I’m angry as I write this – I’m angry for all the times when we had to appear more normal than normal – don’t twitch, don’t turn around, don’t do anything wrong, don’t do anything suspicious, anything to make them think you’re different from anyone else.
I’m so angry that it not only brings back the past with the “Other”, it brings back the past with others who hurt and betrayed Gloria and I’m too angry to even continue writing this junk so I quit right here.
Gloria’s Helper
(P.S.) I’m not angry at you – just at me.
AUTOMATIC LETTER 111
Wednesday night
Hi again,
Tonight Gloria had a strange dream – she was hiding in a room with a black bed, black draperies, black all over except there was a green door. She thought the door was locked but it started to open softly without sound and she watched it – staring – because the door was opening despite latch and bolt – this seemed odd to her but queerer things happened for which she had no answer.
The door stood wide ajar – a lady entered and closed the door behind her. The lady was extremely tall – she was very beautiful but she had three eyes – she was even so very beautiful – even the little girl’s childish intelligence recognized that. She was young and her hair falling heavily over her shoulders and far down her back, was as yellow as daffodils – she wore a long and glistening robe of pure whiteness delicate or stiff by turn as the sunlight struck it. Her red lips smiled – she came close to Gloria and asked, “Do you know me?” Gloria nodded “no” but smiled back, then the lady began to turn to laughter and Gloria began to laugh too – timidly but eagerly – the woman put her hands on the rumpled mess of Gloria’s hair and ran her fingers through her hair – she felt the caress like a tongue of flames. She bent down and kissed the little girl’s forehead and the whole world throbbed with brightness, with tenderness but the throbbing was all in silence too intense for breathing. Then she (Gloria) looked up at her lovely face it was still smiling, but now it was sad also-she had the most vivid blue eyes in the world but now they swam in what could only have been radiant tears – she said, “When it’s all dark in rooms like this, you remember that I’ll be with you – that’s a promise, don’t forget now.”
Then we heard the sudden banging of the door opening and a peevish voice said, “Little Gloria didn’t you hear me, I’ve been looking all over for you – don’t you want to have some cookies – oh here you are,” and the lady was gone and only a tall giant yelled at us. I woke Gloria up. Not much sense to our dreams is there? Hope it makes more sense to you or we’re lost in dreams. Thanks for listening – you’re very valuable to us in more ways than I can say. Will await your instructions.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 112
Sunday night
Dear Adam,
Tonight when Gloria fell asleep she dreamed that she was standing by a small stream of water. On the other side of the stream our beautiful Pyramid Lady was holding up her arms to her. She started towards her but she motioned for her to stay where she was. She said, “It’s not your time yet, you have many things to do.”
Then she talked to us about what courage it must have taken our ancestors to leave their loved ones and set sail for the New World. Instead of streets paved with gold, they found countless obstacles, not the least which was the frustrating new language they had to learn to become American citizens. She said that I was meeting obstacles like Gloria was in our work with you but that we were lucky that we had someone like you with your skill and knowledge and common sense to guide us and that she appreciated you as we did. Also she mentioned that we tell you this because you must have some discouraging days but that you would accomplish what you wanted to do – so I’m telling you now before I forget.
She told Gloria, “Childhood was not a happy time for you but you learned a lot of lessons from it that prepared you for being a good, decent human being.” Then she told us that she had to leave us for that day but she was always near and always would be close by when Gloria, Gloria’s Helper, and Adam needed her or wanted some help, and said in leaving, “I am so very proud of the three most courageous trio. I’m helping, never forget that. I love you and I’m happy to know you.” With that she left and Gloria woke up. But it was a beautiful dream wasn’t it?
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 113
Wednesday night
Hi,
Tonight Gloria dreamed that the “Other” set a bomb on her bed – then mother insects led long parades of babies from holes in the mattress and the walls. Crickets and beetles and spiders dropped from the ceiling and infant mice dragged their tiny legs behind them as they tried to escape.
She woke up and put on the light and looked at the floor in horror, expecting to find an inch of dead wildlife from wall to wall – when she realized (with relief) that it was just a dream she’d had. She put off the light and went back to sleep, this time she dreamed that the “Other” was angry at her for dreaming. He asked her, “Do you have dreams?” She said, “No,” and he answered, “You’d better be telling me the truth you’d better – there are pills for children who can’t control their imagination – now you listen to me. I don’t dream. I never dream and I never will. Don’t you dare ask me if I do, don’t even mention the word to me,” and he opened a bottle of perfume and poured it all over her face and said, “Now you don’t dream hear me,” then added, “I hate these little arguments we get into. I don’t like to get upset with a little girl because, I love you,” then Gloria silently laughed and said to herself, “Smile at the birdbrain,” and went on to dream again.
This time she dreamed herself in Korea – she was in an approaching storm and about 90 feet up on a platform ready to jump, her hands reached as if by reflex to check the buckle of the safety belt securing her to the platform ninety feet above the frozen ground and to her surprise the belt was not secured. It was a small mistake but tours of duty she’d had in Korea had taught her not to make small mistakes. They killed you. A flak jacket left open, an unguarded light, the swish of a half empty canteen or some other small detail ignored because you were too tired to care – brought you the long rest of death and a trip in a steel coffin – welcome to the halls of glory “contents not for viewings”. She secured the safety belt, as the full force of the winter monsoon hit, and jumped then touching the buckle realized it was not secured.
I felt herself falling – falling – and I woke her up. But she did dream in spite of the “Other’s” warning.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 114
Sunday night
Dear Little Friend,
I think I know what happened to us about not feeling like ourselves. Gloria is very, very tired, with a weariness and a confusion in the depths of her mind. Best not to think about anything more just now. But just to close her mind and drift through the days.
I mean I believe she reacted this way lately. Now, she seems to have come out of it and is ready to be herself again and feel like herself.
We had one funny dream tonight and some bad ones – I don’t understand either dreams though. In one Gloria is a little girl racing downhill, running so fast she can’t stop scared that she’d crash and she runs into her father. He holds her a little then looks at her face and says, “I see so much happiness in that little face,” and Gloria thinks “Blind! Blind!” and she scorns her father’s insensitivity and at the same time pities it; but he had been diminished in her own eyes.
There he was unseeing and he had been running from another man who had told her, “Just because a butterfly set on your arm today you think it means good luck. Well not for you little girl. Today, I have a surprise I picked out of the attic, it’s an iron collar and when I put your head in the three iron prongs in the collar won’t let your head move and then I can put each one of your fingers in the meat grinder and poof – goodbye fingers and in comes one crying little girl.”
&nbs
p; None of her imaginings had prepared her for this most ugly and terrible thing that could happen and she was conscious of his stare. They were in a cemetery when he told her this and she saw a tombstone with her brother’s name Emile – she pushed hard at the rounded bulk of the man in front of her and took to her feet, her voice cracking a whispered denial, “No. No you won’t,” and this is how she happened to run into her father.
But she didn’t bother telling him the truth, why waste time about something that couldn’t change unless she did it herself so she ran from her father and hid in the crawl space underneath the porch – till a face looked down on her and eyes came into focus. The wrong face, wrong eyes and he carried an iron collar – she was terrified and I woke her up, before we both started raving like maniacs. Enough for tonight, now. I’m tired, see you tomorrow.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 115
Wednesday night
Hi again,
In Gloria’s dream tonight a little boy is crawling in an attic, he’s not crawling because he’s a baby, he’s about seven years old and he’s trying to get to his secret hiding place – it’s silent and chilly as winter. The corner the boy had staked out was neatly covered by a quilt with jars lining the walls. A hidey – hole – a free zone – a spot where he was invisible. “Nothing wrong with that,” he thought. He heard the front door snap and the thud, thud of someone’s footsteps and then the crack as the person banged a mop on the railing. There was something at once safe yet forbidding in the secret place, hearing life, seeing the snatches of it – the jars against the wall were fat and almost all the same size clear of labels now but grimy with fingerprints – all their tops were screwed on, and they were empty except for one with ashes clinging to the sides and one, which had a dark lump of something that in the dimness the little boy couldn’t identify. He went to it and picked it up – curious he held the jar to a patch of light and revolved it slowly, it solidified into a shape a picture that jolted him like a cattle prod.
A tiny greasy eye no bigger than a BB stared sightlessly at him – where the other eye should have been was a charred hole. He was looking at a dead frog – a frog with its head half severed and a burned out eye and frog’s blood pooled black as tar about the poor dead thing. He dropped the jar and it fell in his lap, stuck between his legs, the frog and its parts rolling along the glass sides – his flesh crawled because of the frog’s discovery and the way he was because the little boy no longer felt safe in his hidey – hole – the dead frog was as clear as a picture that someone knew where he hid and wanted him to know that he knew and he felt a lot older than any seven year old had the right to feel – now he’d have to find another hiding place but there wouldn’t ever be one to be found where he’d be safe unless he was gone for good like dead people were.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 116
Saturday night
Dear Adam,
I’ve found another pen – hope it helps you to understand the writing better. Gloria dreamed of a lost child tonight – it wasn’t her because it was a little boy – the little lost boy was found by an angry person, he could barely speak to this person his teeth were chattering too much and he let him lead his little body blindly into the white and green house. He (the child) wanted to cry but the man pushed and prodded him ahead, he wanted to cry, “I’m a person not an animal and I’m scared,” but the words were locked in his throat. He bit down on his bottom lip and saw just before they entered the room the fat man, rolling out of the light and into the darkness to claim him. He gave a short shriek before, he realized it was a woman standing in the kitchen, the light splayed out behind her. She gripped her arm then forcefully walked her body to the little boy like she wanted to say something and then she slapped him hard – he didn’t expect the slap and the punch that went with it and he fell and hit his head hard – he stayed there and heard the woman say, “Do you think he hit his head hard?” and the man said, “Let’s hope he’s dead, he’s a plain nuisance and his kind are better off dead anyway,” the little boy wondered what his “kind” meant but didn’t know and he let the darkness claim him – it seemed better that way. This is all I remember about this dream.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 117
Wednesday night
Dear Adam,
Gloria awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and felt the perspiration running down her back. It was still dark and she looked over at the clock on the coffee table. It was 1:30 A.M. and I’m taking over from here. She was in her own room, in her bed and something had shaken her out of her sleep. It was a dream, one of several dreams which haunted her. As always she was alone, isolated, and terrified. She pressed her memory. She was in a casket. No it was an urn. The urn lent a new twist to the nightmare and she felt stifled. That’s all I remember of her dream. See you later.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 118
Later-Thursday morning
Dear Adam,
This will be the last time that I will write automatic writing because there is nothing to write about. Also, I won’t be talking to you unconsciously because there is nothing to say. Sorry, about all this but I can’t explain.
Gloria’s Helper
NOTE:
Gloria’s Helper’s words fell on me like a ton of bricks. Gut-wrenching shock filled me, I felt dizzy with a sense of unreality. I sat silent, dumbfounded, my mind went blank, while I stared at Gloria sitting across from me in deep trance. She had entered my office in a stupor, appearing to have withdrawn behind a numbing wall, while Gloria’s Helper was terrified and confused by what was happening.
Gloria’s Helper expressed her fear that it was suicide to continue to feel and that she did not know what to do. I resonated with her tangible fear and discouragement, losing all objectivity in that moment, uncertain how best to handle her delicate mental state. I was fearful whatever I did might do harm and damage to our therapeutic relationship.
I had been unprepared and caught off guard by such a dramatic turn of events and Gloria’s Helper totally shutting down—shutting me out. After all, she had been my “co-therapist” and prolific writer and revealer of Gloria’s dark secrets.
I had to think fast, I had to take advantage of this baffling crisis and somehow turn it into an opportunity to take our therapeutic relationship to the next level. Only then could Gloria’s Helper assist in healing the little wounded child she mistakenly left for dead years ago, thereby breathing life back into the child so that Gloria could be reborn—free to feel and be fully alive. I needed something greater than all of us—superior than me, Gloria, Gloria’s Helper, and the Pyramid lady combined—to help us through this emotional rock-solid wall.
I intuitively decided to call forth a higher power to help us through this insurmountable barrier. I felt I had nothing to lose and a lot to gain. So I suggested to Gloria’s Helper that I try and communicate with a higher power that might be able to help. She was receptive to my gut reaction to her desperate state.
I took Gloria’s right hand resting on the arm of the chair and gently raised it all the while requesting to speak with a healing power who could help us. I then established contact with a being that called itself the Guardian who spoke through Gloria.
The Guardian explained that Gloria and Gloria’s Helper were becoming terrified because they were beginning to really feel again, that they were terrified to feel and love again because so many people they loved had died. They were like concentration camp survivors, who lived while others died, and were burdened with survivor’s guilt. The Guardian emphasized how Gloria had suffered as a child and had to separate—dissociate too many times—to survive and the importance of not letting her create a wall now.
After our beguiling conversation, I awoke Gloria who spontaneously reported feeling more hopeful though unable to explain why. As if by magic, Gloria’s resistance melted away and her automatic letters started to flow again.
AUTOMATIC LETTER 119
FROM THE GUARDIAN
Sunday night
Hello,
This is not Gloria’s Helper. I am Gloria’s Guardian. You asked to talk to me. It made my day! I had just come to you on my mind’s checklist; however, I have indirectly visited you before in Gloria’s dreams as an angel or a tall thin man. Something else. Understand, your work is valuable. The person doing the work is even more valuable, you. Remember the solution for long-term survival is to take it one step at a time. You’re wondering if the strain is getting to Gloria. Is she beginning to show signs of mental imbalance? No! I do not think so. Gloria has been given one rare special gift for her own use only. It is only when she cannot feel she is coping, or when she is unable to pray for herself, that she uses this gift to get help. At first she didn’t understand the value of this gift, and she used it in a commonplace way—only to wish she hadn’t. Now she is most careful in using it. It is because she asked for help that she was led to you—yes, led to you. Otherwise, she would not be here. Be not afraid! Both you and Gloria will accomplish your mission from learning together, and special blessings will be yours. As long as you can hang on, I’m hanging in there with you. Gloria is a whole book on the best traditions of survival. So are you! Why? Because two people created by God are solid proof (in your office room) that terror and the need to survive do not have to undo every virtue, such as compassion, pity, decency, loyalty and, all important, the virtue of love. Do not try to understand me—just understand that I’m briefing you to help you in this task you’ve taken on. What you are actually doing is debriefing, like combat soldiers do after a bloody battle. Remember? A hole in the ground can hardly be considered a normal human habitat. A fighter pilot who has bailed out over an island swarming with enemy troops—and lived there for several days before being rescued—will seem different to someone sleeping comfortably at home in a soft bed. In this relation, you and the person I’m talking about have a great deal in common—you are survivors. More important, you are warmhearted and human. Yes, both of you! Something to brighten your day! Chances are, today will bring great progress. Right now, it is four-twenty. How time flies when you’re having a ball. At best, Gloria’s sleep would have been fitful. At three o’clock this morning Gloria’s friend Mason died. One thing here—Gloria has made a habit of surviving the death of people she cares for by using her principle about death. Mention “the mass suicide from the reading of the Dead Sea Zealots on the eve of capture by the Romans.” It will make an impression to remind Gloria of the principle behind the survival instinct that carried her so far. The principle is, “death should not be entered like some snug harbor. Death—unless God sends for someone—should be a loud, angry refusal to surrender.” This is important to Gloria, but she does not actually know it—the principle. You mention Mason if she doesn’t; but this man died and she begins to feel a lot more today. I say, “Mason died.” I am realistic. For Gloria to say, “Mason died” means she is not feeling again. No one will make her feel sorrow, because no one knows except me and Gloria that Mason, the “bother” (not literally), she loved the most. What I tell you here must remain between us and Gloria. I am Gloria’s Guardian, and I must do what is best for her regardless of how she would look at it. I will help you also to help Gloria in other ways. I do not speak in paragraphs. I will try to talk in your language. Do not try to understand this—someday you will. Just have the faith and keep cool. “Gloria’s objective at this point is to feel with her heart,” a course of survival that will last and make history. Remember! Gloria has an important mission, and she will have all the courage needed to accomplish this mission. In this manner, I am not like Gloria’s Helper who lives mostly in the present. I can see many other things, but I cannot be used for silly things or unless called. You, Gloria and Gloria’s Helper have gone through enough to make a confirmed pessimist out of Pollyanna. Remember! The thing to fear is lack of knowledge. Ask! It will be no big problem—the Guardian will help. You are very close to a quantum leap forward and to Gloria’s goal of becoming a whole being. Suggestions to start with are: Mason’s death; Speaking in Tongues; Patti; Margaret; and Susan. Use your own talent; you will know best as you go along. Call on me first, in your sessions with Gloria, if you wish—the Guardian. Remember! Love conquers all! This is reality—love! Don’t forget the grey house. Good luck!
Gloria Rising: A Story of Hope and Survival In Dark Evil Places Page 17