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Monday, May 31, 2004

Spooky Movie Drew Out Creative Senses

It was the latter years of high school when the movie "The Omen" came to the high school auditorium one weekend. We always had a movie at the school on the weekend to give us a place to go and support school clubs. Like most weekends I went to the movie when they showed "The Omen". It made for a good thriller and some how it really spooked my adolescent mind like it was supposed to do. The evening pasted more or less uneventful other than eating after the movie and then watching hockey in the arena.

The spooky feeling I felt after viewing the movie stayed with me the following morning, I felt withdrawn and turned to my wood carving with a drive to create something soothing.I took a small piece of carving wood and just started cutting away not knowing what I was going to make. Within time a shape of a hand formed and when I saw it for my self I started to work the wood around the shape that had formed. I ended up making my self a small trinket to wear around my neck, it was a small hand with a triangle frame above the wrist to hold it on a chain. Later in the year while sitting in a hallway at school, a teacher came up to me asking where I got the hand that I was wearing around my neck. It was a personal thing with my self making it, I responded with a chippy remark, "What's it to you ?" The well traveled teacher then asked me if I knew what it meant. I told the teacher that I did not know its meaning, he replied by telling me it was a symbol to ward off evil. It left me in awe knowing that I had made the carving the morning after "The Omen" with the spooky feeling the movie left me with.

The experience at the time was an eye opener of smugness knowing I carved a symbol to ward off evil after being spooked by a movie about a devil child. The early mystic was coming out of me. It was not until my experiences in early twenties that lead me into psychiatry did I put much credence to it. A teenage creation that carried me through the schizophrenia issue feeling that I was different than the others inflicted with the diagnoses.
Ghost Stories Fed My Mind at an Early Age

When I first entered the high school after elementary school, I spent a good amount of time in grades seven and eight reading ghost stories from the school library. What ever literature I could get my hands on related to the paranormal, I read. From stories of the Flying Dutchman to the Bermuda Triangle I searched them out. When I read what the library had to offer I turned to the scholastic book club to feed my inquisitive mind on the subject.

Later in my early twenties when I experienced certain phenomena related to my apparitions/hallucinations, I found that my choice of reading material was not in vain. The material I had read helped me cope and deal in my mind for a while. Not understanding very much about the metaphysical at this time, I slowly drew away from my limited pear structure, from lack of any open conversation related to the subject that would help me understand my experiences. My situation did in effect deteriorate and I ended up entering psychiatry for the first time. When I spoke my mind about the ghostly subject matter of the metaphysical, I was deemed psychotic and needed treatment for schizophrenia. At this early stage as a young adult in psychiatry I found that the medical personal treating me gave me no counseling in relation to my state of mind. I spoke, they listened and administered what they felt as appropriate drug treatment. I ended up a walking zombie clinging on to fractured sanity over my paranormal type experiences, just like I had read about in high school. It took me three years to rebuild my life where I held down a job while medicated, and not so much a walking zombie.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

Shaman Child or Early Schizophrenia

It was the mid seventies when I was a teenager, growing up in the suburbs of Montreal. On one particular summer day I was knocking around with two school buddies when we decided to go over to one of their homes to smoke some marijuana we had, like we did to pass the time. My buddy's mother was well traveled and had ordiments from around the world. Brass trinkets were abundant in the apartment, and it made for a comfortable setting. Within time of arriving at the apartment we were seated at the card table in the living room and the other buddy was rolling a joint and we willinglg commenced smoking together. The joint soon became a roach and we sat at the table musing to our selves.
I started to feel uncomfortable with an elevated body temperature, within a bit I felt like I was going to be sick to my stomach. I raised from my chair at the table and my head cocked back where I vomited a purple flame out of my mouth which retracted back down my throat with the same force that brought it out. My two buddies were held in awe and were calling me a freak, I told them I did not feel good as I proceeded walking to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom I layout my over heated body down on the cool ceramic tiles of the floor where I passed out for a while.
In time I got up and returned to my friends at the table and nothing much more was said about the matter which I experienced.
It was not until later in life when I went through other experiences did I put much relevance to the matter that occurred in the apartment that day. For my two buddies did not talk to me about the incident they witnessed with me, I guess they had there time to talk about it while I was past out on the bathroom floor. One psychiatrist that treated me said that I had a bleeding ulcer at the time and the coagulated blood made it go back down my throat, when I told him about the event. To me it was just a lame excuse not to accept the paranormal and just treat me like a person with schizophrenia.