A Tale of Manipulation:

A Tale of Manipulation:

The superstition is that one cannot “out-manipulate” a Scorpio.
That may be true. But one can learn to resist a Scorpio’s manipulation.
Pisces has mastered this. Scorpio does what it does because apparently people “like to be” manipulated.
And in a certain sense they ask for it.
This is a milder expression of rape apologetics: that people “really want to be” raped.
Empirically this has always been known.
But as Zizek points out: this makes it worse.
The woman who wanted to get raped and got what she wanted is more susceptible to suicide.
And the same is true of women who want to be seduced.
Despite their values.

A Piscean is too pure to be triggered by manipulative tactics.
But to witness an other being triggered is more deeply triggering, indirectly.
It puts a Piscean in the excruciatingly awkward posture of having to blame the victim.
But how can one resist?
She really is asking for it.
And as Camus (the Scorpio Philosopher) said:
Charm is to be able to get “yes” for an answer without having to ask a question.
In that sense the person asking to be seduced has already been seduced.
And the seduction draws its deadliness from its silence.
Often the consent is silent as well.

The best way to escape manipulation is to disown it.
The best way to fall into manipulation is to try to become good at it.
By trying to “out-manipulate” a Scorpio one is simply empowering the habit of manipulation and, by extension, the manipulative Scorpio.
Every manipulative Scorpio lives in fear of being out-manipulated.
Despite the fact that he or she can only draw power from the attempt.

A narcissist or egoist will not see that trying to become good at some thing -- better than the Other -- is simply to empower the Other, and that to disempower the Other one must “give up without a fight”.
Because strength is in giving things up at times.
Hence the Lent Season is so potent a time.

Dm.A.A.

MYRBOSCH: Episode #??.

PHILADELPHIA:

I was watching Sunny

Thinking I might find it funny

That I could see such good friends

Seeking only common ends.

And in some uncommon trends occurred

I had my word it was absurd.

And no one would defend their actions

Entertainment is distractions.

But then I saw Mac and Dennis

Like they’re at a match in tennis

Macking on a girl who’s grand-dad

Passed and selfish to the last.

And when I hear that bold pretension

In that old fuck’s condescension

I can see why he would fail to see

His own grandfather with his sister D.

Oh, the machismo and the nerve

That he had himself to serve

And to one-up (the moral selflessness!) of his best friend

He got what he deserved.

But I forgot to mention

That the sight of his pretension

So sunk into my own nerves

And veins like venom

I could no less contain than to

Condemn him.

In his denim jeans

His hipster slease

His bold, self-righteous genes

And style and ease in lying

While his own grand-dad was dying.

That I fell down to my knees

Just like a wounded soldier

Thinking all I wanted was these

Eyes. This long blonde hair

And just to hold her.

And he said to him that night:

You can’t claim her as your right

And as the same old flame has stung

Two years ago an other’s shame

Begun…

I wondered where Mac kept the gun

From the last episode.

Because like fuck am I having

An other panic attack and

Psychotic episode of trauma.

In this adolescent high school drama.

Where they get invited to the prom.

And D gets off the phone with mom…

My head is spinning

Once again and blood is

Thinning once again and all the

Sin beginning with the treachery of

My best friend.

The lechery. The murder of the

Innocent. The rank inseamed bed.

And you are right when you say

All of this from that night went

All to my head.

The paranoia two years later

Threatening then to destroy

A family when it was but a traitor

But a little boy.

And how I’d hate her if I found

To add to all that is unholy and

Absurd. That she who’d come around

Had went back on her holy word.

“I promise not to talk to tapeworm.

I haven’t in a long time.”

Thank God almighty that you could escape

From his seductive and sadistic paradigm.

The pantomime of loyalty

Embracing devil’s grace.

The wicked smile like tyrannical

Royalty upon that maniacal face.

And as the traitor said to Mac:

“You cannot claim her as her own.”

I am left by a similar attack.

Still lonely virginal and so

Alone.

But you shall not atone.

And justify only yourself.

While I too like a soldier die

In true conscience and waning

Health.

My back in pain from straining it

In vain so out of shape. Trying to

Explain or to contain this act of

Unpoetic (more than metaphoric)

rape.

And seeking some escape in poetry

My only friend. For knowing me I

Know I will attract only a show.

Seeking a private end.

Why doesn’t mac just get his gun

And pop a cap in that old son

And set him on a track that’s long ago begun

And do not simply set to stun.

But I will remain unphased

Because I’m not he who’s crazed.

I would be amazed if she returned

As words of spurning taught but

They will not be learned.

I’m not a right-wing nut

But I am rather Left-Wing

Radical and this king

Will bring himself down

Observing the sabbatical.

When God rains down upon his reigning head

And shows to him his sin. But knowing him he’ll

Say: take me away to Hell! And grin.

Don’t lie to me

And try to be like you’d done

Every thing you could

TO guide the tribe to see

A common peace and greater good.

And as I lie deceased

Like greased and rotten wood

And think on what you’ve done.

I’ll know at least

You took from me the one.

That only Lonely one.

I own her and her feelings

They were put into my care

But why would you respond

To some thing I’d not even said?

How can you dare to let your

Guilty conscience spill onto my

Head?! Just like a conch that’s sticking

To a barge. You leech off of my bread.

So now instead of celebrating

What would be a two year’s

Anniversary. I see the end of

All I valued swallowed in your greedy sea.

All wasted on a hollow

Jaded fading bastard.

Who should swallow all

The come he put into each

Whore he ever mastered.

But what’s more: I know that she

Had long ago seen through his

Ruse so sorry Dennis but I know

Back then is different now.

She will refuse.

She will not shed the honour

That I had for her preserved.

And so when you are on her case

Don’t dare to finD the nerve.

Dm.A.A.

Enlightenment is Real:

Student: What if this "enlightenment" stuff is the game of the mind or the ego or whatever?

Master: Wrong.

Watts said that trying not to get it is still a way of trying to get it. Enlightenment is not to be confused with self-entitlement. In short: just being is not enough. So to speak of enlightenment as one's natural state is insufficient; one has to work to actualise one's nature, and to maintain it, lest it fall into decay. It's in man's nature to act.

That being said: obviously suffering has a reason, and that reason is ignorance. As such ignorance has its opposite, which is enlightenment. Whilst all opposites are illusory so is the distinction betwixt illusion and reality. So duality is real.

Buddhism seeks the ideal state of non-duality. But Taoism acknowledges that life is in constant flux so such a state does not exist. Paradoxically Taoism arrives at the mindset that Buddhism theorises.

To resist the urge to heal and purify the Soul is to resist humanity. That is a mistake. It is not the ego but the Soul that seeks transcendence. The ego is perpetually self-content, even though it strives. It is content to strive. But the Soul interjects and subverts the ego. This is enlightenment. It can occur spontaneously, but it can all so be attained voluntarily. This voluntary attainment is not an egoic goal, though the ego may be involved and ultimately transcended.

Dm.A.A.

DREAM. (Day of Jupiter, April 20th, 2017.)

Day of Jupiter, April 20^th, 2017.

FIRST DAY OF TAURUS.

A tormented Hellscape the likes of Kafka and Bosch, yet taken as though from the aesthetic of NICKELODEON* cartoons such as Rugrats, Rocko’s Modern Life, or even Disgruntled Wart-hog. I recall a class-room setting nearby. Whearty must again have been the anti-Christ; he was castigating me for something, instructing me to pick up my belongings, doing so in a measured, passive-aggressive tone.

I was surprised to think they might still have my family’s suit-case.

Yet what if it was a TRAP?

*Avatar: The Last Airbender.

A lingering ache in my left lobe,

Beginning at the side of my neck,

Would seem to suggest a trap.

I am reminded of an animal that appeared beside me as I lay in bed. The sky was gray, not unlike it had been in Chuckie’s night-mares or in Phil and Lil’s envious fears of the other being ‘favourite’.

It was like a dog, yet not like Pumpkin. It was emaciated and its eyes were at once cruel and piteous. It chewed upon MY LEFT HAND. It threatened to eat me, as though the sum of its existence were either to eat or to be eaten.

It reminds me of Gollum.                                                                                           Dm.A.A.

THE SUNNY DREAM.

May it be recognised now that I took a moment of silence to read this dream initially, urging every one in the car with me to hush. It was a diplomatic victory and a subtle maneuver that allowed the occupants to shed what thoughts they did not need but would have perpetuated by verbalizing.

The dream begins in an ambiguous location: either a new house or a café, suggesting that this place is not a Home in the Profound Sense but rather a sort of temporary lodging and adorned more for its appearance than for its inward qualities. The Heart is a Guesthouse, and homes are an allegory for the Ego that entertains conflicting characters because the Soul allows them periodic, episodic entry into one’s conscious life as complexes and archetypes.

That this home is recognized more for its superficial appearance rather than its utility or homeliness – in fact, it is not even certain whether or not the lodging IS a house – the setting of the dream immediately implies a shallow, image-based conscious reality which inevitably invites conflict.

Your frustration, for instance, that I had not watched a television program would serve to corroborate this point. The television program is a superficial detail. What you try to do to justify the actions of the characters is an insecure coping mechanism; it is actually incredibly arrogant. You are escaping into the very complexes that had brought you into the situation that you are in now, and the company you keep is intrinsic to that situation. What that company has to say on the matter will only serve to further prove the problem; agreement on this low-context level does not produce insight as to what the Dream Itself is trying to convey via the symbols. Only a rigorous analysis of the plot and story – a conceit in the case of the television program, but not in regards to the dream – will arrive at its more subtle meaning.

The next detail is of course the car. Now perhaps this does not trouble your friends as much as it troubles me. So you owe me your attention at this point, supposing I do not all ready have it. Unless you are so absorbed in your “self-actualisation” that you would accuse any one trying to snap you out of it of your own arrogance.

The car is parked in the FRONT PARKING LOT. This indicates that it is, in fact, A FRONT. Your “independence” is nothing more than dependency upon others; hence it is YOUR BROTHER’S CAR. That that is a LITERAL detail, copied by rote from Actual Life, does not invalidate my point. It corroborates it.

Glad that we could get that settled. I can see why Rob and Michael would condone your front. They buy into it; it mirrors their own, as persona would. But as Jung said sagely, of the many things he conveyed sagely: Persona is the greatest barrier to Individuation. So TRUE independence would rest in shedding the vehicle. And thankfully you find the company of a group of people who can do precisely that.

ALL SO: The car is a symbol of travel, not unlike my Van and your Bicycle. It occurs on the Gemini-Sagittarian pole, and it certainly, in this instance, refers to the Southern End (Gemini), for Gemini is obsessed with independence but becomes so absorpt in the APPEARANCE of independence, after which it models its own personality, as though building a house roof-first, that it ends up relying upon sources of which it is forgetful that it relies.

This is all so where all of your karmic history would be situated. The company you keep habitually will reflect this. You have no excuse to allow them to slow your Individuation.

A new car appears. This is a rival persona. Its very presence is intimidating. Again keep in mind that if you really wanted to accuse me of harbouring ill will in this interpretation you have done nothing to gather evidence for that from my OWN dreams. Why do I acknowledge this fact now? Because the occupants are the Other. These are the people who you model yourself after, whom you wish to impress, but all so – problematically, as though the first two details were not enough – the people you are competing with. It’s bad enough that you are trying to impress people by imitation, mirroring their own style and only leaving them flattered but prone to forget you. You ALL so empower them as ADVERSARIES. So it is logical (though you are not) that you would regard them initially as a threat. How do they threaten you? BY MAKING FUN OF YOU. Social disapproval by them is threefold in its damage:

1.      They remain unimpressed.

2.      They are not moved by your imitation.

3.      They gain a competitive advantage.

This is a manifestation of the Fear of Reproof.

The next important detail is that they are a jovial bunch. Keep in mind that your relationship to them is purely self-interested. You identify with them because they mirror your own ruse; your egoism is theirs, and insofar as they are equal to you they pose no threat to you, or so it would appear to be the case. 

This is an opportunity to remember your delusions about tipping. Obviously, as I've stated, had the details been so imperative that they warranted anger or even just frustration, you would have not neglected to mention them. The Devil DOES live in the details; it was a failure in etiquette upon YOUR part to convey to me an insufficient sum, and it was the height of undue condescension for you to accuse me of being unfamiliar with the voluntary institution of gratuity. It all so demonstrated an incredible lack of rational tact that you did not bother to discern the voluntary institution from the involuntary one of taxation, and even when you did you did not atone for your miscommunication by offering to cover the tip and tax FOR me but rather by threatening to leave it undone (as though it could really have mattered, and had that been the case you would have known better than to ask for any money before all the calculations were complete). But then my previous e-mail explains your error more specifically.

The lessons to be learned here lie in that convention is entirely a projection of the individual subject. How Rob or Mike perceive it as your peers is likewise a reflection of their own -- drum roll, please -- egoes, and insofar as they have the conceit to speak on your behalf when they are only marginally affected (keep in mind that Rob even broke a piece of glassware, a much more dangerous faux pas, but one that the Manager Himself pardoned gracefully) to that same degree they only evidence the viral power of the EGO in your group.

One thing is for certain: how your actions affected me will never be justified by your skewed view of convention. Take this as an opportunity to learn. It is Universal.

On that somewhat defensive but nonetheless indispensable note, we can address more objectively the matter of the Dream symbol. As the narrative unfolds so does your illusory sense of security. Buddhists and other sages through the ages have noted the very precarious position of inferior feelings in the psyche; every thing implies its opposite.

By the very nature of your predicament the friends you make turn to enemies, for such is the nature of a contract between thieves. There is no honour among these thieves, for they serve only theirselves, as you serve only YOUR self. Hence the Self-as-Ideal is the very Devil that divides you from your peers and equals; were they not your equals, but your superiors (for you have no inferiors, as the Dream Itself evidences) then you would tolerate them even less so initially; you would simply seek to bring them down to your own level. Yet by then you would be less vulnerable to attack. In THIS situation, as it were, it is the very EGALITARIAN IMPULSE that predisposes you to the war that you deserve, for selfishness, even under the guise of mutual respect and "jovial good will" must inevitably end in conflict. It is -- if you would admit it (and I say that idiomatically rather than literally, for it is so irrespective of whether or not you DO admit it) -- the very teleological direction of the passion to dissolve in self-interest at an other's expense. Such is war. If you forget that your adversaries are in the same position as you are, it is only because you are yourself so absorbed in the same act of passion.

So I hope that clears THAT up. While I'm sure Rob's loyal encouragement is comforting, maturity beckons you elsewhere.

You go on to describe yourself as "loosening your grip", and they follow suit. All ready the terrifying nature of this unsteady peace is evident, as well as the mutual degeneracy of your relationship. The only irregularity is in numbers. At first they appear to have an advantage. But your unconscious mind is never at a loss of symbols to depict aggression; an early dream involving Deadpool, which you likewise tried to justify, and with equal success to this time, aroused a similar disturbance in my mind.

What is crucial is that they RECIPROCAtE YOUR QUESTION. They are leveling with you. They mirror you still. And what follows is your own karma: (to use a Sartrean term that the Gemini-Cancer philosopher can offer to your situation:) the War that you Deserve.

At this point you WALK BACKWARDS. Keep in mind my reading of Mike's Dream; the same principle applies here. You REGRESS. Moving backwards is a defensive strategy that only SETS YOU BACK. It is no surprise that your recent room-mate is similarly stuck in rewind.

It is no mistake that at this very moment your car is eliminated. The grace of those who helped you -- Alex -- has been supplanted by the ill will of those you sought to impress. Note that if you take the symbol any more literally than how I have presented it then you invite Fascism. Such a prejudice is the sort of memetic junk food that leeches like Kresten feed off of. Think on his politics before we proceed.

The damage is self-inflicted. But as is all ways the case with you you externalise the problem and its cause. Like a boy you turn to violence. Here comes the central symbol of the dream, as my earlier letter alludes to. The very virtue that is the cardinal feature of your Soul -- your HANDS, with which you write, program, edit, and (as evidenced by your Relationship Status back in high school) make love -- is replaced by impersonal and brutal MACHINE guns. You lose your humanity and secure only your survival, a pitiful fraction of the Human Spirit, which of course can endure death time and time again like a snake sheds its skin to be reborn.

Campbell would be proud of me.

(Though think not that I seek to impress. That is, after all, YOUR problem, as both your conscious admission of the fact and your unconscious evidence prove.)

When you conveyed the dream to me in text you wrote that they are "somehow apart" of you. This slip is significant. You clearly aimed to say that they are "a part of" you, yet you all so ADMIT that they are SEPARATE FROM you, somehow.

Then you go on to say you "sprayed them down", as though you had used liquid of some sort. The metaphor invokes fluidity and water. It surely emanates from your Scorpio Moon Sign, a regrettably Martial part of your personality that re-enforces the problematic Arian tendencies, and all ways has.

Before you know it, and before they are given the OPPORTUNITY to DEFEND THEMSELVES, they are dead. You say little of the manner of their death. You simply say that "it is too late;" You have "killed them all." Is this not remorse?

Remember: "a good fighter is never angry."

As you recount: it SUDDENLY DAWNS on you what you have done. And it is precisely at this very moment that all evidence of the car having-been-yours dissolves. It becomes obvious that the car never WAS yours, in fact. You were simply borrowing it. Though you defended it as THOUGH it were your own.

In short: your childish nature is all ways exposed at moments of anger. "A good fighter..."

I hope that this is all starting to fit together, for you. There was obviously a good reason for inviting you to Poway with me. Do remember, on an other remonstrative note, that you treated me like a stranger and a traveler in my Own Home Town. Don't do that ever again.

All so remember: my madness is of a mystical sort. I am swimming in the waters that a psychotic would sink in. In this case: you are the psychotic in question. So accept my help or drown.

Originally I read this turn of events -- that the evidence of the car's being-yours -- as bad news. It turns out you are thankful for it, but I maintain my reading. It is a convenience to lose your front just as the authorities arrive, but that does not make it Good, and your Dream protagonist knows that as well as do I at present.

The next important detail is that there are no spectators. The remainder of the Dream is in fact an evasion from the Collective and the Universal. The only people hurt by you, at least insofar as you are aware, are those that you were moments ago trying to impress. (Whether or not you realized it.) The remaining victims (friends and family of the slaughtered) you will never have to confront, so long as you can EVADE CAPTURE.

This entire drama all ways happens in secret. But you will not get off that easily. Recall that I am harbouring your fugitive ass. *I* at least would know the nature of your guilt.

You proceed to flee, but not at a running pace. Your modus operandi is all ways at a steady, walking pace. You maintain the demeanour of casualness, though it would not help you; an innocent civilian would have run at the sound of guns shot. Yet as is the case in Actual Life you pretend to hide your tracks well even as you do every thing possible to separate yourself in bearing from your innocent neighbours, whose psychic condition you have neither sympathy for nor understanding.

It is precisely at this moment that you join the crowd. You try to hide in the Mass, pretending towards shelter in some thing that is in reality (as I've told you for years) only a conglomeration of individuals, totally isolated from one an other to the same degree as they have any thing in common with you. Society is an abstraction. It offers little shelter from your shame and guilt, for it cannot bear responsibility, but it can only displace it in an endless, bureaucratic and Kafkaesque fashion. Such is the price for surrendering your own integrity as a Rational Adult to the whims of conventional passions and prejudices.

Is the crowd not even more threatening than the Police?

The Police personify your guilt and shame. You see them in every stranger. You hear them in every remonstrative word. 

What triggered these two letters? One thing you keep saying over and over: that you do not like the TONE I use.

This abuse I can only pardon to the degree that it serves my case against you as definitive proof. I have all ready proven that you owed me five dollars. To ask for it was my right. This was an objectively neutral reminder. So how could you possibly corrupt it, from your position?

The answer: that you were reminded of your own guilt. You had NOT been direct with me about how much money I owed. And had I not spoken up, I might have received even less than was owed to me even after the tax and tip had been factored in.

The Police represent our debt to society. But your hypocritical individualism seeks to escape that debt. And in that sense the debt grows. So you seek one final escape.

You would be hard-pressed at this point to seek refuge in blaming me for your own sins. After all: I have all ready come to expect it. It explains that in the Dream you seek refuge with me just as you do in ordinary life.

Our relationship is a complicated one. On the one hand, I shelter you from your own guilt and shame by acting as a scapegoat. On the other: Our Project offers release. 

You do not simply seek to get out of danger. You admit to seeking DISTRACTION. Not only does this complete your civilian alibi. It all so allows you to FORGET YOUR SIN.

Now: The Club. Again you find shelter. Though it is neither in a fixed café nor is it in a moving vehicle. Here you are a guest, most probably MY guest, supposing I have that sort of influence at the Club.

The Club represents the culmination of Worldly Success. The two blonde women are not by some mistake the same shade of hair as your Anima later on. They represent femininity as a status symbol, as well as the patriarchal fantasy of mastery OVER the feminine as a representation of Masculinity immune to authority.

Hence it follows logically that the Police officer, seeing you with the models in the restroom, presumes upon your innocence. Need I state the obvious? In ACTUAL Life he would have more reason to suspect you, and more probable cause to arrest you, than ever. But the logic of the Dream is a different logic from Waking Common Sense. Since your dreams are SO surreal it is pathetic that you should try to defend yourself via Waking Common Sense. Now I hope you understand the liberties I am taking with regards to the last part of the drama. But first permit me to complete my analysis of this one.

The restroom stall represents privacy. Here you find safety and closure. The cop comes in, but he leaves you alone. You alone know what you've done. Here you are, with your Deeper Self (personified by me) and your Animae, both positive and negative (personified by the two women, who in both height and colour are your polar opposites, since your femininity is so divorced from your Waking personality).

So what happens when I leave? Every thing changes. The authorities take their leave of you, and you let me alone. Your ego goes off on its own. But now it confronts a dimension that it cannot entirely comprehend without difficulty.

Traditionally, an individual is regarded as "normal" to the degree that he conforms to social imperative. Yet in your world the obverse is the case. All people are self-interested deviants and to be normal is to be tactful in accommodating the selfishness of an other for one's own progress.

Charlie is the embodiment of this. His crime is twofold. Not only is he a fugitive murderer who got this far by using his friends and hosts. But he all so imagines all others to be as degenerate as he is.

Hence in this part of the Dream as much as in the last the ANIMA is represented not as a friend to be assimilated but as an Adversary to be conquered. And this I can say with total objectivity, having known this to be the case for over four years now, to be your Greatest Crime.

D is in fact a part of you that is quite obvious. The more feminine part of Anthony is primarily concerned with Truth, with the Pursuit of Truth, with the ideal of Justice, and with the Glory and Grace of God.

But Waking Anthony would not know that. Because Waking Anthony is Charlie.

The only impartial authority in this respect is Mac. Mac, the Shadow, is of course a heroic character because Ordinary Anthony (the one I saw that night at Oggi's, whom I seldom see in person, though he troubles me greatly when he appears) is a total scum. Charlie embodies this as the murderer who adds insult to injury by framing the very people who would bring him to justice. To HIS mind, every thing he does is not strictly "good", but it is justified by the SAME LEVELING PROCESS that produced the murder in the first place (though Charlie would not remember that part of the Dream).

At this point you would do well to recall that it does not MATTER that I am not partial to that program in Actual Life. Jung tells us that it is not how things are but how they appear that is important. If I watched the show, my reaction to it would be distinct from yours, as we saw in the case of Slacker. What matters is not what I think of Sunny, but rather what YOU SAY about it and how that looks TO ME as the witness to these psychic contents and their corresponding physical events.

In the same way that D threatens Charlie in an attempt to attain Justice, your Anima threatens your macho ego, the one that fixates upon maintaining an illusory and dogmatic persona, as we saw in both your troubled correspondence with that one Aries girl outside F6 as well as your relatively automatic (but nonetheless totally uneasy) interaction at Oggi's with Mike and Rob. 

In my dream: I wanted to go to Oggi's with you and Mike, but one of you (probably Mike, supposing memory serves) warned that it might get "sketchy". I see why now.

Your collective victory has come at the expense of a spiritual failure. You won the battle but you lost the war. Mike and Rob agree with you. But to what end?

Charlie is the protagonist, but he is not the hero. So it is with your ego. D actually serves to bring you to justice and thereby to restore Balance to the Soul. Yet Charlie can only see his own way and finds a criminal's justification (as did Walter White) in that it's Either Her Or Me and Even Now She's Plotting Against Me and, above all, the leveling pretense: She's Bad Too.

But do we know this? No. It only appears that way from Charlie's perspective. And he is of course all so Anthony from Waking Life. (The thing, not the movie.)

Take a breather and think this over. You are given a rare opportunity to shed your hubris. Before it gets too late.

Charlie can come quietly and nobly. Yet he is too powerful in his own degenerate way. His last hope rests in Mac, the Hero. But Mac is confused and misled. The Better Part of You has less sway over your psyche than does the Worse. And it was THIS revelation, only now surfacing in words as I write it out, that prompted both my psychosis and its present aftermath.

I see a lot of good in you, and that is why I support you. But I am all so housing a murderer.

You recall that in my dream -- the one that prompted this analysis -- I was a murderer who got away by changing shoes.

The following day I learned that it was YOU that wore those same shoes.

Consider therefore that this guilt is totally yours, and that the Dreamer of Dreams sent me that vision as a warning against YOU, shortly before you spent the night at my home.

[Literally you walked around in my shoes. Ironically, the obverse was true in the Dream World. It is I who had been walking around in YOUR shoes, metaphorically.

And that is the more important of the two worlds.]

Believe me, Anthony: I have been spending so many years pursuing that Dreamer's Wisdom, I could not delude my self into an egocentric perspective if I TRIED. That this present knowledge seems so overwhelming can only serve to establish its merit.

Mac cannot help you. You can find comfort in that he is there. But: you know that your friendship with him as Charlie will only aggrandize you as the villain. It is a parasitic relationship. I know I sound like Kresten in saying it. But Kresten too was only speaking from his own projections. This was why he hated my interpretations of his dreams as well, though he hesitated to correct me all the times I offered him my unconditional trust in interpreting my own. I'd like to think it was humility and respect. But we all know that it was Fear.

Only D can help you now. Owning up to the murder can save you. Only that can. 

D is a part of me. Hence her name is an abbreviation of mine. Your mind does that. This is why I am saved as DMT in your cellular phone.

D represents the purifying Truth that has been alienated and forbidden access to your Waking Psyche, victim to the same ills that produced the murder.

Kresten once dreamt too of a blonde woman who was abused. She was dressed as Deadpool, our modern personification of machismo. This happened on the floor beneath the main floor of his mother's condominium. It occurred on the dimension of the Collective Unconscious.

His dream serves as a reminder of what lies behind the facade of toughness. The price paid to machismo (including feminism obviously) comes at the expense of femininity. In the dream: she is missing an entire eyeball.

This is why the Two Tall Blondes were initially hanging out with ME. Because I am their agent. All models need an agent. Don't they?

So be grateful that I provided you with their company. After All: it was their company, in private, that saved you from the Police. THAT was forgiveness. THAT was the Grace of God. THAT was Christ.

And what do you do to her when she comes looking for justice? For just representation in the Hall of your Soul?

You abuse her. Like you abused Ariella. And even Rob remembers THAT.

Snap out of it.

Your Agent of Femininity,

Dmytri.

Dm.A.A.

MYRBOSCH. Episode #?: