In this early letter the Helper identified Gloria’s abuser but quickly hid it in self-induced amnesia. She was not ready or strong enough to accept the horrifying truth.
AUTOMATIC LETTER 14
Thursday night
Dear You,
Had another crazy dream. Have had this dream before and afterwards I’d think, “I know hopeless when I see hopeless,” this time, it’s different because I’m learning to admit to some painful feelings and it’s given me flashes of insight into Gloria’s life.
The dream I had finds me walking toward a house where a family is standing – the street gets longer and longer and the house farther away. When the street returns to its regular shape, I’m unable to stand up – I start to crawl along the street, my eyes fixed on the house and the family standing there – it seems impossible that they can’t see the super human effort made to reach them. Suddenly, the dream changes slightly, I start to walk then my legs refuse to support me, I have to concentrate all my energies on getting up, my relief is great for a moment then I’m down again. In this dream I never reached this family.
Have taken time to unwind and I’m most relaxed – have a feeling of anxiety and discomfort that I can’t explain. It’s also a feeling of anticipation and I’m just playing a hunch by becoming fully tuned to it. Once or twice I’ve been in this deep state where one sees all, feels hardly nothing, detached, objective. Strange, because earlier tonight I had decided not to write like this anymore, or Gloria had. So she can’t cry, she can’t talk, it’s a mistake to write things down – next if this keeps up we won’t even be able to think about them or it, and it will be just like all the rules that “Jerk” made for the “criminal.” Well the “Jerk” is being operated on for a triple by-pass today, so it’s time he stops running people’s lives, and it’s time Gloria stops being this person who doesn’t feel anything. I felt like crying tonight, when Gloria said a prayer for the “Jerk”.
Something else, you should know. No, it’s no good, I was relaxed, now it’s as if I’m going underwater, I feel like clamping my hands over my ears so I won’t hear the sound of the door closing – want to close my eyes so I won’t see black and blue marks on wrists – raw, swollen flesh – always living within the shadow of another’s thoughts – your own needs counting for nothing, caught and trapped there – even to admit is to invite punishment, it’s better to live within yourself – no, it’s not better – I’d better stop for now.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 15
Saturday night
Dear Good Person,
Tried twice before to write to you, since we last talked and something got in my way, I couldn’t get anything but fuzzy pictures. It’s important that you know what I know about the child we spoke of – all of it. As I say this, something, a feeling is wrong – it’s a strong feeling – it’s like a heavy curtain of despair so powerful and smothering that I’m having trouble breathing – a vow made years ago to not be trapped by feelings again; to never let on how much it had hurt – but someone else was in control then – a long series of disasters, the one of the absolute worst – this is the one that will surely kill you, the one for which you will be put to the test – let’s see if you survive this – have to stand up and walk – things getting out of hand.
Saturday – early morning
Hi again,
I’m not as relaxed as I should be so I’m going to take time, to do what you have taught me, “one step at a time.” I’ve been getting stuck on a feeling that won’t move. I don’t get a clear message or picture. So I’m going to go easy with my rough feelings – I hope. Settling into a state of relaxation – will try this as you taught me – creating a quiet place. Settling deeper down, making a simple decision, now, to set fears, concerns aside, to clear this good space – letting go of tension in a neck muscle, letting go of something nagging somewhere, letting go, to whose face is there, feeling at ease – beginning to notice and observe someone I’m looking at. Aha! It’s the child – he seems younger than he is because he’s so short – he appears to be seven or eight in fact he is almost ten – I’m not hurrying here, (it’s better not to) – feelings are beginning to affect me too much and to see this picture I can’t focus on it too closely and I can’t hold it at too great a distance – the only way I can handle this is to attend to it as if watching an interesting movie, and let the feelings grow on its own in response to what I see on the screen, so I’m not going to get involved, except to watch a movie.
I see a child of almost ten, clutching a sleeping bag as he walks away from a house – he’s stumbling he picks himself up – the feeblest kitten, the most neglected puppy in a pound is a bundle of action compared to this child. Tomorrow is his birthday – everything is worth nothing, because his uncle has just died; so has his grandmother and his sister before that – and there is no safety left of any kind, unless he can freeze outside, and he can’t do that either, but he’s still dragging the sleeping bag, walking on. Someone is coming at the child – he doesn’t see the person in back of him till the person shrieks loudly – the child turns, looks at the bared teeth, angry threatening mouth and as the person jumps shrieking again loudly, the child scrambles backward clutching his sleeping bag around him, the sunken eyes of the child have a terror in them that tells me he knows this wild person – he’s (the child) speaking now, “You leave me alone.” – “What if I don’t, what will you do, tell your uncle?” well I’ve got news for you your uncle is way down deep under the ground where your grandmother is going and so are you if you don’t get back to the house.” – “I’m not going back ever,” the child is saying. “Yes, you are, or I’ll leave you for all the animals to eat you up – give me that sleeping bag.” The child throws the bag and starts to run, the man is screaming, he’s trying to get the cord from the bag untangled, the boy is yelling – it’s not a boy – I’m losing this, just a minute, I have to see this picture – I see the child – he’s yelling, “I’m not coming back, I’m not coming back.” The man is stopping and is yelling, “So, all right go. Get lost once. See how it feels.” He’s turning around and going on without the child, not looking back. He’s realizing that the child is no longer in back, he’s not coming back, and he’s not following. I can no longer see the child or the man. Very tired – this is important – feelings too heavy.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 16
Wednesday night
Dear Adam,
Tonight Gloria’s sleep was fitful and haunted by a dream. She was on her hands and knees crawling like a bug on a giant chessboard. There was no kings or queens or knights, on the little spaces. Instead some were covered with craggy mountains divided by steep, arid canyons, others held reaching cataracts. Many contained cities, where steeple churches and gabled houses crowded together so closely there seemed to be no paths between.
Music sounded from a far end of the chessboard and in her dream Gloria saw a miniature carnival, with a carousal and gaily striped tents. It was summer and children ran about laughing. She struggled to reach the lights and the carousal but she felt a giant hand reaching out to draw her back. It was a horrible game in which she was the only person.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 17
Sunday night
Dear Good Person,
Several nightmares tonight – caught by a sudden memory – a woman’s voice tearful and pleading, “You have to come home now – it will be better if you come on your own. Don’t make him come after you. You’re not safe here, he’ll think of the cemetery.” The child and the woman, they look at each other. The child knows mistakes happen when you depend on people – the child will not do that ever again. The woman insists, “He’s very upset,” and the child lowers his gaze to the ground. “Well, I’m not upset,” he tells her, “I don’t get upset.”
I always see the child in the same way. First she is there in front of me and I’m looking at her, and then she is
gone. It’s as if she were nothing more than a small piece of furniture that a magician makes disappear. Once, I couldn’t keep the child in my mind’s eye, first she was there, then she wasn’t – that was all I could find to say about her life. It bothered me a great deal. I was haunted by the child’s face.
It was like a moon – the face sailed out from behind the clouds and then went back into them again. Then one day it happened. I couldn’t remember the child’s face at all. After that I wasn’t myself. I walked around feeling half alive. Now that I can see the child again, I feel a strong bond with the child – in order to survive you need a source of courage – something bigger than yourself. I want to help the child – all the pictures are distorted – incomprehensible.
Later
I got caught in a strange way as I was talking to you. I fell in a deeper sleep and followed the child in another nightmare. I saw the child entering a room – he took a deep breath as if he were going underwater; found his way to the bed; lay down on it, pulled the blanket way up high – squeezed his eyes shut, clamped his hands over his ears so he would not hear the sound of the door closing, the click of the lock. He lay on his side, his face to the wall counting slowly to one hundred, two, three, hundred, so he would not think, would not feel, would simply count off seconds, minutes, hours until time had passed and it was morning – daylight-shifting cautiously to his back. The child slides his hand beneath his head. He is safe, can breathe again – the room is empty. He lay like that for a long time, his face turned toward the light.
Gloria’s Helper
NOTE:
Gloria’s Helper begins to remember the child she killed off emotionally to help Gloria survive as a child—how she felt “half alive”—and now realized she must remember the child to make Gloria whole again.
AUTOMATIC LETTER 18
Tuesday night
Dear You,
I’m most relaxed and I’ve taken time to unwind, so that pictures will be clearer. I won’t bother trying to put anything in order so it will be easier for this time.
I see the child who is almost ten years old. I don’t know where he came from – where did he come from? I see, a woman and child now – possibly just in my mind. I close my eyes and I see the woman and child again, now there’s a man also – the “Other”. I am watching and listening. I am taking in what they say and do and will soon learn their meaning. “Meaning is not feeling.” There is no feeling without meaning either.
The “Other” is saying, “This is terrible because it’s news to me,” and the woman says, “It’s terrible because it’s terrible. It’s impossible, I simply cannot accept that this child could have survived alone in the woods, very long, in his condition but I have to accept it.”
I just feel that I’m tied to that child – there is some strong bond between us don’t ask me to explain that – but that’s what I feel my heart and mind communicate. I know because I feel it inside me and my feelings don’t lie. I feel I’m tied to this child, I’m seeing. I feel the chill of dread, a cold horrible presentiment – the pain is unforgettable – I’m turning cold as dead. I have to live with it but I know what I feel and I’m too fearful of ever suffering like that again. I will turn away from involvement. I cannot and will not lie about this. In other words, I don’t lie. I simply erase the full facts from my mind. I’m not as strong as you think I am. I’m frightened, dazed. I’m seeing this child as an image that can’t be shaken off – he’s larger than life. Who is he really? Where did he come from? How could he survive down there? I’m standing there near those three unable to go further – unable to open the door. I want to go inside but I want to avoid what is in there more.
How did he survive that? I’m not used to this sort of experience. I feel that I’m dreaming that I can’t wake up, that if I don’t wake up, something horrible will happen – did it happen? Yes, it did happen. I’m committed to this child – to love – the child was born and is alive. I must trust my true feelings and not kill everything. The child cannot live with this sort of lie – for now I must get out of here – too real to accept now.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 19
Sunday night
Dear Adam,
I dreamed I was in a concentration camp. When a guard came one day, she brought with her one of the hated dogs. Knowing it stood higher than me (I was five at the time). She called me over, smiling an evil smile. I was so frightened by the huge looking animal with its tongue hanging around the corner of its mouth that I screamed.
The guard hearing this ordered me to lie on the floor and she bound me hand and foot between two bedposts. Then laughing, she had allowed the German Sheppard loose to lick me and salivate all over me. Each time the dog came over me I would scream and my scream brought smiles to the face of the blonde braided woman. The only person in the room that showed the least sympathy was my mother who was in the camp with me.
Fear was it pain? Was it death? Too much concern for a five year old. I don’t know but I know fear.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 20
Thursday night
Hi,
I’m standing near an abandoned barn, at ease with myself and my surroundings – no stars watching me – just the wind and cold, cold earth. Another building close by – inside is the child. I hear the sound of heavy, stumbling feet, a low curse and a dog snarling – blows – more curses – I feel like crying but I cannot – a shadow – feeling trapped, panic but there is no way out – if I can get into the other building it might be all right – then it wouldn’t hurt so much, then there wouldn’t be so much pain. “It hurts because you’re not good enough. That’s why you’re not crying because you know I have to hurt you. Are you getting ready to cry again, you’d better not – nobody loves you – if somebody cared you wouldn’t be here for me to punish – they don’t care that’s because you’re really bad, even I have somebody who cares a little bit – nobody will ever love you that’s why it hurts and that’s why I have to punish you.”
I’m getting out of here – I see the child – he looks like a little JOB and he needs help – his strength is drained – he’s caught and trapped there. I’m going in. I feel frightened as soon as I get the child, I’m leaving. Someone is yelling – I’m suspended – waiting for something more to happen – not sure what.
“You see this is what happens. I don’t like to be angry with you but you make me do this, I can’t help your helpless eyes – you don’t obey and now you have hurt yourself again. I’m leaving you now, I don’t care if you freeze and die – it’s all your fault.
See you’re not even smart enough to beg me to stay, well I wouldn’t stay anyway – go ahead then freeze and when you die you’re going to become a big pile of worms like all the others – and no one will care at all.”
I’m here – listening – the child seems deaf to all that is being said – his head dropping then rising again, his chest expanding to breathe in, he is in as much pain and terror as a Jew in a German concentration camp – and he is to be exiled like a criminal.
I see a small room – bare of furniture except for a wooden chair – no, two chairs –a door opens – a tall elderly man wearing a dark shirt and trousers comes in. Behind him follows a pretty gray haired woman. She is blind and carries a white cane and wears heavy smoked glasses. The man is taking her arm to help her into a chair, she smiles a smile of pure warmth and love. She looks like a storybook grandmother. She stops smiling – the woman says something to the man – he’s getting up to go look in the corner – he sees the child.
Something leaves me hollow and frustrated at this time – these two old people – it’s no good at all that they are in the same place as the child – the world is not like a story. Why didn’t they find someplace else the child is in enough trouble without all this – they have a right to life too but the child has not had a lifetime yet it’s not right for either them or the child – much better if I don’t see what i
s to be – I feel strange – I’m scared, lonely and terribly sad. I’m not as strong as you think – need you to help me – more has to be told – important but not now.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 21
Saturday night
Hi,
I see the room with the elderly man bending over the child – the blind woman has joined him. She starts to pat the child’s face – she’s starting to pat the neck of the child, he starts to scream. The old man grabs the woman’s hands, he’s saying something. The old couple stop smiling – the man puts his arm around the woman’s shoulders and pulls her toward him and away from the boy. The woman is talking, “How can this be – this cannot be, it is not possible – tell me it is not so.” The man pulls her closer still as if to share their body warmth – as she speaks breath streams in front of her face. The man frees a hand to turn up his shirt collar, buttoning it to the neck – the woman starts to cry, the tears are turning to ice drops. He is hunching his shoulders as people do in the cold to pocket body heat.
Now the couple are sitting in the chairs talking. The woman’s tears are as ice drops halfway down the round face. The tall man is getting up, he is walking to the door. He tries the door knob – it won’t turn – he yanks at the door – the blind woman is still sitting on the chair but is turning her head from side to side in confusion. The old man is pounding on the door. No, answer because he stops, his face is growing sad and he’s coming back to sit down next to the old woman. He’s trying to comfort her. The steam from their breaths is frosting into ice in their hair and eyebrows, they’re hugging each other tightly. The man is taking off his shirt and is putting it around the woman. He’s kissing her on the mouth and they are locked in each other’s arms. I can’t see the two old people anymore – all I see is a block of ice with two forms but this is not the whole picture, not by a long shot.
What I chose to see was just what I made myself see and this is it – no way will I ever go up the stairs of that building. I get frightened just as always, so I stop here.
Gloria Rising: A Story of Hope and Survival In Dark Evil Places Page 4