Some people see visions. Some dream dreams. I hope to never dream.
Dreams become too real. And what I saw and heard was not a vision. I saw, and heard most of what has occurred in the lifes of the TRPss'. I record for the world the stories. Those who wish, only need ask me to write for them
AS for the first things seen. The first things heard. I know of these things. A lifes memory on tape, now to pen. I love writing. None as rich as the written word. To place upon pen and paper the sights and sounds. It is a gift. A splendid gift to be able to do so. Mightier than any sword, these words.
The reason for these word, you ask? Indeed, I shall tell you. Many, many unsightly things happened. Many things that came with a tangible fear of being revealed.
To place these with pen onto paper, unseen. Still create as secrets the written words. To place
them openly, honesty on an open web site, makes me free. The uncovered secrets. The never-to-tells being told, told You see, many have died, (people other than ourselves) many who holding
onto their secrets have gone to their graves. The stories untold, the secrets now....gone to dust.
"Not for us!!", was declared. Never to die without that they be told But now, as the stories pass
thru my fingers onto the keys a release? Possibly. All I know is that I must never dream these
stories. To dream is to feel them. To feel them is to crave escape. They have the bent of torture.
The rage, the tears the hate. Alas, some however have joy as well. Yet to dream one invites them all. So I plead. I plead, beg, ask, deplore,
"GOD! GOD!! PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW ME TO DREAM!!!!" I only write the stories down. The writer has a part that heard as well as saw. At one time they were two people. Now we are