Dreams that rise from your deep subconscious mind are sometimes dangerously not yours. They maybe transmitted from somewhere other than your own imagination. The influencing world playing with your true psyche.

They say nobody knows why you are born on different sides of the fence and depending on which side you fall determines all of your possible futures. This determined life with certainty will affect how you are treated throughout life, and the subjective evil bestowed by the gods over your life. As a person you have to delve deep to know what evil really is. Keep your ear and senses to the wind and find out who is pulling the strings.

Unfortunately, to know who the string pullers are paradoxically will not help but the journey to find out may provide you some answers that restore an integrity back into your soul. The knowledge to know humanity for those un-fortuitously chosen is a joke, it was never really you, it was always them, helps just a little. I am truly sorry if you are enlightened by this and may the true god, the true creator be with us all.

Further illuminating is the string pullers gamble with life after death. They gamble that this is all there is and that we are not judged in this life. Instead choosing their persona of two faces and the illustrious wealth and safety that comes with it. On one side we have the persona of deceit which when enacted by the leaders and their best chosen speakers, is very very convincing. The other half of their being is completely inhumane, savage when shown or confronted. The game and tactics keep them at the top of society and comfy free from all the dirt and illusions that they are creating. With unlimited power and the power of gods behind them, by all will be known one day. I can’t imagine a creator of such a wonderful place condoning what man has developed and become.

Over the course of my life I have been in a number of accidents. Of course many are minor and some not so minor and mostly very painful. But there have been two accidents which are just anomalies. I was always left astounded with not being as injured as I should have been but until now unknown in reflective thought, my injuries were like a tool and were enough to control future paths taken and their consequential outcomes. I never fully understood but I do now, and that is why I write about them and the secrets of the fabricated universe.

The two accidents included a high number of variables with impossible odds to survive. I am left more hoping if the data collected was from a live test dummies program. Or just some experiment to observe over a lifetime just what indifferent adversities humans will keep trying to overcome and for what reasons? In contrast to hope, it was part of the master plan which ensures a Job of the world who in reality ends up feeling as if they are the no1 secret enemy of the state, who is forever faced with mounting difficulties that are inherent with a wronged life.

The year is 1987 and following the accident we were extremely tired from the long evening events and to find somewhere to just lie down for sleep took effort. I was with the crashed car's owner and because he was not in the accident I had no grounds to argue from or even defend myself against the immediate reprisals. He was in a demonstrous mood and rightfully so, as it was his proudest of joy that now lay wrecked on the side of Pages Road. There wasn't an ounce of sympathy while he quickly smothered himself into the couch, leaving moi, with the most agonized bruised bones to have to connect with the hard floor and forever felt in one's memory.

The driver of the car was back in the hospital with his measly broken rib. The damage to his spine was not yet known and only evident when he returned to sport. Shame he was one of those blessed with a strong athletic build and one of the fastest when sprinting but after the accident, his gifts were taken from him. He, like me, was never physically the same again and anyone who has felt a high speed to zero impact will know exactly what I am talking about and not feel the same surviving either.

Next day standing over the 1970s Toyota corolla coupe wreckage and with the true pain yet to come out of my body there wasn’t a joint including finger knuckles that did not ache. If you don’t know anything about the early Japanese cars, they were nicknamed aluminum coke cans, a nickname that could not have been more fitting. Crash test dummies and structural integrity testing was far outpaced by the sudden rise in Japanese cars. The new cars sold to the world suddenly had lightweight chases and paneling which were dangerously combined with fuel injected powerful little engines. They were a shiny glinting death trap inside the aluminum can. As many people too lately found out once their engine sat in the front, back seat or even the boot.

My memories flashed causing my knees to almost completely collapse and my bones seemed to take on an extra dimension to aching while steering at that car. Of the accident I had a detailed memory leading up to and into the faster of flash memories. I looked to the owner who in this moment of daylight may have felt a touch of guilt about making me take the floor.

“Fuck mate, how the hell did you survive that”, he said, and noticing his hostility and mood suddenly changed. The back of the car is almost alongside the front engine bay. Missing the parallel axis by about 22 degree and 45 degree pointing up. So folded together and a twisting back on itself as you can with a coke can.

Looking at the side of impact my side and passenger side. The irremovable power poll had sunk into the chassis from the front door lock and virtually folded the rear of the car to the front. The roof had stretched round the now outside dash console, crushing and breaking the back of the passenger seat, leaving just enough space for me to fit into while flat and perpendicular to a normal front facing position. I remembered coming too, opening my eyes to the underside of the roof only inches from my face, my feet and legs were outside and head and shoulders backside down to the seat and the only possible way a person of my size could fit into that space.

Again a sickness came over me as I or nobody really knew how bad the accident was until that moment. My thoughts flashed back immediately after the accident and remembering my first concern. While walking away saying to myself I hope his car is ok. Only nineteen years old and looking at the wreckage it was already a wholly fuck mystery. How I was hoping this car would be ok, those thoughts now felt really stupid.

I knew something was odd, I was looking at an incredible number of variables, causes and effects to execute in precise timing and to go exactly right effectively saving my life, in something that was so screwed up and wrong. The driver’s side left no mystery, looking like a fighter pilots’ cockpit which had been cocooned as if wrapped by all the aluminum panels and metal, leaving the only remaining space in the car. The rest of it was crushed, stretched and folded leaving the smallest of gaps only insects or mice could possibly fit into.

The Variables

When considering time and space there are many variables that have to come together in exact timing. These variables do not include all of them and are only the ones I immediately identified after the accident. Asleep in the back seat at a party my friend had arrived with the keys he had pinched from the owner. I did not particularly care that he had pinched them which I guess kind of makes me part guilty. But I also hadn’t known as quick as flicking a switch he was going to turn into a human psychopath and one right hand turn, followed by the first right hand bend we would meet a destiny.

Before the first right turn, my senses took over forcing me to climb into the front seat and this was to be lucky point number one because like many lucky points in the accident if I had not, anyone in the back was now history. Strapping myself in as quickly as I possibly could the click of the seatbelt initiated my attention onto him, something was very wrong. The giggle that persists when you speak to it gives it all away. He was unreachable and my immediate screams to “stop the fucking car”, were on death ears and leaving the evil childlike giggle as a sound that is never easily forgotten. His foot was so heavy to the floor I thought to start pulling on the handbrake only too dangerous and immediately knew I was trapped in something that had a highly probable outcome of death.

My eyes persistently flashed back and forwards between road and speedometer as I also knew this road well with my old high school being on it. There was a car in the distant front and we were catching very fast with the speed limit just 50klm. Already up to 140 klm, 94 miles per hour, we came up to the car like a sudden rocket. The driver never lifted from the accelerator and jerked on the wheel right, as you would only do if you were in a hired 30 klm limited go-kart. Surprisingly, we did not end either sideways into the back of that car or flipping down the road beside it. The tires just gripped with the body roll lightening the down force on the tires. We flew past the car and at that moment I knew there was a right bend soon to come and quickly summarized in my head there was a meniscal chance we could make it but only from the wrong side of the road. As soon as I felt the jerk left, I knew for sure.