“Tomorrow”

So sayeth and seeing the seer of Sonny ‘I know what you are, and I know that you love me' ‘Wow, that was rough' I thought heavily upon waking, again from yet another dream that had jarred me into a nightmarish time hole, my ex husband at the center of its happenings—A taletell sign that he was using magic to haunt my dreams, probably having summoned a dirty of some sort for the favor, and though I knew using this intrusive power to hurt and haunt would come at a great price, his energy had still been following me, especially since my return to Equinox—in the form of reminisces and reminders of the awful person he truly was— in champion sportswear, dirty white Nikes, and the weak, anxietal shaking of fully grown adults to hadn't learned to sit still, a subtle demon but effective one, as my thoughts were always filled with that of a person I wished to be dead, or less— nonexistent at all. A person who lived in the past and seemed determined to keep me there, amongst the lower realms in which I had found them in my own mortal decay—and who lacked the decency and moral power to use such mysticism for good, rather than to wash away the person I had become; smart, strong, and determined to leave behind a live so dreadful that it indeed had ended in death, and though the white supremacy had been making a show of using the technological terrorism of gangstalking, sending in my path white and Asian women with terrible attitudes who always seemed to dart in front of me or step into my path, getting in my way— in jansport backpacks and idle talk of my own subconscious forethought's, it seemed that he had the increasing unawareness of evil and ignorance on his side, coaxing me with fear that I would lose the only love I had left, my dear child, to the obesity and rot of the common world—I awoke in a cold sweat, clutching the Seer's stone—still bound to the energy and essence of Dillon Francis, who had been the very seed planted by my ex husband indeed; another puppet who used two little beady blue eyes and a frail-figured, pale skinned woman to kill me, just as has Sonny and my own ex husband— and the world—especially the world of dance music—continued to remind me of my own body unfit for love by any man, let alone a conceptual genius—any of which my own sapiosexuality would form as a perfect God to my two eyes, blinded to whatever might lie behind the veil of uncertainty—the ridicule and curse of being the world's lowest form— a poor, black woman—not that it mattered or that I considered myself black, but I certainly for some time had been a poor woman, and looked black enough that I was quietly accepted as so by anyone who didn't care to know me—or who I didn't care to know. ‘I told you that stone had magical powers' I immidiately took the stone and the others, the heart around my neck that I had worn for my son, and the rose quartz I had wrapped for Sonny's daughter, whoever's she might be (and of course though I wished she were mine, would never believe the elevation of my own social status in such a short time that it mattered, I merely kept it as a gift for him and his wife to be, and baby to be— the princess said to come to save his own life, from the chaos and destruction of fame, money, and power; he had many hidden enemies, in fact, as I had learned, and even women who fawned after him so much so that somehow I had become a threat— though I saw myself as nonesuch, as I was merely a homely, humble interdementional traveler and seer—I had seen the best and the worst for Sonny himself, and even Dillon Francis himself—visions which had led to this point to my eventual dismissal of any other voice that called out to me—and there were other supposed suitors, who I chose to ignore; I had been hurt too many times to continue to lead out my love without it having been returned, and I grew cold and hopeless in the pursuit of a mate at all. I took the stones to a bath of piping hot water and pink Himalayan salt, brewing a pot of coffee and jumping in the shower; it felt well past noon, but it was only just after nine, and I had something to do besides my actual plans, but didn't yet know what. It didn't matter. I had grown a deep fear and resentment of all men, and now knew it had to have been some kind of curse after all. I was never to love again, and thought often of selling my body or soul to at least have the money to live our the rest of my cruel existence— it seemed nothing would end the torturous hell I had been born and trapped in—the hell that was so apparently controlled so much so that the elites seemed desperate to keep most of us out; but I had for some reason been allowed back into Equinox, the only gym that fit my standards at all— and even at the cost of being the subject of some psychological study— that the cost of “free” was again giving the power to the elites and the government to openly torture me psychologically, as they had been in the years since my son's death, or even before, after the bloody facial reconstruction I had reci bed from my now estranged husband— a mind-altering 5-punch-death which has culminated in the manic need to succeed at something— even if that something were to be becoming an escort, which I quickly backed out of after deciding my then-political ambitions, now washed away in the reality of what politics actually was and wanting nothing to do with it other than to be free from the torture, the torment, the trauma, and of the people who continually pushed to keep me drowning in the lower realms— I had learned that low vibration entities lacked conciousness, but were nearly programmed to keep the others around them consistently equal; Misery loves company. As I began to vibrate higher it caused a fury and flurry amongst the lower realms—nothing, though, seemed to matter. I hated waking up and not being a carefree little white girl, or Asian girl, or even a black girl that was passable to the elites; free to succeed, have fun, and actually live—none of which I ever had, and I became gruellinglh distraught, realizing that my entire youth had passed without for one moment ever having the real fun and youth of a real girl—or an idea girl. I was real, absolutely, in fact— Probably too real. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.