I was maybe 18, or 19 at the time, and I was headed to work. Now work to me was youTHink, a social non profit. I sued to tell people I worked there, and they would give me a funny look. I don't think they took it seriously, because it did not have benefits. There was no dental plan. It was under the table the way I got in, but the check was legitimate.
The check also was small. On the way there, I wore a green shirt and blue pants, Nothing especially stellar, just my lack on style and youth. I saw another man, dressed in EXACTLY the same ting, a bit to my right, in the distance. I felt I was being followed.
Later, a woman who worked with Sunji Ali, took me around the neighborhood. She showed me a man with EXACTLY the same clothes on as me. I couldn't believe it. All the way down to the socks and perhaps the shoes too, but I didn't check those.
I was stunned and shocked. I later went on to buy her some chicken. Her name was Pamela, and she is on a song entitled Homeboy from Sunji before he passed.
This continues today. Now we have many folks sucking off me and prospering. Profiting, getting their share of what they stole. They call it business, they call it progress. They act rude, and try to make you look bad, as if you are the crumb and they are the original. No one ought to be the crumb, and I am the original.
I suppose this is not something to cry for, because it will continue. you have children that are born now, being taught it's ok to steal. It's called inspiration now, not theft.
I had a vision of being at a store and there was a blue sweatered man to my right. He was not smiling at me and appeared to be threatening. He had the same wild hair as you see now, the dread or what have you. I appeared afraid, and ready to fight. I didn't have to.
I then was at some restaurant. There were sitting with me some black folks, people who you would consider modern progressives. The boujie, I have you don't types, people who sold out their heritage. People who wouldn't talk to you on the street. PEople who wouldn' be around you if you didn't have money. I sat with these people.
I was talking to them, or hearing them talk. They were all light skinned, not high yellow, but light enough to say they were light skinned. The man on my right was not friendly. The man before me was not smiling either. All the people seemed to be against me.
There was a table to my left. On that table, a man in a hoodie seemed to be talking to someone facing behind me. He also seemed to signify some awareness, like, revealing he used to be dirty. The hoodie was multicolored, and clean. I seemed to be able to tell he used to be dirty, but now he wasn't.
Behind HIM was another man, a black looking man, in a black hoodie. He was JET black. Blacker than skin. He was not a man. He looked at me, to his left, and was not smiling. He was frowning, gnashing his teeth. He was evil like. He was like, another being in a black body. He had the appearance of a really black man. But he was not black. He was like space. He was dark, not skin colored. He was another being.
Then, "5 balls" I hear. The man to my right reaches over to me, telling me this. He puts his arm on my right arm, like pulling me a little bit. I suddenly see this enormous blob of flesh, men's long penises jutting in and out of holes. These were like stomach holes. These were like gross perverse holes. All the bodies were like melted into one, and some men in the blob were sucking other men's dicks. All the dicks were long, all were like big and all were black. The men sucking looked frustrated, trapped, confused, lost in perversion. Pure lust. It was like out of a nighmare.
The blacker than night guy looked at me like, "now you know something" and gritted his teeth at me. They were sharp and knife like. If they bit you they could tear flesh. His skin shined in the light from the room. Were still like in a restaurant. I knew something now, maybe too much.
I woke up shortly after this and said something about Lauren Sanchez and Jeff Bezos. "She sold you out" I said. "For herself."
Something eerie is going on. The people I saw, all of them were mad. At me. Not at the world, or the cafe we were at. Just me. They all wanted me to die, I thought. I felt they were all out to get me.
What does that mean? It means they want to see me dead, as if it would solve a problem. It's like something was supposed to happen, and because I am alive, it didn't. Now, people are furious.
Christmas day, a man drove by my uncle and grimaced at me in the car. He too had a black hoodie on. This was in real life. It's something about the black hoodie, something about the grimacing. The man in the dream did the same thing.
But in the dream I smiled back. I gave a clown smile like, "yep, you can't stop the clown, da." I felt forced to do it, like defending myself. So you see, in both cases on the dream, I defended myself. It's something trying to get at me, and is not able to. So I have to defend my myself or show strength.
I don't know what is going on. All I know is I am alone in this to some degree. I don't have a job, I have only a little money, and I need to earn fast. I need more than $5000 a month. TJ's Mom, I saw her at the bank. She didn't say nothing. She was like, hesitant to say anything. I didn't say anything either. She wasn't wrong, but I could sense the tension. She was concerned about her son.
Some time ago, I told her mother I had plans to raise TJ. To take him from the environment he was in and raise him blue. Not so much gangs, but just the true blue way. The way I was raised. To do right, keep it tight, and always have honour. It's the only way.
I don't think the mom wants that, or will allow it, especially now. The dad kind of looks like Mr. Lamar, a dude who secretly likes Brenda and helped her escape my love. He helped her to embrace the neighborhood and stay with some military guy or whatever, but anyway not me. The sabotage of our relationship started way back. We didn't look right, I didn't have any money, and there was a young lady who liked me. She was trying to get my interest, but I was interested in Brenda's tits. Moreover than that, I was wondering myself whether or not we ought to be together, since I didn't know how to love Brenda then anyway. I know now, but I wish I had've then.
So there you have it. Strange perversions virusing the earth, and the people are with it. The reason, it's easier. No worries if you are perverted. No real consequences for imperfections. Easier to belong. But it's wrong. Gay is wrong. It's in schools. Are they going to have beer next? Are they ogoing to have heroin needles, sherm and weed blunts at school on campus?
I beg to differ. I am different all the way. My parents have been acting odd. I won't say wierd, out of respect. But the oddness is there.
My father was telling me about getting a job. I told him, If I can't make it, I'll have to get a job. He sounded relieved. "Yeah," he says. It's like he saying, "give it up son, get normal, and get in gear." I almost want to rebel. Then, he's raising two other kids! Tracy wants me dead, it seems like. If I was just gone, he wouldn't have to worry about California any more! HE could just focus on me, and the kids. Forget about California or Julius. He's a screwup any way. I don't really think she thinks that, but that's how it seems to me. I think she'd just rather I go away and let the twwo young men be the focus now. They're my siblings, but not blood!
So there you have it. Not to mention I have $12 paypal now. Or less. I have 4 something on the SJ, and 11 on the cat. I have a little fun scrather money, and few points from the laugh. It's a sad chapter because the money is low.
I think if I have a goal of $5000 a month online, then I have to be able to guarantee that income month after month after month. If I can guarantee the income of say $1500 a week, then I can say I have $5000 a month covered. But Lord, how do I do that? What is the method? What is the procedure?
Pray.
Lord.
