VardØger
(or, The Journal of Percy Doore)
Journal Note
October 6, 2002
You can call me Percy Doore, or VardØge—I’m not sure who I am anymore, or at least at times so it appears; in Santiago, Chile, I was hospitalized a year ago or so (October, 2001), for a chronic neurological disorder, and here is what I wrote in my journal notes, and what took place, of which now I am about to reedit for posterity sake—and clearer notes, for those who wish to try to understand the mind, if not the second self:
“I had undergone electrical stimulating a few days ago to my left temporoparietal junction ((otherwise known as: where both the temporal and parietal lobs meet) (at the Sylvain Fissure))—producing an out of body experience, which manifested a double-walker (or otherwise crowned as, VardØger/doppelganger). To be frank and honest, or as truthful as I know how to be—it was as if my ghost, my double stepped out of me, out of my personal space, although this other person was a younger me by forty-years, and there I lay, motionless, as he stumbled about and stretched as if from a long sleep, just awakened. I should mention—at least in passing: it was as if I had an evil double that laid dormant in a grave, stimulated, I asked its name, “VardØge,” is all it said, arrogant and smug. Thus I had met my own—so called ghostly double.
“That night I had a nightmare, and the nightmare came about, in the morning. My double mused at me in my hospital room, as I recovered, walking about, strutting, and had placed the morning paper alongside my bed, opened to the second page, in the left hand corner read, “Mysterious person burns the Quran,” and a picture of me on the paper, but of me when I was twenty-three years old, and there I am on a rooftop of some building with several books of the Quran, with a match in hand, torching the books.” And my double said, “A little revenge for 9/11,” and laughed. Again I was amazed I had met myself, and started to think: what next?”
This now being our second meeting, he said to me, as if in passing, “Until Death reunites us (meaning my physical death) I will walk the earth, as you, without a middle name, for there are two worlds of life, it’s just a matter of awakening the other; actually, it can be done simply by looking in a mirror and summoning me (or one of us, up), but then, it is like me awakening into a dream, you see me but for a flash, then I fade back into my underneath grave, kind of, the one that you will inhabit with me later on, and in due time, shed me like snake-skin, or own me like the half-devil I am. Behold, I am part of you—but kept at a distance for good reasons. But when you do such things as a direct current into my nervous system, you pull me right out of my second world to join you in forces, willingly or unwillingly.”
It all made me question my being alive. Now as I look in the mirror I see two faces. When I rest, and drink a glass of water, I can see two faces his and mine. Call it an illusion of the mind, for that is where visions are made, but what we tend to forget as living beings, visions are real—into another world, one we own, and when we see it we don’t always recognize it, even though they vanish. It was at this time the ghost of me was becoming more real than me, so it seemed. What he was going to do next, I couldn’t phantom, but as time passed—I came to realize more and more, he really was my second, and as long as I seen that face—here and there, in reflections, I knew I was alive—although I’d never see him again—in the waking world that is, evidently, he did not want to be paired up with me, I suppose, lest he be reminded of the good side of life—which was against his nature, like a drunk doesn’t care to be drinking with a person trying to sober up, to no avail. (Reedited, October 6, 2010)”
Note: Written 10-6-2010 (No: 690)
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