The Hard Truth

I also believe that man could be evil and could wreak havoc to the likes you had never seen. I am a believer but I am confused what happened to those we do not know. My wife and I have been marriade for about 8 years. When we met, her children were grown, so was mine. She started coming to my house to take me to hers. We hit it off, immediately. Not long after we got together we started truck driving school. We got our CDL's, and after 6 weeks we left our trainer and got our own truck. We worked tpgether for about 2 years and my wife had to leave the truck for medical reasons, fibromyalgia. I worked for a couple years riding solo. Then I started have severe pain in my lower leg I hade to have a spinal fusion surgery. My wife just receive her social security disability and I only get half of my ss disability because my ex-wife gets almost half for back child support. That is not a problem. Both incomes were just over the limit my wife and I we are unable for them to, grant us Medicaid. We made $80 dolloars over the threshhold, so, I have to find a way to have my epidural injections. I went to the doctor, today, and I had to pay more that I was not used to paying. My office visit was $13 dollars. That is every other month. To get my epidural injection every other month I must pay a bill of $150. We are regular poeple who are having a hard time. I have had this blog since 2008. Please do not think that we are panhandling. We just need your help If you can donate, please. Thank you and God Bless Thanks, theblogmeister

Where Is The Evil?

If you believe in God then you must believe in Satan. For every action there is a reaction. Do you remember that statement? You must understand that at one time Lucifer was one of God's most trusted angels. Greed got the better of him and he wanted to be above God. What did God do? He cast Lucifer and a third of his following to earth. Where are they, now? In the beginning earth was a beautiful place and when God cast down Lucifer and his angels what was the one thing that God had created that Satan could want to ruin? Man had not been created, yet. The Bible states, "and the earth became without form and void." Earth was the only thing, at that time, that Satan could get back at God for kicking him out of Heaven. I do not believe this is the same earth that God had created for man. Satan changed it. Then when man was created God instructed Adam and Eve not to partake in the forbidden fruit. Guess who was there to change their minds? Yep, Satan. I believe every since the creation that Satan has not given up on changing God's plan. Why am I starting this post with this story? It proves to me that Satan and his angels still exist, today. It is Satan that convinces a young man to strap a vest made of high explosives and kill as many innocent men, women, and children as he possibly can. It is Satan that makes individuals fly a jet into the twin towers and kill thousands of innocent people. A man comes from God. Jesus, who was God manifested in the flesh, tells us to love our neighbor, not blow them up. What about the congresswomen from Arizona who was shot point blank in the forehead? Is that of God? No it is not. While the same angels that saved my Mother's life and comforted them after my brother died these are real. From what I have witnessed in the past several years Satan is not sitting back and doing nothing. He creeps into our lives through various means. To me, His favorite avenue to get to our youth is by using mood and mind altering substances. The number one is liquor and beer. Ethanol causes 50,000 deaths on our highway's. Most were impaired drivers on alcohol. Today, there are more youths drinking than ever before in our history. Now comes the drug many states have made legal. Marijuana, or Delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol, the active ingredient that causes the effect if the cannabinoid plant. Over ten states has made pot legal for medicinal value, only. So, I have a very liberal views on medicinal marijuana. I do not believe the propaganda in the late 1920's to the early 1930's. No, God would not waste his time with weed. The real problem facing our youth is the doctors who are quick at writing narcotics and do not care the damage is to our youth. Oxycontin and Roxie's are the most danger to our future. Don't think about all over are wounded warriors are becoming addicted before the leave Afghanistan and come back to a living hell.Do you believe that our soldiers are coming back broken? The statistics are mind blowing. I do not have here,now.I will get you some. My point is,there are good people in this world who have to look out for the broken. The Rangers motto, "Rangers Lead The Way" and they never leave one behind. Thank you, theblogmeister please donate

Alternate Dimensions

The trouble that I am having is how two beings occupy one universe. I have been face to face with someone who had died decades, earlier. I cannot take at face value that there is ghosts and spirits that are able to occupy the same world. Is it possible for the dead to be in a different dimension? Theoretical physicists have proven there are alternate dimensions. Could the colonel be caught up in a dimension that runs parallel to ours? That is the $60 dollar question. So, if parallel dimensions exist then there has to be a way to communicate. Was Enoch, the son of Methuselah, able to cross a dimension without experiencing death? The Holy Bible states exactly so. If Enoch or Elijah, for that matter, was able to reach a parallel dimension then why is it so impossible to believe that we, as human, cannot communicate with those that have reached another dimension. I know what I dealt with when two of my family died and I was able to speak to them. I continue to have interactions with the dead; the colonel. I cannot rule out what the quantum physicist have documented. They are a hell of a lot smarter than me. Keep an open mind and do not judge us as crackpots. Jesus was called a crackpot and you all know the outcome of that story.
Now, I am not a physicist, far from it. I can’t do complicated math at all, but I can think and reason things out. OK, we are energy beings and once energy is created it can never be destroyed according to physics. This being the case then when we die, we have to go somewhere. I have heard people say there can not be a heaven, or a hell, or any other place like them as we have been into deep space and there is no sign of it. That may be but are we so arrogant as the dominate species to believe that all realms have to be identical to ours and all beings have to be just like us? Now what if there are energy forms in a parallel dimension that we are aware of. They come through to us but we cannot enter their dimension in our current human state as flesh and blood. So only as an energy form would we be able to enter? If the soul, being the life energy of the body, can inhabit the body until the body ceases to be able to contain it, next it is released in a pure energy form then it stands to reason that it would be able to go to places where a human body could not get into. It is like trying to physically squeeze an orange through a straw. It will not work until you get rid of the body and then the juice will go through the straw with no problems.
Do I believe there is a soul? Of course I do. How could I not? We are taught as little children that the human body is a machine. Every machine has to have an energy source to make it run. The human body breaks down, can be mended or repaired and put back into the world but when it has reached critical mass, it melts down and ceases to be. Now, if there was no such thing as a soul, or an energy source, then what could keep the body running forever? We can keep old machines going as long as we have the parts so why not a human body? We sure have enough parts to keep them going but once they die no matter what you do they are dead, gone and can’t be restarted…ever. Why is this? The energy source of the body is no longer there and it has nothing more to run on.
People scoff at aliens, the soul, ghosts and so forth but I have to wonder. Could ghosts actually be inter-dimensional beings? Perhaps we run across the barriers once in a while and there is a clash or meeting between the two realms? It would make sense if everything is in accordance to the “M” theory that there would be meetings like these of parallel universes or dimensions. The life forms in these dimensions may be just as shocked and terrified of other energy encounters as we are.
There may be another one of you, somewhere in another universe, dimension, time or space. That is not to say that the person is the same as you. There may be different laws there, different morals and judgment values. The “you” may look like you but not act or be governed by the same rules that you are here. Knowing that the universes actually do exist is amazing in itself but the things that happen in them can be unlimited. It sure can explain a lot of the things that we deem paranormal Then I have to wonder how to cross the barriers of these dimensions? I believe it can happen and may have happened a few times like with JR. Tolkien who claims the Lord of the Rings was written off something he had seen. He claims to have stepped into an alternative reality and witnessed these things. Many other people have claimed to cross into these other realities but it is not something which happens frequently. Could it be some type of energy flux that allows this to happen? A vortex maybe or a smashing of the membranes that allows a temporary access to these realms?

This is something which I am sure some of the greatest minds will be churning over for a long time. I have a bachelors in life but hey, like I said a physicist I am not. I am just someone here who has a trillion things going through their head. Trying to imagine what these universes may be like, what rules they have, what life forms govern them and if it is possible that at times we collide with them.

I am just trying to figure out what is happening to me and why I was given extraordinary powers when I was so young. It saved my Mother's life and later it allayed the fears of my parents when we lost a close family member. It is real, I just do not understand why or how it works. Thank you for being a part of my day. the blogmeister One other thing, I really need your donations for medical not mental reasons. If you have a dollar please donate. Thank you for your help in dealing with my spinal fusion issues. theblogmeister

The Unknown

I was raised in church while I was growing up. My Father was the music director and had a wealth of knowledge about the Bible. We were southern Baptist and did not follow the liberal Baptist who believed in speaking in tongues, jumping up and down and other weird things. I am not mocking any religion and do not try to force my beliefs on others. If you don't believe in it, don't do it, is my basic belief. During my early teens I became very interested in the teachings of Paul. What intrigued me was how Paul was converted from killing Christians to becoming the most prolific writer in the New Testament. I have a base belief and I believe that is why I am struggling so much with what is happening to me now and past episodes of terror filled dreams, nightmares would be a better word. As I spoke about my first interaction with angels, yesterday, I want to relay to you another episode with spiritual beings. In 1989 I was a couple months shy of my thirtieth birthday. I received the horrible news that my best friend and older brother had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. My mother and I rushed to the hospital emergency room and was told by the ER staff that someone would be out to speak with us, soon. My mother sat in a chair in the ER waiting area while I stood at the sliding glass doors where you enter the emergency room. I could see a cubicle with a curtain pulled closed and I could see the feet of several staff. As the curtain opened as a staff member exited I noticed the patient was wearing MAST trousers. They are no longer used in the emergency medical field. It was an acronym for military anti-shock trousers. I knew in my gut that was my brother lying there and I knew it was very serious. I called all my immediate family and told them to get to the ER fast, it was Bubba and it doesn't look good. After about 45 minutes the doctor and a couple nurses came out and delivered a blow like none I had ever known. My brother, my best friend was dead. My mom sat down in total shock not saying a word. I, however, went ballistic. I punched all the glass out of the waiting room and ripped up chairs that were bolted to the floor. I was given a sedative and was taken back to have both arms sutured. I did not get any better when my Dad arrived and was given the news. My heart had been ripped out of my chest watching my Dad and how he handled the terrible news. It was march 3, 1989 and my faith came into question. Why would a loving God put such a good man as my Dad through the pain of losing his namesake? I did not understand why. The next morning at about 3am while my wife and small children were asleep my brother appeared to me and told me to tell Mom and Dad that everything was good. He was in a wonderful place. He had no more pain. I broke down and wept. To this day I wish that my brother would visit me, again. Maybe he has crossed over and is unable to come back. I also believe that the colonel has not, for some reason, not crossed over. He feels that I had betrayed him and he will haunt me, forever. I wish he would let it go. thank you theblogmeister please donate

Psyche Logos

I want to make it very clear to all of my readers about what I believe is going on inside my head. The truth is, I do not know. I believe there is the trinity of good, God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. There is also the evil trinity, Satan, false prophets, and the antichrist. I do believe that there are spirits that are capable of influencing the living. I have proof of that in the story I told of what happened to me when I was eleven. If you are not familiar with the story I will tell it, again. When I was eleven my three brothers and I were walking across the field to catch the bus when a voice inside my head told me to go back home. I listened to that voice and almost got a spanking for missing the school bus from my mother. She had no way to take me to school, so, I had the day off. At about lunch time I heard my mom screaming. I rushed into her room to find her on the floor grasping at her chest. We had the phone number of my Dad's employer and I called it and asked to speak with Herb Riley, and I told them that it was an emergency. The operator of the plant he worked asked for his extension. I had no idea what an extension was, however, I told the operator extension 36. My Dad was on the phone very quickly and I told him something was wrong with mom. He called the ambulance and came home just as the medics were pulling into the driveway. Who told me to go back home that day? It saved my mother's life. Who told me the extension of his work place? Whom ever it was is still a mystery. Remember what I said about every action there is a reaction? I have to believe that if there are spirits that do good then there has to be demons that do bad. Is the colonel a demon? He has not done good, so, I would have to say that he is a demon. What is his purpose? Those are questions that I cannot answer. He has to be evil to cause me to have so much fear, I do not think an angel would cause fear, rather, reassurance. I do not get reassurance from the colonel. Terror is his modus operandi. Was all this created in my head? Another question that I cannot answer. I will fight him with all that I have left in me. I cannot give up. please donate one dollar Thank you theblogmeister

Unraveling

While I am having these nightmares, at least I hope that is what they are, I have been informed of some unsettling news. I have been terminated from Medicaid because my wife and I make $80 dollars over the limit for a couple. She just recently was awarded her disability thus the change in our income. Over the past year and a half I have been receiving caudal epidural injections in my back to relieve the pain in my leg caused by scar tissue resulting from 4 back surgeries. I have a half of a titanium screw because of defective surgical equipment still in my back. I refused to sue the doctor that did the surgery because he is a good man and was trying to do the right thing. My dilemma now is without medicaid I cannot afford to get the injections I so need very much. If I could get every one of my readers to donate one dollar I could continue with my injections for a year. I know there is some good in you all so I am asking for your help. Thank you, theblogmeister

Shadows In The Night

I wake up in the middle of the night to search my home to find the origin of the noises. I walk slowly in the dark _to find my front door wide open. I always check my doors before I go to bed. As I close and lock it a strange growling sound comes from the rear of the house. I reluctantly check the back porch to find no reason for the noise. I turn around and notice my bathroom light is on. It was not on when I passed by it on my way to check the sounds from the rear of my house. There is, once again, something very strange happening. I turn off the light and slowly move towards the front, again. I reached the living room and found my front door open, again. I lock it and start to leave when I hear the creaking of the front door. I was paralyzed by fear. I did not want to turn around. When I did the door was open, again. My heart was racing as I closed and locked it, again. I am writing this from my locked bedroom for fear of what I may find outside. Fear has gripped my soul. I cannot handle this much longer. My sanity is slipping. It is getting harder to distinquish what is real and what is a product of my imagination. Please, let this be a dream. Fear, sanity, are becoming indistinguishable. I am lost. theblogmeister

Do You Believe?

Since my contact with the colonel I have been researching the subject of communicating with the dead. I have found many stories that are unique, in that they share something that I have been going through, speaking with the dead. Although, I did not actually speak with the colonel, I heard him speak to me. He must have felt my anger and booked. I do not want to open a door that I cannot close, but, I have to find closure in the haunting I am enduring. You read this story and make your own conclusion and send me your answer. Thanks, theblogmeister

The Story of Hi-Jack The Fisherman

During a time when I was young I was a commercial snapper fisherman. I was unskilled, and very young, so the only boats I could get a job with were the older more dangerous boats. As snapper fishermen we would go out for about a month at a time in the gulf of Mexico. I met a man that was also a fisherman, and he was very infatuated with my mother who tended a fisherman's bar near the marina.

His name was Jack, a hard core alcoholic and very jovial in nature. He was the kind of person who was always laughing, even when drunk (more so even). He was a gentle man and easy to get along with. We called him "hi-Jack" because whenever I saw him and said "Hi Jack" he would respond with a "High jack who?" in a loud humorous fashion. He loved my mother very much, though she had little to do with him.
We heard a rumor that Jack had died, he had fallen overboard while out at sea. We did not confirm it at the time, since we really were not very close to him, just an acquaintance. One night he came into a bar that I was in, it was only me and the barmaid (not my mom) since it was late and the bar was about to close. I was opening the door about to leave, when there he was in the doorway! What a surprise! I said "Jack I thought you were dead". He told me not to believe everything I hear, but he did NOT come right out and deny it either.
He was different, he had a more intelligent, deeper look in his eyes,and he held himself better, more confident, but not arrogant. I offered him a beer, which he took, but he never took a drink of it. Unusual since he was an alcoholic, even more unusual was the fact that he was sober late at night!
We sat at the bar, and he asked me how I was, but mostly he talked about my mother. He was very much in love with her and felt it important that I know that. He got up and left, walked down the street to the other bar, and that was the last time I saw him.
My mother had a similar experience, he walked into her bar (there were people there, not empty like the bar I was in), sat with her and had a long talk with her. After saying his "I have always loved you" speech, he took off heading for the marina.

The After Death Communication:

The next day my mother and I talked about this, and agreed that it was very odd. I later went to the fish house and asked about him, and sure enough he really had died! I later talked to Donna, the barmaid where I spoke to him, and she says he never was there and that I was sleeping at the end of the bar while she was preparing to close, and that no one sat with me...
The people that were in my mother's bar told my mother that during that time she was also alone, and had her head down at the bar, like she was resting or sleeping...
Could we both have had the same dream? Was it all in our minds? I don't think so, to me this profoundly convinced me that we do survive death, and that the dead can communicate.

He Is In My Head

Night after night I cannot get through one without visions of the demon of my past. He has chosen to take the route of the past trying to cause me to lose my sanity. Why? I did what was asked of me. It took the colonel weeks to convince me to do what he could not do himself. Do I get thanks for doing it? Hell, no. All I get is images of the torment and hell he put me through for years. He has followed me from Ft. Walton Beach, FL. to where I am, today. Can you call this a haunting. I believe it is exactly that. I hear tremendous noises that are loud enough to wake me from a deep sleep. I get up and examine my home. You should feel safe in your home. I do not. I had finally made contact with him and I sat on my couch as he sat on the other end. Was I dreaming? I really do not believe so. I could smell him, I could see him. I stared at him for what seemed like an hour and he finally spoke. "Why do you fear me?" You have got to be kidding. I blew a fuse. That question pissed me off. Then, he asked me the same thing, again. I let him have it, verbally. Now, he has chosen to be a coward, again. He has chosen to try to create fear in me. It works, too. I do not know what to do. He has moved things in my house. That, in itself, scares the hell out of me. What if he tried to hurt my wife or myself? If he can move things then he has the power to put a knife in my chest. Scared? Hell yes, I am scared. I sleep with one eye open. It is a figure of speech, I sleep lightly. He has control of my sub-conscious mind. When I sleep, he has power. I cannot stay awake, forever. It is affecting my life. Sometimes I wonder if I am losing my mind. I am sure he will continue with his games. Just pray for me.    theblogmeister

When It Rains......

  I took my wife to the doctor, the other day, to have some blood work done. She has to have it done because she is on coumadin, a drug to keep from having clots. Two years ago my wife developed a thrombus, a stationary clot, in her left calf. The thrombus turned into an em bolus, a moving clot. The clot reached her lung and was dissolved before it could make it to the heart or brain. If that would have happened I would have lost her. We got a call from her doctor yesterday morning and was told that her hemoglobin was 7.5. The normal value is 14. Hemoglobin is a part of the blood that carries iron. Besides her hemoglobin being dangerously low, her Hematocrit was also very low. The doctor told us to go to the hospital and have my wife admitted. His concern was that she was bleeding internally. Taking coumadin is not good if there is bleeding involved. Yesterday, she was taken to outpatient surgery to have an endoscopy tube ran down her esophagus to check out  her stomach. We learned that there were no signs of bleeding, the stomach looked good. Then she was prepped for a colonoscopy to be ran today. While she waited on the magnesium citrate to do its job she was given two units of blood to bring the low values back up. Today, she had her colonoscopy done and the doctor could not find any bleeding in her bowels. Every thing on that end looked good, also. They let me bring her home with some iron tablets to take TID. They could not find the reason for the low blood values. You may think that I am off my rocker, now? If anything happens to my wife and I lose her I am gonna have some problems that make the visits from the colonel seem completely normal. I cannot live without her. She is the reason that I am blessed with some walking around sense. After every thing that she learned about my PTSD and all the other bullshit that is wrong with my life, she took a chance on me, believed in me and married me. She is the one woman that I have spent together in a tractor trailer for months at a time and we never argued. I am not just saying this. She is absolutely one incredible woman. We love to be around each other. I would rather spend my weekends with her than go to Vegas with my buddies. Not like I could ever afford to go to Vegas. I love her that much and I wish that I had the money to do something for her. Money does not mean that much to her, thank God. We barely make it by. But I love it. I just want her close by. I cannot handle it if something happened to her. I swear I would join her. If you believe that there is a supreme being that created us and has the power to intervene in our lives I want you to ask God, or whomever you call God, to watch over my wife, Lorri, and ask him to let her stay with me. Please. Thank you      theblogmeister

Managing My Mental Memories

Most, if not all, of my memories are mental time stamps. Just what the heck is a mental time stamp? Anytime I want to write a story all I have to do is recall certain memories, put them in a certain order, chronologically is done the most, emotive, and all memories that serve the purpose of my story. I included emotive for a specific reason. An actor is good at emoting to get his point across and for me it is the best way I can draw out certain behaviors to give my reader a feel for what I am reliving. That is all my stories. They are based on memories. I do not write novels. I emote on the page. If this sounds like the writings of a lunatic they very well may be. I change as my stories evolve into a coherent piece that is worthy of spending a few minutes to read. If I fail to have any emotion then I have failed you, the reader, and I, the writer. I mostly write while I am under the influence. I am glad WUI is not against the law. Writing Under the Influence. I have let my secret out, now. When I fail to keep your attention to read a story I have wasted time that helps me in my mental stability. It should be instability. It is like a diagnostician finding fault so I can figure a way to rehabilitate the fault. There is a jumble of neurons that are firing inside my brain constantly and for the only purpose; confusion. The colonel does not want me to reach that point when we actually communicated. But, that is what his sole purpose of existance. To communicate and find a way into the next dimension. It is like he had a chance and blew it. He now knows that he does not have to go through all the irrevelent things that scare most people away. My fear of him has abated. Now, if he pulls some stupid shit in the middle of the night he may succeed in scaring the hell out of me. We are past all that, now. Let us try it one more time. It was my anger that made you flee the last time. I will not make that mistake, again.                        theblogmeister

In a Zombie State of Mind

I don't know why this is happening to me. I quit smoking reefer a long time ago. It has nothing to do with the colonel, either. I can't explain it but sometimes I feel that I have contracted an Amazon disease that turns you  into a pygmy. The only problem is that I am not getting shorter. I like how tall I stand. I am five foot, eleven inches, the standard height of a male as quoted by the American Medical Association. I am not too tall and I am not too short. It has absolutely nothing to do with PTSD and I honestly don't know why I think it is important enough to put in my article. That is my point. The colonel has changed my life, forever. My thinking is predicated on my fears of my life in the midnight hours. If weed was legal I would be afraid to smoke it. I do not need cannabis to have freaky dreams. When I was a small child I would walk in my sleep. To prove that my midnight hours have not altered that much my wife says I talk in my sleep to this day. For some reason that bewilders me I have a very active midnight hour life. Maybe I was predisposed to nocturnal behaviors. My sub-conscious mind has a wonderful opportunity at creating or what ever it does while I am asleep. I do not know until I am pulled into another dimension by the colonel. That is when the shit hits the fan, excuse my french. I believe that the colonel is not the first one that I've had contact with on the other side. Maybe he was aware of that fact and is the reason that he chose me to carry out his plan. I'm afraid he needs me, once again. If not, why all the bother? I am beginning to think that he has not completely crossed over and is stuck between dimensions. I may be the only one that can complete the task since I started it.
  For some of you this may be too much to comprehend. Every thing is possible through these eyes. I have been dealing with more than most. Is what I write true? It is to me. Things happen that I cannot understand. My mental health has been an issue with me for a long time. Sometimes I think it all could be a bad dream. I've had those, too. I know what mental pain is all about. It is not much different than my physical pain. After several failed attempts at spinal fusion I am now, and have been for over a year, in pain management. I have an epidural every other month and they are only now starting to give me relief. Like my PTSD, things happen. I lost my medicaid on June 30th. My wife, who suffers from fibromyalgia, just received her disability and I lose my medicaid because we make $80 dollars over the limit. They do not let me count the $325 dollars that comes out of my check for child support. I make $261 dollars per month. I have talked with so many people about some help to no avail. I am going to have to come up with $180 dollars to get my caudal epidural. My luck, just when those shots started working. So, I am pulling my head out of the sand and asking for donations to keep my shots from being stopped. I'm going to keep on writing and telling you about my dreams. If you can help, please do. if not, please keep reading. Thanks for listening.    
                theblogmeister

Where The Hell am I Going

 I have , at one time, thought I knew where this blog was heading. Now, I am not so sure. I have self punished for many, many, years. The Colonel has punished me until I thought I could not take it anymore. There is something inside me that will not allow that to happen. Is it God? I do not know. Is it Satan? He seems the more logical choice. Torment for 30+ years has to be evil. There are times when I believe that I have kicked his ass. Satan, not God. Yet the torment will not abate. It is not just me, it is my wife, also. She lives through the hell just as I. When we first got together, I did not think that the Colonel would bring her in to the hell I have been living. I told Lorri of my torment, trying to scare her away, it did not work. For some reason she believed that I needed her to stay sane. You have no idea what that meant to me. While I was in the VA hospital in Tuscaloosa, she called every night. When the phone would ring and the staff would say,"It is your girlfriend." my knees would almost buckle. I could not believe this woman cared so much for me. It was beyond my comprehension. Yet, she called every night. I had known her since highschool and she followed me. She had a bad marrage and did not want to get involved in any relationship with any male. But something happened that changed her mind. She could not explain. From that moment on, she knew that she would spend the rest of her life with theblogmeister  amen

Am I Losing My Mind?

The question has come up, before. Am I losing it? What I have been through and what I have seen should make any sane person question his or her sanity. I am still having the nightmares that plagued me for years. I try to make sense of it all, with not much luck. I honestly believe that there is some kind of unexplained power that exists in my sub-consciousness. I have literally sat and spoke with the colonel after decades of his earthly death. For some reason, I have scared him off to the point he has reverted back to the days when his death occured. I know how close he and his wife, Bunny, were while they were a part of this dimension. Has he not been able to reach her? Is he stuck between dimensions that do not allow him the ability to interact with his beloved wife? These are answers that I cannot give. If only he would come to me, as he did before, he may be able to tell me why he has not passed on. I have had many friends and family that have died and they seem to have passed through to the other dimension.My brother who died in 1989 has seemd to have had no problem leaving this dimension and yet he still visits me from time to time. Whether they are dreams or actual visits, I have no way of knowing. There are too many questions that I have no answer. I believe in a higher power and angels that look after us but I don't know how it all fits in. I have no doubt in my mind that there is a heaven and one day those that believe that Jesus is the son of God an if you believe that God sent Jesus to give the ones that accept him we will have eternal life. I also am being pulled in different directions by Lucifer and I believe that he that is in you is gtreater than he that is in the world. It will be a joyous day when God says it is time to go home to live in a hew heaven. I believe thqat you will be known as you are known. We will be together with those that have gone before us. There will be one great fight against good and evil and good will be the victor. theblogmeisteer

Somewhere In Time

Where was I? I do not even know. The colonel is up to his old tricks, again. I mean old, too. As you all know I spent a lot of my early years working for the State of Alabama. The State of Alabama Department of Corrections. Now that is a joke, corrections. What did they correct for me? Nothing. I was at Limestone Correctional Facility in the late year of 1997. I was on the chain gang. Every morning about 400 inmates, convict is what I would rather be called. There is a huge difference between a convict and an inmate. Trust me, you would rather be a convict, too. Anyway, rain or shine, all them inmates, plus a few of us convicts, would congregate outside in lines of twos. It is called duece it up.All the police, with their oak tree limbs hanging on their sides, would chain five of us up, together. We got down on all fours, like a dog, and the police would chain one leg to another until there were five of us chained together. When the five inmates were chained they would take off with a boss and head out to the land of nod. It was about 100 acres of trees that had been sawed down and the five chain gang members would encircle the stump and start to dig it out. The tools we used were rather primitive and very large. They were homemade hoes, axes, sling blades. bush axes, and the handles were made of tree limbs that were about 3 inches in diameter. I gotta tell you this chain gang shit sucked. I only was lucky enough to be a member of the infamous chain gang for about three weeks. There was a situation that happened on I-65 just south of Montgomery that put a screeching hault to all chain gangs in the state of Alabama. The way the story was told by the time it got to Limestone, and inter-prison communication was almost as good as AT&T, a crew was taking a break from bush axing the side of the interstate when two guys that were chained together started a cuss match. The boss man warned them that he would shoot their ass if they started anything. Apparently, one of the boys had hearing problems cause he grabbed his bushaxe and raised it up to show his cussing friend that he was not afraid to use it on him. The boss told him to put it down and when he decided to take a swing at the guy he was cussing the boss man shot him dead as hell. It was wonderful news to me. The state of Alabama on that day stopped the chain gang at all of its prisons. I was not mad, at all.         theblogmeister

Seems Like I've Been There Before

I was perusing the Internet the other day and came across a story that was similar to mine. A Healthcare worker, a patient with cancer that had some eerie experiences. The truth is it is hard to get these stories out to the public. Fear of what others may think I believe is the number one reason why more of these types of stories are kept inside the one afflicted. The number one thing we need as a human being is a sense of belonging and it would be hard to achieve that if there were whispers about the persons mental capacity. I was forced, more or less, in telling my story. I kept it quiet for over 30 years for the very reason of how someone will view me. I am not alone. There are literally thousands with similar experiences like mine who choose to remain anonymous. I have no judgements or faults because of their choice. It is tough to set yourself up to ridicule judgements of your character. I applaud those who do not care what others may think. I wish I would have been that way in the late seventies.


I believe this to be a true story.


While workers in the medical field have to be some of the most rational and logical individuals of any field, if you spend some time with anyone who deals with death and dying you will eventually come across some very strange and odd stories.
  Whether it be care assistants, nurses or even physicians themselves there are many in the medical field that have an amazing story to tell. The problem is getting them to tell it.
Like in any other field of work there are many of those who doubt and mock the stories of the unexplained. And perhaps those in the medical profession are more suspect of such stories; since many are surrounded by death and dying constantly but few ever have an unexplained experience. And unless you are a good friend most of those who experience the paranormal at the medical workplace will keep quite about their experiences. But if you are fortunate to have them share their brief encounters with the unexplained, you often find they are some of the most heartwarming and assuring you have ever encountered.
  Pearl had worked at the hospital for more than 20 years, and was used to switching shifts. When she was younger she hated the night shift if only for the reason that she had a young family to care for and she hated leaving her children with a sitter. But now as she was older and her children were in college, she saw the night shift as a relaxing and peaceful time to care for her patients and have the ability to actually finish all of her paperwork. Being a floor that was home to many terminally ill patients, it did have its times of stress and chaos. But most of the time she would be at her desk or assisting some of the other nurses in caring for those who were about to cross the mortal veil.
  Many times she became very close to the patients that she tended, especially with those who still had their mental abilities unimpeded during their stay on the ward. It was very hard to get to know and appreciate these patients only to loose them within a few weeks, but that was the nature of the job. Roger had terminal cancer, but was still coherent and mobile when he came to the floor. Even though walking was very difficult for him, he took at least two or three walks around the hall during Pearl’s shift. He would walk around and joke other patients and flirt with all the pretty nurses. With his cordial attitude and carefree humor he won the hearts of all he socialized with. Sometimes he was the only friendly face and comforting voice besides the faculty that some of the other patients had seen all day. When he became too sick to do his daily walks, the other patients sorely missed him. His inability to be mobile also had an effect on his morale and he deteriorated very quickly. It was less than a week later that he was dead.
  A few days after Roger’s passing Pearl head one of the patients carrying on a conversation by himself, intermingled with uproarious laughter. This in and of itself was nothing too uncommon, many of the clients on the floor had dementia and often relived their past or carried on an existence living in an unseen fantasy world. But Pearl knew this patient to never have an incident of dementia; he had a clearer mind than she did most of the time. So she entered the room to investigate. When asked what all the commotion was the patient told Pearl that Roger had been ‘a card’ tonight and he cheering him up. The man pointed at the chair next to his bed and then sat up with surprise. “Where did he go?” he asked looking quickly left to right for his friend, “He was sitting right here…”
When she informed him that Roger had passed away days ago the man was insistent that there had to be some kind of mistake, Roger was there just moments before and he had seen him for the last few days. “He said he was feeling a lot better, I was worried because I hadn't seen him in a while.”The staff normally did not notify any other patient if there was a death on the ward, those who remained did not need to know and it would cause their morale to drop. And some of the patients were clinging on by a sliver of hope. So the man had no idea previously that Roger had died. He insisted that the he had visited him.
  Within the next coming weeks the man’s condition also declined. He passed quickly. The nurses heard him carrying on conversations all the time with an unseen guest. One night shortly before he passed Pearl visited him once again and asked how he was doing. The man told her that he was alright, everything would be fine. Roger had visited him and told him that even though he would be passing soon there was nothing to fear.
  The next shift Pearl worked she found that the man had indeed passed. As she talked to another nurse about the incident the nurse reported that on the night of the mans death he had been carrying on a conversation with someone who was not there. According to the nurse the last words he had said were, “OK Roger, I’m ready.”
Did the Roger continue his rounds cheering up a fellow patient and escort him onto the other side?

You be the judge. I have not one shred of doubt of the validity of this story. Why my story evolved into something sinister, I do not know. I hope to get the chance to sit with the colonel one more time. I promise, I will handle it differently.      theblogmeister

I've Seen This Movie, Before

There was a long banging coming from my front porch door. It was enough to wake me from a pharmaceutical sleep. I started to get up but then remembered my nightmares of the past. I just rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. I heard the loud noise, again. I looked at my wife, who happened to be a light sleeper, she was not moving. That fucking colonel. Is he so bored in the world that he is stuck in that he has to play with my mind? That made me start thinking. What if it was a real emergency and someone from law enforcement was indeed trying to get a hold of me? I had to check it out. I got up from my bed and looked at the clock, 11:52pm. I tip-toed to the front door as quiet as I could. If it was some neighborhood kids I wanted to look out inconspicuously and try to catch them doing whatever it was they were doing. It is nothing like the days of my youth when we would put some dog shit in a paper bag, light it, ring the doorbell and run hide to see their reaction. It would work every time. The homeowner would start to stamp out the small fire only to find he was stomping in dog shit. We had to try real hard to keep from laughing out loud and give away our position. All the lights were off, so, I looked through the slits in the blinds. You know, the same way a crack head does, but I did it once, not every minute. I did not see anything or hear anything out of the ordinary. I knew when I had first heard it there would be no one there. It was the colonel. Playing his silly games. I have been exposed to so many of his repertoire I am fearful that he may try things that have never been tried, before. I cannot recall the colonel ever showing anger towards me and my family. He never threw knives or none of that scary shit. It puzzles me that he takes so long before he will actually speak with me. If the chance comes and I ever speak with him, again, it will be different. I am not sure if he is stuck between parallel universes or what. Why can he not go own to where his journey ends. Or, maybe it begins. He seems to be stuck in my sub-conscious mind. I have moved on, I think. Maybe I haven't. Maybe his job is to get me to see all the things that have held me back in society. This is too much for me, right now. I will have to do some research.          theblogmeister

I'm Not The Only One

There seems to be a desire for me to relive all those horrible nightmares in the past regarding the colonel. After all those tears of pure terror, my wife finding me in another room not knowing what was going on with me and why I was having all these nightmares. I do not know what the colonel has planned for me but he is taking it back to the beginning. Why? 
I found some stories for you to read. Draw your own conclusion.


I wanted to share this experience with you and see what you think.


When I was married to my now ex-wife who had lost her mother at the age of 11, she told me that her deceased mother had appeared to her in dreams while she was sleeping. I was skeptical but maintained an open mind about the whole thing thinking that it was possible. That was until it happened to me.
My father who I was very close to passed away in January 1996. It was the hardest day of my life. I loved my father very much. I can't remember the day, but one night while I was sleeping I had this dream.
I remember a white house which I don't recognize but in the backyard there was a typical screen door with the screen mesh on it that you could see through. In my dream, I approached the screen door and recognized my father on the other side of the door. He looked at me and said, "Son, there's something I want to tell you." At that moment, I was so freaked out, even in the dead of sleep I unfortunately snapped out of it and woke up. It really freaked me out. I never got to hear what it was that my "father wanted to tell me." For the rest of my life, I will regret waking up out of that dream. I wish I could of heard what he wanted to tell me.
I'm a believer now that relatives can come to you in your dreams but what I can decide is if it is a manifestation of your sub-conscious mind or if it is a real experience.

Here is another;
 
I have always had dreams in which deceased friends and relatives show up. I am always delighted to see them and immediately ask them why they are here because they are supposed to be dead. They never answer my question but just start to join me in whatever I am doing in the dream when they appear.
I have seen my dad so many times in the dreams, he passed away 20 years ago. I have had dreams with my father in law who twice has given me a big hug and it just felt so good. He passed away about 5 years ago.I have seen my younger sister who passed away 8 years ago in my dreams. In one of the dreams, I told her to go away because she was bugging me as younger sisters do in real life. When I woke up, I thought to myself that I should never have asked her to leave because the time she was spending with me was extra precious time that a lot of people do not get.I recently told my sisters and mom about my dreams, they live in another state. Both were shocked because they do not have dreams with deceased people. When I told my mother in law about getting a hug from her deceased husband, she was also shocked and even a little jealous.


It sounds like the mother-in-law thought her daughter-in-law was crazy. Read on;



This dream that I found more resembles the repetitive dreams that I have experiencing for years. The dreams started out as terror filled with a reason that I could not understand. It was especially hard on my wife because she had never seen anything like them, before. After I told her of what happened while I was in the military, she still did not understand but she had a good idea of the origin of the nightmares. After several decades of putting up with my bizarre behavior she became even more willing to find out how we could get some relief from these horrendous nightmares. It is disappointing that after I had the chance to talk with the colonel all I got was questions. Not the answers I was seeking. I hope it will not be another several years before I get another chance to talk with the colonel and find out if I had done the right thing.



Meaning of a Dream That Repeats Itself ;

We have all had phases in our lives when it seems like we can’t get rid of a dream. We may having the same dream night after night or even be having the same dream a couple of times a night. Some people have the same dream a couple of times a week or a month. Repetitive dreams are also those ones that you seem to have had year after year from child. If you have had a dream more than three times in your life, it qualifies as a repetitive dream. Psychologists tell us to take note of these repeating dreams because it may be our subconscious mind trying to tell us something.
The thing that is so disquieting about repetitive dreams is that they often feel like “a call to action.” Often, the person feels panicked and like they have to do something. Many psychologists tell us that these dreams are an ironic “wake up call.” Just as you must wake up from a dream to remember, the dream might be telling you to wake up to a truth that you might be hiding from others or yourself.
Repetitive dreams indicate that you are continuing to miss the point about the meaning of the dream. If you don’t “wake up” to the unconscious meaning of the dream, but instead persist in seeing it through your own wish-fulfillment needs, you will remain stuck in your own self-deception. However, sometimes repetitive dreams are part of a post traumatic reaction to something that has happened in your life. Our modern word nightmare derives from the Middle English nightmare (from night, night, and mare, demon), an evil spirit believed to haunt and suffocate sleeping people. And so, in today’s world, when we speak of a nightmare, we mean a frightening dream accompanied by a sensation of oppression and helplessness. Traumatic nightmares are one of the many symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Repetitive, intrusive nightmares following a trauma often contain symbolic themes that mirror the original trauma and relate to threat to life, threat of abandonment or death, or loss of identity.
The problem with these types of dreams is it is not enough to just know them intellectually. You have to take measures in real life to address your fears or you will most likely keep having the nightmares.
To stop nightmares you might trying writing them down in as much detail as possible, no matter how frightening you find them. Write the story out but give the nightmare a different ending. Diminish what is fearful in the dream and give it a happy needing. Remember that the nightmare is grounded in emotions such as raw anger that have been provoked by a trauma. The point of a new ending is to “tame” the emotions and rewrite your narrative. Then, rehearse the new ending in your mind every night before going to sleep. Many people can successfully stop having repetitive nightmares using this method


Meaning of a Dream That Repeats Itself

We have all had phases in our lives when it seems like we can’t get rid of a dream. We may having the same dream night after night or even be having the same dream a couple of times a night. Some people have the same dream a couple of times a week or a month. Repetitive dreams are also those ones that you seem to have had year after year from child.

If you have had a dream more than three times in your life, it qualifies as a repetitive dream. Psychologists tell us to take note of these repeating dreams because it may be our subconscious mind trying to tell us something.



The thing that is so disquieting about repetitive dreams is that they often feel like “a call to action.” Often, the person feels panicked and like they have to do something. Many psychologists tell us that these dreams are an ironic “wake up call.” Just as you must wake up from a dream to remember, the dream might be telling you to wake up to a truth that you might be hiding from others or yourself.



Repetitive dreams indicate that you are continuing to miss the point about the meaning of the dream. If you don’t “wake up” to the unconscious meaning of the dream, but instead persist in seeing it through your own wish-fulfillment needs, you will remain stuck in your own self-deception.

This is a story that resembles mine. Dreams of repetition. See what the 'so-called' experts say





However, sometimes repetitive dreams are part of a post traumatic reaction to something that has happened in your life. Our modern word nightmare derives from the Middle English nightmare (from night, night, and mare, demon), an evil spirit believed to haunt and suffocate sleeping people. And so, in today’s world, when we speak of a nightmare, we mean a frightening dream accompanied by a sensation of oppression and helplessness.
Traumatic nightmares are one of the many symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Repetitive, intrusive nightmares following a trauma often contain symbolic themes that mirror the original trauma and relate to threat to life, threat of abandonment or death, or loss of identity.
The problem with these types of dreams is it is not enough to just know them intellectually. You have to take measures in real life to address your fears or you will most likely keep having the nightmares.
To stop nightmares you might trying writing them down in as much detail as possible, no matter how frightening you find them. Write the story out but give the nightmare a different ending. Diminish what is fearful in the dream and give it a happy needing. Remember that the nightmare is grounded in emotions such as raw anger that have been provoked by a trauma. The point of a new ending is to “tame” the emotions and rewrite your narrative. Then, rehearse the new ending in your mind every night before going to sleep. Many people can successfully stop having repetitive nightmares using this method

What I can say for certainty is that PTSD is a bitch. I will keep in touch.   theblogmeister

Who Hit Rewind?

My brain has reverted back to the late seventies. Well, Not what I have learned, rather. what my sub-conscious is up to. After the traumatic event that happened in 1978, some call it PTSD, my dreams are reverting back to that time era. The past several days I have dreamt the same dreams that I dreamt after the colonel's last breath. Weird dreams, scary dreams, dreams that seem to try to punish me for what I had done. For over thirty years, I have had these dreams that tormented my soul. They made sleep almost impossible. Then, after many years of treatment for PTSD I had the chance to sit face to face with the colonel. There was no fear or apprehension. Those two questions, "Why do you fear me?", "Why do you fear me?" It pissed me off so bad that I let loose a tirade of reasons why he had brought fear into my life. Like a coward that he is, He has started over. Am I going to go through those nightmares and relive them, again? I have no control over my sub-conscious mind. I had a professor in college that stated we only dreamt in black and white and that our nightmares were in color. Bullshit! I gave him an example. I asked him, when did the concept of black and white originate? He had no answer. My belief is that before the invention of the camera, which came before television, no concept of black and white existed. How can humans dream in something that does not exist? It is impossible. Most psychologists are Freud freaks and I reminded my professor that Freud was a dope head. It is true. He documented the use of several narcotics, including LSD, in his book, Sigmund Freud's Cocaine Papers. I am not making this up. Google it, don't take my word. As I was stating before, I have no control of what my mind is up to after I am asleep. Once again, I am having to deal with a soul that has either,a. not crossed over, or b. can move from reality to reality. Time travel, if you will. Man is unable to figure out this phenomenon. Those that have moved on to another parallel universe has mastered the art. That is my only conclusion. Otherwise, why has the colonel chosen to try to do something that did not work the first time. In the mean time, I will have to endure the fear of the past. Time has a total different effect on those that are not of this world. A day to the dead may be a year to the living, I do not know. I have a little bit of an advantage this time. When the colonel chooses to make himself available to me I will most definitely handle it different.    theblogmeister

Snooping Around

I was curious the other day and was wondering how many more people like me are out there. I googled 'visits from the dead' and was surprised at how many stories there are similar to mine. I gotta tell you, there was some that were way out there, if you know what I mean. I'm talking weird shit like necrophilia, look it up if you do not know what it means, and some stuff that was written by several people using the same computer. (multiple personalities). I found a good bit of it amusing. I hope that my writings do not fall into that category. My stories started out with a lot of trepidation. When I first started there was not many people reading my blog. I do not know how it happened but suddenly I have a huge following. That is why I try to log in something every night. Anyway, the stories that i read about other people's life made me understand why I have such a huge following. I have been reading about this girl that is being visited by her grandmother every night. I think about the opportunity to spend one night with my grandmother and I get chills. My Daddy's mother lived until she was 97, I think. I was in prison when my grandmother died and it hurts, a lot. The year before she died, I was at a minimal security camp in Childersburg, Alabama, not very far from my home. Visitations were on Sunday and you had to have you visitors on a list, pre-approved to visit. I had my immediate family, only. My Dad's mother, Grandmother Riley, came to visit me at Childersburg. They would not let her see me because she was not on the pre-approved list. My Grandmother wanted to know why she could not see me, she had driven with my Dad all the way from Gadsden and she wanted to see me. She didn't understand why see was not allowed to see me. I did get to talk for a minute through the fence until the guard caught us. Just those couple minutes I will cherish the rest of my life. She died not long after and I could not go to the funeral. I did get to tell her that I loved her. Prison sucks! You would think after going to prison once it would make you a changed man. Not this hard head. I had it too easy in prison. The first camp I went to was a 2600 soybean field. I was in a squad of about 30 guys and we were digging drainage channels for the farm. I mean they had to be u-shaped, with zero grass. My second day on the farm, with a hand full of blisters, the farm boss said, "How many graduated from high school? Hold up your hand." I held up my hand as I was looking around the squads. My hand was the only one raised. "Go over to the Farm office and see Mr.Jerrells." he said. I said "When? Right now. Thank you God. I went to see the farm supervisor and he asked me if I was good at math. Hell yes. My mind said the first word. Anyway, I was in charge of the gas and diesel. I had my own office with a fan, coffee pot, and private bathroom. That was the biggest perk. Use your imagination. Riley's Gas Station is what my sign read. Sweet job. No hot sun, no blisters, and no blue ball. My next stop was a little different.       theblogmeister