Brandon and Chance were supposed to arrive at my house, and eat lasagna with me. Perhaps others, too. Who knew how many people knew about this? I headed out for a walk, to give them time to arrive. I had a sense that something enormous had just happened, something that was a very big deal. It was only my parents and I in my house, however, I felt like there were many other people, and we were far from alone.
I walked around the regular loop, but when I came back there were no extra cars in front of my house. I headed down to the Mormon temple to walk around, to give them some more time. I remembered back when I had made the wish on the website, and I had seen 11:11 on the clock. That wasn't the website working. That was Brandon! He had telepathically pinged me at 11:11.
When I arrived back at my house, there still weren't any extra cars. I went inside, and headed back up to my room, and got on my computer.
Rachel. Brandon was talking to me. We're not coming to your house. What you have to do now is, send Chance a message on facebook.
Aww, fuck. Of course it would come to this. I remembered how I had told Erik that I would rather shoot myself in the head than write to Chance. But I had to. I absolutely had to. What would I say? I considered sending Chance a message with a single character, like the letter 'd.'
But Brandon spoke to me again. No, don't do that. Remember that thought that kept occurring to you, about you sending him a message that said 'I'm sweaty?' It was a really odd thought that kept occurring to you over and over again. Everything you think, you think for a reason. 'I'm sweaty' is what breaks the spiritual code.
Fuck! I'm not doing that!
I could feel Brandon smile. No rush. Take your time.
Oh shit. Well, Chance is going to have to do a lot of ladder climbing in order for me to do something like that!
By ladder climbing, I meant climbing up the list of my top nine friends, now that I had determined that your top nine friends are partially determined by who stalks your profile.
I went downstairs and got some of my lasagna. Boy, it was terrible! Then my mom informed me that when we had gone shopping for the ingredients, I had purchased tofu ricotta cheese instead of the real thing.
One thing I thought was funny was when my sister came over for dinner the next day, tried some of my lasagna, and said, “Looks like I won the lasagna contest!”
It started to sink in. Brandon had bugged my house. Brandon had bugged my house. How long has this been going on? I had no idea.
“Yeah, Rachel! I liked watching you cleaning out the cat boxes!” Brandon said to me.
Well, I had told Brandon that I would always like him, if he wanted to get back in contact with me he'd better get creative. So sure, he bugged the house. Originally, he had hacked into my hard drive. He knew something that I had done that I didn't like to admit to. Back in the spring of 2007, when I was delusional at school and looking for Brandon, Brandon had put the classes he was taking on facebook. So, what I had done was, looked up all the times for those classes, and made a schedule of places to stand around campus. Brandon had seen this when he hacked into my computer. So he still liked me, but he was kind of mad at me for being so creepy. So, I had basically given him permission to do anything, so what does he do to retaliate? He bugs the house.
Brandon had done some travelling. Originally, he had thought it was really stupid how I consulted psychics. Then, he realized that he didn't really know anything about psychic abilities. When he was overseas, someone had given him a mind reading lesson, and he turned out to be really good at it. When he was watching me on camera, he realized that he could read my mind particularly easily.
Why was it so easy? Because of all of the time, and energy, and emotion I had put into thinking about Brandon. Day after day, week after week, year after year I had been sending Brandon that energy, giving myself away, giving myself to him. Now, he knew a way in which he could take advantage of that. Brandon and I were connected at the mind.
Brandon knew things about me now. He knew the thoughts that went through my head all the time. He knew what I thought about when I masturbated. God. Shudder. But it was okay. Brandon accepted me for who I was. Because I was no normal person. I was the second coming of Christ.
“Rachel, you're not like other people. When I read you, I can feel it. There's this very strange, almost unnatural vibration that comes out of you,” Brandon told me.
But Brandon didn't just bug my house for my own benefit. He knew I was the second coming of Christ. He knew when he looked back on my messages and I talked about how the Al Gore movie and the movie Waterworld had spoken to me. I remembered now, Brandon had listed Waterworld as one of his favorite movies. Most people didn't like that movie. But it had spoken to Brandon also. Those were some of the messages that had disappeared.
Brandon had played lasagna pan with me in a dream. I had told him about how I had taken a cue from a dream to write the Untold Story. Brandon took a cue from his own dream to bug the house. So he was sure to place a hidden camera somewhere where the time on the oven was clearly visible.
The thing about being Jesus was, I wasn't really fully Jesus unless I trusted myself. I wasn't allowed to have someone come up to me and tell me I was Jesus. I wasn't allowed to have external proof. It was through discovering the internal proof, that I would truly become Jesus. But I needed something. Something. Something semi-external that hinted that I was right. That's why I was given the lasagna pan game. Something that wouldn't serve as absolute proof, but as a bit of evidence. Wasn't it weird how I only heard the words “lasagna pan” when it was time to check the lasagna? Seems a little bit more than coincidental.
So now, I had to take a leap of faith, and send this message to Chance. But no rush.
I had to get up the nerve to send Chance this message. Even though Chance was expecting me to do this, he knew I was going to do this, there was still this fear in the back of my head that he really didn't know anything about this.
By this time, I had stopped communicating to Chance and Brandon through writing on the computer. Brandon and I discovered the connection was so strong between us, we could just communicate telepathically. I would sit on the bed, and talk to myself. Not out loud, silently, but I would move my lips to the words I was picking up on.
"That's how she channels us, through talking to herself. Rachel also channels spirits through talking to herself. All this time her parents have been treating that like it's a symptom of a mental illness, and she's been saying she's psychic. She is psychic. That's how she channels!
"Rachel thought I had a dead sister Sophie. She was right. I do have a dead sister Sophie! My mom was pregnant and she had a miscarriage. We were going to name the girl Sophie. The thing about psychics is that they don't get everything exactly right."
Then, inevitably, the subject matter turned to my masturbation habits.
"Rachel actually masturbates a lot less than other people. When she does, she has trouble. She should probably use a dildo. fingertips together and projected to him an image of myself with a halo.
"If Rachel imagines something that's incorrect, there is always an element of truth to it. Earlier, she imagined that there was something about her friends not washing their hands after they went to the bathroom. That wasn't it. It was because she doesn't always wash her hands after she goes to the bathroom!"
I was thinking about the thing about me having trouble masturbating. I remembered a really long time ago, watching this comedian on TV doing a routine about how women really had masturbation easy, and it was just so easy for them to get off. Then he goes over all the ways that women can get off. Last year, Erik had said something to me along the lines of, "you've got to admit that you women really have masturbation easy."
"It's weird how some guys think girls have masturbation easy. Like how the fuck do they know?"
Then I thought, what the hell. I made that my Facebook status. It was a bold move, and I was about to make a very bold move, sending Chance this message. I headed out for a walk.
When I was almost back to my house, I heard a weird noise. It morphed into the words "shut up!" It didn't sound like a human voice, more like a computerized noise meant to sound like a human talking. When I was hit by this, it made me turn my head around, like I was slapped in the face.
"And then Rachel hears this noise that makes her turn her head a little bit that sounds like someone yelling 'shut up'!"
It was so ironic that when I actually talk, people tell me to shut up. I kept thinking about that, and it made me mad, and it made me want to push onward.
Brandon could see me when I masturbated. He could also read my mind.
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