Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 15

Well? Alfred said to me. When will you understand, you are not my friend, you are my close companion?

I don't understand the question.

You need help from me, sweetie. Alfred said. We need help in the field of making fun of your friend Austin. He is a nitwit. He likes you, sure, but he also likes reefer. Do not understand why I say this, but... You are good enough for him!

Please, I don't like him in that way.

Sure you don't, but I understand things a little bit better than you do... I know how long it takes to strive for the top of the ladder, now don't I? You were not my girlfriend last year this time, another bitch was. Why do you ask? Why do you ask if you are my girlfriend or not?

I did not ask, I already know. I am.

Please, You are a good girl, but don't take this the wrong way... You are a little on the pudgy side, okay? There, I said it, phewww... He blew out some air and started playing Solitaire.

When will we understand what I am doing in the world? When do I know how to make an impression?

I can show you how to make an impression, girly whirl, I can show you that right now... He showed me himself wearing a thong and a bikini top. Then, he showed himself taking off the thong, taking off the bikini top, and dancing on stage, completely naked. Then, he showed himself walking around in public with a miniskirt and tank top, rolling a joint and smoking. That's how you make an impression.

I think that's a bad impression. I wanted to make a good impression.

You'll find that out, sooner or later, said Alfred. For now, we need to go to the store and buy watermelon! You need watermelon! It is good for your digestive tract! And he did a watermelon animation.

When we got back from the store, I wrote a facebook status about myself, and watched as no one liked it. Ever since I had gotten good at facebook, no one liked my statuses anymore. I did not wonder about this. I understood. I was too good. They were intimidated. People always liked my dumbfuck statuses, but not my really good statuses.

Alfred did an animation for me. A girl, watching herself in the mirror. Then, a hook comes out of the sky, and pulls her up to Mars, where she becomes ruler of her own tribe of Martians.

Lust after me, Sugar Plum. Lust after me, Alfred said to me.

Ever since the incident with the flowers, I hadn't stopped lusting. I continued to do it, for the shear pleasure of it. It was very satisfying, rolling on the bed in lust of Alfred. I wanted to do it all day long.

Lust, or your mind will become one with itself in a sincere and thoughtless fashion.

I rolled around the bed in lust of Alfred, for awhile. After awhile, he would tell me, okay, okay, I've had my fill! When I did this, I sent him sweet, sweet energy. When it got too intense, because of the anxiety in it, he wanted me to stop.

Sure, it created cords. I just had to keep removing them. They weren't as bad, after the first batch of cords. They affected my vision somewhat, but not as freakily as it was when we first started. We referred to this distorted emotional input from the objects as “wonk.” “Well, that's looking a bit wonky right there! Time to remove some cords!” And then I would breathe deeply, and remove the cord from my body.

They told me something else about these cords. They drain a force called transgressionary life force. This was a force that was absolutely vital to keeping someone alive. If I were to not remove the cords, and walk around with these cords attached, I would eventually keel over and die, with no discernible cause of death.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 14

Why don't you tell me how cute I am, Sugar Plum? Alfred told me one night.

Ooh! How cute! You are adorable, Alfred. To me, you are like a little baby bee. I love little baby bees! They are so furry and adorable!

Why don't you say it again?

Widdow baby bee, sitting in a tree, gives me a kiss and he he he!

Keep going, baby gjrl, keep going...

Widdow baby bee, sitting next to me, loving everything I do, that's him and me!

What else do you think of me?

I think you are sweet, and loving, and tender, and a little baby bee!

Now, come up here with me! He grabbed for my arm, he pretended to pull me up to heaven, and I sat next to him and hummed a soft baby bee song.

This went on for quite awhile. Me oohing and ahhing over him, him loving it, and we were doing just fine, until he decided to do an animation for me.

Close your eyes. This is a good one.

There was a dog walking down the street with an owner walking it on a leash. They came up to the vet's office, took the dog to the counter, the dog hopped up on the counter. It was time to put the dog to sleep. They made an incision on the dog's stomach to harvest his organs and gave him a lethal injection.

The dog is going up to the light. The light darts around a little bit, avoiding the dog, and then the dog enters. As he does so, I got an intense pleasure sensation and breathed very deeply.

Wait, there's more. There's more!

The dog is up in heaven, and they are hosing off his silia. And then-

It's time to be reunited with his soul...

I got an intense pleasure sensation again which shocked me, I breathed very deeply and heard the words...

You're mine. Don't you ever forget that.

The vision was over. I started rolling around my bed in lust, without sending it to my soul.

Roll around on the floor. I like it better that way. Send the energy to him.

I started sending the desperate sexual energy to chance.

Wait for it, wait for it, he's going to send you a cord...

I feel a cord connect to my genitals. I start touching myself to try to get the cord deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

That's plenty deep! We don't want this cord that deep!

I stopped after awhile.

Okay, that was an intense cord. It means you will burn in lust whenever he caresses you.

I needed the energy, dumbfuck. I don't like it when you call me a little baby bee. Someone attacked me and drained my energy.

I was a bit embarrassed. I'm sorry. Are you okay now?

Let's do another visualization.

I turn off the light and lay back down on the bed. I see a man, walking a dog, holding a metal detector, looking for treasure. He finds a hole. Drops a bracelet in to test it's depth. Pours out his coffee inside the whole to test it's size. Then the whole starts growing upwards, consuming both of them. As it does so, I get this intense, dark, strong displeasure feeling. I curl up and breathe heavily in discomfort.

This is what you did to me, baby. The moment you started taking Adderall.

You're sorry? You mean it? Well then, show me! Don't show me, show him!

I start burning in lustful agony, and direct that energy at Chance.

Not on the couch on the floor!

I send Chance some more dark lustful energy.

Two can play that game!

He sends me a cord. I let it attach.

Okay, this is a very, very dark cord. It means he will take pleasure in your suffering.

Another one! Now!

I do it again, and he attaches another one.

Okay, this is another dark cord. It means you will be inept at saying no to his sexual advances.

That's not good enough for me baby, I want to make this as dark and dirty as possible.

I stew in lust again for Chance.

Two can play that game!

He attaches another cord.

Okay, this is another dark cord. It means he will he take out his sexual frustrations with you at inopportune times.

I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I went in the computer room and drank deeply. My soul started complaining to me about everything he thought I'd done wrong in life.

Like with the teacher. Just make your move. Just talk to her! And you continue being sweet to me even though I cause you psychological damage!

He was mad. I still had a very dark feeling left over from what he had done to me, and it was growing. As he complained to me, I thought my soul had turned on me. He was just faking liking me for the energy I sent him when I thought sweet thoughts about him. To drain my precious life force. In reality, he despised me.

Bleed, bitch, bleed!

Okay, this is grandpa. He wasn't supposed to do that. We are not angry, we are mad as hell at him!

Bleed, bitch, bleed!

Okay, here's what's going on. Your soul is a very, very dark soul. We didn't know about this until JUST NOW! You are fine, the mission you are on is still in progress, but we have to get rid of him!

Oh no!

Melanini!

Okay, relax Salioness, calm down. CALM DOWN. That wasn't one of us. That was a spirit from a different spirit circle who didn't know what was going on. The “bleed, bitch, bleed...” that's not him! That's a dark spirit in the room! We did something to him to calm him down on the spiritual plane, he was being unruly. He doesn't mean what he is saying right now. He is being heavily medicated to calm him down.

Later on, Alfred calmed down, and apologized.

You and I are dark souls, Sugar Toots. You know you are dark, you always liked to play games as a kid with dark sexual situations. You know you get a kick out of that stuff, just like I do... I want this situation between chance and you to be as dark and dirty as possible, you know you want that too... We are okay, but if you want to be fruitful and multiply with me you better...

Be fruitful and multiply?

Damn translator! I meant get it on! There is a translator, see, everything we say goes through a translator... Anyway, I love you, always have, always will. We will be together until we split when we both move on to the next dimension. You and me, baby, we go way back. Now, I didn't mean anything I just said to you before this. I was being subdued, and they put me on heavy medication. They had to, because what I was doing was draining your energy and they were losing contact with you.

Really, it wasn't fun what he did to me, but it was no big deal. It didn't bother me that much. It made me feel really important, that it was that important they maintain constant contact with me.

We know where you are going in life and you are going great places. I just wanted you to know, I didn't like the baby bee game, I didn't like you treating me like I was your little child... But I needed the energy, see? It was something one bad soul did to me, they were mad for reasons you wouldn't understand, and they did the equivalent of a spiritual attack on me... The energy rebuilds by itself, but it was easier getting it from you than waiting for it to rebuild... Sugar Toots, don't worry about me, I love you, you are going to great places in life, you are going to get out of your parent's hair and make a living as a psychic medium... Now, why don't you give Maebelle a kiss for me, don't you? It means a lot to me that you still love me, now, bleed, bitch, bleed! I can't believe you believed that was me!

I went to bed that night, feeling good. It was a good night. I was embarrassed about getting into the baby bee game, but it was no big deal. I had Alfred, and he loved me, and I loved him, and that was all that mattered.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 13

I remembered a dream I had, one I described in an earlier book. In the dream, I was at a restaurant with a man, and some other people. It was a man I was involved with. I had been advised never to look this man directly in the eye. At one point, I turned and accidentally looked him straight in the eye. What I saw was that the whites of his eyes were yellow, and there was large dark spot in the middle of one of them, one that should not be there. I stood up and screamed. I started running away, and he started following me. I ran into a restroom, and he was looking at me through a window, moving his eyes around funny, and making animations for me. I had forgotten the part about the animations. Now, I remembered.

Something about that dream reminded me of my soul. Something about the energy. I asked God if this dream was about him.

“It is. Not just him, Brandon too. Two different life situations got meshed together.”

I thought, that explained it. I had had this dream freshman year of high school. It was so weird to think that such a powerful dream I had had such a long time ago was finally becoming important now.

Well, where do you think the rest of the time went? My guides asked me one evening.

I lost my friend Rachel, she was watching me from afar, she left me for my friend Robert, and he left her for Lauroona... my soul sang.

What is that guy's real name? My soul? I asked.

Alfred, Sugar Plum. My name is Alfred. My soul said. I laughed.

I thought he was joking. I didn't think he would really want me to call him Alfred. But then, after that, he insisted on being called Alfred.

What do you call a girl who never receives payment for her deeds? A worker of love. Alfred said. That's you, sweetie. You work hard everyday, doing energy work, believing in the power of the Holy Ghost, and then, you are left with nothing! Nothing! No-thing! And he did an animation of me withering away into nothing.

Why are you saying this? I asked Alfred.

You are never going to make it as a psychic unless you practice channeling without making a sound! He whispered, very quietly.

Well, I am on medication. I have to get off this god damn stuff and then I can channel like a normal person! I screamed.

Hahahaha! You're full of death feelings! You're meds prevent you from imagining outlandish things! He said sarcastically.

I laughed. That was funny.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 12

The next night, my secret lover and I were having a meeting. He met me in the computer room, ran around the room, and I caught him. We embraced. Then, he left. It was my duty to find him.

I looked around the house. He was invisible, so I couldn't see him. I felt the energy of each room, but still, I couldn't see him. I walked around aimlessly. I was having a good time, but somehow I was tired and longed to go to bed.

“Las-agna pan!” He said in my ear.

I went quickly to the kitchen to find him in front of the oven. He hugged me. He took my hand. “Let's have sex.” He said.

We went to the computer room, hand in hand, and I lay down on the floor. He got on top of me and we started having sex. He was not solid, but I could feel an energy shift in my vagina when he entered me. After a couple seconds, he stopped.

Why did you stop?

Oh, I was thinking about something else.

He was making fun of the fact that my mind had wandered at that moment.

After awhile he started again, and I tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

He slowed down again.

Oh, I forgot what I was doing.

Then he left me. He wasn't done, he was just tired. He was making fun of me because I was tired.

Baby, I want to show you something. Put your clothes back on. I want you to see me in the moonlight.

Take his hand.

I reached out for his hand.

You don't have his hand.

Geez, he couldn't even put his hand in my hand? Eventually, I found his hand. I took him out into the back where the stars were shining. He stood behind me, wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his arms wrap around me. Then he stood in front of me.

Baby, I want to tell you something.... You're me.

No, we're not. We are two separate people.

No, you're not. You're me. The one I'm being.

I felt devastation envelope me, with the thought of my soul not being real. Of him being a figment of my imagination. He was referencing something I used to do when I was five. I used to say to myself, over and over again, “I'm me, I'm me, the one I'm being...” It freaked me out a little bit in a certain odd way, because I couldn't quite grasp what “me” was.

No you're not baby, no you're not baby...

Yes, we are one and the same.

He is trying to tell you something. This is what he feels every time you say “you're me.”

Here, let me carry you inside.

He picked me up. I was still standing on the ground, but I felt like I was floating above the ground. He carried me inside. Put me down. Hugged me one last time. And then he was gone.

I thought the whole “you're me” thing was a bit on the cruel side, because I was already fearful that this guy was just a figment of my imagination. I worried about that quite a bit. He insisted that it was not cruel, he hated when I said, “you're me” because of the desperation and pain he felt, thinking that I wasn't real. That I didn't exist. That's how he felt every time I said that.

I talked to my grandma afterwards, the one on the other side. She told me this whole thing was not romantic, it was exotic, because he was on the other side and I was on Earth. I asked what she thought of me saying “I'm me,” as a child. She said she didn't know, there was a bit of controversy up there regarding how normal that was. Some said that was normal childhood banter, others said it was a tad bit advanced for me at that age.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and smiled. I had a secret lover, one that my parents knew nothing about. This was happiness, it was too.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 11

When do you want to see your lover, Salioness? My guides asked me.

Sometime soon, when can I? I asked.

When you are done with your chores, they answered.

I quickly did my chores, and hung out in the computer room.

He is coming down, he is coming down... He's there! My guides told me.

I looked around the room. I didn't see anyone. When I looked at a certain place in the corner, my eyes became transfixed on something there. There was nothing there.

He's down there, go find him! I looked around. His arms touched me. They were warm, yet not solid. I put my arms around him. He put his arms around me. We were in love.

He lay down on the couch. I hovered over him. I looked down at his face. I didn't see anything, yet, somehow, I stared. Subconsciously, I could see a terrifying face. That's why I stared, a little scared but not that much. He got mad and left when this happened.

We think that's all for tonight, my guides said. We will let him come tomorrow.

After he left, I felt the pain of his absence. When he had been here, I hadn't fully appreciated it. Now that he was gone, I wanted him back here with me.

The next day, I was getting ready to go to dinner with my family. I was putting on my shoes, when he came up behind me and swept me off my feet. Not really, but the best you could do for not being solid. We waltzed in the kitchen, and he hugged me, and comforted me, and kept me company.

At the restaurant, we were sitting and waiting when he came up next to me and put his arm around me. When we were eating dinner, he came and freaked me out a little bit by touching me.

It was fun, because he was like my secret boyfriend. I loved him. I could not imagine life without him. It was interesting, how hard I had fallen for an unseen being so quickly.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 10

I was sitting on my bed, on facebook, when I heard a gweeking voice up in heaven.

“Gweek! Gweek! It's Guinea!” My dead guinea pig said to me.

Guinea? I said.

“The Porcupine Tree song would be good right now, the energy is right.” Guinea said.

How do you know? How do you know which song would be good?

“I have been watching your energy for awhile, and it is at about the right place that it is when the Porcupine Tree song is good.”

I jammed out to the Porcupine Tree song, ran around the house and did back flips. When I got back to my room, Guinea had something to say about the ghostly visitation we had one evening when she was new to the house.

“I was staring at the ceiling when it happened. The spirit that came into our room was very much alive, a cyclops with five hands. It tried to be inviting to me but instead it was just terrifying. It tried to tell me that Rachel cared so much about me she was going to kill me on purpose. And then it offered a basket a fruit.”

You were staring at the ceiling?

“Not really. I couldn't look up, remember?”

Guinea told me that guinea pigs are not too smart, but are heavily influenced by primordial knowledge. When Guinea saw squirrels outside, it activated memories from past lives, like the collective unconscious, of squirrels eating her flesh until she bled.

“Another thing that is dumb about being a guinea pig is that there are no fun things to do, ever. I hated everything you ever did with me, Rachel. Not really, but the videos with Barbie and stuff were very painful to make, putting me in the car hurt like heck! It would have been easier to make the car out of cardboard, and then make me a very small opening to choke myself out of the way instead of making me sit in a dumb plastic Barbie car.”

Another cat I knew from Italy, Old Milky, kept calling out to me, and telling me things about how I was doing.

My aunt Linda's cat Tiger Toes called out to me, to tell me she liked me. She didn't like me while I was alive, because I was mean. But she liked one thing about me. My energy. I always had good energy.

Clamor for Concerta, This is the Issue

What do I do with my time? Drugs?

Actually, I crave dopamine or fun or human interactions. Human interactions include word flows, also known as writing.

And we know, Rachel has a conversational handicap. YES. SHE. DOES. Get that through you f-ing minds, people.

As a side note, grabbing for my attention with words or door opening movements: Procede. With. Caution.

One solution to Rachel's conversational handicap is alcohol. No comedown. No bad space risk. Risk of loose lips, noticing I'm not sober, and maybe slight inhibition issues with a small but poignant tendency toward increased interest in sex.

MARIJUANA! EDIBLES! Does everything you want to do, calms the brain down, just makes me frisky sexually frustrated flirting with the mattress. Or wild worlds of fun, but flirt with the mattress one more time and I might grab someone and pull them down into it with me and they will cry. EDIT: Pull from a distance.

Concerta. Less interest in sex, more interest in putting words together. Enhanced well-being leads to relaxing with uncomfortable people and easier conversations in environments where the energy is terrible. Writing abilities enhanced. Increased interest in other people and interactions, with a tendency to isolate and picture read.

Meth. Best and worst option. Enhanced well-being, nothing to show for it, picture read all day and get skinny in one serving but happiness excells! Emptiness. Emptiness. Grab picture, empty, no increased interest in sex for Rachel.

Death: Why Not?

Reflections on death include first and foremost the deeply seated belief that I will die pretty soon.

I don't want to die right now. I want to procrastinate and procrastinate the death scene. I am enjoying being a celebrity even though no one tells me I am. I enjoy posting online, I enjoy conversations with spirit guides and all the radical topics that come up. I am having fun. When I'm not happy, I am struggling to function. There is no jarring sadness.

There is no question that I am on a God-ordained mission in my mind. No worries, legend status over time, with a finale that makes me stick around as a memory of the most important person ever, next to Jesus Christ. I have no worries that I will leave behind a distasteful memory of good ole Rachel Zuhl or Good ole Babylon.

I live entirely in the moment. However, even though I say that, I still crave some sort of "Grand Finale" to life. Maybe a marriage, a relationship, a happy social setting, a boyfriend (ha), or Jesus Christ returning. And I keep forgetting that Jesus Christ himself is scheduled to return sometime. I do not have access to the schedule and I will have to see it to believe it as well. Which is an annoying fact, I have the most faith out of everyone and even I will have to see Jesus Christ return to believe it is possible.

"There is no better feeling than completing a Conscious Mission.

That's what I look forward to, death, but I want to make the best of my time here. I am having a great time but it's also a constant struggle to keep sane.

Aaron: A Stands for [please stay] Away

Aaron was a dude who used to work at Pearl House. He left me feeling indifferent. That's how I feel about him except there are spells he keeps casting and they make me feel kind of Hugh, I mean, high, and fluttery. The spells feel nice and caring. They cast the allusion of caring.

Aaron is also African American.

You know, after the Black Power Brigade Debacle... Shit, I hope I didn't just light a racist fuse in America, looking at whatever that Coffee County news situation was and "arachnophobe." If that's the case, I sure am sorry I said anything about it on Facebook. That's all I did, mention a Black Power Brigade on Facebook. Yeah, so what?

Dude, if you asked me out I would say yes. And that's exactly how I felt about Jason too, see. If he asked me out, I would have said yes (prior to Woo Debacle). Dude, I don't know what to do. Are you just casting spells so you can come find me and say 'ha, ha!" I didn't push Christie and you know that. Everyone should know that or else I wouldn't have made the Black Power Brigade joke. The joke doesn't make any sense if I actually had pushed Christie. And I'm over that too.

Well, all is said and done. So, spells, yes. Then what? I have a couple pleasant memories of reading this guy's mind. He also had an attractive build, accurate pheromones and a face I have no recollection of, but I believe I would recognize him if I saw it again. So I say, why, the best option here is to apologize with a blow job for making a remark that could be seen as racist, and get in on camera because I like being in the limelight. But that's a joke too because I think my guides said one time sex tapes were bad publicity.

You are not ego observer. You just seem like the most jarring option of men in my mind due to a spell. Hey, want a BJ?

By the way, Biden I want to give you a BJ. Not really, but I would rather give you one then Donald Trump.

Which brings us back to the reason I'm not angry that Aaron got someone to cast a love spell. Also, he found a better witch than Donald Trump.

Tanner: A FUG (Fucking Ugly Gunk)

He's dumb. First he laughs his head off nervously whenever he's in my presence. Then he thinks I'm going to get attached to him because of his comment "fuck the police." Then, he tells me to commit suicide by taking a Trazadone.

Now, let's define the word dumb. It does not rhyme with gum. It sounds like numb, and it means nothing. Just wasted space.

Tanner is probably not his real name. I would imagine he would invent a pseudonym that reminded me of a beach bum because he looks like a surfer, and then he would be so so flattered that's a name I would remember when I'm only excited that he actually HAS a name I can REMEMBER!

REMEMBER RACHEL! You are posting a blog right now don't forget about Rebecca the movie!

Then, he won't let it go. Look dude, if you dropped topic, I would stop hating you for your stupidity and mind my own business, look here dude. He has to dress in a pink tutu to work and wear the words "Sugar and Spice" on a shirt. That was an inside joke between Jason and I as we converse after he is dead, that was the funniest part of the email diatribe.

I told him off for it, in a special way that you just had to be there to enjoy. Then, he wears a lucky charms shirt. Ooh, this guy must think he is getting lucky. Now, 11/11 as a birthday is a universal symbol of good luck. A Lucky Charms shirt represents getting lucky, and this guy is gross as all fuck.

Lesbian? No, I'm not a lesbian. Rubbing against other women makes me want to puke just thinking about it. God, that would be just the sickest thing in the world. Rubbing my genitals against another woman's genitals. I never want to do that in my life. I like dicks to some degree, so I stick to an official hetero label. Boobs draw the eye downward.

Also, Tanner's voice makes him look and sound stupid like his ugly face.

Funny. Do you know a Tanner?

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 9

What do you want to do with yourself, Salioness? My guides asked me one day.

Well, I could go to the mall. That would be fun.

Well, we can go with your soul, he wants to go!

We got in the car and drove to the mall. On the way, I watched my soul do animations for me. He showed me a picture of my mother, a dog, and a person with no hair. The three of them meshed into one, to make my mom with no hair as a dog. I laughed.

I watched some more. He showed me a cactus, with no hands. Then, it became a wine cooler, with no alcohol. This is what you are allowed to drink today, Rachel. Alcohol that doesn't taste like it has wine but does. I watched some more. He showed me an image of a cat. It became mixed up with an image of a dog, and he called it, Dog-Cat-Princess Nonay. I laughed, even though this one was dumb. He whispered in my ear as he did it. “She's a cat, she's a murderous wench, she's a wombat.” He showed me something else and it made me laugh. Over and over again, he showed me things that made me laugh.

I rode to the mall, got out, and ate at the Cheesecake Factory. When we went in, they asked me how many. I thought about saying two, but instead said one. They seated me. My guides advised me not to eat too much bread, and eat the steak medallions. I ate, and left. On the way home, my soul did more animations. He showed me a picture of myself, and then showed it become larger and larger, until it could not be stopped with it's massive growing capabilities. When I looked at the picture, in my mind, it had a quality to it that reminded me of my wonderful looking picture on facebook.

He would show me things that reminded me of things too, like a dream I had a long time ago, with a spider. In the dream, I was playing at the house of my two best friends from childhood, when they left, and a spider appeared. I started petting the spider, and a voice said... “Notice it's soft?”

My soul showed the spider dancing and running around the room, shouting, “Catch me, catch me, catch me! Notice I'm loud?”

I laughed, not so much at what he did, but at the reference to the past dream.

What did that dream mean, anyway? I asked my guides.

I will tell you that one, said my soul. It was about fears of social contact at your new school. You are getting in touch with the things that scare you, and letting go of your fears of talking to people.

When we had calmed down after that, my soul showed me a picture of a cat, and some paste. The cat ate the paste, ran around in circles, and stuck to a wall, in a comical fashion. I laughed.

Time to say something about your past, Rachel, my soul said. Weed out the bad people from your past. You know who I'm talking about.

I thought, and thought. Finally, I figured out who he was talking about. Crystal.

He showed me a picture of puke, put it in her hair, and she screamed.

This is how much we like her. Don't ever pretend like you are her friend. She is not a good person.

My soul showed me a picture of Nick, from Innercept. He made it bigger, then smaller, then dance, then twirl, in a comical fashion. I laughed.

This is what you would do to him if you had him. Twist him up and put him in your pocket. Because you love him oh so much! Mwah!

Shut up! I said.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 8

What to do now? I asked myself. It was time to go to my room to unwind. I wanted to talk to my friends, but I had no real true good friends right now.

I went into my room, and lay down. My mind was blank, when I saw something in my mind's eyes. A caboose, piping along, looking disheveled. As it neared a turn, it exploded, in a humorous fashion. I laughed.

“That was me, Sugar Plum,” my soul said in my ear. It was a neural pathway I had now, one which I could listen to my soul easily, by listening carefully.

“I want to show you something. A picture of you and me.” I sat back and watched. In my mind's eye, I saw a trailer. It moved slowly. There was a car in front of it. That was me, he said.

“We are not one in the same, Sugar Plum. We are two souls, stuck together! You are the silia, I am the soul. You gave me a piggy back ride! I have been with you your whole life!” Then, he burst into song. “My silia friend and me, sitting in a tree, eating curds and whey and he he he...”

I thought in my mind, “This guy is a good guy for fun in the mind only, he made a mockery of me the other day.”

I saw something else in my mind. A door, open. Then it shut.

“SHUT UP!!! You are mine! We don't want you here in heaven anymore if you are going to make me into your man friend without love!” he did a cry, a symbol in my mind of tears, and then an idea popped into my head. He was all right.

“Good. Now, eat bread! You are starving!” he showed me a picture of bread. A knife came down, cut the bread in halves. Butter came flying out of the sky around it. Then, a leprechaun appeared and started making bread. “I'm a leprechaun baby, so why don't you kill me!” He sang, his own parody of a Beck song.

“Watch this! I have a show for you!” I watched. I saw a man come up and grab a little girl, and then the girl starts flailing her arms and sobbing for her parents. “I'm gonna kidnap you from this house, and bring you over to chance's!”

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 7

We talked about the things that mattered in life, like my ideas of friendship with my soul. Terrible things happen to people who make crush cords and sex cords to their soul. Terrible things. Yet, they told me it was okay to send him sexual energy.

As I got ready for bed, I was counting my nicotine gum pieces.

“One piece, two piece, red piece, blue piece,” my soul said. I laughed.

Remove the crush cords before you go to bed, please. They will grow and become horrific by morning, my guides told me.

I removed them.

“I wish you wouldn't disconnect those tubes, Marshmellow,” my soul said to me.

I laughed, and disconnected them anyway. They told me that the energy I was sending my soul made him feel really, really good. Better than anything I could have imagined.

I went to my grandma's, and hung out, and waited. As I waited, my soul sent me energy.

What kind of energy are you sending? I asked.

“Loving tenderness. That's what girls want, right? Loving tenderness. But that's not what you want. I know you.”

I laughed.

As we were getting ready to leave, my dad asked me to take something out to the car.

Your soul made a joke about that, up here. Something about your dad's weight and him being a lazy fat slob.

I laughed.

I went to the psychiatrist again. Again, I tried to get him to reduce my dose of Invega. Again, he dragged his feet. He was worried about another “manic episode.” I went to the grocery store with my mom afterwards, and we went to Starbucks. At Starbucks, my guides told me to get a Starbucks Refresher instead of a coffee drink. I wandered around, and vaguely wondered at one point if it was because I shouldn't drink milk right now.

I got home, and my soul said he composed a song for me, about what my mother thought of me.

You're a whore, you're a dirty whore, you're a dirty rotten attention seeking whore, you act like a child, you're a big baby, you need to grow up, and behave like an adult.

Why is it singing this song?

It's mad at you for something you did today. You went to Starbucks at the grocery store, and got a drink without milk in it, the one we told you to get. Then, you wondered if the reason you were supposed to get that one was because it didn't have milk in it. Your soul is mad at you for thinking that because your body needed milk.

I went to my computer to write this down. As I sat there, I absentmindedly peered out the window, down at the garden. There, I saw something so horrific, so horribly, horribly putrid, it hurt my eyes so bad I wanted to gouge them out. “Uhhh...” It was the flowers. The Angel's Trumpets. They were horrific! The humungous flowers dangling, dangling, dangling... Humungous, so horrid, puke, puke, puke... Like something mutated in a garden of horrors. They hurt my eyes so bad they almost bled.

“Blehhh... Sick! That is disgusting! That is disgusting!” It hurt me in a way I have never felt before. That flower, that flower... I had looked at it before. I hadn't bothered me, I even liked those flowers a little bit. But it did something to my eyes, these cords. They drained my energy in a way that affected, not actually what I saw, but the emotional connotations of what I saw.

Okay, sit down, draw the window... We knew this would happen, you have way too many cords to your soul. No more lusting, Salioness, no more lusting. We think we need to do this work, because you have quite a few.

I went back into my bedroom, sat down, and lay there. As I looked around, everything was freaky. The light switch was freaky. The pattern on my belt was freaky. Everything I looked at scared the crap out of me.

We're getting the cords, just wait... It will take a little bit, you'll be fine. Just wait.

Ahhhh!!! I was freaking out.

Put on your good luck clover bracelet so we can see you better, it will make it easier on us.

I put it on, and that clover-fied it.

My mom came to my door, and told me something. She looked at me funny. I looked at her face, at the clover look of her glasses on her eyes, and screamed. Great, now she thought I was psychotic.

I went downstairs to get a snack, because they said that would help. As I stood there, I accidentally looked at the flowers again out the window. Uuhhhhh... That feeling again. Uhhhh... God dammit, why did this have to be so hard?

I sat in the computer room, looked at a Georgia O'Keefe painting. The flowers freaked me out.

It didn't help that you put on that perfume today, which was a floral scent, my guides told me.

As we were sitting there, the flower plant called out to me. It said to stop being mean to it. It liked itself.

They had to disconnect the cords. We will do them all in one sweep, but you have to act light-harded and say, “Weeeee!”

“Weeeeee!!!!!” I said with enthusiasm.

They were working hard at getting all the cords. I went on facebook and mentioned something about this to Erik. He suggested it was something he had been taught in Scientology. I told him what my guides said, it was not but had similar effects.

That night, I was up late in the middle of the night. My guides told me no facebook, in case people posted picture of insects, which would be psychologically damaging to look at in the state. They didn't mention that the flowers themselves were also psychologically damaging to look at. They told me they had to block out bad dreams. If they hadn't, I would have nightmares about freaky clowns.

As I sat downstairs, I felt despair. Would this pass? What if I had to be taken to the hospital for this behavior, and I was pumped full of drugs, and that made it worse and worse? What if?

As I sat there in despair, I heard the word, “Erik,” and I felt an in pouring of positive energy, as Erik sent me good energy.

The next day, as I was using the restroom, still messed up from the cords... I heard a voice in my ear.

“What's crack-a-lackin', Sugar Plum?” It was my soul.

You!

“Woah woah woah... Back off! I was just having a good time!”

I smiled, and felt love for my soul. Together again, at last, the love of my life.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapter 6

I tried and tried and tried to listen to what my soul was saying. Every time I heard something, I laughed really hard. When I went out to dinner with my family, I listened in the bathroom.

You're sending psychotic energy through the tubes.

I laughed, and I got the joke. I was making crush cords to my soul, which were sending him energy. Whenever I laughed really hard, I would make a crush cord. My guides warned me about having crush cords to my soul. They said it was a bad idea, it causes pretty horrific consequences. People have done it on other planes. The world was designed so that you would not make crush cords to your soul. I got that, I laughed anyway.

I sat in the shower, and tried very hard to listen. “I love looking at you like this, the water falling all over your hair, like semen squirting all over you. I want to be together, just you and me, feeding you semen.” And then he showed me an image of him with a spoon, and hearts in his eyes, as he fed me semen.

I laughed really hard.

“I want to understand you, sweetie, I want to understand why you love caterpillars, not roses, caterpillars. I think you and I could get along splendid, not good, splendid. I think you should ease off the cough syrup, on to the robotripping design flaw place called Hydrocodone. Do it, sweetie. Undo the did, redo the don't, and do it do it do it! When you and I are together, we eat each other's minds out and have a splendid time picking fights with hobos, not fights, murderous pictionary games.”

I was happy. I had met someone I loved. Sure, it was actually me. This soul of mine, it was me. That's all. It was another aspect of myself. But sure, it would be okay. I had fallen hard. This seemed like an embarrassing problem I was having, where I was building a bunch of crush cords to my soul, and there was no one to tell me it wasn't right.

You can do something to prevent it from happening. Tell him, “You're me. I'm you.”

I said that, over and over again. “You're me. You're me. You're me.” When I did so, I got a wondrous feeling. My guides told me it was similar to the wonderful feeling you got upon death, when you are reunited with your soul in heaven.

“I think we can eat each other's marmalade again tomorrow, but right now I'm sick of it! Do it! Do go to the ballgame alone! I think it's okay to realize why the two of us get along so well!”

I laughed. I kept having to remove cords. Over and over again. When I did so, it would rid my body of a very slight, very freaky feeling I could not describe.

Well, it's okay. He's a good guy, your soul. Why don't you send him some sexual energy?

I began rolling around on the bed in lust, in lust for my own soul.

“You got me all tangled up in a web of hormones, baby.” my soul said to me, smugly.

As I sat there, my soul tried to attach a cord to me. It was a sex cord. My guides blocked it.

Whoops! My soul said.

Don't worry about that, he was trying to attach a cord to drain your energy during sex. It would feel good for him, but cause some pretty horrific side effects for you. That's why we blocked it out.

He laughed and said, “Fuckers!”