People like to think that only men are capable of rape. Because men have a certain necessary condition for sexual intercourse. People don't like to think that men can get a hard on and not actually want one. Yeah. No one's thought of that before.
Robin came to spend the night. He told me he wanted to be a father figure to me. He showed me a picture of him wearing a coat and a hat, like he had just gotten home from work. When we talked, we joked. I didn't know consciously. I was sitting at the energy drink store, talking to Robin, when I saw an image of a whip on someone's bare behind go across my mind.
What was that? I asked consciously.
You were just joking with Robin. You made a joke.
Oh, I said, weirded out by this. Consciously, I was still a little uncomfortable when Robin was around. I had gotten over the ice cream joke aftermath, but I was still weirded out, seeings as he was my favorite actor and all.
Early in the morning, I got up. I went downstairs. Put some coffee on the pot. And sat down in front of the television. I turned it on and fired up TiVo. I saw the television Grim was playing but had no intention of watching it, since it was a show I never watch.
“Why don't you watch Grim?” Robin said.
I sat, knowing this was my mind. Robin didn't say that. I was embarrassed, and I sat there blushing.
Robin said to me, “Embarrassed?” in a weird voice.
I didn't want him to know about the Grim incident, so I kept mum. Except, subconsciously, I told him, because I knew it was no big deal. Consciously, the fact that I had heard him say this in my mind was horrifically embarrassing.
What's going on? What did I tell you?
“I just noticed a shift in your energy, like you were embarrassed...”
I didn't tell you what was going on?
No, honey.
Okay, okay. I relaxed. I didn't want him to know about the Grim incident.
We went on a walk. Robin, Heath, and I conversed consciously. We talked about sex. Then, Robin and Heath both informed me that I had really nice tits.
“I retained a lot of my visual/sexual organization from the Earth plane. I watch you, Rachel. I watch you when you change clothes, and when you shower. You have some really nice tits.”
But I thought you liked me like a father? Is this fatherhood to you?
No, honey. I like you... I like you... Like a lover.
Really?
Really, honey. Really.
We sat in my bedroom, and conversed.
Robin said, “I like your little jingles you make up in your head. Like Worry Wart Beev was a good one. You should write songs for money.”
Really? I said, excited that someone appreciated my work.
No, not really. I was trying to entice you.
Ohhh...
It's okay, honey. I love you anyway, even if your songs suck.
I hate them, too, but that's a secret...
We all hate them, sweetie.
Sweetie?
I didn't say sweetie, sugar bee. I said honey.
Ohhhh....
It's okay, sweetie.
Awww....
Are you all right?
Yeah, I'm good.
You need a tissue for all that crying you are doing over me, sweetie.
What crying?
When I killed myself, I wanted to tell you something. You sent me good energy when you found out I had done it. Most everyone else in the world sent me bad energy. It was horrible, trying to cross over, with so much bad energy. Don't even get me started on the acid trip of crossing over...
Was it fun?
It wasn't fun, wasn't not fun either. It was a neutral experience. There were good parts and bad parts.
Will I have to tell your friends that you are happy now? Or will you tell them?
I've already told them, but they don't believe me. They think I've gone to hell, to suffer for all of eternity.
What was it like, before you killed yourself? Do you want to talk about it?
I do, it's fine. It's not an issue. I was very, very unhappy. So unhappy, it's hard to understand why I held out for that long. I did some sort of hallucinogen I got off the street before I killed myself. It's one that doesn't stay in your system long, so it doesn't show up in the autopsy. It made me feel all right at first, but after awhile, I started to crash and go to your idea of hell. It was your idea of hell. Not hyperbolic, for real. It was awful, awful, awful. But my last thoughts were of my fans. I didn't want it to end this way, but I couldn't take it anymore. The pain was unbearable.
So you don't regret it?
Not at all, sweetie. It wasn't a good decision, but... It was the right decision for me. I like to think that I left behind a positive image, even with the suicide.
But you did! People still love you!
I know they do, sweetie. But I can't take this anymore. I can't take all the mopey call outs I get on the spiritual plane. People weeping and crying, “I hope you are okay now...” Mopey, mopey, mopey. You didn't call out to me, but you knew. You knew I would be all right.
I did so!
Don't forget to read the papers, for they hold no element of truth to them. They are all hogwash. It will tell you I was not taking drugs before I did it, but I was. I don't remember how many days past since I took the hallucinogen, I think it may have been more than I remember. I remember it being a couple nights.
So you were not sober?
No, sweetie. I was not sober. I was definitely on drugs. But I will tell you this. I should have done it anyway. With all that was happening, acting was the only thing that made me happy. And the Parkinson's was threatening to take that away from me. You have Parkinson's disease too, sweetie. It will correct itself though. With the shakes, and the swallowing problem. That's an early symptom of Parkinson's disease.
Really? I was shocked.
Really, sweetie. I love you. Don't remember to bring me to your bible study, it hurts to understand why you can never talk about suicide to Catholics. They all think I'm in purgatory.
But you're not!
I'm not, good one sweetie.
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