The shock of the Parent knowing was enough to keep me functioning on that emotion alone for a while. The Bad was only turned down to a low clamor. Even Sasifraz was toned down for a bit. The march of fate slowed to a crawl for a time.
Gradually, though, the status quo reasserted itself. Having been robbed of arm cutting, my fantasies again turned to suicide with Sasifraz as cheerleader.
* * * * * * *
Alfer Centurie awoke with a start. In the darkness, he could clearly see a shape or shadow moving toward him in his room. The memory of the dream hung hazily in his mind. There had been a presence in the dream. He felt that presence was connected to the shape now in his room.
A chill ran down his back as he remembered the fear in the dream. As voice spoke in his ear, the second the dream flashed in his mind. “Welcome, Mr. Centurie, to my little corner of the universe. I have been waiting for you to remember me. I hope you’re not disappointed in the revelation.”
The shape moved closer to him. He could begin to see the face—just the edges at first and then the eyes. Alfer Centurie did what was the closest he could muster for a scream. He lunged at the shape wanting to kill it any way he could, but the shape dissolved in his hands. Only the voice remained in his mind and the name Sasifraz began to shape itself from his memory.
He knew now that Sasifraz continued to exist. A story brought to him by his Parent now visited upon him by some connection he had to a distant past that he didn’t want and couldn’t understand.
* * * * * * *
Lucifer Christoferson had some resistance to the belief system of the Reverend Adol. It was comprised most notably of the belief in Man’s innate goodness; taking responsibility for one’s own experiences; and not trusting one’s impulses. A sideline of the Reverent’s work was healing.
Lucifer had no trouble with healing work, but innate goodness bothered him—having always been a doubter of his own goodness. Though, spending time being tutored by Brenda didn’t bother him at all. He felt emotions inside him stir and began to have some hope for his goodness after all.
* * * * * * *
(1987)
Angry and frustrated, the adult me laid on the table at the chiropractor’s office and wondered why my back was still hurting. Hadn’t I done all the things various doctors had told me? Meditation, exercise, massage. What was it that was still going on?
I reflected on the last few months since I had decided to work towards a pain free life. Stomach pains, hip pains, headaches, ear problems, and now back pains. Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe it was the same pain that just kept moving around. Maybe every time I cured one ailment without looking at the overall picture, the ailment just moved on to invent something else.
That felt pretty accurate. The only problem was that doctors/therapists just didn’t exist in the mode I needed. I resolved that if one didn’t exist, I’d just have to create one. But I didn’t know where to start. So for the next week or so, every time I hurt, I tried to focus on the source of the original emotional pain. Mostly, I just recognized anger—very old anger.