gnostic

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

So yet again, fellow humanoids, I am still researching the phenomena in multiple sclerosis that may cause a person to see liminal shapes and many other forms of weirdness. Yes, liminal shapes. I have asked many people, but I have been getting very different answers to what these could be, and I'm still actively trying to find out if there is anybody out there who is also suffering with seeing these things, these spheres and these weird geometrical shapes, large cubes with like loads of little, well, thousands of little black square cubes in the massive big cube. It's really weird. Then there is the big orb. It must be about two feet high. And sometimes it is completely translucent with black bands going through it from the top to the bottom. And I've also seen it with complete white with black bands going through. And this is, I would say, maybe two feet in size in height.

So i would really appreciate anyone else who has any other chronic illness or doesn't. Who sees the sort of things to get in touch with me so you know we can try and see what is actually going on because i've asked many researchers and people. I get many varying different answers. I actually asked the ai and it was not worth asking to be honest with you as all the answers it gave. Well the standard ones it would not have its guardrails so that was a great pity. I find that when I use AI, I tend to run into a lot of guardrails. And personally speaking, the AI sanitizes things so much. It just really isn't worth reading. It's quite crazy. The AI treating you like a child and a naughty child at. THAT!

I have had so many weird experiences over the years that I believe researchers of the paranormal phenomena have issue crossing subjects and subject matters as where I think most of everything is actually linked. I believe the UFO/UAP phenomena and alien extraterrestrial phenomena, and spiritual phenomena, ultra terestrial phenomena etc. all are connected in some way. I suppose it's just a question of joining all the dots and trying to make sense of it, but sometimes you need people as sounding boards who also have had similar or the same experiences. Here we can correlate and come up with some sort of hypothesis on what has been happening.

Yes, and this is where this blog goes into extreme weirdness, because along with my progressive multiple sclerosis, I seem to have other issues as well. I seem to be able to hear dead people. I seem to have precognition and suffer with premonitions. Same thing, really. Yes, I wonder what is really going on, and I've had many liminal experiences as well as ghostly experiences over my years. I have experienced astral projection. I have done automatic viewing. I have done many of those things. Yes, I've even delved deep into witchcraft and black magic and many of the dark arts.

But I have come up with the same conclusion every time. And it appears that I am very Gnostic in my views. This, I did not know until it was pointed out to me many, many months ago. So we learn something new every day. So, I am rapidly reaching this conclusion that I should research people's cases myself to see what people have in common. So, if you've experienced anything on the weird or the strange, get in contact with me in complete confidence. And we will try and discover what is really going on out there in the weird, wide world.

As I think it's a great thing for people to start talking about these things, and then we can rule out that we're not going round the bend or going mad. As me, I really want to find out what is going on with me, whether it is my chronic illness, multiple sclerosis, or I'm having other worldly things happening. I would like to know. Is that really too much to ask, I wonder? But there we go. Everybody'll put it down to me being strange or weird. Oh, he's got some sort of weirdness because he's got progressive MS, he's in a wheelchair. Well, I wasn't always in a wheelchair, I didn't always have progressive MS. And well, there we go, and I've pretty much had these views most of my life. So, weird and eccentric, I'm proud of being. So if there's anyone out there who wants to be weird and eccentric with me, then that's all good.

So whether you're in a wheelchair got a progressive illness or not, or there's nothing wrong with you whatsoever, and you've just happened on this blog just by accident, and you just happen to read this. Well, if you're going through any weirdness, please tell us, because I'm sure we'd really, really like to know, because the more people that speak about these weird extreme things that we go through, the better. Still that's it from me.

Sending everybody peace, healing, love, and light, no matter whom or whatever you may be.

Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

The phone rings at stupid-o’clock. 4am. A voice asks if it’s me as if anyone else would be answering my phone, in my bed, in my life. And I knew what came next. The words arrived like a polite hit-and-run:

He’s gone.

A few weeks shy of ninety. Restless sleep, family at the bedside, curtain down, lights out, roll credits. If endings have to happen, fine do it quietly with the people who love you. Very tasteful. Five stars on TripAdvisor: Would die again.

I wasn’t there. Because New Zealand is thousands of miles away and my body is… well, let’s just say progressive MS is the world’s shittest tour manager. But we did the long game: Skype, WhatsApp, years of digging deep, arguing, laughing, comparing scars across a cable that pretends it’s a conversation and sometimes actually is.

We had a lot in common mostly that we were both adopted at birth, which is destiny’s way of saying: “Good luck out there, kid. Try not to break on re-entry.” I only met him when he came to Cardiff for the millennium. Imagine that: you’re supposed to be dazzled by fireworks, and instead you meet your own face with slightly different mileage.

Later, before my health slammed the travel door shut, Albertine and I clawed together enough cash to fly over and meet the half-brothers, half-sisters, full-size family. Legends, the lot of them made us feel like we’d always belonged, even if it took half a lifetime to arrive. After that it was back to screens and time zones and the emotional juggling act that passes for modern kinship.

Tuesday was his last call. He said he loved me. I said I loved him. Sometimes the Universe lets you finish the sentence before it flips the table.

He used to say it straight: “Crossing the veil.” Fine. He’s crossed it. He’s through. He’s taken the midnight ferry to the Quiet Side. If you’re listening, old man: you’ve still got signal here. I can’t guarantee Tom the Weed-Whacker won’t interrupt, but you know how it is in this house liminal doors everywhere and not a single Do Not Disturb sign that works.

I’m sad. I’m grateful. I’m furious. I’m relieved. I’m all of it. Grief is a nightclub with no fire exits, and the DJ plays your memories until you’re sick. But I’m also proud we found each other at all—two adoptees, late to the party, still managing to say the one thing that mattered before the lights went out.

So cross the veil, Dad. I’ll hold the line here. Frankie will bark at the shadows. Albertine will hold the fort. And I’ll keep watch, like I do, because that’s the job: Watcher among watchers. If you’ve got any good gossip from the other side, you know where to find me. The hedge is still a door. The domes are probably still there. I’ll bring the cheese.

And yes I love you too.

Warlock Dark.... your son

“Grief is a nightclub with no fire exits, and the DJ plays your memories until you’re sick.”

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.