psychic memoir

The Psychic Surge of 2021, or Psychic Siege as some of the elderly still refer to it as, wasn’t a particular day, but a span, a slow moving domino, that by our best estimates seems to have taken a full 9 months to globally appear. It doesn’t appear to have started in any particular region or with any particular demographic. It began and finished everywhere. In a family, a mother might be affected first, then a child, then the father, and then another child over the course of months, with no obvious pattern or reasoning.

This unforeseen apocalypse was not a natural disaster, nuclear war, asteroid, a machine led-revolt or any of the other doomsday scenarios predicted and highlighted in films and books during the 20th and early 21st centuries. It was certainly unexpected, humans tended to look anywhere but at themselves, to outside factors, as the source of cataclysms. Apocalypse was seen as something that was done to us by another, whether an enemy be it human or alien, or a natural event, possibly a punishment from an angry god. It didn’t occur to most that each and every one of us were the source of the revolution that would wreak havoc. The enemy nation, the Martians, Kali, was this significant part of ourselves that most were completely oblivious.

Yet apocalypse happened exactly how the Greek defined the term, it was the lifting of a veil, a revelation of our true selves. This disclosure of our psychic potential, or at least the introduction to such potential, swung open the door to our next Age. Not without a high human toll, as always with violent upheaval.

In the first two years, 20% of the world popular died from suicide or psychic-stress related deaths. Celebrities, politicians and other well-known individuals, especially those known internationally, suffered the biggest brunt from the psychic incoming. Perhaps this was because these people were sent information, unknowingly, from masses of people around the world who felt some connection to or influence from the well-known person. Because this was a one-way connection, scores of these well-knowns were “overloaded” and went into comas. Most never awoke and the few who did were impaired to the point where they were unable to handle the slightest human contact or attention. Ironically, before the Psychic Surge, it was common to desire to be a famous. “Celebrity” had a very different connotation than it does today.

40% of the population were able to initially block their psychic surges, either by having the ability to consciously turn off the psychic receptors or in some rare cases not seemingly not having use of them. It was that 40% that initially got us through those first two years, they were the ones who “functioned” best, they were still capable of running hospitals, governments, farms and raising children. This psychic-less skeleton crew got humanity through it’s most challenging time and like most true-life heroes, at the cost of their own lives. In less than five years, most developed inoperable brain tumors. We discovered that completely blocking what comes through our psychic receptors for any significant length of time is deadly. Research for a “cure” to our new conditions quickly stopped when we realized, it’s not something we’re supposed to rid ourselves. It is an integral, necessary part of our beings.

There is not a dominant, agreed upon theory as to the cause of the Psychic Surge. Some believe that the worldwide use of the internet, satellites, cell phones and other networks that electronically connected large groups with one another, kickstarted our latent psychic aspects. Eventually our minds realized that these networks were merely crutches that we didn’t need. Another theory involves a physical human evolution in the nano-scale, that our psychic aspects were forced into a space so cramped that these aspects were forced to react more quickly and develop at an accelerated rate.

Less popular theories involve intergalactic intervention, viruses, drinking water tampering, and so on.  All of these theories bring up more questions than they answer. Why were humans, even in remote parts of the world with little or no interaction with those outside their immediate communities affected in the same way, at the very same time? Hermits, shut-ins, recluses, with no connection with others or communication networks fared no differently than those living in cities. How was such a vast, diverse population affected all the same?

The psychic natural selection process was brutal, to say the least, with only 40% of the world’s population surviving. It was those who struggled with and eventually adapted who succeeded. 90% of the survivors were under 40 years of age. 65% were under the age of 21. 93% of children under the age of 6 survived.  Despite age having a critical role in survival—physical strength, health, intelligence, location, race, gender, social class, religion, profession and education played very little role. The apparent sole factor was adaptability. Those who managed to work with, not against the Surge, emerged, and many would argue for the better. But what a price.

When first entering an underworld, if the psychic investigator is fortunate, she will be presented with the extract’s partial psyche map. This can be the single most useful preparation material an investigator receives. Maps with legends to explain the symbology can save an investigator countless hours of trial and error. Often times the map is a small fragment of the entire psychic sphere. The more narrow and limited the terrain, the easier to find the extract. Less ground to cover. Although an investigator can’t assume there will only be a single fragment during the entire extraction process. In some instances, the map pieces become a section of a complex puzzle.

Each map varies per extract, Some psyche cartographies read similar to standard maps, some are like road maps, with street names, highway exits, detours, landmarks, buildings. Other portray larger land masses, like states, countries or even continents. Some are closer to aeronautical charts offering birds-eye views. In our thousands of retrievals, we’ve found the whole gamut ranging from transit, nautical, floor plans, partial world map, even the occasional geological map. The styles range from modern to medieval to reversed to polar to you name it. Some are straightforward and simplistic and others are excessively detailed or labyrinths of epic proportions.

The maps are all unique, on one map Belgium is bordering North Dakota, which borders the Dead Sea that flows through a city named Nerve. Islands are common, as are a large variety of water masses, mountains and caves. Some maps use what appears to be a standard scale system and other employ a system totally their own. Some maps might include information about weather patterns, native customs, language dialects, histories or restaurant recommendations. It behooves the investigator to consider every shred of detail and information a map provides. Never assume any detail to be inconsequential. 

An investigator must keep in mind that one person’s “Belgium” is not another’s.  While often a space called Belgium might look and feel like what one might expect, even at that rate, the variations are endless. For a U.S. citizen whose physical travel or personal knowledge is more as that of a tourist, Belgium could be a delicious land of beer, chocolate, waffles and french fries. Even then, what would all that imply about the individual? One has to then consider the extract’s associations and varied histories with beer, chocolate, waffles and french fries. Belgium would be a very different, likely more intimate place to someone who spent her childhood growing up on a Belgium farm. It could be directly related to an early life event. Or another person might channel an ancestor’s war experience in the region into the representation.

One Belgium might appear mostly modern, another presented as a time during the Belgian Revolution, or a mix of many times or even other places that seemingly have no obvious connection to Belgium. One person’s Belgium might closer resemble another person’s impression of Berlin or Zambia for that matter.

I’ve personally come across a handful of maps that are similar to star maps with planets and galaxies. Speaking of Belgium, on a recent retrieval I was given a psyche map with a moon named “New Belgium Crisis.” When I inspected the area, it appeared as a land of endless 20th century shopping malls full of manic women chewing their nails and stirring cauldrons of what smelled and looked a lot like hot lemonade. But one can never be too sure when strolling through the massive halls of New Belgium Crisis, can she?

Other maps include underground tunnels, mystical lands, and other features that once would have been attributed a “fantasy map” an author might include with a work of science fiction. Of course, at this juncture in our research, every psyche map in some way falls into that category because no single psyche map appears exactly like an accurate map of the waking physical world, or at least no map we have discovered yet.  As we’ve ascertained over the past decade, fantasy is never fake, it’s simply elsewhere. Sometimes that elsewhere is akin to a million miles away in a far off galaxy never to be reached and sometimes that elsewhere is in the broom closet or right under the bed. Those with nearby elsewheres by in large are the ones who are most likely to enter their underworlds frequently. Some go back and forth with relative ease, never in need of a retrieval, while others by accident or conscious intention, remain underground indefinitely. 

feels like a vacation living next to water, I know her name, a small cubby, is it enough space?

pack and bring them back? pack and bring them back, type it in properly, autocorrect screw, spit, bump, not sure she knows so much, wrong part, wrong elevator, I’m not getting out of this car, on the wrong side and far from where I want to be, wrong to accuse, but, 

Rauan orders a gallon of sin semen, then he decides he wants to write a sestina, Rauan wants his bad luck gone, a cup of Kidd Rock’s semen costs a pretty poem, the sperm that endures the test of time, I make it a rule never to read sestinas with the word “sperm” in the title, Rauan’s mind as a collective sperm omelet, this is Rauan’s brain on deprivation, this is what happened to Rauan’s brain after snorting lexical repetition, it was a sin,

Rauan decides to get out more,

Rauan dating a neanderthal version of his college girlfriend, to prepare for his date he prepares to leave her because he’s feeling nostalgic, Rauan dating a daughter of the patriarchy, to prepare he writes an intensive haiku sequence considering space was limited to infinite sperm in his man book, Rauan taking space, preparing a meal, preparing his vows, Rauan isn’t prepared for the real thing, 

a gallon of rules, a gallon of morals and violations, Rauan advertised as a destructive context, Rauan offered as the inevitable consequence of delusion, thousands of gallons of consequence spilling into the space referred here as Rauan, 

today’s concern is about the balls being taken away, or maybe it’s not a concern, maybe the concern is being alone in a hotel room, maybe the concern is murder, maybe the death should be recreated in a bathtub, there might be concern as to whether she’s old enough, somebody take this bag away and tell her she can’t participate anymore, people have gone underground, people don’t concern themselves with their litter in the community, when we emerge from the underground the middle-aged woman points her gun at me, be tougher, she says, bad things happened down there, her new strength makes her the unpleasant, paranoid woman who is truly right, tough to make out, pretty much tough shit, she doesn’t need a bed to rest her head, she dreams in the tough language of advertisements, she barks a mean jingle when you touch her, you have to rewind really slow, it’s a tough time getting to work, it’s tough walking in these sandals, 

it’s tough giving the message to hurry up and save the pooch,

I tell it to the tough guy plotting to fix things, the one who always has a tough time relaxing, he tells me he’s tall, I tell him to stand up and prove it, I tell him how it all went down, I tell him Frodo returned to Middle Earth and tough guy needs to bring him back to Upper Earth because we need him, I tell tough guy I don’t care how he does it, I can tell he’s not happy, he doesn’t want to do this, he’s neither a Christian nor a supporter of the death penalty, he’s concerned about crossing boundaries, I tell him I understand that he needs to simmer down,

I tell him to move it,

a sudden shimmering body painted by orchestra and clap, leaning younger than he looks, resting her wronged head on his shoulder, she corrects him and he says OK, she installs some animal blockers like gerbils on wheels, she’s now in charge of the wheel, left his wallet on its fortune, the steering wheel fashioned into goose contraptions pulled from the hearts of men doing construction, embarrassing like roulette, the wheel of curing, riding the ferris wheel of limited amounts,

he’s bitching about the care he’s receiving, 

she doesn’t care that this problem is taking him away from his violin pageant, she doesn’t care one bit, she’s not bothered, she says fate take care, she’s taking care of the monsters not the pets, she cares with a pink Care Bear blanket, she needs all possessions to support this caring, there’s a psychiatric spa that does a good job of taking care of its people, that’s where he’ll be taken care, fill out forms, mani-pedi, too late to apologize, too early to euthanize, 

this will be a funny joke, it’s not a big deal and this is going over the line, I’m conscious of who’s arm in arm, feeling a little obligated, an inflatable woman gives a tour of the city, like a Ken doll talking science, this doll is believed to be very important, very emotional, I’m wearing a bathing suit and realize some things don’t have much value, dump them, there were valuable things in there, despite all this I’m keeping my distance, talking about names, keeping a boundary like a police officier, like a dumb fat man carrying my bags, how strangely and terribly love has done her, the joke threatened by this presence, she makes a joke, I make a joke, he’s no John Donne, I’ll be back, pow in the kisser, to the moon, 

over the river and through an upscale wooded lot with a big pit in my chest, the wedding and the ride and not really the right gift, what it really means, seems really inappropriate, I’m one of those reality shows, I want to give it, really slow, really well, I could really use some help, I don’t really remember or feel confident, I’m not really following or understanding, getting really complicated, really great space, really should replace this cape, 

what to do?

gonna count to three, gonna get the car, gonna do my taxes tonight, I tell him to go back and get some mashed potatoes to accompany this chicken, maybe we’re gonna share, gonna like it here, there’s gonna be trouble, I’m gonna help him with his singing career, gonna upload that song on iTunes, gonna sing “gonna make you sweat,”

the empty gift box of cement pit, she goes into the pit of lions, she goes to lie with one, she wishes to confront the wolf, the wolf is on her, all over and inside and throughout, the lion turns out not to be a lion but a man with a pick who works there, she swears she wasn’t lying with the lions, I slap Rauan, then I realize he’s him and not her, I’m gonna wait for her, I’m gonna get it right and slap her, 

for a fact Rauan wasn’t born, Rauan claiming he was born in 1925 to get respect, when my baby was born, born with only a head, born technically dead, the doctors made a body for my baby, now my baby has a body, just not the right body, I ask the parents of the baby born with just a chest if I can have the heart,

and there is hesitation,

would seeing my baby change their minds?

it changed Rauan’s mind, he donated his unborn face, long before he was never born, my babe in Rauanface born to previous psychic circumstance, the sacramental act of passing the mask, a mental note of busyness, nothing like the clown mask I expected, suspended and regressing into bond and hook, yes, I took Rauan’s face as our own, 

Rauan near the border trying to stop, no, I’m the border of Rauan, rundown Rauan who hasn’t been updated, surreal and awful Rauan full of purples and blues, moving away to Cornish, not for the benefit of hope, for the benefit of revival, Rauan as a dead language, we were travelling to a place called His before called away to Jury Duty, a few yards into the border we reach the town of Lynn, neighboring Liploose, at this point I’m considering giving up, we keep driving south but can’t get past the town of Morrow, I shouldn’t have called Rauan a cock deathmaster, I delete Rauan and he agrees to counseling, meets with a raccoon called Exterminator, this process is called psychic intertextuality, 

for the user, Rauan has many meanings, for the stylish he’s an allusion to the mandrake, hipsters name their death erections after him, Rauan as an image that only makes sense in the dark of borderline knowledge, as a user, Rauan derives meaning for my benefit, my notion that he’s a code to be cracked into usable quotes for the benefit of the middle classes, as a user, he fits into a final form to comprehend the allusions of a poet, though generally he simply refers to the users who use his name as a theory to be alluded to in a future text,