This isn’t a story about Glenn Miller or me…
As I remember it; in my childhood Glenn Miller would spill slowly and soothingly; from what passed as stereos in those days; out into the streets. A few houses down the road from my Mother’s home there lived this amazingly obese woman, huge by all standards and everyone thought she was the sweetest woman always caring about others always helping laughing and cheerful to the adults. But to us kids she was as twisted and cruel as any Viper. It was, as things of this delicate nature often are, not a fit subject for children to discuss with grown-ups. The ‘fat lady ‘as we called her knew this and used it as a screen to hide her true nature.
You see this story isn’t about a fat lady or Glenn miller or me. It does however concern the very nature of perceptions. The way we see determines what we see and the way we think determines how we interpret that which we see or want to see. We see things, as we need to see them in order to survive, on our streets in our homes beside the fat lady’s and henpecked misfortune we happen across.
Miss Crazy Daisy Crane saw all of this, even back then on my street across from the fat ladies house. Crazy Daisy didn’t see the future ...she was the future. My future Our future The Future.
There were 'certain' experiments performed in Germany during the Great War. This was done in the name of sciences that made men shiver and fear the night. The brutality and monstrosity of their nature, the hateful scope of the fervor of knowledge that rode the tide, which broke upon these times. We capitalized on the results just the same.
In grey rooms the government and military pay men to sit and think They think of death they perceive the demise of others and wait to see if it works. Telepathy and remote killing. Assassination by thought.
What if it had worked?
What if it did? Would then train a generation to think dead and entire race or did they already?
They think of plans within plans within schemes within schemes and it all goes forth in a quiet movement called society.
Fear is an element not lost on the powers that control that which influences these men’s actions, these men thoughts and this power is not the govt. or the military nor industry
This power is the new power of the day. A black unseen power that moves without concern towards an unseen goal within its grasp.
She worked on a project call MANDATE and they were raised from test tubes like lab rats with genetically altered DNA and trained to think in terms of time trained in special dynamics and the physics of dimensional transportation and quantum theories of particle displacement in a chaotic environment.
So many experiments and tests were performed in those days. Some just to increase the numbers and the amount of paperwork trying to confuse and bury them secrecy and fear ruled the planet and concealment was a virtue at work camouflage is an art. Double talk is the language of love.
Trained from birth tested for what best use could be made of them. She had never seen outside the compound fences except in her mind. The drape grey lifeless cells and incubation wards a mini generation of caged minds.
All these things she told another or me of in one way in bits and pieces. Crazy Daisy they called her but if you cared enough to listen it wasn’t that crazy after all In fact it was crazy not to believe her.
One day as I remember it, it was a fine summer day the kind that was none to warm or humid you know? The kind when the girls wore that cotton summer print dresses that make you glad to be alive on such days.
A day when all is fair and proper. A day of sometime now past, when life had smiles and hopes. And women in cotton dresses carried flowers and said ‘Hello’ to passers-by’s. A time when people enjoyed company and afternoon lemonade. A time when we were still civilized, a time before society was introduced to The fear. A time before we lost all innocence and abandoned all hope in exchange for The fear.
The fear was a way to control massive populations through slow selective techniques in mind control the goal being a population afraid to do anything but the most menial tasks of working and consuming.
Daisy told me she had killed a man, not just any man but a man in the future. That she had thought him to death. Made his veins tighten until his heart froze. Then she let it all go and blood rushed his brain so fast his nerves twisted like a train wreck and tore the life from him in a desperate choking cry of fear he let go of everything he was or would be.
She saw me then looking afraid and not believing her. Saw me looking for the door a window a way out of her house her thoughts her world.
That’s when she looked at me with what I would later recognize as her sorrow. Looked at me so soft my heart would never know anything like it again.
She stood there in that soft cotton dress with a breeze floating in the window playing at the curtains causing them to billow across her piano.
She looked at me and said
"I just need someone to believe me you see. I need to know I'M not going crazy you see... I'M sorry "she said And it crossed between us what she had done She transferred it into me directly with a thought. In a microcosm she had put The Fear into me for them. She had taken my innocence because of her need.
And with that soft loving tenderness rolling down her face. Gentle tears of apology trickle across a wet cheek. She reached out and took my hand, she needed more she needed me to understand she needed anyone to understand her believe her. With a jolt it hit my mind. At first I thought she was killing me, like she had killed the man. But she gripped me hard and held me tight as I rose and could move no further.
I had to stand there starring petrified into her eyes absorbing her.
It may have taken a second. A few minutes at most. But those images, those feelings, those scenes she passed into me would stay here forever. After that I knew she wasn’t crazy. I knew beyond a doubt she was from the future. I had seen and felt it. The future was inside me now and the truth was with it.
Even at that young terrible age I knew everything would be different. I knew I had grown up in a moment that will stay frozen in my mind forever. In her moments in her future, so dark, so foreboding I still shudder at the thought of it.
Crazy Daisy died on a cool November afternoon that same year. But she died knowing she wasn’t crazy. I knew that she came from the future. And that she had simply thought herself into the past, our present time. A safer time.
Without a thought the government had bred her to kill. But what they didn’t know was that this experimental generation had it's own mutations and her gift wasn’t murder by telepathy. Her true gift was travel. And when she discovered she could travel to places in time that she could picture in her mind she did so. To escape that laboratory of tears pain and The Fear.
Still I think of her today in a simple cotton dress. Bouncing, gliding as she walked in the sun. A faded floral print bonnet in hand, twirling slow circles in a sun streak blasted living room. I see her in my minds eye the young girl of her, lost in time, spinning slowly catching a moment of life. A life that she had stolen from them. Moments that she needed to share with me just so that she knew it was true her.
Now, for me as well with that terrible truth freeing me I am lost in time. A moment of her choosing. My time Our time. That moment when for a Crazy lady and a young boy all was right in the universe all innocent and pure exchanging energies on a level of grace seldom achieved.
It was true, so very true that it is a moment in time. I now guide my life by waiting for that perfect moment when time will stand still again in perfect human feeling of innocence regained in a state of perpetual grace tranquility and beauty seldom seen.
A moment untarnished by time. A moment of clarity and perfection when the entire world is right. The universe suspended in a thought of frozen oxygen.
And in the streets I can sometimes hear Glenn Millers soft overtures spilling into a summer evenings. There is no war and all is right for a splendid moment in time. Women with happy unforced smiles say hello to strangers without fear, and accept a gentleman’s offered help. Not because she needs it, but because it is simply a human thing to share each other’s companionship. To share a thought on a lovely day. And they talk of the weather and all things nice while their hearts glow and brown paper bags with groceries crinkle and crunch in the fading light. She will prepare a modest dinner for herself. In a small second story apartment as music seeps into the soft nights. Her cotton dress feels like freedom; as she twirls in slow circles remembering innocence. In a time forgotten. By a brutish world where civilization has outgrown itself .Our world Our future Our present, her past. With her truth being within me and now within you the she has created a future without. The Fear.
