Precognition is Not Premonition

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(Crime cont.) To start, I'm not crazy. I understand that a massive amount of fantasy logic plays into what details I am unable to explain via scientific means. I also understand that though I accept the integration wonderland logic for my personal rendition of subjective reality, you may decide on your own reasons for why things happened the way that they did. I could just be lying. After all, I lied about my name didn't I? How much else have and will I lie about during these posts? At what point am I lying to myself? For all you know, I don't even exist.. Since I was young, my dreams have always played a large role in my life. Thanks to the ghost dictionary, I grew up with the opportunity to see the most common symbolism represented in a dream. As I got older, I learned to refine the influence of someone else's interpretation by making sure to account for my own. My dreams have never "crossed over" into reality. In that I'm lucky, as it can be extremely debilitating to have active visual hallucinations distorting an already stressful enviornment. (Most cases of schizophrenia develop after significant levels of stress and/or trauma, at the begining of, or during adolescent stages.) I did, however, have a very active imagination. What I saw with my eyes were the homestyle landscapes of the world Ive been given to live in, for what time I remain, but in my mind was a world that echoed the look and feel of what I saw. Creatures, doppelgangers, souls in every manifestation floated around inside my head. The panic attacks were strange. I had seen my mother have panic attacks fairly often, as well as my best friend at the time. Everyone always said that they didn't understand why they were so upset, only that they were. Sometimes, and this is the way that I took it, it felt as though something terrible might have been about to happen. The panic attack usually worsens once one resigns to a lack of control--"Whatever terrible thing might happen, there is nothing I can do to avoid it." Cognitive therapy works wonders for a simple trick. It worked for me, but is by no means any sort of panacea. Instead of accepting loss of control, let it be a warning to stay alert. There's a chance that, just by being aware of the situation, you can avoid what terrible things may come. By the time that my fiancé and I had moved away from home, to Louisville with my brother, and gotten our own apartment, I had developed a level of tolerance with these bouts of panic. Nine times out of ten I would be psyching myself out. But every once in awhile, I would feel a shadowy tendril snake its way into my senses, wrapping a little bit tighter day by day until I had no choice but to hunt down and confront the issue. It was a Thursday when the tendrils found me again. They drew my attention to every middleaged woman with long, black, wavy hair. Every woman that reminded me of Lavendar. The first couple of times, I thought it was a simple reminder. Just that feeling you get when you miss someone and you see them everywhere. But as the day went on, the feeling got worse. Something horrible might as well have been happening right then and there. Maybe there was. Regardless, that night I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I demanded that my fiancé call his mother, who at the time had been living in the southeastern corner of the state, about an hour and a half's drive from home. When he asked me why, I didnt explain. I just kept insisting that he check on her. The phone rang, and I waited for the moment of relief that would wash over at her cheerful answer, the short catch up conversation and well meaning wishes, and the invevitable soft laugh at my silly need to press the matter. The tone ended, her voice came through. Shaky, broken..She had been crying for awhile. She didnt ask why we called, only thanked God that we had done so, at that moment. The man she had been dating had gotten involved in some heavy drugs, and started to develop irrationally high levels of paranoia. These were usually very violent experiences. Lavender's situation had fallen into such, that in his last spurr, he had suspected her of wiretapping his clothing, threatened her life, and left her..alone, in the middle of the woods. It was such an absurdly ridiculous circumstance. Her mother was able to find her and take her home for the night, but we made sure to get her the next day. The further she was from that place, the safer. The both of us went job searching when she moved in, spent the day wandering around the East End Square. Walking past one of the soon-to-open shops, there was a "now hiring" notice on the door. A knock, a head popped out of the doorway, and a quick informal greeting later and we were proud new employees, helping to open a fantastic new sandwhich shop. A new day. A new world. A new adventure. Not to mention, Moments passing, Drifting blind, Until we find our answers, Buried deep inside, The chaos, Knighting Dangers, Lying in the bile, While we pass the days, Moments from in sane, And leaving remiscent, Views of every boarish lesson, Lingered in the way.