I would stand in the corridor right outside my room. I watched, as a woman who had been shot up several times with medication, came to her doorway. She was trying to ask for something. The staff member who was being asked said, “I'll come back when you're calm and rational.” She couldn't understand what she was trying to say.
I looked at this, and was startled and taken aback. That was horrible. The medication they were giving her, which they would not stop giving her, was not helping. It was making it worse. How could they tell her that, when the medication they were giving her was making her upset and irrational?
“Excuse me. What medication is that lady on?”
“We can't tell you that, it violates HIPPA laws,” she said evasively. She seemed slightly angry that I asked, and worried. She seemed like she was a bit hesitant that what they were doing was right, but submissive to the idea that it was.
“Can I have a piece of paper and a pen?” Someone fetched one for me.
I wrote on the piece of paper, “How can you expect her to act calm and rational, when the medication you are giving her makes her scared and irrational?”
“Here you go.” I gave the lady the piece of paper.
She looked at me in the face, and said, “This violates HIPPA laws.”
“Okay, I'll just put this right here.” And I placed it on a random hard surface that was unoccupied by equipment, hoping that someone else would find it and realize its truth.
I was in my room, talking to my guides. Something happened inside my head. I heard the words, CLEAN THE SINK bubble up from my subconscious.
I went out into the corridor, “Clean the sink!” I exclaimed.
Everyone was busy, but they stopped what they were doing to look at me. “Clean... Clean the sink? Okay, we will get right on that.”
In my mind, I imagined that I was Jesus, and I was about to make miracles happen. I remembered the show Grey's Anatomy, and how people came in all the with horrific problems. I imagined someone needing heart transplant, and a sink needed to be used to store the heart. And the sink was not clean right now. It could save lives to have that sink cleaned!
It was time for lunch. I got some rice, carrot sticks, mystery meat, and a roll with some sort of artificial margarine. As I was gazing upon the margarine, a song entered my head. “They cut him up and put him up in a da-andy!”
My guides spoke to me. Do not eat the butter, Rachel. It contains a chemical that will warp your enlightenment in dreadful, dreadful ways.
I made a point of throwing the butter in the corner, so that I didn't forget later and accidentally eat it.
I ate some, and was full. There was still food on my plate. I got a creative idea. I mashed the food together, cut up the carrot sticks with my teeth, put food in my mouth to get saliva on it, mashed it around, and spit it out on the plate. This was supposed to be puke. It was obviously not puke, the carrot sticks were in far too big of chunks to be swallowed, partially digested, and regurgitated. I did that on purpose.
I ran down the hall to the bathroom, carrying the plate. “I got to blow chunks!” They let me pass. I dropped the concoction in the dirty sink in a heap, and brought the plate back to my room.
Later, a lady came and knocked on my door.
“You left a mess in the sink. You said it was puke, but it looks like you just put the rest of your lunch in there.”
“I puked.”
“Go get rid of it.”
I went to the bathroom, and did not clean it up. I arranged the pieces of carrot into a smiley face. I smiled at myself in the mirror and winked, and then returned to my room. I wanted to show the menial, hardworking janitorial staff that they were loved. I meant it as a symbol of hope.
I watched a lot of mean things happen, and then it was time for bed. As I was drifting off, a song entered my head. The Kesha song. A song was interposed on top of it. “They cut him up and put him up in a da-andy!”
Don't even think about that song, my spirit guides said.
I waited, and waited. As I waited in my room, I paced the floor. I needed to keep thinking. Thinking on my feet. I discovered a way that kept me thinking on my feet. Pace around the table bed thing in a clockwise fashion, then after awhile, switch directions and go counter-clockwise. It helps you use both or all sides of your brain. I discovered it worked to pace around any irregular shaped object in this fashion.
When doctors would check to see how I was doing, I noticed something. They would assess my state by staring at me in an odd way. They were reading my aura, on a subconscious level. There was something about the way they stared at me that I recognized as aura reading.
God spoke to me. He said, do not eat the cereal, ever again. Cereal is bad for brain function, weight management, and thought processes.
Why are you telling me this at a time like this?
You are doing poorly, so I thought I'd give you some good advice. Here, hold your cup of water.
I picked up my cup of water.
Out of the mouth.
I was confused by what he meant at first, but then the obvious thing to do was spit in the cup, which I did.
Now, drink it.
I drank it down. Immediately, I felt better. It was odd how something weird like that made me feel so much better.
There you go. You needed humbling. Now, you are ready for a lesson. Go home tomorrow night, make haste, and breathe oxygen right now.
I inhaled deeply, but it wasn't enough. So I took off my clothes and pranced around. But the oxygen level wasn't high enough in the room, so I opened the door and leaned out the doorway.
A staff member came and told me to put my clothes back on.
No comments:
Post a Comment