I write;I think;I know.

Shrubbery, Cider, and Pythons

Being able to glimpse future events is, I have to admit, one of those thing I'm usually more than a little covert about. After all discussing precognition is exactly the kind of thing which draws the attention of psychiatrists. Being classed as mentally ill has already allowed them to erode much of the life I once had, so I'm not going to say anything to hand them cause to reapply their misdiagnosis of psychosis. Yet the truth is I do, from time to time, see future events.

Dreams is what you could call them, an almost lucid hypnagogic state full of a jumble of sights sounds and images which, at first, remain largely unparseable. Until, that is, you're sitting on a friend's couch an begin to remember seeing the exact moment along with the various nuances of behaviour which highlight how it's a memory and not simply deja-vu. Emotionally it's quite a shock for it's not the kind of thing life prepares you for, it's also nothing you can get support for, so in its way it's a precursor to an untreatable personality disorder.

Sometimes I do wonder if repression would not, perhaps, be a better way to adjust to the more obvious problems my abilities present; yet repression, in its way, has already harmed me and mine so I know that can never be the answer. I do however have to wonder about the way this world treats those whose minds are able to step beyond the fringes of what is accepted as fact. X-rays machine, MRI scanners, and the like can look deep inside the body but science has yet to discover a way to see into the mind, and without the ability to see something science denies its existence. Those who who have witnessed the extraordinary powers of the mind are branded as ill, force-fed cocktails of noxious chemicals, bullied and beaten until they submit to the views of another who has absolutely no insight into what the experience is like. Yet once you've experienced a truth, no matter how alien it may once have seemed, there's no sane way to deny it, leaving me with the view that it's psychiatry, not me, which has lost touch with reality.

There's a lot more fringe stuff I have discovered I am capable of, some of it can be quite scary when you're left alone to deal with it. Which makes me wonder if I experience something society as a whole is unconsciously aware of, unwittingly leading to social exclusion when the almost palpable pressure of being different undermines whatever self-confidence I'm able to muster. Of course history teaches us that societies are never as united as when there's somebody to hate, and being different is always the best excuse, so perhaps, in the final analysis, remaining covert is for the best.