Checkmate

This is again about the female character I call Evelyn. Truth can be stranger than fiction, but this little piece is very strange indeed. More about Evelyn in my prior post, and the ones referenced therein. I also write about my strange dreams involving Trump, and you can read about those in this post, and the ones it references.

A long time ago, in a place now far, far away from me, on the West Coast. She found me in a little park close to my home in the Dunbar Heights district of Vancouver.

I remember: Fear, abject fear, and then a woman repeating “You can trust me, you can trust me, you can only trust me and no one else, listen to what I say and do exactly what I say and you will be safe, trust me, trust no one but me,” over and over. And she held my back and pushed, pushed, pushed.

It was her first, most successful command which she gave me in the little game which she has been playing and which I have been trying my entire adult life to escape.

She would remind me, with a push to the back, and I would trust her. I always trusted her, even knowing I should not. She would always come at me, give me a friendly, vigorous pat on the back (push, push) and I would trust her.

She grew bored with this and added other levels.

There was “Mask” where I would be told to expect to see someone, then see the face and hear the voice of that person instead of the actual person I was talking to, when she or her husband were around me. I spent about a year talking to her husband thinking he was a 23-year-old Canadian graduate student in my laboratory who looked completely different, and had a completely different voice. But the masks started much, much earlier than that, I suspect as early as 1996 or 1997, when I started to be systematically isolated from my social circles, starting with the man I was dating. He could not recall dumping me on the morning of Thanksgiving Day, and was flabbergasted that I was upset with him for doing so. She used this handy trick to destroy relationships of mine that would help me professionally or in my social life, and use it to gain my trust when push-push didn’t work as well as planned, and pump me for information about things which she could then use to hurt and humiliate me.

There was “Tidy Up” and after a crime had been committed against me, I would, after it had occurred, be obsessed with taking all evidence of that crime and clearing it up- putting things away or in the trash, wiping down surfaces, cleaning myself up. Then I would go to where I had awoken from deep trance, and open my eyes, and awake fully- and I knew something was wrong, deeply wrong, but I would look around and- no physical evidence of it, no memory. Just a feeling of wrongness, deep unease.

There was “Freeze” which I first think was used in 2002 or 2003. I went to the Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach, CA, and woke up frozen, cramped, naked from the waist down by the door of the men’s room in a local bar. I woke up another time nude out on the street. I did not remember this at the time, merely tried to clean up the evidence that it had happened and that anything had been amiss. I remembered the events long after I had forgotten the date or year or any details of the event that could help me find who did this.

There was “Opposite Day” where I would be programmed to say the opposite of what I meant. I think the trigger for this was “it’s not your birthday” or “happy unbirthday” which was a thing that, lightheartedly, I used to tell people to cheer them up, to give them a reason to celebrate. I have stopped doing that.

There was “San Diego” and I don’t know exactly what the trigger was, but I both could not see cars on the road, and green and red were exchanged in everything I saw. I think the trigger had to do with reminding me of those green-red dots in eye tests. I believe this was designed to force me to get into a serious car accident, with the goal of killing me or killing someone else and making me responsible.

There was “Doorway” and after going through a door, including a car door, I would forget whatever important information there was- such as when someone phoned me and said they were about to kill someone and I had to stop them- I would forget what had upset me and my mind would blank out for a while. She used this one a lot.

And there was “Bury the skeleton” where she would take my emerging memories of a crime and rebury them, suggesting to me that they were locked deep, deep in a cellar, like the one the child in Ursula K. LeGuin’s story “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” was locked in, where no one could see or hear. And at some point she got tired of my enjoying my life as much as I did and made me think of myself as the child from Omelas, the one that was locked in the dark away from light and hope and kept slient, gagged, blindfolded, unable to comprehend why such cruelty had been visited upon her.

For over three decades I have carried around the subconscious memories of abuse, so much and so varied that I cannot really say when and where events happened. I am unable to remember events until long after they can be investigated, and it took me over three years of relative rest and contemplation, and serious analysis of the dream images coming to me from the “child from Omelas”, to even puzzle out as much as I have. I believe that Evelyn has largely been prevented from harming me all this time which is why I have not been re-traumatized and re-regressed, though I do recall an interaction at the Hillside Festival in 2019 where a woman I had not met before as far as I knew tried to give me commands in a quiet voice after the push, push trigger (which I noted). When I told her I would do to her what she had done to me, and reached for her, she panicked and ran, and when I grabbed for her, I wound up holding a wig.

So her hold on me has weakened, I believe, though I do not know if I am ever going to be fully safe from harm- she has done so much to me, and sees me as being inhuman (calling me “trash”, “cockroach”, “insect”, “garbage can”, etc.). She seems obsessed with preventing me from succeeding in any venture that might gain me respect or prove to be lucrative, or even anything as simple as hobbies which provide me joy. I have had to lie and lie and lie to strangers on the telephone over and over just to try and keep shreds of happiness and people I care about close to me, and prevent them from being attacked and killed or injured or stolen from as well.

She has used her power over me to try to kill me in different ways, most cruelly by trying to make me suicide, and to avoid her I have often pretended that this was a success. It works for a time, but then she finds me yet again and the cycle begins over.

This time I am ready. Knowledge is power. I have enough knowledge of what she has done to me and how I can be manipulated, now, that her lies no longer will have as much sway. She was the one that tied her life to mine, decided to pervert my words about the Tao and think that, as long as my life was in decline, hers would always be ascendant.

When you attempt to kill a Queen, you better make sure she’s dead on your first try. I have been in and escaped from checkmate for my entire adult life, and now I find my allies are back on the board and yours, strangely, have left, or are leaving. You are alone, and if you are not exposed now you will be very, very soon.

Checkmate is only a matter of time.

Tick.

Tock.