Gangstalking/MKTECH Memories; True Stories of the Illuminati #3: Introduction to SFGH's PES
(*Note: This is not necessarily autobiographical, though written in the First Person, but I would not relate it if I was not convinced of the truth inherent and by posting all data under my account I am protecting my "Sources")
(*Authors note: This is mostly a boring story, and not well written, but it provides necessary background material which comes up later in my grand Illuminatus Trillogy 2012)
I had been on the run around San Francisco, without any of my medications, for about three weeks. The thing about being on Pain Management Narcotics is that if you lose them (or in my case have them stolen), you cannot get any replacements. You just have to wait for your next Doctor visit.
Today was finally the day of my M.D. appointment and I went straight there from my "Ordeal X" on Knob Hill (a truly stunning story I will have to write later). I was being followed by black SUV's and far too many gentleman who seemed like Private Security. Knob Hill had been truly end of my rope. The Illuminati had now used the Occult, blatantly, to fuck with me, in a manner I had never seen or even heard about before. I had been studying and practicing the Occult for many years, so the fact that this Magick was of a type I was unfamiliar with and in the hands of the wealthy may have been the final straw.
So I go to my excellent Jewish Doctor and tell him that my life has been turned upside down, I was being followed by unknown powers, I was afraid to go home because it had been so consistently invaded and robbed; I was at my wits end and this Doctor who had been so good to me for several years was the only person I had left to trust. He sent a Nurse to look around outside and the Nurse confirmed that there were some very unusual characters and vehicles around the Clinic. Dr. Hebrew was no joke and he had seen a few things, so he calmed me and put me into an empty room. I waited in that room until the clinic closed and then was led quickly out the back door and into the back seat of a Police Car. I had no idea where I was going or what was happening, but it had to better than what I had been experiencing (This was before the Illuminati would use some elements of the SFPD to fuck with me).
In the back seat of the car I crouched down so that I could not be seen in the car. I was not handcuffed. I listened to the Police Radio carefully and though I knew many codes, my escorts seemed to be issuing false reports and false codes, in order to throw off anyone who may have been listening. They drove me to San Francisco General Hospital (SFGH) Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES), a very small ward connected to the ER. I had never been there, or in any Psych Ward for that matter. PES was three isolation rooms, one main room with chairs and stretchers connected to a Nurses Desk behind which 4-7 Doctors, Nurses, and other staff worked, two bathrooms, and a small room of about 8 beds for sleeping.
When I got into PES they immediately placed me in one of the isolation rooms without the door locked. The atmosphere was pretty crazy. People all over the place, some nurses yelling and scolding people, and always voices on the loudspeaker saying things nonstop. In my bare isolation room the speaker in the ceiling was driving me nuts because I could not, at first, figure out what it was talking about. It kept repeating
"Room 1, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3, Room 2, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3, Room 3, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3..."
It could have been phone lines, but clearly it wasn't. I was in Room 1 and the speaker seemed to be connected directly with my brain. Based on what I was thinking, my speaker would change "Lines." It took me about 12 hours to figure out, but apparently these "Lines" were my own internal priorities. I was only thinking about 3 things mainly in this order: Line 1 Pain Medicine, Line 2 Food, and Line 3 Bathroom.
Somehow a computer was reading the surface of my mind and documenting how my Priorities moved. Sometimes I would be so hungry that Food would become "Line 1" and Medicine "Line 2," then it would change. After I figured this out the speaker became much clearer, but what kind of people would want to read the mind of crazy people?
Eventually they let me out of the isolation room and I was free to roam around the tiny ward. Some of the Nurses were really mean, for no clear reason, and some would be mean to one person but nice to another. It took me some time to find the workers who would help me and which ones to avoid. They had me sit in with a "Doctor," a youngish woman with very short bleached hair, who called herself "Dee." Little did I know that I would be seeing Dee again several times in the next year and not at PES. If she was a Psychiatrist or Psychologist she was the worst I had ever seen and I have seen plenty. Her opening line was
"Can you say you are Bi-Polar?"
I was not Bi-Polar, had never been diagnosed Bi-Polar, but I was very psychically malleable and sensitive thanks to weeks of pain, superhuman stress, a dose of 8-month lasting hallucinogen, constant pain, and then some. It seemed she wanted me badly to say I was, so I said
"I am Bi-Polar?"
"Great," she said, closing her folder, and our meeting was done.
What was that? Why would they want me documented as "Bi-Polar?" Because it is very easy to discount something a Bi-Polar person says. Instant discrediting. Then I was out in the ward and it was a mess. For lack of anything better to do I began to clean up after the other patients. One patient had wet her paper pants and left them on the floor of the bathroom. I picked them up and put them in the trash. One patient had thrown half his food plate on the floor and I picked it up and threw it away. And these cleanings had an immediate and "magickal" effect: When I cleaned up after someone, even when I had no idea who had left the trash, it would create a connection between us and the person who had littered would be psychically healed. Some recovered a lot, some a little. One of the patients came up to me and slipped a dollar in my hand. Just from cleaning up a bit I was becoming the PES class President. The Nurses/Zoo Keepers saw this and they did not like it at all. It interferred with whatever brainwashing tactics they were attempting and made me stop.
I don't remember now what they gave me, but they eventually gave me some medicine which calmed me down. But only after they injected me with Thorazine, Haldol, and Resperidal and found that none of them worked on me. Eventually the nurses stopped bothering me and I sat down next to a young man who told me his name was "Moses," which I thought was very appropriate. Moses was very happy to be in PES, saying that he came here on purpose, that he always comes here when he gets tired of being homeless, like a vacation. Moses and I got along very well and he seemed to have a calming effect on me. After a day or so in PES chaos Moses and I were moved upstairs to the longer-term psych ward of SFGH, ward "7A."
7A was much, much nicer than PES, I could tell immediately. I got there at night, when the other residents were asleep. Ward 7A was two hallways (one for males one for females) and two lounging rooms, separated by a Desk with Nurses. There was a whiteboard on the wall with all of our names on it, the name of the Nurse in charge of us, and a color, either Red, Blue, or Green. I was Red #1, Moses was Blue #3. There was also better food, and everyone was very, very nice. Often there were activities during the day. I would discover the room behind a locked door on the left of the men's hall filled with about 12 computers and 7-9 people working on them. I asked if I could check my email and one of the computer operators looked surprised to see me and gently closed the door. Nobody would explain what that room was for.
I was interviewed by a very nice doctor and asked a number of questions related to Psychic activity. I recall him asking me,
"Do you have any powers? Secret powers, for example?"
"I have limited Precognition," I admitted and he was not surprised at all.
He had me an Moses share a room, which was perfect for me, more perfect than I knew yet. The first night I slept there I woke up and Moses was standing over my bed, close to my face, as if he was doing some strange Magickal thing to me while I was sleeping or checking my breath to see if I was alive. If I woke up to this with most people I would not have been very happy about it, but Moses was so short and kind and harmless seeming that I didn't think much about it.
7A began to give me all the proper medicines I needed, like Pain Killers and Nicotine Gum, and I slowly began to recover my wits, somewhat. Using the same principles I had discovered at PES I sorta became the ward "trustee," cleaning up after everyone, but unlike PES, 7A appreciated what I was doing and encouraged me. I was again class President, liked by all, but I was still on my own 8-month hallucinatory tour. I observed the other "Red" people and the other "Blue" people and it seemed pretty clear to me: Reds, like myself, were powerful "Leaders, Senders, Influencers and Inducers" while Blues, like Moses were powerful "calming influences and healers." By putting me and Moses in the same room we sort of cancelled each other out, making a nice neutral energy. Greens I could not pin down but they seemed to be good at mediating, like say there are two Reds, and no Blue around; a Green can mediate, same for two Blues. Greens seemed the
I was at 7A for a week and met several people (and one "Robot") who I would run into later at 850 Bryant. The treatment I got by the Nurses became so subtle and strange that the thought occurred to me that they were grooming me to be President of the United States. That this was how many Presidents were made, or at least how they were trying to make future ones. I did not (and do not) want to be President. I never have. And I would go on to fight not to be for the next six months or so.
One day it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to call my (Illuminati-affiliated) Father. Who I was sort of running from. The staff got very nervous and cagey and recommended that I did not call him. Which is very unusual. It was as if they knew I was in there to hide from him and his. At any rate I eventually checked out early "against doctors orders," and I sorely wish I had not. 7A was a very nice ward and though I would return to PES a few more times, they would never let me back into 7A again.
(*Authors note: This is mostly a boring story, and not well written, but it provides necessary background material which comes up later in my grand Illuminatus Trillogy 2012)
I had been on the run around San Francisco, without any of my medications, for about three weeks. The thing about being on Pain Management Narcotics is that if you lose them (or in my case have them stolen), you cannot get any replacements. You just have to wait for your next Doctor visit.
Today was finally the day of my M.D. appointment and I went straight there from my "Ordeal X" on Knob Hill (a truly stunning story I will have to write later). I was being followed by black SUV's and far too many gentleman who seemed like Private Security. Knob Hill had been truly end of my rope. The Illuminati had now used the Occult, blatantly, to fuck with me, in a manner I had never seen or even heard about before. I had been studying and practicing the Occult for many years, so the fact that this Magick was of a type I was unfamiliar with and in the hands of the wealthy may have been the final straw.
So I go to my excellent Jewish Doctor and tell him that my life has been turned upside down, I was being followed by unknown powers, I was afraid to go home because it had been so consistently invaded and robbed; I was at my wits end and this Doctor who had been so good to me for several years was the only person I had left to trust. He sent a Nurse to look around outside and the Nurse confirmed that there were some very unusual characters and vehicles around the Clinic. Dr. Hebrew was no joke and he had seen a few things, so he calmed me and put me into an empty room. I waited in that room until the clinic closed and then was led quickly out the back door and into the back seat of a Police Car. I had no idea where I was going or what was happening, but it had to better than what I had been experiencing (This was before the Illuminati would use some elements of the SFPD to fuck with me).
In the back seat of the car I crouched down so that I could not be seen in the car. I was not handcuffed. I listened to the Police Radio carefully and though I knew many codes, my escorts seemed to be issuing false reports and false codes, in order to throw off anyone who may have been listening. They drove me to San Francisco General Hospital (SFGH) Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES), a very small ward connected to the ER. I had never been there, or in any Psych Ward for that matter. PES was three isolation rooms, one main room with chairs and stretchers connected to a Nurses Desk behind which 4-7 Doctors, Nurses, and other staff worked, two bathrooms, and a small room of about 8 beds for sleeping.
When I got into PES they immediately placed me in one of the isolation rooms without the door locked. The atmosphere was pretty crazy. People all over the place, some nurses yelling and scolding people, and always voices on the loudspeaker saying things nonstop. In my bare isolation room the speaker in the ceiling was driving me nuts because I could not, at first, figure out what it was talking about. It kept repeating
"Room 1, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3, Room 2, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3, Room 3, Line 1, Line 2, Line 3..."
It could have been phone lines, but clearly it wasn't. I was in Room 1 and the speaker seemed to be connected directly with my brain. Based on what I was thinking, my speaker would change "Lines." It took me about 12 hours to figure out, but apparently these "Lines" were my own internal priorities. I was only thinking about 3 things mainly in this order: Line 1 Pain Medicine, Line 2 Food, and Line 3 Bathroom.
Somehow a computer was reading the surface of my mind and documenting how my Priorities moved. Sometimes I would be so hungry that Food would become "Line 1" and Medicine "Line 2," then it would change. After I figured this out the speaker became much clearer, but what kind of people would want to read the mind of crazy people?
Eventually they let me out of the isolation room and I was free to roam around the tiny ward. Some of the Nurses were really mean, for no clear reason, and some would be mean to one person but nice to another. It took me some time to find the workers who would help me and which ones to avoid. They had me sit in with a "Doctor," a youngish woman with very short bleached hair, who called herself "Dee." Little did I know that I would be seeing Dee again several times in the next year and not at PES. If she was a Psychiatrist or Psychologist she was the worst I had ever seen and I have seen plenty. Her opening line was
"Can you say you are Bi-Polar?"
I was not Bi-Polar, had never been diagnosed Bi-Polar, but I was very psychically malleable and sensitive thanks to weeks of pain, superhuman stress, a dose of 8-month lasting hallucinogen, constant pain, and then some. It seemed she wanted me badly to say I was, so I said
"I am Bi-Polar?"
"Great," she said, closing her folder, and our meeting was done.
What was that? Why would they want me documented as "Bi-Polar?" Because it is very easy to discount something a Bi-Polar person says. Instant discrediting. Then I was out in the ward and it was a mess. For lack of anything better to do I began to clean up after the other patients. One patient had wet her paper pants and left them on the floor of the bathroom. I picked them up and put them in the trash. One patient had thrown half his food plate on the floor and I picked it up and threw it away. And these cleanings had an immediate and "magickal" effect: When I cleaned up after someone, even when I had no idea who had left the trash, it would create a connection between us and the person who had littered would be psychically healed. Some recovered a lot, some a little. One of the patients came up to me and slipped a dollar in my hand. Just from cleaning up a bit I was becoming the PES class President. The Nurses/Zoo Keepers saw this and they did not like it at all. It interferred with whatever brainwashing tactics they were attempting and made me stop.
I don't remember now what they gave me, but they eventually gave me some medicine which calmed me down. But only after they injected me with Thorazine, Haldol, and Resperidal and found that none of them worked on me. Eventually the nurses stopped bothering me and I sat down next to a young man who told me his name was "Moses," which I thought was very appropriate. Moses was very happy to be in PES, saying that he came here on purpose, that he always comes here when he gets tired of being homeless, like a vacation. Moses and I got along very well and he seemed to have a calming effect on me. After a day or so in PES chaos Moses and I were moved upstairs to the longer-term psych ward of SFGH, ward "7A."
7A was much, much nicer than PES, I could tell immediately. I got there at night, when the other residents were asleep. Ward 7A was two hallways (one for males one for females) and two lounging rooms, separated by a Desk with Nurses. There was a whiteboard on the wall with all of our names on it, the name of the Nurse in charge of us, and a color, either Red, Blue, or Green. I was Red #1, Moses was Blue #3. There was also better food, and everyone was very, very nice. Often there were activities during the day. I would discover the room behind a locked door on the left of the men's hall filled with about 12 computers and 7-9 people working on them. I asked if I could check my email and one of the computer operators looked surprised to see me and gently closed the door. Nobody would explain what that room was for.
I was interviewed by a very nice doctor and asked a number of questions related to Psychic activity. I recall him asking me,
"Do you have any powers? Secret powers, for example?"
"I have limited Precognition," I admitted and he was not surprised at all.
He had me an Moses share a room, which was perfect for me, more perfect than I knew yet. The first night I slept there I woke up and Moses was standing over my bed, close to my face, as if he was doing some strange Magickal thing to me while I was sleeping or checking my breath to see if I was alive. If I woke up to this with most people I would not have been very happy about it, but Moses was so short and kind and harmless seeming that I didn't think much about it.
7A began to give me all the proper medicines I needed, like Pain Killers and Nicotine Gum, and I slowly began to recover my wits, somewhat. Using the same principles I had discovered at PES I sorta became the ward "trustee," cleaning up after everyone, but unlike PES, 7A appreciated what I was doing and encouraged me. I was again class President, liked by all, but I was still on my own 8-month hallucinatory tour. I observed the other "Red" people and the other "Blue" people and it seemed pretty clear to me: Reds, like myself, were powerful "Leaders, Senders, Influencers and Inducers" while Blues, like Moses were powerful "calming influences and healers." By putting me and Moses in the same room we sort of cancelled each other out, making a nice neutral energy. Greens I could not pin down but they seemed to be good at mediating, like say there are two Reds, and no Blue around; a Green can mediate, same for two Blues. Greens seemed the
I was at 7A for a week and met several people (and one "Robot") who I would run into later at 850 Bryant. The treatment I got by the Nurses became so subtle and strange that the thought occurred to me that they were grooming me to be President of the United States. That this was how many Presidents were made, or at least how they were trying to make future ones. I did not (and do not) want to be President. I never have. And I would go on to fight not to be for the next six months or so.
One day it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to call my (Illuminati-affiliated) Father. Who I was sort of running from. The staff got very nervous and cagey and recommended that I did not call him. Which is very unusual. It was as if they knew I was in there to hide from him and his. At any rate I eventually checked out early "against doctors orders," and I sorely wish I had not. 7A was a very nice ward and though I would return to PES a few more times, they would never let me back into 7A again.
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