at your service, and I'll stand by (unobtrusively) because I love you and hope you feel the same. Since you came back into my life, through our combined remarkable talents, I've been thinking about you constantly, hoping that you've been aware of my newfound knowledge. If you need me, let me know. I believe something wonderful could happen soon. xoxoxoxo

2014 (Part Two)

 Returning to our story of the CSUN Media Building Incident, which occurred at around 9pm on Saturday, August 30, 2014, we left off with my confusion at the sudden arrival of three specific people at that location, and David Friedman's apathetic admission that he'd lured me - not only to go on this walk, but into what seemed to be a trap at the building. See the last blog for details. After noticing the two men and one woman standing at evenly-spaced distances from me (apprx 30 to 40 feet per person), the next thing I remember is standing directly in front of the Media Building's front door, the same one I entered, every Thursday for nine years while school was in session, to attend the CSUN Cinematheque. The theater is just beyond that glass front door.

On this occasion, I was standing there with Friedman and his daughter. I have a vivid recollection of saying "I feel dizzy", and his daughter saying, "Dad, I don't like this. I want to leave."

My dizziness was the result of being triangulated (i.e "scanned") by the bad guys who surrounded me. See previous blogs for details about the electronic devices used in hypnotic "scanning" (and keep in mind that not all hypnotic states are deep and zombie-like. In a light hypnotic state, you are fully alert, though malleable). Friedman, a sociopath if there ever was one, had lured me into a trap - with his 12 year old daughter present - in which I was surrounded in the midst of what I thought was an ordinary CSUN walk. Two of the three people who surrounded me were a brother and sister (very close friends of Friedman's).

The third person who surrounded me (from behind, see last blog) was John "Shecky" Mallis, the drummer from my band Disturbing the Peace. I knew Shecky from 1983 until 1996, when he supposedly moved back to his hometown of Chicago. But here he was in Northridge, at CSUN, in 2014. What was going on?

I knew since the 1980s that Shecky was a drug dealer who grew pot in large quantities. He had the balls to raise an entire backyard of high-grade, strongly scented marijuana plants that could be smelled from the street. When our band was using his garage to rehearse, I asked him about this because being in that proximity made me nervous. He told me there was nothing to worry about, that he'd paid a "fee" (which I believe was 10k?) to become what he called "a gardener". 

At the door of the Media Building, I again stated feeling dizzy. This was likely due to vertigo, a by-product of the scanning. I watched the male of the brother/sister team produce a key, with which he attempted to unlock the glass front door. As this happened, Friedman's daughter repeated her unease. "Dad, he says he's dizzy. I don't want to be here. I'm going back to the car."

The female of the brother/sister team apparently didn't want to stick around either. She said something about "why did I agree to do this?" (or "I only agreed to do this because...") and then offered to walk Friedman's daughter back to their car, which would also give her an excuse to leave. Friedman sloughed her off with a disgruntled "go, then!", and the two females departed.

At the door, the woman's brother was fumbling with his key, trying to put it in the lock. Even in my dizzy state, it occurred to me that this guy should have no reason to have a key to a CSUN building. Yet he did, or seemed to. I still don't recall if his key worked, or if he had to call someone inside the building to let us in, but either way, we were soon inside.

I didn't see the Key Man after that. He must've high-tailed it. John "Shecky" Mallis was no longer present, either, having left the scene after I was triangulated when the incident began. That left Friedman and me in the lobby of the building, where the Armer Theater is located. Friedman was ultra-nervous. "Wait here," he told me. I was now relatively docile from being scanned, therefore I followed his instructions. Still, I wasn't a pushover. "Why are we here?" I asked him.

"Because someone wants to see you," he replied.

Friedman walked away, entered the Armer Theater, then emerged a minute later with two brothers in tow. Both are close friends not only with Friedman, but also with a relative of mine. The older of the two brothers is a screenwriter who, at the time, had just signed a contract with director Paul Verhoeven. The writer and his younger brother were attending a mini-celebration in his honor; They and a few other people were having a small party in the theater. I think they were screening a film.

The brothers saw me and vice-versa. I acknowledged them and again asked, "What's going on?" adding, "Friedman says someone wants to see me. Is it you guys?" The writer said, "No, it's not us." I said, "Well, who is it, then?" He said, "Here, follow me. You'll find out who it is in a minute."

Friedman decided that the situation was getting too hot for him. "I'm gonna go. My daughter is waiting at my car." With that, he was gone. I followed the two brothers around the corner from the lobby and into a short hallway that had classrooms and offices on either side. The three of us entered an office.

"I'll ask again," I said. "Who are we waiting for?" I'd been on a walk with Friedman. I had no idea we were coming here. The writer said, "Yeah...um...sorry about all of this. It wasn't my idea."

"So who are we waiting for? I'll wait about two more minutes and then I'm leaving."

"I'd advise you to wait," he replied.

"What is it, a surprise?"

"No, but someone wants to talk to you. Wait here and I'll see if he's coming."

I stood there with the writer's younger brother, mumbling variations of "what the hell...?"

About five minutes after he left, the writer returned, followed by a tall man with dark hair, dressed in casual business mode. He wore glasses. You might say he looked like a college professor.

And in fact, he was. 

Folks, to my utter stupefaction, I was looking at my kidnapper, the guy who abducted and tortured me in his house on September 2, 1989. I won't mention his name this time around. Instead, we are calling him The Greaseball. As we know, he is Dean of the CSUN Cinema Department. And, he is also a friend of the sceenwriter, who - on a side note - was inside his house while I was being held there (in Sept. 1989) - and therefore knew I was his captive. He was in cahoots with The Greaseball. This screenwriter is a profoundly bad guy. He got very nervous when he saw my reaction to The Greaseball in the office. "Is it okay if I go back to the theater?" 

"I'd rather you wait in the hall, in case I need you. You, too," said The Greaseball to the brother. "I'm just gonna talk to Adam for a minute, but..." - and he shrugged, as if to say "you never know."

Here is what I remember. After the two brothers left the room, I was incredulous. "Sit down," said The Greaseball. I did so, in a chair at the front of a desk, which he now sat behind. I was livid. In my normal state, I would've gotten up and left. I was scared of this guy, from a retrospective standpoint, but I was also unafraid. It's hard to describe what a light hypnosis feels like. You feel very "in the moment". You deal with what's right in front you and you take the situation "literally", as if you can't back out of it (which you would if you weren't hypnotised).

He tried some "light-hearted humor", something like "so, we meet again" or "Happy Labor Day. What is it now, about 25 years later?" In fact, it was. Monday September 1st (two days after this) would be Labor Day 2014. The day after that would be the 25th "anniversary" of when he abducted me.

I remember saying something like "why aren't you in prison?" or "You should be in prison".

"Now, now, Adam. Let's not start off on the wrong foot. I'm being cordial with you; you can be cordial to me." This is all paraphrased, but close. I couldn't believe I was sitting across a desk from this s.o.b. "What do you f-ing want, and why should I talk to you?" He tried one more attempt at humor. "What? Are you still mad? Here, wait a sec...I've got a baseball bat around here somewhere. Let me find it, you can hit me with it if you want."

I grimaced. "Tell me what you want or I'm leaving."

Now, he turned serious. "I, um, may be in some trouble because of you. I have a potential problem here at the University." He explained that my blogs, which were then on MySpace and which he was aware of, could be found in a Google search. "Okay. I know that," I told him. I didn't say, but suspected he knew, that a majority of those blogs were about The 1989 Event, and a lot of them were specifically about him and what he did to me. "My students can find those blogs, just by Googling my name", he said.

I wanted to say, "serves you right!" Perhaps I did.

"Some of them have read what you wrote. It got back to the University President, and I'm facing a suspension. I could lose my tenure because of you." I felt like saying, "You're lucky you aren't in prison!" I know I said, "You kidnapped and tortured me." In other words: tough shit. "It's not my problem if the University fires you." He insinuated that it was my problem. "Don't threaten me," I said. 

"Okay, okay, Adam. Let's be cordial again. Can we do that?"

"What is it that you want? Why was I brought here tonight?"

"Because of those blogs. After I was told about them, I tried finding them on MySpace. But I couldn't, and I..."

"The blogs are gone now," I interrupted. "MySpace changed their site. It's music-oriented now. They don't have blogs anymore. They took all the old ones down." In fact, this had happened very recently. I initially converted to Blogger (this website) for that reason.

"Well," he said, growing angry, "Someone must've archived them, because several of my students have found them. Tell me where they are! What's the url? I have to know what you wrote about me!"

"I have no idea how your students found them," I said.

"Did you save them? In a zip file or anything like that?" I told him the truth. You tend to be literal under hypnosis.

"In fact, I did. I have every blog I ever wrote on a thumb drive."

"Ahh...now we're getting somewhere. Can I see that thumb drive?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Look, Adam, I need you to bring me that thumb drive so I can see what you wrote."

"No effing way."

"Cordial, remember? I'll tell you what - we can make a deal. I've got connections in Hollywood. You bring me the thumb drive, let me keep it for a few days. I'll read all the blogs then return it to you, and we can write a script together. Make some money out of this whole thing."

That is paraphrased, but he actually made such a proposal.

"Go eff yourself!" I told him. "I wouldn't give you that thumb drive in a million years!"

His face flashed from disappointment (he actually thought he'd convinced me) to determination:

"Okay, Adam. I'll tell you what. I'll give you three days to think about it. After that, I'm done being cordial. Three days, got it? School will be in session. The semester starts Tuesday. You can bring me the thumb drive right here in my office."

"No chance. I don't need three days. I'm telling you right now I'm not giving you that thumb drive."

"Three days", he repeated. "I'm advising you to bring it to me."

"I'm leaving," I said, and got up to show myself out.

He followed me into the hallway, where the screenwriter and his brother were still waiting. They asked to talk to me, so I walked with them back to the lobby, where three other men were now milling. From their looks, they ranged in age from mid-50s (like me), to a decade older (like The Greaseball). All were casually dressed. One wore a Porkpie hat. They apparently had been part of the screenwriter's contract celebration in the theater. As I waited for him to tell me whatever he wanted to tell me, The Greaseball asked for a picture to be taken of him with his BoHo friends. The four of them stood side by side. The picture was taken by the screenwriter's brother.

Folks, I found this photo online. It may still be available. If you know The Greaseball's name, use it as a search term along with "Armer Theater" and "CSUN Cinema Department". Try different combinations, and if that doesn't work, get creative. And remember the one guy's Porkpie hat. I was standing there when that picture was taken.

The screenwriter never did tell me whatever he claimed to want to tell me. Along with being a profoundly bad guy (which is a whole 'nuther story), he is a distracted sort. You could say he has smog for brains. I was so pissed off at this point (hypnosis or no hypnosis) that I just wanted out of there. I don't know if I attempted to leave by the main front doors (where we entered when this incident began), but I know for certain that I did exit by a door at the south end of the hall where The Greaseball's office was located.

He followed me, angry again after the photo was taken of him and his collegiate buddies.

"You'd better bring me that thumb drive!" he called as I neared the door. I don't know if I answered or kept walking. His friend with the hat was in the hallway now, and wondered what was going on. He said something like "why are you hassling that dude?"

The next paraphrase is how he got his nickname. The Hat Guy said something like, "I don't want to know what' going on with you, Jerry, but I'm thinking I should keep my distance. Aren't you getting too old for this shit? Look at you, man - you're melting. What are they gonna do, keep recharging your batteries till you turn into a puddle of grease?"

That is why I call him The Greaseball. For the record, he is not Italian.

I left the Media Building by the middle set of glass doors at the building's south end. I was beyond upset by this point. Jerry the Greaseball continued to threaten me about the thumb drive until the doors closed, upon which I found myself facing  a guy we'll call "D". In years past, I'd have named him, but I am warier now, or maybe just exhausted, having gotten no results or acknowledgement from 33 years of talking about this stuff. So, let's call him "D". That's his first initial. I've known him since 1971, when he lived across the street and we went to the same Junior High. Until February 1982, I thought he was my friend. Then he orchestrated the Zilch burglary, which set the stage for all that followed. Read previous blogs about that crime, if interested.

This guy has been a drug dealer since at least 1983. Now, here he was, at the rear of the CSUN Media Building, waiting for me when I came out. The fact that he was there, for this incident, shows his connection to Jerry the Greaseball. Jerry is not someone that any normal person would have anything to do with.

But "D" was there, right when I left the building, and he, too, berated me. I don't recall exactly why, but I'm sure it had something to do with the following things:

1989. "D"'s association with Jerry, and with the screenwriter (and drugs and pornography).

These are some evil people, folks. "You have no idea".  Thank you, Jeremy Irons.

Evil. Not just "bad guys" (though they are that at a basic level).

John "Shecky" Mallis was back, standing to the left side of the exit. He must've waited outside while the incident occurred in the building. Sheck saw how agitated "D" was, and how I was not taking any of his shit, and he tried to de-escalate the situation. "C'mon, D...chill out." Except he used "D's" full name.

I walked past both of them now, down the cement path leading south to the Drama Building.

"Where's Friedman?" I said to myself and to no one. "He brought me here, didn't he?"

I then saw a figure on the lawn about twenty yards down. "Where's Friedman?!" I repeated.

"Hey, Adam. It's me, Pat."

I approached and saw that it was indeed Pat Forducci, who had not been present until now. I don't know exactly why he was there. Maybe to monitor the other guys. "C'mon, I'll walk you home", he said. He mentioned something about vertigo, and that "D" was an a-hole. He said I probably wouldn't remember anything about this night, and he was correct. I didn't remember it until Fall 2025 - 11 years later.

Pat was caught up in the same cult, and its secrets, that entrapped and compromised David Friedman, which led "Freedy" to use me as a chess piece. Some friend, eh?

Pat was severely compromised, also. Caught up in a bad and secret lifestyle. Both Friedman and Pat died before their time.

This incident was followed by another serious criminal event two days later.

See the next blog for details.

 

   

2014 (Part One)

I don't currently have another memory to report (nothing new has come up), but I do have some investigative context for what we've already compiled. I'm interested in what we'll call the Halloween Event from 2014 because it is the first time I can recall being with you in a non-church setting, other than our introduction at Pearl's house in January 2010. To me, this indicates that our encounters happened in two phases:

The first, from January 2010 through (I'm guessing) 2011/2012 included our introduction (which happened before I became Pearl's caregiver) and the parking lot/classroom incidents at the church which I've recently written about.

The second phase seems to begin in October 2014, with the Halloween Event, then our secret meeting in the Fireside Room on December 28th of that year, assisted by your friend (who was also with us on Halloween). These late-2014 events carry over into what feels like a lot of activity in 2015. My most prominent memory from that year is the Good Friday Event on April 3, but I have others that potentially occurred (or originated at) your house, like the trip to Dollar Tree, and some vague glimpses of other meetings at Pearl's house. All of this happened in 2015.

I have another picture of us riding in your Mom's car. It might've been on the same trip to Dollar Tree. I clearly recall you saying that it would be the last time we would see each other for a while because you were going (to Hawaii?) to be a summer camp counselor.

So, those seem to be the two phases of our personal encounters, get-togethers, meetings, etc:

January 2010 thru perhaps 2011/2012 (a guess on my part), and then 2014/2015 (for certain).

Question: why was there a break of two years or longer? And why did things resume when they did? What led you guys to come to Pearl's house on Halloween Night 2014, the first incident I remember from the second phase?

Now, I'll add the context I mentioned. This comes strictly from my end of things. As you know, I've had an unusual life, that - in places - has unfortunately included a lot of unwanted and unwarranted interaction with criminals. Put simply, I've been a victim of violence, some of it extreme. Many if not most of the people I knew were bad guys, though I wasn't aware of this when we were younger. I thought they were my friends.

You may or may not know about The 1989 Event. It included, as a participant, my next-door neighbor at the time - a CSUN Professor of Cinema - who was, and will always be, one of the worst people in the entire world (no exaggeration). As everyone knows, he abducted me from my house on the night of September 2, 1989. That story has been told a million times (one day it will hopefully be acknowledged). He got away with what he did, which would've put most people in prison for decades if not life. He wasn't even fired from CSUN, even though the University was absolutely aware of his actions. Instead, he gradually got promoted, and is now Dean of the Cinema Dept. Imagine that.

This lowlife (we'll call him The Greaseball) is now 76 years old. He's been teaching at CSUN since 1988; 38 years, which must make him one of the longest-tenured professors at the University.

Which brings us back to 2014. On Saturday August 30 of that year, after my dinner shift at Pearl's, I drove back to my apartment and walked up to the Northridge Little League baseball field (on Devonshire Street west of Reseda Bl.), where a Beatles tribute band was playing. They're called "Ticket to Ride". I've seen 'em a bunch of times, they're great. When their set ended at around 8pm or slightly later, I headed back to my apartment. But on my way down Reseda Boulevard, I got a call from the late David Friedman. He said he was in Northridge, with his daughter. "Wanna go for a CSUN walk with us?" I was planning to go home, having already gotten most of my daily miles on the walk to and from the concert. Also, Friedman could be a major-league complainer, always bitching about his job or domestic situation in Woe Is Me mode. Thus, I didn't look forward to hanging out with him. But he had his tween-age daughter with him, a good kid who provided a buffer for his kvetching. I agreed to meet them at the corner of Reseda and Superior Street, from where we strolled the short distance to the CSUN campus. By now, the time was around 8:30. We walked south on Etiwanda, past Plummer, but instead of going diagonally through the Business complex (as we usually did), we maintained course on Etiwanda, heading toward the south border of CSUN on Nordhoff Street. The subject had somehow turned to movies. I must've been telling them about the school's fabulous Cinematheque series, which I attended regularly from 2009 onwards.

Friedman asked me what building it was in. "The Media Building," I answered. It's also known as Manzanita Hall. The architechture is distinctive. He asked me to walk them past it. We turned east, on a walkway that lines up laterally with Dearborn Street.

About 50 yards from the building, Friedman stopped and began fiddling with his phone. I probably kept talking about movies with his daughter. Perhaps 30 seconds later, still waiting for Friedman, I noticed a figure walking south on the path next to Sierra Hall, which ends at the front door of the Media Building. The figure appeared to be a woman. As she approached, I thought I recognized her.

Almost simultaneously, I was alerted by a noise behind me. I turned around to see a man standing about thirty feet away. He had something in his hand about the size of a phone or a tv remote. I recognized him for certain, and something was wrong because he shouldn't have been there. He'd moved to Chicago in 1996, eighteen years earlier. "Shecky?", I said, mildly incredulous. He didn't respond. Friedman looked up from his phone. The woman had now closed the distance to where I could see who she was; a close friend of David Friedman's.

Then another figure caught my eye to the north, on the steps above Sierra Hall South. It was the brother of the woman who was now standing by the door of the Media Building. I was getting a funny feeling.

"What's going on?" I asked Friedman.

"I tricked you," he said. "Sorry."

(to be continued soon)

I love you and trust you can feel it. 💗

The Church Classroom (Happy Halloween Season!)

You are the undisputed Queen of Halloween, so let the season begin and let's enjoy every day. 💀

I have another memory involving us. It begins (I think) in the church parking lot. It must begin there, because I picture myself in one of the school rooms on the east side of the property. Think of the long, east/west parking lot, then remember how, in a recent blog, I described parking toward the far end in my early months with Pearl. I initially parked down there because the closer slots were full, and after I noticed you one day, I deliberately parked there the next time, hoping to see you again.

In my most recent memory (recovered two days ago), I see myself in this classroom. It could be a Sunday or Tuesday (for Golden Agers).

A tall lady is in the room with me. Collar-length straight brown hair, swept across her forehead. Freckles. You know her. She's a long-time church member who was in the choir when I joined. She sang with us until around late 2015.

Anyway, she's in the schoolroom with me in this memory, and she says (paraphrase) "what are you doing here?" and I say "I'm supposed to wait for (You)". I don't know if I used your name, or if I even knew it, but I probably did. 

I may have said."She wanted me to help move some books." That image is also in the memory, me carrying books into the classroom.

So, I'm in there waiting for you; you are supposed to be back any minute, but it's taking longer, and I say to the tall lady "this feels weird" or "I feel weird" or something like that, because it feels like I'm in a vacuum or a time warp.

The memory has an isolated feeling that is different than any of our other encounters I've described. I must have mentioned this feeling to the tall lady, because I distictly remember her saying (paraphrase): "That's because she put you under a spell." She might've said hypnosis instead of spell, but I think she said spell.

She went on to mention a "situation" at the church, and that You wanted to talk to me in secret. I've written about this aspect before, regarding incidents that took place in 2014, but this encounter feels much earlier. I have a hunch that, while I was waiting for you, another one of your friends entered the classroom, a plus-size girl (teenage or young adult) with long, wavy hair, who was a church regular back then, and who often read bible passages onstage in my first year in choir. She made a joke to you about, "wow, you sure have a lot of guts to take a chance like this." That is extremely paraphrased, but she meant the whole idea of having me in that room, under a spell, in secret.

But she agreed to be a lookout, because Pearl would be leaving in about 15 minutes or so, exiting the Choir Room, or The Fireside Room (if it was Golden Agers), and I had to be "back to normal" (de-hypnotized) and ready to pick her up. So, this girl volumteered to be a lookout for you. Here's a funny, possible detail: I picture an egg-timer in the classroom. Did you bring an egg-timer specifically for this purpose? Or is that my imagination? (Side note: in memory recovery, it is important to stress which details are less than vivid). The egg-timer is 50/50 for me.

Anyway, I think you had about 15 or 20 minutes to talk to me, and you did so. By now, it was just the two of us in the classroom. The tall lady had left, and your friend was outside being the lookout. You and I were alone. I think you did most of the talking, and I am 51% sure of some of the things you said (51% being probable rather than possible). However, all of what was said is between us.

I also have images of moccasins and saddle shoes. Did you ever wear either type of footwear?

I'm extremely curious about this memory. I'm certain it's from an actual encounter, and I'd love to know when it happened. 

Getting back to Halloween, I've also had an image (just a flash) of "meeting you" (being reintroduced to you) at a booth on the church grounds. A wooden booth. I remember the Fall Boutique they had every year, and the Rummage Sale. Pearl always went to those. In this flash image, someone says to me, "Oh, have you met (your name)?" or "have you met our witch?" I say "no", and I'm directed to this booth, where you are waiting, in costume. I realize I may have this image conflated with a certain photograph, but because it has persisted in meditation, I ask about it. Did they ever have a Witch Booth at any of the Fall Boutiques?

I'm super excited about this Halloween Season. If you are the Queen, I am at least The Prince!

I love you beyond measure.  💗 

You and Me (plus 90s Music)

R.I.P. Dolly Parton and Tim Curry, she (of course) a giant of American culture (and philanthropy) and he a great actor who did a lot more than the roles he was known for, like Frank-N-Furter in "Rocky Horror". Speaking of his costumed roles, you no doubt loved him in "Legend" (an underrated movie - by Ridley Scott of all people - that is one of my favorites). And of course, we love him as Pennywise in the original "IT." Both Dolly and Tim Curry had been in poor health for a long time, so their deaths weren't entirely unexpected. But still...

Anyhow, I think of you all day long, every day. I hope all is well and that you are holding up in this heat. The last few nights haven't even cooled off. I go for my walk between 7 and 9 pm, and it's still close to 90 degrees and very humid. Yow. 

I've been listening to '90s music, so I have another list for you. Did you like the music from that era? I love it. My favorite 1990s groups were Soundgarden and Alice in Chains, both of whom transcended the grunge/indie genre and graduated to playing arenas while maintaining their artistic integrity. I initially liked Pearl Jam, too (and saw them at The Troubadour before they were huge), however, while "Ten" is a classic album (and a 10 from start to finish), in my opinion they were only able to produce snippets of their original brilliance on their next two albums, "Vs." and "Vitalogy," and weren't very good after that. One of the things, though, that made the '90s so great, music-wise, was that it was melody-oriented. In that way, it was similar to to 1960s, when there were a lot of talented bands who could write hooks. Some were one-hit wonders, others had a few hits and maybe one classic album. Since we love lists here at the blog, let's look at a dozen of the greatest songs of the 1990s:

"No Rain" Blind Melon

"Hey Jealousy" Gin Blossoms

"Name" Goo Goo Dolls

"These Are Days" 10,000 Maniacs

"Linger" The Cranberries

"Kiss Me" Sixpence None the Richer

"One of Us" Joan Osborne

"Feed the Tree" Belly

"Fade Into You" Mazzy Star

"Sweetness and Light" Lush

"I Only Wanna Be With You" Hootie and the Blowfish

"Golden Blunders" The Posies

(P.S. Don't give me a hard time about Hootie. That's a great song and you know it.😉)

I am also a big fan of Radiohead (though I don't know that they qualify as strictly '90s), and of course King's X, one of my favorite bands of all time. Both bands had their heyday in the 1990s, though the above song list is (I think) more reflective of the vibe from that era.

Well, we're closing in on the month of September, and of course, September 1st has special significance for me. I don't mark it much anymore, but for many years, I considered it the start date of what I now call The 1989 Event (also known as "What Happened in Northridge"). Through years of dedicated research, I now know that September 1st, 1989 was only the start of the endgame of a much longer scenario that went on for much of the 1980s and grew extreme in 1988.Those who follow the blog know that story "ad nauseum" (which is also my punk rock name). Therefore, I shant repeat it now (though I reserve the right to do so at any time!) For anyone unfamiliar with my writings on 1989, just use the Blogger search box and try different keywords, like that year, or "What Happened in Northridge", CSUN, Concord Square, 9032, etc.

I am 66 years old; my first memory of The 1989 Event returned in October 1993, almost 33 years ago. Thus, I can divide my life into two halves now:

The first half is from birth to age 33 and six months. During that time, due to deliberately-induced amnesia (memory blockage) I was entirely unaware that anything untoward had happened to me four years earlier, or that I'd had an unusual childhood. I basically considered myself a Regular Joe (although I was always my own person). 

I can still (and will always) remember the moment my memory came back: I was inside the home of the late, questionably great Dave Small. The date was approximately October 20, 1993, about 9pm. We had just quit Shecky's band and were jamming, trying to come up with a fresh sound to start our own group. Not another version of Disturbing the Peace, but something new. Dave was way into all the music of the early '90s, as I was, and he played me "Gish" by The Smashing Pumpkins, who I hadn't heard of at the time. I was inspired by Billy Corgan's guitar sound, and trying to come up with some riffs. Dave was playing bass.

He paused to use the restroom, and this is what happened to me:

I heard a voice in my head. Not a schizophrenic voice, nor an imaginary one. I've come to call it "sub-aural", like a tiny (but actual) human voice, as if someone was speaking to me from inside my ear. This was the first time I'd had this happen. I heard something like, "Hey Adam...remember that time, at (such-and-such) apartment, when (so-and-so and so-and-so) tried to kill you?" I'm obscuring the names because there's no reason to mention them at the moment. The point is that this sub-aural "voice" acted as a trigger. As it was "speaking", I experienced the simultaneous recollection of the incident in question, which was a near death-experience I suffered inside a Reseda apartment on the night of September 1, 1989. My heart stopped after I was assaulted. And as shocking as it was to remember that, it was even more unnerving to know that I hadn't remembered it for over four years. Furthermore, no one had told me about it. When was the last time you nearly died, and your family and "friends" kept it a secret? 

That's why the second half of my life, from 1993 until now, has included an intensive and ongoing investigation into what my life has been. In my research, I've discovered that much of it has been hidden from me through deliberate memory blocking. For those unfamiliar with that process; briefly, it is possible to block a person's memory (of an incident, an event, or a given length of time) through several means, hypnosis and drugs being the most common. Radio signal is another one. 

Over time, God has helped me overcome the memory blocks of 1989, and while I have yet to fully comprehend that year, I now know that memory can never be erased (which is what the bad guys hoped to achieve), but only blocked. And I have learned, and proved, that blocked memories can be unblocked though meditative self hypnosis, a reasonably simple process that involves quieting the mind and focusing on an intended target.

I've been quite successful at this.

All of this brings me back to You, so let's put aside 1989 for the moment.

I've written about several encounters we've had, experiences we've shared. I have a couple more, maybe a few. These aren't yet as clear as the others. I'm still trying to work them out, so instead of stating them, I'll pose them as questions:

Did you once come to church dressed in Goth attire and makeup? I've had imagery of this. Did some people get offended? If so, too bad for them. If this happened, I think it's awesome! ✌

Did we once go, with your Mom in her car, to Dollar Tree, but it wasn't your Dollar Tree, and we went to a closer one because your Mom didn't wanna drive that far (all the way to your Dollar Tree)? I think we did, and I think I remember the one we went to, but they didn't have what you wanted, which was why you preferred the one you liked and had wanted to go there. And when we left Dollar Tree, did you ask your Mom if we could go to Walmart (perhaps to look for the same or similar items) but she said no because it was too far, there was too much traffic, etc? Did that happen? I have a feeling it did.

Here's one I am certain about: one Sunday at church, right when the service ended, your Mom or Dad asked me if I would come talk to you. You were sitting in one of the back rows. I said I would, and I did. Do you remember that? I think you didn't want to leave unless you got to see me (because of all the stuff that was going on at that time in 2014/2015). I sat down. Your Mom and Dad left us alone for a few minutes and we talked. I don't yet recall what we said, but it feels beautiful in retrospect.

I think we should be together. That's just my opinion. You don't have to agree, but I hope you do. I know many years have gone by, but many great years remain. And what is time, compared to love? 

I think we'd make a great team, a great couple. For one thing, we'd be the greatest supernatural investigators since Ed and Lorraine Warren, though we don't necessarily have to do Haunted Houses (we could, though).

More than that: the Whole Thing that's happened this Summer - the dream I had on July 1 that returned you to my life; the knowledge that we've had a lot of involvement. It has to have happened now, for a reason. And then there's the way we met, in 2010. Who else had a First Meeting like the one we had? I mean, c'mon. That alone is a story for the ages. I'm still remembering things about you and me, and I have a feeling that you came over to Pearl's house maybe more times than I've realized.

I'll keep working on it. I hope you will, too. Please keep in mind the things I've said.

I love you every day and all the time. 💗 

Good Friday 2015 (continued)

In addition to asking if you mind me writing to you, I suppose I should ask the question in another way: do you want me to write to you? I ask because I've been writing to and about you unsolicited. I've also been describing my recently recovered memories of our personal encounters and I don't want to overstep my bounds. I don't want to write anything that would dismay you, and of course I've tried to use my best judgement in that regard by never using names, keeping things vague where necessary, etc.

But you have the final say. Now that I know you have been in my life, in a way that only you could have created, I don't want to lose you. You foresaw the future. I love you.

Anyway, I guess I'll continue the story, since I've seen nothing to indicate I should not. We left off on Good Friday, April 3, 2015. We were at at your house for a champagne toast, and were sitting at the dining table talking when a man burst into the house. See the last blog for reference. This man had followed us from the church, hovered on the porch uninvited, then he finally gained entrance by intimidation. We've seen, however, that this man can use many degrees of temperment when necessary. He's clever and doesn't just storm his way into a situation. He smiles a lot; he knows when to use charm or claim influence. Claim he has a right to be somewhere.

But he still wasn't welcome in the house. Your Mom may have told him so. He sat down anyway. In hindsight, and because I've had a lot of interaction with this man, I think he wanted to monitor what was being said, in particular to me. He was concerned about what I might be told, things I might learn. He didn't want me at your house, talking to you and your parents, but he couldn't (or wouldn't) come right out and say it. He's very good at "keeping his cool" when he has to.

One thing I vividly remember is talking to your Dad about the military. He had served (in Vietnam?). I mentioned that my Dad was in WW2. Forgive me because I don't recall what branch your Dad was in (Navy?), but I know for sure that your Mom wanted him to show me a special dress cap he had saved from his time in uniform. At first, your Dad was reluctant to do so. He felt it was...what? Like showing off? I don't know, so I won't speak for him. But your Mom appealed to him to show me the cap, and he finally did go get it and wore it for a minute or two. I don't know if all of this occurred while the Uninvited Man was at the table.

I will now describe something that's indicative of why I ask your permission to reveal these things. If I am saying too much here, let me know:

I vividly remember a ceremony in the kitchen. It was not unlike a marriage ceremony. Perhaps it was more of a "bonding" ceremony (I wish it was the former). We were standing side by side. Before this, you were very busy, rushing around for all the necessary things that were required to complete this ceremony. Was a ring (or a symbolic ring) involved? And if you can believe it (which you can since you were there), this ceremony was presided over by the man who was uninvited. All of a sudden, he was helping you (or us). I don't know how this turn of events happened.

But then, you wanted to show me your room. And he went back to being confrontational. At first, he said nothing and waited while you showed me some of your favorite things, and we may have talked about mutual interests like movies and other stuff. It turned out we had a lot in common.

I vividly remember you writing something down on a piece of paper (a strip of paper?)

Did you ask me to write on that paper, too? If so, what did I write? What did you write?

Did you fold it up and put it in a special book? I think so.

Your Mom came in at some point because the man was giving her a hard time. He didn't want you talking to me alone. You said you still had some things to show me, and your Mom said to hurry it up. But the man preempted her. Suddenly he was in the doorway of your room. He got belligerent. Your Mom ordered him to back off, but he wouldn't. He'd seen you fold up that piece of paper, and he wanted to know what it was.

"What'd you write on that paper? I saw you put it in a book. I need to see it, show it to me!"

You said no. You stood up to him. Your Mom again ordered him out of the house.

I think he kept pushing, though, and you ended up showing him the piece of paper, just to get rid of him.

If I stood there saying nothing, not intervening, I apologise. It would've been because I wasn't sure what was going on.

But you can see, from this and other incidents, why I don't like this guy now.

I don't know where Pearl and her daughter were while all of this was happening (and I'm still not 100% sure that Pearl was with us that night). But I was expecting her daughter to give me a ride back to Pearl's house. I was her overnight caregiver. And I was told by this man that he would be giving me a ride back. I may have asked why, or protested...

I vaguely remember him talking to me as we drove away. That is the current state of my memory of that night.

I love you more than I can say. 💗 

Good Friday 2015 (The Toast)

Quick question: do you mind me writing about us? I hope it's okay. If not, just give me a sign and I will stop. Also, if you ever want to talk for any reason, you can get my phone number and/or email from the Birthday Card Person, who was also in the car with us at Cleveland High on Halloween Night 2014. I believe you know who I mean. 

I'd like to return to 2014, and actually to Good Friday 2015, which I outlined in another blog, but before I do that, I have another quick question: did you ever come to Pearl's house on occasions other than that Halloween night? I've had recollections - unverified bits and pieces, as yet without context - that you came over at least once for a Blessing Ritual or something like that. It was something metaphysical that you were in charge of. I'll meditate on it to remember it more clearly.

And now, to Good Friday, which in 2015 was on April 3. I mentioned in an earlier blog that I sang in choir that evening, that the service likely ended around 8pm, and that I spoke with your Mom in the parking lot. She complimented me on my voice (very kind of her), and when this memory came back, I vividly remembered us talking about music, harmony singing, and specifically those kinds of vocal groups. Your Mom was a fan of the greats of 1950s rock, and she definitely "knew her stuff" on the subject.

We talked for a few minutes, possibly about other things as well. I don't recall if Pearl was with me, or if she was still inside the church with her friends, but when she came out, your Mom (who knew Pearl) proposed that we go over to your house for a Good Friday toast. Pearl may have declined, at first. After all, she was 90. But your Mom said, "Just a quick toast. C'mon, Pearl. It won't take long. I have some champagne", etc.

I think Pearl's daughter was with us, and she convinced her Mom to go. Being Pearl's caregiver, I would've done whatever was decided. I think you were waiting in your Mom's car.

We did end up following you guys to your house, for the Good Friday toast.

But before we left the church, something happened. A man came out to the parking lot, saw us talking, heard our plan, and asked if he could come along. I think the answer may have been "no", or "it's private", but he followed us there anyway, though he was not invited into the house.

We had our champagne toast and talked for a little while. 

Then there was a commotion, and the man was in the house. He entered the dining area. Someone (a young lady? Perhaps your sister or a friend?) had been asked to keep an eye on the man, who was lurking by the front door, refusing to leave, and I believe she said she tried to keep him out but he kept ringing the bell and demanding to be let inside. And when she finally opened the door, he brushed past her, came to the table and sat down.

(I'm gonna stop here. I'll continue later unless you say not to)

I love you. 💗

The Church Parking Lot (plus weird horror movies)

Let's start with some scary movies, just for fun and because Halloween will be here before we know it. Here are ten of my favorite weird ones (keeping in mind that not all horror movies are weird). In no particular order, they are:

1) The Devil Commands (1941) 

2) The Uninvited (1944)

3) The Seventh Victim (1943) 

4) Eyes Without a Face (1960) 

5) The Devil Rides Out (1968) 

6) Voodoo Man (1944) 

7) Plague of the Zombies (1966) 

8) The Old Dark House (1932) 

9) Night of the Demon (1957) 

10) Onibaba (1968).

Two good Witch movies are "Bell, Book and Candle"(1958) starring Kim Novak. You probably know that one, but have you ever seen "Night of the Eagle"(1962), also known as "Burn Witch Burn"? It's a British production based on a book called "Conjure Wife", and in my opinion, it is one of the greatest horror movies ever made.

Lastly, for tonight, let's do two classic Ghostly Romances: "Portrait of Jenny" (1948), starring Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotten. I love this film and have seen it multiple times. The other is "The Enchanted Cottage" (1945).

Now, here's another new memory, arising from a single meditative image: the parking lot at RUMC. Sensing its importance, I focused hard and it continued to develop, slowly like a Polaroid photo. This is how the process began: I was wondering if I had any encounters with you before Halloween Night 2014 (not counting our initial meeting in January 2010). Was it possible that we saw each other during the nearly five years in between? In self-hypnotic memory recovery, one sets the intent by speaking (softly but directly) to the subconscious. In this case, I asked: did I (see her) between January 17 2010 and October 31 2014?

What came back, as noted, was an image of the church parking lot.

In my first years with Pearl, 2010/2011, I had little connection to the church. I basically only drove her there and picked her up after service. I also drove her to Golden Agers meetings on Tuesday afternoons and (once a month) to the RUMC Women's Group meetings (Pearl's group was nicknamed "Luanna/Ruth", honoring two former members).

In those early years, Pearl was ambulatory and had all of her faculties. She didn't need my help entering or leaving the church, thus I would arrive early and wait for her in the parking lot. Depending on the length of the sermon, the post-service gathering in the Fireside Room (for coffee and cookies), and choir practice, my wait could vary. I tried to time it as best I could. Sometimes I got there ten minutes before Pearl came out; other times I had to wait close to an hour.

Here is the image from my recent meditation, with the above intent in mind.

I'm parked in the lot, toward the west end because the slots near the main entrance are full. Church is still is session. I'm probably a half-hour early on this day. 

My car is directly south of where the church school is located. School, preschool, Sunday School? I can't say what it is (I'm still new), but it's a children's school, like many churches have, and I'm parked close to its gate, waiting for Pearl to emerge from the choir room to my west.

I'm sitting there waiting, and I notice motion in my rearview window. A young woman has exited the preschool gate and is walking in my direction. She has long hair. Is it braided? (It may be on future occasions). And is she wearing black glasses? Maybe one time, but not another.

Did I park there more than once, hoping she'd come out again? 

I'm not certain.

All I know for sure is that she's striking. She has a unique look. But is there something else about her? 

                                                                ***

That was the start of this memory, and of course, I'm referring to you. I'm more than 51% certain that it happened, meaning that it's crossed the 50/50 threshhold to become probable rather than merely possible.

I recall you wearing a colored T-shirt with the RUMC School logo. Your car was parked near mine. You were headed to it, either to leave for that day or to retrieve something from your car or put something in it. I thought wow, who's that girl? and I probably did park in that area the following week, hoping to see you again.

Here's where the memory stands now. You can tell me if it's correct or not:

I had parked in this spot for at least two Sundays (there's also a chance it was Tuesday and "Golden Agers").

On one of these days, you may have noticed me. Did you walk up to my window and say something like, "Excuse me, but do we know each other?" That's paraphrased, and would indicate that you (like me) also had a memory block of January 17, 2010. But I could swear that you saw me sitting in my car and came up and said something. Maybe it was more like, "We've met. Do you remember me?" And if I said no, you might've said, "You will. I can't tell you why, though." Or, you might've said, "Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and we can talk about it?" If so, I would've said, "I can't. I'm waiting for Pearl."

I don't yet know our exact words, but I'm almost certain I saw you in the parking lot, at least once, and that it led to a short conversation. My current guess is that it happened in Spring or Fall 2010 (during a time when church school was in session).

I have another brief memory associated with that one. On another Sunday, you had car trouble. Is that possible, and did Triple A come? It's not crucial; I'm just wondering about the accuracy of detail. How close am I overall?

I love you and hope your week is off to a good start. 💗

My Miracle (a few thoughts and questions)

Wow! I asked for a sign, and I got one. You responded; you couldn't have been more clear, and as a result, I've been floating around on Cloud Nine since yesterday afternoon. By the way, I looked in my diary to see when I discovered the dual-handwriting birthday card, and it was on June 4. So, that was when this whole thing started, for me, at least. Then, it really got rolling on July 1 (as noted in the last blog), and here we are. I think yesterday will go down as a Magical Day (in the cosmic sense) because not only did I get your wonderful message, but I started to hope that what was described in those lyrics could be repeated in real life. If it is possible (or becomes possible) to see you again, all I can say is "I can't wait." 💖

On my end, the best I can do (besides continuing to write) is to come to church, which I am going to do soon, hopefully by Fall (maybe by Halloween?), and absolutely no later than Christmas Eve. I'd come next Sunday if I knew you were going to be there, but I don't know if you attend regularly, and also, this is all predicated on the hope that you would want to see me (though I should probably refrain from making any assumptions). I've been meaning to go to church for a while now, and I did go to a choir reunion in August 2022 (four years ago, I realize). What's prevented me is that I'm shy. I know that sounds ridiculous because I was in choir for over five years and I knew almost everybody in church (at least to say hi to). In fact, for those five-plus years (November 2014 to March 2020) I had the best attendance record of anyone, including the two pastors from that era. I only missed five Sundays in five years. But I was always (or usually) with Pearl, and I felt that people knew me as "Pearl's caregiver" and not as an official member of the church. I guess the main thing is that I am shy, and after Pearl died, I felt nervous about going back without her, especially after the long gap with Covid. But having said all of that, I have been meaning to go back, and if there's a chance that you would be there, I'd go back at any time (if you want to see me).

I've also thought, alternately, that I can simply follow your lead. You know how to make things happen. For instance, the dual birthday card (if that in fact was you). I've had another recently recovered memory, from August 24, 2024 (the 100th anniversary of Pearl's birth) (sorry about all the parentheses), in which The Person Who Sent Me That Birthday Card asked me if I remembered your family. I was with that person at CSUN on the night of the indicated date. A secret event was occurring (the kind that I don't remember until years later), and the person said: "Adam, do you remember the ********'s?" I'm not sure what else was mentioned, but I know I must've answered "yes" because I always remembered you and your parents from church, even though our all of personal encounters were blocked. I guess my point is that you seem to know the person I'm referring to, who - as noted - was in the car with us on Halloween Night 2014. And maybe this person was in contact with you and/or your Dad in 2024, and finally, if you were the other writer on my birthday card, then you guys have been in contact recently.

The bottom line, as I say, is that you know how to make things happen, so should I just follow your lead? I realize I'm speculating, but I feel like this could be the best Halloween season ever, and I just can't tell you how wonderful it's been to remember that you have been in my life. You are a Miracle to me.

I love you. Back soon.

How I Turned Up Out Of The Blue (For You)

I hope you don't mind me writing to you here at the blog. I have no idea if you read, though I hope you do and I think you may have mentioned it many years ago. Anyway, if you're wondering how I showed up, out of the blue in July 2026, after all these years, and if I haven't described it already, it's because I was researching January 2010 for the book I am writing called "Diane's House", the title of which refers to a job I had immediately before becoming Pearl's caregiver. Through much research, I learned that the two jobs were connected - by circumstance, you might say. In other words, I became Pearl's caregiver because of things that happened at Diane's house, which resulted in Pearl's broken hip, and I've already written (vaguely) about how that happened. 

It's a long story that will be fully detailed in the book, which is actually gonna comprise at least three volumes. The first will run about 600 pages. 

But anyhow, I was researching the month of January 2010, to see how the job at Diane's house segued into my becoming Pearl's caregiver, and in the course of my meditations, I uncovered the major incident that occurred on January 17, which I have also recently described. That recovered memory, in part, is how I was re-introduced to you (so to speak). Before I say anything more, I am aware that you may know more about this process of re-introduction than I do, because you have superior perceptive and craft-oriented abilities. I consider myself able to cover most of the psychic bases, but I've never met anyone like you. You are an entirely unique person who knows things in advance and can make things happen over a long span of time. No flattery intended, just being honest, and you already know these things about yourself. You don't need me to tell you.

I said that my research led to the discovery of the incident at Pearl's house on January 17, 2010. And that is true. But in actual fact, in those recent, initial meditations, I didn't recall meeting you that day. That was because I was focused on the crime aspect of how Pearl's hip was broken on January 1, and how it was associated with concurrent events at Diane's house (located a half-mile north of Pearl's) in the days that immediately followed.

Here is how the memory of our introduction came about: 

Right around July 1st, about six weeks ago, I had a dream. I can't pinpoint the exact night because I didn't write it down in my diary or my meditation notes. I did write, on July 4th, that the dream "occurred in the last 72 hours", which is how I dervied the approximate July 1st date. Another thing about this dream is that I had variations of it two nights in a row, and both times, it felt pulsed.

By that, I mean that it almost felt like it was sent to me, like a message. It's the kind of dream that wakes me up within my sleep, like a switch getting flipped. In such a dream, I can almost feel the awakening spark, and all of a sudden I'm inside and part of this dream that has a lucid quality. In a recent blog, I mentioned another such dream, also involving you, that was so vivid, I did wake up and spoke aloud the most pertinent details so I wouldn't lose them: "Halloween Night, a Friday, in a car at Cleveland High School".

In the July 1st dream, I was aware of being with a small group of people, three at most, maybe two or only one. Who they were wasn't clear. This dream wasn't vivid like the Halloween/Cleveland High dream. All I knew was that "we" were supposed to "go to the church" (Reseda Methodist) to meet with or find a certain lady, meaning you. Why we were to meet or locate you there wasn't clear, but the feeling was urgent, and that was the extent of the dream. It lasted just a few seconds, but I had it two nights in a row, and because it repeated, and had that awakening spark, I wrote the scant details down in my diary, including your name, which was already familiar to me from my church years.

The details of this brief dream are written down in my July 4th diary entry, which included a report on the Shepherd of the Hills fireworks show in Porter Ranch, and a short review of the awesome Beach Boys concert I attended the night before. Despite those two entertaining events, it was the dream that held my attention. It wouldn't let go, and so, on the next afternoon (July 5), I did a meditation on it, to try and see if it might be a trigger for a blocked memory.

And it was. My meditation that day revealed our very first meeting on January 17, 2010. On a side note, I discerned the exact date through extra detective work. 

I was astounded to remember this meeting. When I think of it, my heart melts, because of you, and because things like that don't "just happen" except by God's design. You know what I'm talking about because you were there. And for me, that memory was followed by many others that have since flowed, once the block was broken, and I realized I actually know you (or knew you or had encounters with you or however you want to put it). As I see it, we know each other reasonably well (and in some ways, very well), despite the fact that most of our meetings happened a decade ago. That is because of the intensity of those meetings, things that were said, the directness with which you say things, and other factors.

I mentioned in the last blog that I will pick up our story on Good Friday, April 3, 2015, and I will do that.

There is much to tell, and I hope you are still with me. Of course, I'd prefer to tell it all to you (and only you) in private, but I have to take this opportunity to get your attention. You tried to get my attention years ago, and I failed to adequately respond. For that I apologise profusely, but I just didn't know (not like you did), about all the important things I'm now aware of. For everything you did, every effort you put forth, I am grateful beyond measure (and to your Dad and blessed Mom, as well).

I hope you don't mind me saying that I love you.

Two last details, for now, concerning research. A few months ago, I received a birthday card that appeared to have two different styles of handwriting. I didn't notice this at first, and not until I was about to put the cards away (I keep them all and store them, every year, after they spend several weeks on my bookshelf).

Before I put this year's cards away, I read them one final time. I don't get a lot of birthday cards, but anyway, as I re-read this one, I was struck by what appeared to be two different styles of handwriting, which I had not noticed when I first read the card. This happened in July, as all the dreams were occurring and the memories were being revealed. The card was sent to me by someone we both know (who knows you, in other words). This person was also in the car with us on Halloween Night 2014, when we were parked at Cleveland High School. I'm not saying you sent me a birthday message, but...did you send me a birthday message? 💗

The other thing I noticed was in my diary. I found it while I was looking up October 31, 2014. I kept reading after that, and saw that three days later, on November 3, I watched a movie called: "I Married a Witch".

There's no way that was a coincidence.

(Back soon. Give me a sign if you read this....)

December 28, 2014 at Church (Important Stuff)

Let's go back to the beginning of what we've recently been working on. I'll be vague where necessary and avoid naming names for privacy, but this is important so let's talk about it. For me, it's astounding to remember.

As mentioned in a recent blog, I met you on January 17, 2010, at Pearl's house, before I began working for her. As you know, it was a magical encounter. As far as I am aware, I did not see you again until Halloween Night 2014. If I am wrong, please correct me. On that night, you guys (you and "M") came to Pearl's house, in costume, ostensibly to trick or treat, but really to get my attention. I came out to the gate and of course you two were taller, lol, than most of my other customers that night. I think you said "we know you from church". But the thing was, I wasn't yet part of the church. Until November 2014, when I joined choir, I only ever dropped Pearl off in the parking lot. Maybe you saw me with Pearl at a church function, like one of the boutiques, or luncheons? Also, on a side note, your Mom (a great lady) was in one of the RUMC Women's Groups with Pearl, and Pearl knew "M" and her Dad. Anyhow, you two returned a little later that Halloween night, with a third person (whom all of us know well), and after talking to Pearl for a few minutes, you convinced her to let me leave with you guys, and I did. It was me and the three of you, and we drove first to (your house?) and then to Cleveland High.

I now remember well what we talked about there, sitting in the third person's car. Before a few days ago, I had no memory of the incident at all. While we were parked at Cleveland, an "extracurricular" situation may have developed, involving a police officer (and a safety concern), but vagueness is in order, and I will say no more about that. The bottom line for Halloween Night 2014, is that we had an important talk in the car.

Fast forward to December 28, 2014. It was my seventh Sunday in choir (I joined on November 9, 2014). This is from another recently recovered memory:

The service had just finished. I believe I was in the courtyard, perhaps just milling about. I was apart from Pearl, and - as I have considered the evidence of this incident - I've wondered if she came with me to church that day, or if she stayed at home. 

Here is what I remember for certain: I was in the courtyard and was approached by "M" (whom I knew by sight and whose Dad I had met several times). "M" told me to follow her. She said the matter was urgent. Time and stealth were of the essence. She said (paraphrase) "just follow me and don't ask questions". I followed her into one of the rooms in the building just west of the chapel. It may have been the Fireside Room or a classroom.

The point is that you were in there. "M" brought me in to see you. Vagueness is crucial here, but as you know, I did not recognize you (and I am sorry). My memory was blocked, and my failure to recognize you - just two months after our Halloween meeting - shows how powerful those memory blocks are (at least on me). I know it was upsetting, and I'd like to go back in a Time Machine and kick myself because you are an unforgettable person. But getting back to the urgency of that meeting, there was something you and "M" wanted to tell me. Vagueness is again in order, and in truth, I still don't remember the exact details of what it was, only that it had to do with you losing your job or being transferred (through no fault of your own).

I know we had to hurry, to finish up our meeting, because you guys didn't want a certain man to catch us together. In fact, if I recall correctly, his son (who may have worked at the church) came into the room we were talking in to warn us that the man was heading our way.

He found us and broke up our meeting. I remember him telling me to follow him into another room. I will return to this part of the story later on, but it might be in a separate blog.

This next part is very important: At some point, likely not long after, I reentered the church (perhaps to hang up my choir robe) and overheard the man harassing you. I believe (though I am not 100% certain) that I went up the steps that lead to the stage, wondering what the commotion was about, and I observed this man berating you (in the aisle in front of the stage) about having spoken to me.

On a side note, when this memory returned (a few days ago), it was accompanied by a very creepy feeling.

To your credit, you stood your ground while the man was hassling you. 

I remember what you said, but vagueness is in order, for now.

I am not 100% certain that this Incident of Harassment inside the church occurred on the same day of our clandestine meeting (December 28, 2014). Logic, and the available evidence tells me it did, and I'll keep working on it.

When he was done with you, the man told me to follow him back into the choir room, and I did. I'm sure I must've asked him (paraphrase) "what in the world is going on?" Another creepy feeling accompanied the memory of standing in the choir room with him. I don't yet recall what he said to me, but it probably had to do with you, and our meeting, and I think I stood up for myself. I get uppity, you might say, when anyone threatens me, even if they do it "in so many words" while smiling.

As I say, I'm wondering if Pearl was there that day. My diary (which I use to corroborate evidence) gives no indication whether she was there, or not. I'm guessing she wasn't, because she surely would've wondered where I was, and would've come looking for me. Finally, on another important side note, although this entire event happened after church was over, and most of the parishoners had probably gone home, I think there's a chance that at least one (or maybe a few) people were still on the grounds. Someone must've overheard the raised voices (including mine).

One last memory detail from this incident: two other men came into the choir room, just after the man in question was done "talking" to me (threatening me? cajoling me?) (a combination of both?) (not sure).

These two men seemed not to like me, which was strange because I'd never met them before.

Vagueness is crucial here (for now), but the memory of being in the choir room with those two men (and the things they said to me) was accompanied by a very creepy feeling.

That is all I will say, for now, about December 28, 2014.

In the next blog, we'll pick up the story on Good Friday April 3, 2015, which may be the next time I saw you.

I love you. Back soon. 

You Are Amazing

For a Certain Lady:

You are amazing. You know who you are. You knew what was going to happen, years in advance, and you said so. Did you mention the black onyx crystal? Did you say that it never lies? I'm no slouch, but I am not on your level (as far as knowing the future), so forgive me if I get a detail wrong. Question: did you mention that SOAD song in 2014? You know which song I mean.

You once said you wanted to "be a part of it". My weird life.

What would you say if you were "It"?

You are It. You are Amazing and Wonderful, and Beautiful, and a whole lot of other phenomenal things.

And what if Your Life was also unique, and astonishing, and I wanted to be part of It?

What would you say to that? (We've been through this, years ago. You've known it but I haven't until now).

I would love to talk to you in person. I now know I once did, but my memory of our encounters was subsequently blocked. I trust you know that. I used to see you in church, in the Fireside Room, not often but once in a while (because you were not attending RUMC regularly after 2014), and if you can believe it (and it's true), I "knew who you were"...but I had no idea that I actually knew you, and that we had talked, and had significant encounters.

Because my memory was blocked (and did not become unblocked until July 5, 2026), I had no idea that I met you in January 2010 (in what seems like a magical scene from a David Lynch movie), nor that we had many meetings and talks after that.

Bad people blocked my memory, but I don't wanna talk about them now. I want to talk about you because you are the hero in all of this. You are the one who persisted. You are the one who knew the future.

I wish no one else was reading this because I'd like it to be private, but I have to tell you anyway, and until I can tell you in person, I have no other way.

I love you.

You have changed my life this July, and I thank God you are in the world.

The Power of Memory

An important note about recovered memories:

When a buried or blocked memory returns, it feels "brand new" to the person recovering it. This is because, despite the length of the interval, the incident in question is being remembered for the first time. Thus, when I energetically report an incident from 10 or 16 years ago, it's because - to me - it feels like it happened yesterday (or maybe last week). 

Lately, I've recovered many memories from 2014, which feel brand new to me.

2014, as it turns out, was a noteworthy year.

Pearl turned 90 that August. We had a big birthday bash for her, with many friends from church and in her Reseda neighborhood.

Two "bad guy" incidents happened very shortly after that. Bad guys, as I have learned (through the recovery of blocked memories) were plaguing Pearl (and me, by extension, as her caregiver).

Pearl turned 90 on August 24, 2014.

Within a week, two incidents involving the late (not so great) (but attempting to be honest) David Friedman took place. Both happened at CSUN. One occurred at the Cinema Building (which houses the Armer Theater). This incident happened on Saturday, August 30, and involved several bad guys (friends of my brother), and one of the world's worst people, who works in the indicated building. I'm being vague, even though I don't need to be.

On a side note, if any of my readers wonder who this guy is, and how he could be one of the world's worst people, I understand that question, because a person would have to be supremely horrendous to qualify as one of the worst people on Earth.

But this guy qualifies, and you know who he is. And if you don't, all you have to do is Google.

Think "Jerry Sandusky/Penn State" and then transfer that to CSUN.

The second incident that happened after Pearl's 90th birthday also involved David Friedman. It occurred in the gigantic CSUN parking lot located at Lassen/Lindley. I wrote about this incident in a previous blog. Many bad guys were involved. Cocaine dealers/porno people/swingers/cultists...call them what you will. They all know me and I know them. They seem like ordinary people, and I had thought they were friends (and family members) of mine. But now, I know better, and I am going to shut them down if it's the last thing I do. I am the Righest Wing Person on Planet Earth, as far as law enforcement and justice are concerned.

And I am relentless beyond this life. 

Both LAPD and CSUN (California State) PD showed up at this incident. The bad guys (as usual) went free. This is not a reflection on the PDs involved. The bad guys have high-level connections that protect them, connections beyond the PDs' reach.

Very early this morning, I had a dream (which felt "pulsed") and because I am immersed in (and dedicated to) the recovery of blocked memories, I forced myself awake to make note of the details. Sitting up in bed (at around 6am), I spoke aloud what was vivid in my dream:

I said, "It happened on a Friday, on Halloween Night, in a car at Cleveland High School".

This was my immediate capture of what I perceived to be a blocked memory, which bubbled up in an early morning dream.

As I write, this dream-memory has been concentrated on and has developed.

I am more than 51% sure it represents an actual occurrence from Halloween Night 2014.

I haven't ruled out 2015 (or the years 2010 to 2013), but the evidence so far (including that from my diary), suggests 2014.

Halloween Night 2014, in a car parked at Cleveland High.

The power of dreams, and of magic, and of God and of memory. 

Even More Truth

We left off on January 17, 2010, with the multifacted incident that occured on that date at Pearl's house, which was covered up by a certain man we've been concerned with. We call him The Pastor.

He blocked my memory (through the use of hypnosis) of what happened that day. Now, we must ask why he would do this, especially if he is a Christian Pastor.

This man entered the bedroom I was in, while I was talking to the young lady mentioned in the last blog.

She left the house, and this man hypnotised me shortly thereafter. 

He is extremely slick. He makes you feel like he's your best friend. He wears a permanent grin, but it feels pasted-on, like it doesn't reach his eyes (and yet it sometimes does). "Extremely slick" is the key phrase here. There's a reason he got hired by whoever hired him to do what he does. He was in Los Angeles for 9 years, from 2009 (how convenient, because I was at Sue's house then) until 2018. He started in 2009 at the Wilshire Methodist Church as an associate pastor. He didn't become the pastor at Reseda until March 2012.

So, what was he doing at Pearl's house on January 17, 2010?

That's an extremely good question, and I have some proposed answers if anyone cares to hear them.

Beyond that, listen up.

I've said this before, but the man in question is NOT from Reseda. And if you are NOT from Reseda, and you show up and throw your weight around by bullying women and hypnotising me, to block my memory of a crime commited against me - at Pearl's house (my Godmother), then you have seriously miscalculated your importance.

Few people know the origins of Reseda, or Northridge, or CSUN, which was originally called San Fernando Valley State College.

This guy's from Canada. He's likely a top operator in whatever agency he works for. I'll give him that. He's intelligent. He knows the bible front to back. If I am not mistaken, he told me (in a conversation at the Winnetka Ranch House mentioned earlier) that he had a connection to McDonnell Douglas.

The guy ain't stupid. He extremely smart. But he's "clever smart" (not intellectually). He asked me what books I was reading (because he had access to my diary and wanted to know how I'd answer). I said I was reading Oswald Spengler, and he tried to show that he knew who Spengler was.

And he did a good job faking it.

The guy is slick, slick.

But then there is The Ranch House, a situation in Winnetka (a few miles from RUMC) that is so extreme that it requires a special blog.

The Ranch House has to do with sex and hypnotism. And this man was there.

He calls himself a Christian Pastor, and he knows the Bible inside and out. And on the surface, he appears to be a "leader of people".

On a side note, in the Old Days, when I first met him, he drove a distinctive car - a red Cadillac, with either whitewall tires or white Landau roof (or both).

That was in 2010/2011.

But when he became pastor at RUMC, he "garaged" that fancy car.

Why?

Because I would recognize it, that's why.

I would recognize it from Pearl's driveway, and it would trigger other memories.

I last saw this guy at CSUN (near the gym) in yet another hypnotic situation on August 24, 2024, the 100th anniversary of Pearl's birth.

The guy was agitated when he arrived because he had to take last-minute red-eye connector flights from Hawaii (or wherever he was) to get to LAX, and then get ground transportation to CSUN.

He was all stressed out when he got there. Wanted to know where the Brown Center was at the gym.

The guy has definite connections. He knows about Underground CSUN (which very few people know about besides the many people who live down there).

This guy is extremely bad news.

But I know who he is and I want to know why he is a pastor in the Methodist Church.   

More Truth

Let's go back to January 17, 2010, the day when I was at Pearl's house, and was accused - by an unbalanced woman - of doing something I didn't do. I remind readers that, of necessity, I am keeping all details vague. However, I can relate them in detail in court (should the opportunity miraculously arise), and in the long run, this woman will find herself in God's Court, because she deliberately set me up. In doing what she did (which was intended to send me to prison), she is no different from a male rapist.

But let's forget her for the time being.

I reacted strongly to what she did, and said I was going to call the police. They may have actually come to the house (I am unclear on this), but what I am 100% sure of is that a man came into the room and tried to calm me down. I am ordinarily a calm person, but as bad guys know (who have tried to mess with me), I will go to extremes to protect myself. I have been plagued and beset in my life by criminals and psychotic people; thus, I defend myself when predatory situations have arisen.

This wicked lady found this out. She had her phone in hand, and was threatening to call 911. She had pressed the 9 and the first 1. She showed me her phone and was daring me to get her to press the final 1. I said "go ahead and call them!", but as noted, I don't currently remember if the police came.

I do, however, remember that a man came into the room (a bedroom in Pearl's house). He tried to calm me down.

All of the ladies (including the accusatory lady) who had come to the house to see Pearl (who was still in the hospital) had left by this time.

This man told me to calm down, said that he would settle the situation, that there was no need for lawyers or police.

A little while after that, a young lady came into the room. She was beautiful and very kind.

She was a genuinely good person.

She and I talked. We had a nice conversation. She was in the room with me for perhaps...45 minutes? 

It was a rainy day. She forgot her umbrella when she left, and had to come back into the room to get it.

The man who had told me not to call the police or a lawyer re-entered the room after she left. He knew her.

He knew hypnotism (and how to "re-set" me), and he subsequently (on the spot) blocked my memory of the entire encounter at Pearl's house.

I therefore never remebered meeting this wonderful young lady until about three weeks ago (in July 2026).

Can you guess who the man is, in this situation?

It's Important To Tell The Truth

Let's start at the beginning, with Pearl's broken hip. Her hip was broken in an incident occurring on January 1, 2010. She did not "fall on her neighbor's porch" (as the news was reported to me by my sister three weeks later). Something else happened (I'm being vague), and it was extreme, and it was violent, and it happened inside Pearl's house. How do I know this? Because I was there when it happened. I can testify to it in court if anyone is interested (but of course no one is because it would lead to the takedown of satanic California).

On a side note, if you are wondering why I would not already know how Pearl's hip was broken (since I was there), and why it would be news to me when my sister inaccurately reported it on January 23, it was because my memory of the incident was blocked. Read my most recent blog for details of how memory blocking works.

Suffice it to say that the circumstances in which Pearl's hip was broken were covered up. Pearl was 85 at the time, which means that a lady of that age (and her dignity) were made expendible so that some sex swingers and cocaine dealers could escape consequences for their involvement in the situation. I can name the ones most closely related to the incident, all of whom are people I know. Above them are Hollywood and the State of California (which includes CSUN and what lies beneath it).

On another side note: folks, if you think you know how evil Hollywood and the State of California are, maybe because of Harvey Weinstein, or P. Diddy or whoever...to quote Jeremy Irons, "You have no idea."

Those guys are just the Famous Monsters who got thrown under the bus, and their crimes, while despicable, are small potatoes compared to those of the bad guys who run the show.

I can tell you exactly how evil the corporate entities and individual elites who run Hollywood, Los Angeles, and the State of California are, and how they surreptitiously incorporate a drug economy into the mainstream, and how they engage in the private practice of things like white slavery (coercing certain women into false marriages). (Hey, Pastor...how ya doin?)

Yes, I can tell you a lot. Which is why they would never have me in a phony, systematic L.A. court. Not only can I tell you things (meaning everything I know, which would take weeks on the stand), but I can do it articulately, and in fine-point detail, in a way that no consigliere defense attorney could refute.

Now that we know the basics of Pearl's broken hip, let's fast forward to January 17, 2010.

I was at Pearl's house that day, though I was still working for Sue at the time. Sue is the subject of my upcoming book, entitled "Diane's House." For the record, Diane was Sue's late sister. Her house was located a half mile north of Pearl's. On a side note, Sue is a practicing Methodist in her home state of Washington. She considers herself a Sovereign Citizen and is nuttier than a fruitcake and evil. None of which is a reflection on genuine Methodists (or Christians of any denomination).

We are only scouting out evil people, a job we must do in the present age.

As previously noted, I love the Reseda United Methodist Church, which I was introduced to by Pearl. As also previously noted, I joined the choir there in November 2014. 

On Good Friday, April 3, 2015, I got a nice compliment from a lady after the evening church service. She told me (in the parking lot), "You have a good voice."

I said "thanks", and we talked, and it turned out that this lady knew vocals. She was a big fan of Elvis and The Righteous Brothers. I am a lifelong music fan myself, and may have mentioned The Beatles and Beach Boys as my vocal favorites.

My conversation with this lady is integral to the story I am telling.

We now reverse to January 17, 2010. As noted, I was at Pearl's house that day. Several ladies arrived, hoping to see her, perhaps to check on her recovery, but she was not home. She was still in the hospital.

During the time that these ladies were in Pearl's house, I got accused, by one of them, of something I did not do.

The accusation was EXTREMELY SERIOUS, and it resulted from a situation ENTIRELY and DELIBERATELY CONCOCTED by my accuser.

It was so serious, and so patently false, that I reacted by refuting her allegations to the point where I wanted to call the police on her (or ask for a lawyer).

On a side note, this woman is a horrible person and a member of the RUMC.

The other ladies who had come with her to Pearl's house (to check on Pearl) (who wasn't there) witnessed what this horrible woman did to me. They know how she set me up and created a false scenario that, in her mind, would allow her to accuse me of something I didn't do. On a side note, she is a nutjob.

The payoff to this segment of our story is that I was so upset by this woman's false accusations against me (after she deliberatlely set me up), that I almost started hyperventilating. Another RUMC lady, who was there and who I can name (and detail our conversation), told me she would bear witness for me if I needed her to do so.

To be continued...     

Magic

 San Diego Chicken + Dollar Tree = Magic💘

The Pastor

July 17, 2026: The thing is, this guy was a great pastor. We only had two during my time in choir, but he was my favorite, always smiling, exuding positive energy. His sermons were inspiring and succinct. If you had asked me, just three years ago, I would've told you he was a superb guy.

Then, while meditating in Fall 2024 (about 20 months ago), I discovered he was involved in something I call The Ranch House Event, which took place in March or April 2011 at the Winnetka home of a female parishoner. I was present at this event, which is detailed in my upcoming (four volume) book. The Ranch House is shocking, but because it was explained to me as a group effort to fight bad guys (I am being vague here), I took this man's word for it. I didn't know who he was at the time, nor that he was a pastor, even though I'd first met him at Pearl's house 14 months earlier, in January 2010. How is this possible, you ask? How could I join the choir in November 2014, think this pastor was a superb guy, and have no awareness that I'd met him almost five years earlier under extremely sketchy circumstances, and in fact had encountered him numerous, previous times?

Because my memory was blocked. That's why.

Those of you who were around in the 1980s might remember Bill Cosby, a comedian who got famous in the '60s. Cosby was known for his clean-cut humor. He didn't "work blue". In the 80's, he promoted Jello Pudding on TV and became "America's Dad" in the #1 sitcom of the era, "The Cosby Show," which ran for eight years.

Of course, America and the world now know that Cosby was a serial rapist who got away with his despicable crimes until the early 2000s, when the accusations started rolling in. Why is this pertenent to our discussion? Because Cosby used techniques to cause women to "forget" they were raped.

Before Cosby, no one had heard of "getting Roofied" (meaning drugged), and no one knew that getting drugged in such a way would cause the victim to have no memory of what happened.

I am not using Cosby as an example of his method because this pastor did not drug me. I am using Cosby as an example of a man who was widely accepted as the textbook example of a wholesome guy. Except he wasn't. In truth, he was diabolical, not only raping women at will, but causing them (through the use of hypnotic drugs) (and possibly other means) to have no memory of what they'd been through. And in that respect, he is like the pastor who blocked my memory of numerous, significant incidents.

Cosby likely didn't use violence. Thus there were no extreme subliminal triggers that could potentially rise to the surface in the memory of his victims. And the women had likely gone to his house voluntarily. But he had sex with them, after "roofie-ing" them, which left them with no memory of the incident.

Until their memories came back, years later.

I am perhaps the world's foremost expert in recovered memory. I know the entire process: how memory is blocked, and how it eventually returns. Memory cannot be "erased", only blocked.

That's why Bill Cosby eventually went to prison, and will rot in Hell.

As for the pastor, he used hypnosis to block my memory. He called it "re-setting" me, and he used a series of finger movements, subtle commands to turn my eyes up and down, my head side to side. He had me count backwards from a number like 20, or 100. I don't know for sure. But he did it all with a genteel smugness, like he was my friend, like he was my partner in some grand experience.

I can detail everything he did, explicity, because like Cosby's victims, I have my memory back.

But the problem is, this guy's a Spook. Besides being a pastor (which I believe he is), he also - without a doubt - works for an intelligence or military entity, be it American or otherwise.

For the record, he is Canadian. I don't know if he is also an American citizen.

But I do know that he inserted himself in my life. 

He is not from Reseda. He does not know me. He has fucked my life up enormously by hypnotising me and blocking my memory (under the guise of "altruism" or "patriotism").

I will continue to investigate him. I hope I have allies, because I am sure he has victimised others who know what I am talking about. I don't care who he may work for. I'm not afraid of cults or agencies.

I only care about my loved ones.

This guy made a gigantic mistake by injecting himself into my life.