The Untellable Tale
My mother was my manager and remained in the background but her attempts to thrust me onto the stage usually failed miserably. I can rhink of several examples of this but the all-time biggest disaster was her attempt to marry me off to the boy from England. To say he was larger than life is a massive understatement. Our mutual misunderstanding was also the stuff of nightmare legend. He went right when I went left, just like the time I was a ballerina for one night, never having learned the routine since they had other plans for me in the years leading up to his sudden appearance on Ed Sullivan's Really Big Show. My mother had tried to prepare me for that moment but I always had preferred the shadows. He needed a girl of the limelight: Marsha Hunt, Marianne Faithful, Bianca, Jerry Hall, L'Wren, and even the current ballerina. Models and actresses all.
But I held the frog. I rolled in the mud. I was just the backstreet girl who caused him a whack of grief by disappearing out of the gate --
Looking back I could argue I didnt know. my own bloodstained panties were a mystery to me. I was clueless under mind control and happy to spend life just writing my book from my home in the crannies and nookeries of this world -
and yet he could not let me go. He kept comimg back. He carried shame from past deeds and past lives, a burden of sorrow that he tried to throw off.
One day when he died we would meet
I think it happened in 2020 when I told him straight out I dont remember you and he answered "Then get the fuck out" and six months later he sent me a coffin in the mail weighing 140 lbs and filled with the gifts he (or one of his sock puppets) had promised me 3 years before: autographed CDs of all his music, an electric guitar, a diamond bracelet -- all I had to do was contact his management and pay for the shipping.
I refused once again. All the ironies. That was when he ascended in the spring of 2021. I felt him rise to Heaven one night while I was working overnight as a caregiver chez Mmme.Bisaillon. Then someone texted me to say don't worry he went over easy, he was a good egg, at least he wasn't scrambled..
i waved goodbye but not before I started recovering the memories of my Shadow Life, that my mother had arranged for me so silently. so my dad wouldn't know.
i thought I was living my own life all those years of my youth but really I was navigating the wreckage of my parents' marital disaster-- I know they're together now in heaven or whereafter but they got there the hard way which just goes to prove this world I still live in is a shit show and my pne final act will be to explain this to Mick.
What I am unraveling at this advanced age is a tragicomedy of errors reaching back to early childhood when we were all fooled by a team of British psychiatrists who murdered young children while puppeting others in a fiendish scheme to take over humanity. I'm here with the cleanup crew, collecting body parts, reviewing the records, sorting the memories. This program must be exposed before it can be stopped, although that is doubtful at this late hour.
But here goes: The Opening Scene in a Ballroom, with children
Two children, 8 years apart in age, meet in 1956 and dance awkwardly to True Love under a vaulted ceiling with a chandelier. The boy is 13 with cinnamon hair tamed with brylcreem, 5'3" tall, skinny and pale. His partner the girl is blonde and tall for her age but still only 4 foot and entering kindergarten in the fall. They have been paired up by the psychiatrists for esoteric reasons -- a psychic reading had revealed they were lovers over many lifetimes and had reincarnated from a recent past life in Germany and Poland. The girl, now 5, had died in the gas chamber at Auschwitz on Valentine's Day, 1942. Before she was loaded on the train in Breslau, she had been a courier for Armia Krajowa, a Polish resistance group that was saving Jews and blowing up German trains.
The boy from England, now 13, had been a Wehrmacht medical officer secretly working with anti-Hitler Resistance movements. In that incarnation which was coming to an end that day in 1942, he and the woman were engaged to marry and she was already pregnant with his child. She got trapped in a room at the train station by Gestapo thugs, gang raped and beaten almost to death before he found her and carried her to the hospital wagon at the rear of the transport which was leaving for Auschwitz.
On that day, the train was loaded with Polish intellectuals, labor organizers and Resistance members who did not know they were headed for a death camp. It was the first time the gas chambers were used, and their first victims would not be Jews but Poles.
It was the coldest night of a winter marked by extreme cold and much death. The train travelled all night from Wroclaw to Krakow and on to Oswiecim where the injured woman was off-loaded into a cart and wheeled to the gas chamber where she coughed out her last breath and entered a long tunnel that flew her to Canada and her next life beginning in 1951 with her parents who were about to meet and marry in Montreal, on Ste Famille Street, a stone's throw from the Allan Memorial.
When the young officer medic, who was stopped from entering at the Arbeit Macht Frei gate, saw the smoke rising from fhe chimney and learned the fate of his fiancee, he walked down the tracks and blew his brains out with his pistol. The following year he came into the world again in the England, the son of a school teacher and his young Australian wife.
At age five, he announced that his goal in life was to "blow up the world" - which he did.
So now it's 1956 and the boy and girl meet in Canada in a Scottish-looking castle known as "Ravenscrag" which in 1943 had become a psychiatric hospital bringing together British and American doctors who eventually would adopt the methods of Nazi doctors at Auschwitz in the expanding field of Trauma-Based Mind Control --
and thus began My Cold War, to be continued after lunch...
Comments
Post a Comment