Cinema Theoretica: “Transcendence”

cinema theoretica

“Transcendence”I

Post by Jennifer Kiley

Post Friday 11th July 2014

 

A MOVIE THAT PEAKS MY CURIOSITY & PURE FASCINATION WITH A.I. WOULDN’T IT BE GRANDE IF THIS IS A WAY FOR HUMANS TO GAIN IMMORTALITY. I HEARD JUST RECENTLY IT ISN’T FAR INTO THE FUTURE THE POSSIBILITIES ARE THERE. WE MAY JUST SOMEDAY BE ABLE TO UPLOAD OUR MENTAL AWARENESS INTO A COMPUTER. WE COULD GO ON CREATING THOUGHTS. HYPOTHESIZING THEORIES. GROWING IN WISDOM. FEELINGS. I WONDER IF ONE HAS TRANSCENDED WHETHER FEELINGS WOULD BE EXPERIENCED? IN THIS NEW FOUND STATE OF BEING. IT WOULD STILL BE BEING. DO WE NEED A BODY TO BE ALIVE? SUSTENANCE. WHAT IS SUSTENANCE WITHOUT A BODY NEEDING TO BE FED? WOULD OUR SUSTENANCE COME FROM NEW & CONTINUED DISCOVERIES OF AWARENESS? JUST SOME THOUGHTS I AM THROWING OUT FOR PONDERING. IF I WOULDN’T EVER DIE TRANSCENDENCE APPEARS TO BE [ONCE THE KINKS ARE WORKED OUT] A PERFECT CONTINUATION. WOULD WE MISS THE TACTILE CONNECTIONS? COULD A COMPUTER BE TAUGHT [PROGRAMMED] TO CAUSE US TO SIMULATE THE SENSATION OF TOUCH & OTHER OF OUR SENSES. EXCITING. CANNOT WAIT UNTIL THE RELEASE OF “TRANSCENDENCE”ON DVD or STREAMING.  I <3 JOHNNY DEPP

“Transcendence” Official Trailer 2014

Two leading computer scientists work toward their goal of Technological Singularity, as a radical anti-technology organization fights to prevent them from creating a world where computers can transcend the abilities of the human brain.

“Transcendence”: There is a time factor involved. A terminally ill scientist downloads his consciousness into a computer. This grants him power beyond his wildest dreams, and soon he becomes unstoppable.

Sci-Fi Thriller. Dr. Will Caster (Johnny Depp) is the foremost researcher in the field of Artificial Intelligence, working to create a sentient machine that combines the collective intelligence of everything ever known with the full range of human emotions. His highly controversial experiments have made him famous, but they have also made him the prime target of anti-technology extremists who will do whatever it takes to stop him. However, in their attempt to destroy Will, they inadvertently become the catalyst for him to succeed-to be a participant in his own transcendence. For his wife Evelyn (Rebecca Hall) and best friend Max Waters (Paul Bettany), both fellow researchers, the question is not if they can…but if they should. Their worst fears are realized as Will’s thirst for knowledge evolves into a seemingly omnipresent quest for power, to what end is unknown. The only thing that is becoming terrifyingly clear is there may be no way to stop him. IMdB…

What Is Transcendence?

PG-13, 1 hr. 59 min. Drama, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Directed By: Wally Pfister Written By: Jack Paglen

In Theaters: Apr 18, 2014 Wide

Counting the Days for Release on DVD or Streaming

Warner Bros. Pictures

Cast

Johnny Depp…….Dr. Will Caster

Paul Bettany…….Max Waters

Rebecca Hall…….Evelyn

Morgan Freeman
Kate Mara
Cole Hauser

Private Writings: Chapter #68 – “Loving You Loving Me”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]

“Loving You Loving Me”
Private Writings #68
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 1st July 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT
Not Suitable For Children.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

1 alice-down-the-rabbithole [use best one]

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts

to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss

but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #68 “Loving You Loving Me”

Tuesday 23rd December 2008

Dear Annie,

Once again I am writing to you after an insomniac’s night of twisted shadows. But mostly, my sleep was shallow. I feel more upset now than I did when I was writing to you before my dreams that turned into ‘the shadow’ nightmares. It was too bad for me to remember. She wants me to be tortured and she sure as Hell doesn’t want me telling you the secrets.

Between you and ‘the shadow’ you’ve got me twisted inside out and upside down. I am very confused about what I feel because I don’t know what I feel except I think it feels like what being in love would feel like. But I don’t even know what being in love is. This is something we really need to talk about.

When I feel love it wants me to tell you something. Something so hard for me to say. I wish I didn’t have to say it out loud. People get crazy when you say these words to them. But since I need for you to know I will say the words. Make believe I am saying these words out loud. Here I go, Annie, you mean everything to me and I never could bear losing you. But to be sure you know what my true feelings are I have to tell you, that I love you.

I know it is a powerful feeling. What we have between us, as therapist and client, is powerful. The energy is sometimes all consuming. What can I say, I know what I feel. It may not be real to you but it feels damned real to me and the next time I write I am going to tell you as honestly and directly as possible, what exactly I understand to be my feelings for you. When I tell you, I love you, I mean each word. The “I” that is spoken of is what is my Identity. Since I have a difficult time determining that, my commitment to what words I use are as strong as my connection with reality will allow.

As far as talking to ghosts, I will continue writing down what they are telling me. And I will ask Angie specifically, “What do you want from me?” But I figured out the answer to that question already. Angie wants me to help her catch her murderer. Hopefully without them trying to murder me first, the one who murdered Angie, the ghosts aren’t murdering me.

Don’t pay me any attention. This has developed into one of the most in sane weeks yet at Redcliff so far. Most of my section is filled with non-violent women, who have no idea who they are or why they are here. Helen is still completely silent. What happened to push her into the quiet space suddenly. She loved telling her stories. Even if she didn’t realize the stories she thought she was making up were actually about real people from her life. Someone filled me in on that.

And Lynn is getting rather obsessed with me. She follows me. Doesn’t say much but when any words pass her lips, it is very important to listen. Someone brushed her off the other day & I thought she was going to murder her. She went physical on her. They had to give her a shot & now she has disappeared. I miss her shadowing me. What do you think of that? I want a person to be near me. A stranger. Not me at all.

Even so, my feelings are more leveled off. Got some truth out from the shadows into the light. Light always frees the spirit of the secrets so they don’t need to hide any longer. It is such a relief when the secrets are set lose into freedom. They aren’t sure exactly what to do after they aren’t hidden any longer. I would prefer they would just fade away once they are no longer lethal.

You may ask, how are they so lethal? They could mean Death. Death by Murder or Death by Design or Death by Suicide. All are Death to the Soul and Innocence.

This feels like a good place to stop. While I still have the ability to think.

I switch up my thinking and feelings all the time. Bear in mind, a feeling today may change in a nano moment. The fickleness of my heart and mind breathe with the chemicals mixing inside my brain.

The brew that is true got lost in the blue that is the hue of the color in your eyes.

A visit with the March Hare & the Mad Hatter is pre-ordained to happen while confined in a facility that is relegated to those who seem to have lost control of their own lives, minds, confusions & chaos.

That is why I am going to stop now. Will finish it up in the morning & send it off then.

I know I don’t have to ask this but I feel I must, “Please don’t judge anything that comes out of this addled mind.” I only know how to speak the truth. Never wanted to learn how to lie. Maybe a “white” lie that would mean nothing but would hurt someone’s feelings. But then I don’t consider that lying. And even then I don’t often do that either. Censor my honesty. Telling the truth is a compulsion. It is most likely because of having to hide everything when I was growing up. Silence & more silence was the better way to survive. I may have survived but for what? So I could enter Hell when I was finally free from the first Hell?

I need to get stoned. Being here put me on edge & my panic attacks have blown out my guts. I am in constant pain physically as well as mentally & emotionally. I need to laugh. In the morning I am going to find something to write to you that is funny. I promise.

Goodnight. Ciao Ciao!!!

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher - Home to Madison & Scottie   Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

 

Private Writings: Chapter #67 – “Twisting Inside Shouting Out Loud”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]“Twisting Inside Shouting Out Loud”
Private Writings #67
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 24th June 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT
Not Suitable For Children.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

1 alice-down-the-rabbithole [use best one]

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts

to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss

but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #67 “Twisting Inside Shouting Out Loud”

Tuesday 16th December 2008

Dear Annie,

If I don’t know who I am, how will I know what I should do?

I have been writing non-stop except for sleep, creating a variety of ideas for my play. I’m rather exhausted. But can’t stop needing to create.

I have been having these phrases popping up inside my head. I finally wrote them down on a blank page on WORD. I am going to use them as the beginning of a scene.

I have to believe I am not going to grow old inside this weird mind melting place. Just wiser and I will only allow them to take a touch of my madness. I will need and use the rest for myself.

I think I am about to write you one of my more in sane letters, much more in sane.

I found a bloody good twist for the play. “Far more things occur in dark spaces and from the other side than we are aware of.” My own quote, made it up just now. Play on one of Shakespeare’s lines. Did a few modifications.

It keeps me up late, thinking about my play. I want to find the exact words & to keep my characters to as few lines as possible & still contain what my story is meant to be. What it is that I am trying to say with all the words I give the actors.

I was searching for songs last night to inspire me. Listened to great stuff & found the pieces of music I was looking for. One song stood out. I listened to it repeatedly. Doing that takes me to the zone. It lifts me up and gives my subconscious something to work out for me, and when the Muse is ready, she feeds me what I am going to do.

The play is meant to be about love – the strongest most powerful energy in the universe. It is also about love that is going to slip away. Knowing it is going to happen before anyone else does, even the person it is going to happen to.

How would you like to have that ability? The power to know things before they happen to other people. My play has an element of that contained within it. Don’t want to give too much a way. You have to see it performed on stage to find out what happens. This is only the second process I am in now. Living life was the first. The second is fictionalizing my experiences with what I’ve learned from living. There is a third & eventually a sequel which will lead me into the fourth part, writing the screenplay. That may end the process or open up into another world.

I may be sounding vague but I like to be a mystery. Mysterious. It is what keeps me alive – wondering & trying to understand what is inside what we don’t know or ever will know while we are mortal.

Since I am mortal, I would like to ask the question Why. Why am I talking to ghosts and they are returning their side of the conversation. I may think a long time before I decide whether you will ever see any of this letter. I will be honest just the same.

I see dead people. I use to say I saw dead people when I was asleep. But now they have decided to visit me when I am trying to get back my sanity. After my group sessions or after I’ve met with Dr. V. They even interrupt me when I am writing to you. Tosh may not know you but Angie sure does. She has been hanging around you until she found me & Dr. George.

I need sleep, so I am going to finish this letter tomorrow, unless I wake up in the middle of the night. Sleeping here without my weed is making my insomnia unbearable. When I do sleep it is just tossing the covers all over. When my eyes open in an attempt to view the world to see if it is still here, I find myself completely twisted up in the covers like I was playing B & D.

Chin Chin Annie. I will think of you as I try to fall asleep. Your face will calm me. If I hear your voice, it would just add to my calmness.

Love Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher - Home to Madison & Scottie   Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

 

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings #65 – “I Said Hello You Said Goodbye”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]

“I Said Hello You Said Goodbye”
Private Writings #65
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 10th June 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT
Not Suitable For Children.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts

to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss

but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #65. “I Said Hello You Said Goodbye”

Tuesday 2nd December 2008

Dear Annie,

Tell me what it is to be sexually attracted to someone whether you are a lesbian or straight. I feel so fucked up and suicidal right now and overwhelmed with anxiety. Confusion fills my mind. I need to draw from something sane to stabilize myself.

Something wants to take over my body or thoughts. It could be the voice I feel is coming from a ghost.

There has also been something very bizarre occurrences of objects moving, sudden winds, books fall off shelves, rather more like books being thrown off bookshelves and desks by invisible forces. The aberration has been very angry today and quite destructive. It’s either a ghost or my telekinetic energy mad as hell and sending out tremendous amounts from a negative energy flow, causing waves of the power to move objects and send them sailing.

It is odd but I have no feelings. I’ve shut them down. I may be trying to escape but I can’t. My life won’t leave me alone. It demands attention. It doesn’t like being all fucked up. My life is always with me no matter where I try to escape or into what insane state of mind that I produce. All the shit will still be here facing me down. There’s far too much pressure for me to handle safely. I have cracked in many vulnerable places. They feel like they could blow my mind away at any moment in & outside of time. I believe the rest of what is “me” would disappear with it.

For a quick moment, I would like to profess or confess, I HATE MY FAMILY, the part that tried destroying me. The pedophiles who forced me into experiencing their perverse needs and desires. They satisfied them on me. Stealing my innocence inside of their perversions. Presently, my gut feels like they have cut my insides open in order to watch me fall out & splatter over everything & everywhere. It is the most disgusting display of gross intentions.

I am Humpty Dumpty & no matter how hard I have tried, No One Seems To Be Able To Succeed In Putting Me Back Together Again. Nor Will They Ever, I Feel. Hope feels lost amongst the ruins of my once intricately commanding mind. I have failed or haven’t succeeded beating them back enough, far away from my center of being. Their corruption has infected me & I haven’t found there is a cure for the poisons they possess.

If I could have the dream life I wished for, not much would change. I love my new family. I never see the old one. The grandparents I love are gone. My grandmother is with me, inside every part of me, especially my heart & soul. She lifts me up into the sky to soar while I dream. When I am awake, my Muse & my grandmother are quite the pair when they work on me together. Sparks fly out of my fingers as I type on the keyboard. As the words appear on the page, I can see the flames licking the screen & feel their warmth caressing the meaning from out of the free flowing air around us. It is quite mystical & pixelated when those two are involved.

What I don’t understand is why was I born if life were only here to crush me? I feel my chest taking in air & the pain engulfs me. Something punches my body while I sleep. It feels like I lose every battle on any night they’re out to batter me. Who “they” are, I would conjecture they are “EVIL” & belong to the deepest Blackness where demons hide out in the Dark. I was born Good & it has always been necessary to try to destroy that strong element inside of me. But I am a fighter with a strength coming from the Unknown, which seems to want me to win the battle. All of the Battles, even if it feels like I have already lost & resigned.

Can’t wait to see your face looking back at me. I need to see your eyes. They give me strength & kindness. I need to be close to you & want you to hold me. Make me a promise, never to let me go.

Time for Group Therapy. We are talking about what we Feel is Real Today. What the Fuck is Real? It doesn’t exist. Reality. It is what is the Illusion. Fantasy & Imagination Are the True World while We Are Awake. HELL is where We Live when We Trip through Our Own Private Dreams. The Theory that the World Is Watching Is Only A Way To Jerk the Trolls of Nightmares Around into Believing in the Fake Reality. The One that Is Presented to Us through the Faux Media. It Is All A Manipulated Illusionary Perception We Are Meant To Believe In.

I will leave that last thought with you to Ponder. Maybe she [Me] has lost her mind somewhere in the swamp of Hell & Fire.

Don’t worry I am still here somewhere inside of my own mind.

Will write more soon.

Just How Many More Days Do I Have To Count Until I Am Released From My Own Private Prison?

Love Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #64 – “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]“Private Writings: A Novel of True Fantasy
Chapter #64 - “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 3rd June 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT

Not Suitable For Children.

All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #64 “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”

Tuesday 25th November 2008

Dear Annie,

I have written you a note regarding a brilliant young woman on a video talking on Bipolar. I watched it here at Redcliff Psychiatric Institute a few nights ago. It might have been. Time is tripping on its self. Can’t remember if it is the beginning of the week or just ending. It’s all relative, I suppose. I am including an attachment in my email. It may be too large. If so I will mail video to you via registered mail. I want to be certain it is received.

Maybe you do or don’t realize it, but I have been writing to you for just over a year. We reached one goal. You becoming my psychoanalyst & my feeling heard. You have motivated me to heal. Who would know that demons would be constantly invading my mind, my body, my spirit & my emotional state. It lives for lying in wait so it can shock me or torment me with uncertainty and lies.

I’d like to tell you about the video I am sending to you. An intelligent young woman talks calmly and with a depth of sensitively about Bipolar. What she says is enlightening and has given me more insight into my Bipolar and how it affects me. Most of the time I am not aware when I am manic. Being depressed and suicidal is easier to read but being high on misfiring brain chemicals is not quite as obvious to me.

Scottie is always telling me when I am being manic. I really am not aware of the racing thoughts rushing out of my brain. Subjects fly out of by mouth in rapid fire. When I am working, it’s not unusual to have multiple projects happening at any given moment. I thrive on the action and fly high inside the inspiration my muse is feeding me. So much to unveil & never time. Time whips by while the sun sets & rises way too quickly. Who thinks about sleep when you feel so alive and alert.

Anyway, I was just adding on this note to mention the video. Please watch. When I get out of here & back into my world & my life, things will settle down. Then we can work on getting my life back under control & try to clean out my life of all the regenerates who suck my blood and energy, leaching it away from me.

I’d like us to listen to this video together at our next session in your office. We can talk about what we both feel is relevant. It may actually help draw me into my gaining a better mindset. Maybe I will learn enough to help me find some self-confidence inside.

Once I’m able to get back into writing & painting, I will do better I feel confident I will recover. At present I feel nothing. No more suicide attempts. No letting people into my life who are fakes & phonies who just want a connection. Always trying to use me to get to Scottie. The sycophantic, talent buried deep enough not to be reached until they have another incarnation. Trying to work me when Scottie seems disinterested, or she just doesn’t see the actor behind their masks.

All those masks that the want-to-be’s wear. I have a theory, which will probably sound crazy, but I think Oscar Wilde understood it too well when he wrote “The Picture of Dorian Grey.” Many want-to-be’s are so diabolical, they probably do have a version of a Dorian Grey portrait in their attics. What must some of the worst look like. And I don’t mean worst actors, the portraits probably belong to those amongst the Great Ones.

No hypothetical conjectures on who I think are working with the Devil and living under the influence of Evil every moment. The rumors of the famous killing off fallen stars so they can suck up what fame was left. They bask in the Brightness of the Light of the Prematurely Dead who die under unusual circumstances, usually connected to drug overdoses. Don’t you just find these deaths mysterious and disturbing? No one will ever admit openly they are murdering Stars that once were or are now too much trouble.

Keep these thoughts stored in your mind. Think not that I speak from a mind filled with madness. That is another state of mind to store in your memory. The Original Star system may have overworked their Stars but the system really made an effort to actually create the Stars who glowed as Bright as a rainbow star high up in the sky. Today, we are lucky to have actors who want to act and do not seek the “celebrity.”

Celebrity is a whole other experience than being a Star. A Star emanates pure blissful centeredness. They are Pure Light. You can see it when they are up on the Silver Screen. A certain aura circles around their whole being. At the center of the Star Circle are the acting magic of Movie Stars like Greta Garbo, Katherine Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Cary Grant [has a European Delicacy, yet came up from Vaudeville], Humphrey Bogart, James Stewart, Spencer Tracy, the Barrymores, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Shearer, Bette Davis, Joan Fontaine, Olivia de Havilland, Barbara Stanwyck, Carole Lombard, William Powell, Myrna Loy, Irene Dunne, Lawrence Olivier, Vivien Leigh, Ingrid Bergman, Clark Gable, while Gable feels like he came from the other-side-of-the-tracks. Not sure if he did but feelings count in how you respond to your favorite Stars. She wanted to be alone, only because she was never left alone but instead she was constantly pursued by the paparazzi, however back then called the PR Department of the Studios.

I just want to concentrate on my art, not on the climbers.

I am so looking forward to seeing you & getting a long hug. The peace I find with you, sets off the Zen in my mind.

Hopefully, it won’t be too long before I get released.

I miss you & love you & need you now. It is so painful being without you.

World Bipolar Day | Sarah Harmer

Watch this video & we can talk about it sometime after I get out of Redcliff.

For now I need to stop.

Love Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© madison taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time - Composer John Barry

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #61- “From Me To You”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013Private Writings: Chapter #61 – “From Me To You”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 13th May 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #61 “From Me To You”

Tuesday 4th November 2008

Dear Annie,

The other night, while I was writing in “A Writer’s Diary” a most bizarre idea occurred to me. Actually, it was two ideas. The first is not so bad to talk about. I decided I wanted to create a scrapbook of photographs of an actress I have a deep & lasting crush on. We’ve never met. I want to write her a script she would love. My fantasy is she accepts & I get to work with her. Running lines. Having her over for drinks, non-alcoholic or not.

I prefer weed to drink. More a sense of control. Your mind doesn’t get muddled. It floods out like a dam broken on a roaring river. All is washed away & awareness becomes acutely sensitive to every stimuli within my reach. But back to my ideas.

The sordid idea that came to me felt so freeing. I decided to created “A Writer’s Diary” that really told & showed everything I was brave enough to release from being a prisoner in the darkest room in the back of my mind. Mostly unreachable. Only set off by triggers from the ghosts that traveled the road inside of my past.

And now they are slowly returning with their stories of what they did to me. More like their lies & denials of anything ever occurring. I am only seeking attention. No one ever touched me. I have such horrible, brutal details from my childhood abuse living inside my conscious mind. Some get pulled back down under.

But suddenly they will rush out at me when I might be biting into a sandwich & taking a sip from someone’s sweet milky coffee, the way my male birth parent took his coffee, lots of sugar & cream. My good grandfather liked it that way also. When we would ever have lunch together when I was a child, he would always offer me a sip. He knew I was too shy to ask. He also would give me bites of the sandwiches my grandmother would make for our outings together. He had his favorites & I had mine. But my grandfather knew I loved the taste of whatever he was eating more than my own food, even if it was the same exact ingredients. Made no difference, his food always tasted better than mine.

He loved to take me to the stables & let me ride one of the smaller horses. I was so drawn to horses. They were my fantasy escape. I would ride off on my horse with someone, a young, blue eyed, light brownish blond hair, wavy & touching her shoulders, girl. She would find her horse & I would lead her to the best secret sights to ride to. Places no one else knew about. They were well hidden behind walls of morning glory & raspberry bushes. I knew the silent entrances no one else was ever able to find. Those were my woods. No one knew them as well as I did. I could run through them as though I were in a race at the Olympics out for the win.

Today, it is all so overgrown, one would need a machete to whack our way into the fortress, my palace against the danger of the times when I was too small to fight back. And there was no one to rescue me. No one knew. I preferred they didn’t. How would I explain what men & father figures, real & imagined, had done to me & would continue doing until I was almost not a teenager any longer.

I was growing into an immature adult child that knew nothing about life except abuse, hunger, neglect & sex. Not real sex with love & tenderness involved. I am talking about force. Rape. Having someone, anyone, I might not even know them but my father did. He knew them all. And one was my oldest brother. They would all force themselves on an unaccepting target, aiming with their pricks to score their goals & leave their disgusting mess behind. I was punished if anyone was not satisfied. You don’t want to know who or what the punishment was.

My secret for now.

Until I am able to see you, I really do miss you terribly.

Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out

With a dream.

It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”

— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

We Are All Mad Here – A Short Film

i heart short films
We Are All Mad Here – A Short Film
Post Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created on 27th March 2014
Posted on Friday 9th May 2014
I <3 SHORT FILMS

everyone at one time
may have heard tell
that a mad hatter existed
some place in wonderland

have lies been told about him
do the records need straightening
a visit from alice may be in order
or the march hare with his cousin
the white rabbit everyone knows for sure
all across the land above and below

being partial to the mad hatter
i give him credit for keeping non-sense
well understood or imagined

let’s take a listen to someone special
i have brought along with me today
yesterday was when i got the idea
but it is as relevant as it was before now

dream believe create

here, i give you “we are all mad here”

NICK FOUQUET – WE ARE ALL MAD HERE
from Bruno Miotto Plus 5 months ago All Audiences

Directed by Bruno Miotto
Written by Giorgio Fabbri and Bruno Miotto
Producer Guja Quaranta
Original Score “Have I Gone Mad?” composed by Alberto Bof – MKRS Publishing
Cinematography by Benjamin Kitchens
Editor: Bruno MIotto
Graphic Designer: Letizia Bozzolini

Cast
Alice: Sharon Hinnendael
Twins: Odelia Samuels and Ornela Samuels
Kids: Philips Banuelos, Yanshree Hotchandani, Brooke Krufal, Matthew Turner, Jacob Zelonky
White Rabbit: Bao Bao

“No animals were harmed in making this film, only humans.”

Private Writings: Chapter #60 – “Black Book Screaming In The Dead of Night

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #60 – “Black Book Screaming In the Dead of Night”

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Post Tuesday 6th May 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller sing imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #60 “Black Book Screaming In the Dead of Night”

Tuesday 28th October 2008

Dear Annie,

I’m not stupid. Sharks coming in close when they see the brightness of red pouring out of my veins. She has always been after Scottie. Me out of the way, Scottie is going to be ambushed. I can’t keep her safe. I asked Jamie to guard Scottie until I come home.

When I was talking to Jamie, I felt like I was stoned. I wanted to believe in the magic. All will be cured if I just believed. It’s not working. The feelings are more painful. I keep feeling like I am being haunted. She came to me last night at her usual time, just after 2am. That is when she was murdered. It was moments after 2am. The crash was loud. It sounded like death. It was dark like death. No sounds suddenly. No motion. Just stillness. Tosh used to be shy but brave when speaking. There was truth in her words, though few, you felt deeply, everything she spoke.

I have her feelings inside of me. They were meant for her. How do you say “I Love You” to someone who is not that person. We can all love more than one person, but only that one person makes you feel the love in the words “I Love You.” It is extremely intense and light blended together.

Tonight when I was looking out through one of the windows in my room, I caught my reflection. I looked healthy & fine. When I smiled at my own reflection, without warning, her face appeared. She was charging toward me. I think her ghost wanted something from me. It was a shock seeing those eyes. Mine were happy. I had a smile on my face until she replaced my face & body with hers. I turned away as quickly as possible, so she couldn’t catch my image & try to possess my body.

Why all of sudden are ghosts trying to get my attention? I love Tosh being around, but anyone else can go away. I never wanted to see them in life, why would I want them to come to me after death? Is it just to torture me?

Thinking of omitting some of the following content from being sent to Annie. It is too personal & way out of my range for embarrassment. So not for you Annie. Just for my records, to allow myself to investigate all about what is going on inside my psyche. It is so damaged, it is becoming difficult to sort out what really happened from what I thought happened. I am not sure if they are the same thing all of the time. Maybe my perceptions are off or the recording equipment in my head, my brain, my mind, is not doing a thorough job of remembering anything very well. The trauma beats everything out of the way.

It wants its attention. Now that I am getting under the surface, images & thoughts are floating into my everyday ordinary activities & pulling me out of all the glorious nightmares for me to share, at least with myself through my art & my writing. I paint them in the abstract. The demons always come to join me when the paintbrush is in action. I try to paint something innocent & joyful & it ends up having the external colors of the rainbow but what appears in their place is the face of a demon surrounded by the burning caverns of Hell.

I painted such a painting in the art workshop here. It has Dr. V. feeling disturbed by the face that appears in my painting. It looks like something you would dig up in a murder case where the body has been buried for a while. The face freaks me out. Scottie saw the image. She even thinks it’s creepy. I think it’s disturbing, when I started out by painting a beautiful image of colors & light. A painting that would make one smile. Now when you look at it, it makes my skin get goose bumps.

Dr. V feels I need to do some deep intensive psychoanalysis. She wants to start it while I am at Redcliff & have you carry on the analysis when I get back home. I do hope it’s soon. I don’t like being away from home. Now that I am entering into a manic phase again, I will be feeling better. I will get my weed usage together so I co-ordinate smoking the correct strains & combinations to help with my depression & manic highs.

I know attempting suicide is out of control. No promises guaranteed but I will make any effort to not try not to kill myself again. When I am feeling the urge I will contact someone. It was everything that was happening. That is why it all fell apart. Being raped & brutalized by a truly mad woman was too much for me to bear. I admit it. I lost it. But only temporarily. I am coming around.

I am going to stop now. Except I wanted to tell you I wrote a much longer letter but felt it was too much for one sitting. I will work on editing it down & send in installments.

Oh, I hope I see you soon. I can’t bear another day without being able to see you. Dr. V told me you are talking together about what is the next thing to do for me. Hospital are just too noisy & I want to go home & be with my family & really begin the healing. I promise I will put the rest of this letter together for you & send a bit at a time. Powerful writing & information in the other parts of the letter I will soon send off to you or maybe even be able to bring to you in your office again.

I need to go to a group meeting & that is followed by seeing Scottie & Jamie is coming up this evening. Alison needed to take a film related trip. When she returns I would love to greet her at our Chateau. Make it possible Annie, if you have the power to make it so.

Love & Fondness & Missing You,
Madison
@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #59 — It’s the Only Picture I Have

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #59 – It’s the Only Picture I Have

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Posted On Tuesday 29th April 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #59 — It’s the Only Picture I Have

[Starting the Sixth Week of Being Inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute...]

Tuesday 21st October 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to think about Tosh this week. She has been with me. Guiding me, as an angel, one of my Guardian Angels. I am sending you a photograph of her. It’s the only picture I have. Nothing taken while we were together. I always saw us as together, once we decided to live together. I was too insecure to leave my home at the Chateau. It was given to me by my grandmother. Unless I am confusing myself with Carter McLeod. Thinking about Jamie. Can’t think about her. Maybe Tosh is here for me. I was meant to crossover. Jamie scared her away.

Look at Tosh’s photo. Her blue eyes see inside of me when I look at her. There is an immediate connection. This person in the photograph is the ghost who is talking to me. Tosh is younger now as a ghost than she was when the two of us first met. Oops. Did I write that a ghost is talking to me? I meant I am talking to a ghost. The reason I know she looks exactly like the photo, I saw her in the mirror one night before I was taken here. It was so brief. Nothing was said. I just remembered her photograph. Now we talk. I talk. Tell her stories. Talk about feelings. Life. Death. Her murder. Tosh told me it was her ex. She belonged to a coven who practiced the Black Arts, and  worshiped Satan, the fallen angel, the bringer of darkness into the world, causing Evil to spread like an infection.

[omit the following from letter to Annie. i feel kind of crazy talking about evil and ghosts. when i actually do talk to a ghost and have been for awhile now. they seem to feel safe around me. but feeling Tosh being close to me makes me feel less alone. some people can handle being alone. i love it when i'm writing or painting. or just doing something i am engrossed in. but if i start feeling scottie being gone. i miss her every moment she is away. even when she has to spend the day on a set near home, at the studio. i don't understand why i use to freak out when i had to sleep by myself. maybe scottie being away so much makes it easier for me to stay up all night. when it's dark everyone feels like they are asleep to me and sometimes it feels like everyone has abandoned the planet or the universe, a feeling like everyone is gone. they've all vanished. no one else exists.

my life has felt like being in a desert with no water or anything in sight except sand. i starved. that was punishment. whips were used for punishment too. she hated me. hated i was born. her husband. my father. she was jealous of him with me. she didn't like him around me. i look back and wonder if she was jealous because she wanted me as her slave in all things physical. it meant eating. it meant sleeping. they yelled through my nightmares of sleepless nights. she denied me food as punishment. and forced me to eat food i hated which tasted sickening. i would gag on it. i was deprived of sleep until i ate the shit she placed on the plate in front of me. i wasn't allowed sleep until every bit of shit was eaten off of those plates. when it came to actual physical contact with punishment, it was a scene set in the home of the Marquis De Sade. she has her own torture slash sex chamber.

do you think i will ever be able to say this out loud to you annie? you don't need those images inside your mind. i don't want them in mine either. i will have to keep creating my paintings that are possessed by demons. i see their faces. i wonder if they will look anything like the dark creatures someday. it always makes me think of the movie "ghost." the dark shadows pull evil spirits into the ground, into the darkness.

i don't think if you kill yourself that they would come for you. unless you were adolf hitler. i am sure he has a special place just for him - in torturous solitary for eternity. 

back to suicide. you know, when i was trying to commit suicide, it was not to be with tosh specifically, it was to cut out the memories of vile creatures using my body for their perversions. sylvia was exactly like the shadow in my childhood. the one who tried to kill me before i was born. when it didn't work, she used me as her slave for every evil devotion she desired. i will never ever be able to forget what she did and others did.  i won't forget what i do remember. but will i remember what i have forgotten? is it essential is it essential for healing? to clean out the disgust from the wounds that are more mental, but that's not true. the wounds are from everywhere. my body. my mind. my soul. my emotions. they were all attacked. those unconscious memories cannot be removed.

i will never be able to talk about those things out loud. i'd rather tell you I am attracted to you annie, than to fill your mind with the pain from my darkness. a darkness that wants me dead and jailed in hell. i feel attracted to you and i am not allowed to tell you. i would rather feel those sensations than remember what a whip felt like on my back or breasts, tearing at the flesh, causing it to bleed. does anyone know what it feels like to have someone who discarded you from their body as a baby girl, turn on you before your birth and begins after your birth to torture you for being born a girl and being born to her, when all she wanted was males. i was meant to be aborted when she threw herself down the stairs. instead i was born late and she discarded me from her life for my first year to live with my grandmother. it was temporary. my father wanted me home. that's when hell began and heaven was left in the garden where i have minimal visitation rights. this is too painful to be in this state of mine and to have her come back haunting me in my memories. i want to be with tosh now but i need to be held by a warm giving body. end of secrets]

Annie, I need you. Please, I want to see you. Your hugs are most needed at this moment. They are what cure me, a little at a time. I don’t want anyone else to hold me. It feels all wrong somehow. You don’t like me to tell you how I feel. Someday you will have to tell me why you shut me down from speaking about my feelings for you. When I can’t see you, it drives me mad. I go through withdrawal. My need for you is high. No one makes me feel safe the way you do. I could never live without you. I wouldn’t want to. If I ever lost you, I would want to die more than I do now.

Your letter from me this week is a touch short. I have been spending time with Helen. She has some of the most amazing stories to tell. The only thing that doesn’t work is she can’t remember who she is or where she is. She just wants to sit quietly most of the time but when I talk to her and sometimes I have Lynne join us, she will begin a new story, like her life depended on it. She is Scheherazade reborn. Lynne listened and I think she likes Helen. Doesn’t feel threatened by her or by me. I’m not sure why she trusts me and no one else. I don’t push her to talk. She likes to just sit next to me, really close but never quite touching. I think that works for both of us.

I don’t feel so alone in here with these two and one of the night nurses, who is great to me. She will sometimes come into my room, and if I am having trouble falling asleep, she will actually read me children’s books. My favorite is Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are.” Got hooked on that when a former therapist made me an audio tape of her reading this story and a few others. She gave the tape to me just before she took her month long vacation. Same time every year. I would freak when she left. Her voice on tape always soothed me. We recorded our sessions and now,  I got Dr. Seuss, “Horton Hears A Who,” and “Goodnight Moon” as part of the gift. Her young son even read some of the parts. That was way cool to me.

With those words, I am going to warm up a bit. Writing this letter has made me feel a chill. Like someone walked over someone else’s grave. Sending this email. It’s quicker. Think of Love. You will be getting my poem in the outgoing email. One of the rules on computer usage. Ciao Ciao.

Love Fondly,

Madison

ps. I need to add, Love is true when joined together by the heart and soul. I feel joined to Tosh. I feel joined to Scottie. I feel joined to you, Annie. I do feel joined to Jamie, too. Alison is my daughter, and I love her with as deep a love as the heart and soul feel. Such different shades of love. The degrees of intimacies as they are acted upon with different people. It is all love but everyone shares differently. Love and Happiness are living in a room without a roof in order to look up at the blue sky in daylight and the night sky filled with stars sparkling and the moon in its different stages every night. When I look at that sky I know all those I love will feel the connection when they look up. We are not alone. My feelings for you are growing and becoming more intense. I’m not usually crazy enough to tell you any of this. Au revoir.  pps. One last exciting thing, I started working on my new play for the theatre. Scottie is cool with that move. She has my new screenplay finished before all this shit came down. I already know the name of my protagonist and all the other characters having lines and good roles. Shouldn’t be a need for extras, I don’t think. Well, maybe in the background of certain scenes, depending on where they take place. Now I am stopping.

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

blue eyed young woman tears falling slowly down cheek

Tosh seven [7] years before I first saw her. We would have been close friends if we had met back when this photograph was taken. We would have found a way to bring our worlds together. We were destined souls. She is as much a part of me as I am a part of her. Our souls are mates.

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013le chateau de rocher – the haunting has begun

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapters #57 — Whenever I Want You

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #57 – Whenever I Want You

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 15th April 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #57 — Whenever I Want You

[Madison's Fourth Week Being Held at Redcliff Psychiatric Institute After a Failed Suicide Attempt...]

Tuesday 7th October 2008

Dear Annie,

Writings from my own “A Writer’s Diary,” while I am inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. It is the best way to keep track of what is going on. I want evidence if they fuck me up more than I already am. So far they haven’t forced any pharma meds on me, and they won’t allow me access to my Medical Marijuana either, even though I am licensed to legally use it as a medication to treat health issues and as my psych meds. I stopped taking pharma except for Klonopin. Getting off of that feels almost as bad as I imagine stopping cold from heroin. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My insides felt jumpy and nauseous. I was going from cold sweats to freezing than feeling like I couldn’t cool off. My mind was freaking me out. I finally told my doctor I needed to keep taking at least half of the dosage. It was feeling impossible to stop. Seems I am stuck with the Klonopin until my doc and I can figure out how to trick my system into thinking it is still receiving my drug of choice to killing myself.

Jamie, my sweet friend, with whom I am wickedly crushing on, saved my life. Not so sure I’ve decided yet to thank her. Jamie blew my mind when she played Carter McLeod in my recent screenwriting success in “Brief Sacrifice.” She was excellent. Scottie told me the gross at present is well over $45,000,000. We made it for $17,500,000, rounded off. It has only just been released overseas.

It’s a great time traveling mystery hooked into Nikola Tesla. It has the edge of the book “Da Vinci Code,” but the film is tighter and more thrilling. Having a female protagonist is what makes it so much more intriguing. It gets pretty exhausting always having a man be the hero. Come on, men are not as brave as women. They like to think so but their guts churn as much as ours do, except society won’t allow men to show their more delicate feminine side. There is nothing wrong with a man being sensitive, nor a woman. Being a man in this world may have its perks but I would never want to be a man, too vulnerable in many ways.

A new day.

As usual, I went way off subject while writing my entry yesterday. Jamie’s visit was touching and depressing. I told her I thought I was in love with her, but it had nothing to do with sex. It was the feeling of closeness with her that made me feel secure. Like I wasn’t alone. I just wanted her to hold me while we would just lie down together and snuggle. More for comfort than something prurient. It was all innocent. Jamie wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get that close. What would Scottie think?

Scottie and I have an understanding. Nothing ever becomes sexual unless it is forced. I don’t sleep with other woman for sex. I have never slept with anyone for sex. The fact that sex has been foisted upon me by the desires of other people, is not my doing. My therapists have all told me, the sexual abuse and the mind and emotional abuse scarred me so severely when I was a child and the abuse followed me into my adult life. I have always been unable to stop an abuser. My fight or flight reflexes don’t work. I freeze when threatened by anything and I don’t know how to stop a person from forcing themselves on me.

When Sylvia’s drug incapacitated me, it was like living in a nightmare. My body couldn’t shut down. My usual escape route was blocked off by her cleverness. I couldn’t dissociate. She had me trapped. I saw and felt everything that she did. It was brutal. She was brutal. It felt like having surgery without anesthesia. It’s why I had to kill myself. What she did when she stole my means of removing myself from her abuse, it opened the door for all my abusers to gang rape me, beginning that night and ever since. All the things they have done have been flooding my mind and body ever since the night Sylvia took me hostage, paralyzed me, and sexually savaged my body. It was painful on all levels of sensitivity. Sylvia was possessed by a demon when she raped me. The time was endless. I never felt she would stop. In fact, she didn’t stop on her own.

Jamie broke through the locked door to my study. Once she was in the room, she assessed the situation and immediately attacked Sylvia and pulled Sylvia away from me. It was at that moment when James leaped on Sylvia’s back. He latched his claws into her back while he pinned her to the floor. James is a Savannah cat. He is enormous. His weight is over 40 pounds. He sat on her, with claws dug in while Jamie called ‘911’ and the three of us waited for them to arrive.

Where was Scottie? I wanted to see Scottie. She would know what to do. But I couldn’t speak. I was in a drug haze which shut down my motor functions, including my speech center. Jamie must have seen the helplessness in my eyes, and realized I needed help right away. She tried Scottie on her cell but no answer. She sent a text, hoping Scottie would see it and come right after seeing the text.

The police and paramedics arrived, one after the other. That caught Scottie’s attention from their party. She had no idea what the fuck was going on. She followed them to where I was. Jamie had given instructions to the ‘911’ operator. Once Scottie was in my study, she looked around in a stunned fashion and asked Jamie, “What the Hell is going on here? What happened to Madison?”

Jamie explained it as much as she could figure out. Sylvia drugged Madison. She told Scottie the study door was locked and when I didn’t answer. Jamie thought that was too odd so she broke down the door. What she saw was so disturbing, she told Scottie she couldn’t describe it, except to say that Sylvia was literally raping me. She said, I was silent. I appeared unable to speak at all.

Scottie rushed over to me. I was being attended to by the paramedics. They were taking my vitals. My pulse and heartbeat were extremely slow. They called into the ER of the nearest hospital. They told the doctor on call, they had a patient who had a weak and thready pulse. They were concerned it may be a drug overdose but not self-administered. Instead the paramedic told the doctor, she felt the patient was in shock from the effects of the drug. Also, the patient had undergone a situation where she was forcibly raped by another woman who used objects, which visibly were covered in blood, that would have cause internal injuries, possibly tearing the flesh.

The paramedic went on to describe the patient, me, that I had severe cuts on my body that were still bleeding. Other bleeding came from wounds within my mouth, and internally from inside my vaginal area. How deep the injuries were could not be detected in the field. The patient needed immediate ultrasound.

I heard what she was saying to the doctor at the ER and felt like I was in a movie theatre hearing a scene after a battle in a war zone.

The female paramedic kept giving the doctor information. She told the doctor they did not know how the drug was administered or specifically what the drug was or whether there was only one drug used. Scottie was hearing all this as she stared into my eyes. I could see her tears. She held my hand and kept squeezing it as the paramedics worked on me. Her hand felt good holding mine. It took me away from the circus going on around me.

The doctor ordered the paramedics to rush me immediately to the ER for tests and to start flushing the drugs out of my system. Once that was achieved, they would do further tests to see what kind of physical damage was caused due to the attack and rape.

The paramedics secured me to the stretcher. Once it was elevated, they rushed me out of my study, taking a route that would not bring me into the area where the party was taking place. They were trying to be as sensitive as possible and to cause the least amount of added trauma to me. I was a corpse with a pulse at this point, and a thready one at that.

What I could feel is my life slipping away. How long was I with Sylvia? How long was she using my body as her own torture victim? Time was irrelevant. It has disappeared. My mind wasn’t functioning. Jamie filled me in on all of this today. All that she was able to put together herself.

The hospital was not talking to anyone about me except Scottie. Even with Scottie, they tried to give her a difficult time seeing me. I had signed a power of attorney and a living will giving Scottie control of my health. This kept the hospital from blocking her from me and my records. So Scottie was able to find out everything there was to know at present, but she decided I didn’t need to know everything.

Scottie is a great protector but I needed to know. She felt I should talk to you, Annie. It seems she has spoken to you and filled you in. Maybe you can tell me more. Jamie told me what her perceptions picked up, but she doesn’t know everything. What really happened that night?

Dr. Virginia McKinnon, my psychiatrist here at Redcliff, won’t even tell me what she knows. Her theory is, it would be too dangerous to me to have all the information at once. She was concerned it might trigger an even stronger reaction to my feeling suicidal. The information would overload my mind, and push me closer to the edge than I am already.

A new day.

Jamie, I fell asleep last night thinking of you. My wish is for you to be my emotional lover. Someone I can have feelings for but who will not abandon me. I feel Jamie is safe. She is going to be showing up soon. After our visit, I will record what happened between us.

Later, after seeing Jamie.

Jamie told me she loved me but as a friend, not someone she had romantic feelings for. I tried to explain, I just wanted to be close. No sexual demands, strictly love, pure love. She told me we could talk about this another time. When I was stronger. It seemed it really needed a better setting than a psych hospital. She wasn’t going away, but past hugging, Jamie didn’t feel she could give that to me, even though she realized I needed someone to be close to me, to hold me. “Give Scottie a chance.” That is what Jamie suggested. I wasn’t sure Scottie would want to. Scottie was not into touching and cuddling. It wasn’t what she needed from me, to make a demand of closeness. Not really a demand but a need on my part.

I decided to tell Jamie to go. We would talk soon but I needed to rest. The truth is, I wanted to be alone. Not really alone. I wanted to think about Tosh. She had been on my mind a great deal. I have been having conversations with her for a while now. The reason I haven’t mentioned it, I thought you would think I was losing it.

Now I think it’s time for me to let Tosh back into my consciousness. She has been around, wanting me to give her my attention. Annie, you do realize who Tosh is? I know I haven’t really talked much about her but maybe I need to at least free myself to listen to her. At night, she comes to me when I am trying to go to sleep. I feel her lying next to me. It’s quite safe. She is a ghost. Not like she is going to harm me. We loved each other and were only just starting to feel our closeness. When we kissed, it was like magic. Time would slow and the sensation was deep and consuming. I don’t feel either of us ever wanted to stop kissing but life was there and calling us back to reality.

Tosh was involved with a murderous woman when she met me. As we grew closer, she broke off her relationship with her ex. That woman didn’t take it well. For now, that is all I want to say about that. I just want to think about Tosh as she is now, away from the nightmare that stole her from me. Now I just want to feel her lying next to me in silence. We talk sometimes. Tosh listens to me than gives me her response. I feel her energy touching me. It feels like a total infusion.

Maybe I need to escape this world and be with Tosh. She is the only one who wants to be with me. I need Tosh. I love Tosh and want to be with her.

I know what you’re going to say, “But Tosh is dead, how can you be with her, unless you are dead.”

That is one way, but we can be together without my having to die.

I don’t want to talk about this with you right now. I’ve said too much already. The demons are going to come now and fuck with my mind and body.

I’m going now. I have two people here who seem to like me. An older woman who tells great stories but has no idea, most of the time, who she is. Her name is Helen. The other person is much younger. She is a college student. The educational system has crushed her. She is lost. For some reason, she talks to me but no one else. I like her. I feel safe with these two woman. The young woman is an artist, painter. Her name is Lynne. I think Helen, Lynne and I could become good friends. I hope so.

Annie, you have to help me. I don’t feel like I am getting better in here. It feels like my world and mind are crumbling. My body hurts. The wounds are healing but slowly. There will be scars. What’s stored in my mind is “written in my scars.” They tell the world, someone tried to shred me in order to make me disappear. I reminded them of their inherent evil when they looked at me. She was trying to destroy me in order to keep from destroying herself. But she can’t stop the destruction. The evil will eat her alive.

Goodbye, Annie.

Madison

Ps. I may not ever return from this well of darkness, but I want you to know I remembered that we met one year ago as of 2nd October 2007. Today is the 7th of October 2008. Happy Anniversary. If it weren’t for you, I would seriously be gone now.

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

surreal spirit painting

Surreal Spirit

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

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