SOS

*

SOS

(Genuine)

Hello

I'm a twenty nine year old British person in London England. 

I'm receiving memories and telepathies. 

I'm being watched in a telepathic room. 

I'm being threatened with body possession.

I'm being told that some kind of organisation/ is going to break my back

and subject me to some kind of imprisonment that may involve torture... 

I have a pain on my back where the intended back break will be.  

I don't know anyone in England.

They may have switched the members of my family.  

I may have trouble breathing/ speaking/ reading.  

Don't go into their rooms

They are torturing people for food

Please help.  

Don't live at your parents house. 

Find work & Pay rent.

Take your children out of their schools.   

Short film (just holding up signs) found at; http://youtu.be/ZUAJbWWjIR8 

Contact; psmeighan@live.co.uk

Please help.

*

A note (written to a bunch of embassies in London...)

Hi. 

I wrote a note to a bunch of embassies in London.  I don't know if they can do anything but at least I've had a go...: reads as follows; 

Paul M
(Without an address at present, somewhere near London)
Contactable on 07407 618 398 (UK mobile) 

*Please ensure this note finds its way to those who might know of such things.

'SOS'
(Genuine please read) 

Hello.  

Please excuse the nature of this message I’m struggling to write anything at all concise; this is a genuineSOS please read and if you can, respond.

The nature of the SOS is as follows;

I’m a thirty-two year old British male currently residing about 40 minutes outside London in the UK.  I’m contacting a number of embassies & organisations in the UK.  I have something going on outside of the ordinary, I don’t know who to contact as I’ve never experienced such things before, but I’m pretty frightened and I have to at least try to contact people who might understand.

A few years ago I received a number of memories, months and months worth, vivid memories that I could interact with.  It was after some time spent alone in a kind of isolation.  Some of the memories were somewhat sinister.

Over time the memories turned into telepathies.  I was told telepathically to leave the UK because I was  in some kind of danger.  I’m being told that some kind of organisation is going to possess my body and commit some kind of crime, and that I will wake up in my body in jail.  Possibly with a broken spine.  Or they possibly intend to break my spine at some later point in the future.  I’ve been told about something called the ‘underneath’.  I’m being told that the intention of the organisation is to imprison me for some time and subject me to torture.

My body (or a duplicate of my body) is being watched in a room somewhere by a bunch of people.  Lots of famous faces. 

I’m being told that people (ghost figures) are being tortured for me to eat food until I leave the UK.  It’s been for some time and I’ve been eating somewhat normally.  I don’t know where I can go for help and what I can do.  I don’t know who to inform.  Everything seems so far-fetched that people are dismissing my fears. 

Please, is it possible to meet with anyone in person?  I’m available on the number above.  Please I need people who can help.

SOS

           

What follows is a short version of my personal history including addresses and institutions attended.  I’m trying to communicate as much information as I can.  I don’t know if it’s relevant but I don’t know what else to include.  Some of the places are where the memories are from.  It’s also basically where I’ve been and what I’ve done.
    
I was born on the 19th of December 1981 at the following hospital outside London in England;

Chase Farm Hospital
The Ridgeway
Enfield, Middlesex
en2 8jl

My parents were Irish migrants who moved from Northern  Ireland to London back in the seventies to flee some kind of trouble and to find work.  I have an elder brother and an elder sister.  My home address at birth (1981 - 1987) was as follows;

17 Latymer Way
Edmonton
London
n9

I have very little recollection of that time.  I know I attended a nursery school there and possibly early school.  I found the address of the first school on the internet;

Hazelbury junior school
Haselbury Road
London
n9 9ff

My family moved around the year 1987 to a new address, around thirty minutes away and I consequently moved school.  The new address (1987 - 2000) was;

49 Slades Hill
Enfield
Middlsex
en2 7dn

and the new school address (1987 - 1992);

Merryhills junior school
Bincote Road
Enfield
Middlesex
en2 7rr

Again I have very little recollection of that time, but I do know I was a pretty quiet kid.  Not an issue for me, but if I was being watched it might be an issue for people who think that it’s not a big deal to do anything bad on me as I speak little.  Developed two accents, people pretty bright there.

The name of the secondary school I attended (1992- 1998) is as follows;

Southgate School.
Sussex way,                   
Cockfosters,
Herts,
en4 obl.

I also attended sixth form college at the same school (1998 - 2000).  I met a girl, cared less about my studies.  Flunked exams and went through clearing to university.

Around the year 2000 my family moved into rented accommodation briefly at;

27 Compton Road
Winchmore Hill
London
n21 3NU

From the year 2000 to the year 2003 I attended;

Sussex University
Falmer
Brighton
Bn1 9rh
I went through clearing.

My addresses when there are as follows;

2000 - 2001
25 Hythe Road
Brighton
East Sussex
Bn1And;

67h park village
University of Sussex
Falmer
Brighton
Bn1

2001 - 2002
12 Seville Street
Brighton
East Sussex
Bn1

2002 - 2003
10 Newmarket Road
Brighton
East Sussex
Bn1 3qh

…most of my time there forgotten, it's only lately become relevant.  

Meanwhile my family had moved to;

907 Hertford Road
Waltham Cross
Hertfordshire
en8 7rr

(Late year 2000) and that remained my home address until 2011.  

When I finished University I returned home and got a labouring job for a tunnelling company.  I was trying to save up.  I was pretty happy at the time.  I had a good relationship with my family & friends.  Everything was going okay.  

But something happened.  I had a few weeks off of work and I was planning to search for a new wok.  But around March 2004 I took a 'psilocybin' mushroom with a few friends.  The mushrooms were available in a normal store so I didn’t think they were a serious thing.  I thought it was a 5 minute giggly thing.  I had a very negative response that lasted years.  I believe my mind was somehow tampered with. 

This might not be relevant but I feel as though I should include it.  I kind of forgot who I was and I started to have great trouble speaking, for example if I tried to say 'hello my name is Paul', I would mix the order of the words and instead say something like 'hello Paul my name is'.  This was a fairly damaging thing.  There was a lot of pressure to find work and I didn’t feel capable. 

The event of the mushrooms spurred on a time of isolation.  I forgot how I used to speak with my family, friends or anyone at all.  In a series of weeks or months I became detached from everyone and everything I'd known and I spent a great deal of time alone.

For the period that covered age 22 to 27 I think I worked only around two years, low level construction work found via my older brother.  It was a difficult time.  At all other times I was signing on (or claiming job seekers allowance, a benefit available for the people out of work in the UK).  The address of the job centre office where I used to sign for huge periods of time was;  

Waltham Cross Job Centre
235 High St
Waltham Cross
EN8 7BA

Time was a healer.  Eventually I began to become better.  I was reading, keeping up to date and I thought that maybe it’d be possible able to get a job and move on.  I mean, I was okay, I just had trouble speaking.  What happened next was sort of unexpected...

What happened..;

In March of my 27th year I was driving around on my own and I started to receive a series of memories.  I had to pull over, I was screaming really loudly.  It was a memory from 2003.  In the memory I was speaking to people.  The memories were very vivid, almost as if I was actually there.

I’ll try to explain; to receive memories was something that I did not believe was possible.  I’m a surface level individual, receiving memories or telepathies is a far-fetched thing.  I was told that there was something going on.  The people there told me I was going to be okay.

I started to receive a few months worth of memories from my old school, of people arguing in a strange way.  Some of the memories were sinister unlike anything I’d seen before.  I was told that alot of the people I ever knew were a part of some kind of secret organisation.  I kept the memories to myself. 

The memories turned into telepathies.  I was made aware that my body, or a duplicate of my body was being watched in a room somewhere.  I can feel the presences of people watching me.  I was told that some kind of organisation was planning on possessing my body and committing some kind of crime and as part of the  process my back would be broken.  I was told that I would have to leave the UK and I was told that people were being tortured for me to eat food.

My family moved again on 25th March 2011 to a small town around forty minutes from London.  I don’t want to give out the address; the British police have already visited because of an email I sent to a cathedral in England I informed them of what was going on and I don’t want the police to call again – there isn’t any real point.

I told my parents and eventually the local mental health organisation what I was being told.  I searched for anyone I used to know on the internet to tried to inform them.  I also sent emails to churches and cathedrals and told the local police.  

I was told that people were still being tortured for me to eat food.  I’ve been eating it for an awfully long time.  I don’t know what to do.  I’m being watched and I’m receiving telepathies each day, all day, every day.  I don’t know if there are safe where such things would not be possible.  

My hope is that I could inform someone who might be able to do something about it, maybe the presence of another country.  I don’t believe this is a hoax.  

I repeat; I’m a thirty two year old British person, I’m receiving memories and telepathies, I’m being told that some kind of organisation is going to possess my body and commit some kind of crime and that I will wake up in prison, possibly with a broken spine, possibly that my spine will be broken at a later date.  I have a pain on my back where the intended back break will be.   I’m being told that people are being tortured for food, and I’m being told I was tortured in the underneath at school, and that it is the intention of the organisation, or whatever it is, to torture me again.  

My ideal is that I might be able to meet with someone, anyone, from anywhere who might know of such things in person.  Or even just just a telephone conversation.  Please I’m on my own with this I need help.  

I made a short film and attached it to a blog of me just holding up signs.  It’s located at; 

http://youtu.be/ZUAJbWWjIR8 

and the blog at www.wordorchestra.blogspot.co.uk.  

Please, if somebody could contact me.  I’m asking for help.  

SOS.

Paul M.

Sent to the following embassies in 'London' (in no particular order);

Embassy of Iceland, Embassy of Switzerland, Embassy of Sweden, Embassy of France, Embassy of Ireland, Spanish Embassy, Portuguese Embassy, Italian Embassy, Canadian High Commission, Cyprus High Commission, Royal Netherlands Embassy, Embassy of the Republic of Bulgaria, The Consulate of Ukraine, Embassy of Russia, Royal Norweigan Embassy, Embassy Finland of Finland, Embassy of Brazil, Embassy of the Republic of Panama, Embassy of the Argentine republic, Embassy of Peru, , Embassy of Romania, Austrian Embassy, Embassy Of Morocco, Embassy Of The Republic Of Lithuania, Slovenian Embassy, Embassy Of The Republic Of Poland, Fco uk(Los Angeles). 

*

I don't know who to tell...

Wednesday 18th September; 

They're torturing people for food, whoever 'they' is and wherever 'there' is.  It's been going on for some time.  I've just ignored it, it's sort of an error.  I suppose the wisest option would be to up and leave, but I'm not sure where to go or what to do.  

I drove around yesterday looking for local churches.  There's a church a short walk from the house, and others around the town.  Took a few of the phone numbers and made a few calls.  The church of Waltham Abbey called me back after a missed call and the Rector agreed to meet me on Friday at nine thirty am.  When I asked for an appointment he said 'I'll just get me booke' in the kind of accent an old friend used to use.  Old friend was always saying that about whatever novel he might be reading at that point.  Long time since we've met.  They might be in touch with one another in whatever way I don't know.  All I know is that I'd like to inform someone and churches in the locality might be the wisest option.  I called a few others and got mainly voicemails.  I got the numbers for 'St Mary great Parndon' (nearest church to the house), 'St Thomas More', a modern looking church near to the hospital, 'St Mary at Latton' which had some kind of church community centre nearby, 'St Lukes' (been there with the family for some kind of mass), 'St Andrews' in Stansted Abbots, and St Thomas a Beckett at Narthaw.  

Someone answered the phone at St Thomas a Beckett, might have been the vicar I'm not sure.  At the outset of beginning to hear voices I spent a bit of time there at the church.  It was always empty.  I asked to meet and was informed that contacting the local Parish of Harlow, where I've been living for some time would be the correct course of action.  I tried but hit only voicemails.  

I called a few others today.  The rector of St Marys was home.  I told them about the appointment with a Waltham Abbey priest on Friday and she told me to let her know how it goes.  There's a mass on Sunday at 10 am, it's days away and there are people being tortured for food.  But I'd really like to go.  Makes sense to me to inform the nearest church.  I also called St Thomas more, where the hall hire receptionist gave me the number for 'Lady Fatima'.  The two churches are a short drive apart but must operate under a the same governance.  I asked if we could meet because I was 'hearing voices' and he asked if I was a catholic.  I never made communion or confirmation but I said I sort of was.  The guy agreed to meet me at half twelve tomorrow.  I'd rather inform St Marys or Waltham Abbey but I figured I'd keep the appointment so that I've at least informed a parish priest. 

I have a doctors appointment tomorrow with the psychiatrist at the Derwent centre, Harlow at eleven thirty and short medical prior at eleven.  Just in case I never tap it all up, I sort of informed the local mental health people but had to retract when I thought they might keep me institutionalized while the food was going on.  I said at an initial appointment that I was being threatened with body possession, possibly to be used for a crime and that people were being tortured for food.  I was sectioned, held at the psychiatric ward.  I thought they might not let me go, so I completely retracted, appealed through a supplied solicitor and was set free.  I didn't want to retract but I had to get away from the food. 

A friend told me not to mention the food to the doctor.  Who knows what kind of crazy shit they might do to me because of it.  It's the danger of informing anyone.  Who knows what the consequences might be.  

I'll keep the doctors appointment and the appointment at the church tomorrow.  Friday I can inform the rector at Waltham Abbey.  I'd really like to attend the Sunday mass at Great Parndon so that my closest parish preist is sort of aware.  I have no cash til Monday anyway.  I might stumble into city on Monday to try to inform someone else.   

The back pain's ominous and my mind is feels pretty screwed.  God knows what'll happen.  

Other entry tomorrow.  

Thursday 19th September; 

I had a doctors appointment with the Harlow psychiatrist.  As advised, I didn't really tell the guy anything.  He was friendly and polite.   

Afterwards, I met a priest named 'Slavik' at the Lady Fatima Presbyterry.  I basically said I was receiving telepathies and that some kind of organisation was going to break my back via body posession and that people were being tortured for me to eat food at my mothers & late fathers house.  The guy, a big guy, from somewhere European had kind tears in his eyes.  He said, 'what am I supposed to do with that?'  He asked if these people were here about some kind of event in my history.  Who knows I'm not exactly a saint.  While he said there was nothing he could do... ( I told him about the other appointments) he said to let him know how the other appointments went and suggested that he knew the phone numbers of a couple of priests in London who may be able to perform some kind of exorcism.  I thanked him kindly and left.  The church is in Harlow, I don't know how such things work. I could say at least I'd told someone but it didn't really feel that way.  Decided to maybe return after the other appointments but I don't see what it can do.  I don't know how the underneath works, it's not impossible that it'll help in someway but also, nit impossible that it'll hurt in some way.  Alas, at least I told someone.  

Friday 20th September;  

Kept an appointment to meet the head rector at Waltham Abbey church.  It's a big imposing building, maybe that's how the church works.  Basically told the guy the same spiel.  He said to persevere with the mental health.  I'm on quitiapine.  I think all pharmaceuticals are placebo at his point.  Either way I don't believe that the medication will stop the voices or people watching from eventually possessing my body and imprisoning me for torture.  I have to be honest, this priest looked as though he sort of hated me.  But hey, it's a big parish church that I used to live near, at least I met and tried to inform someone.  He said he'd email the my local parish.  I thanked him kindly, he was a nice polite fellow and departed.  Still didn't really feel like I'd told anyone.  It's a heavy weight, I should have somehow made a noise about this stuff.  

I kept another appointment at a church in Hertford at 2.30pm.  I tried to contact a church at Stansted Abbots, a small village near Hertford I found a few years ago, but the parish priest was away.  I was contacted by someone in Hertford, covering the leave.  Drove over to Hertford.  The guy sat me down and I told him in reasonably thorough detail.  He said that he couldn't help, and said he'd email my local parish.

So I sort of wanted to attend the service at St Marys on Sunday, it's only a stones throw away from my house.  Literally a seven minute walk.  

Sunday... 

Missed the service.  Gave up on telling anyone.  Still living in a house with people being tortured for food.  It's not funny, I can guess what they're going to do back.  

The level, Brighton, aerial view.

Crossed pathways...

aesthetic

".. His thinking was a dusk of doubt and selfmistrust, lit up at moments by the lightnings of intuition, but lightnings of so clear a splendour that in those moments the world perished about his feet as if it had been fire consumed: and thereafter his tongue grew heavy and he met the eyes of others with unanswering eyes for he felt that the spirit of beauty had folded him round like a mantle and that in reverie at least he had been acquainted with nobility.

 

 - To finish what I was saying about beauty - said Stephen - the most satisfying relations of the sensible must therefore correspond to the necessary phases of artistic apprehension. Find these and you find the qualities of universal beauty. Aquinas says: Ad- pulcritudinem tria requiruntur integritas, consonantia, claritas. I translate it so: Three things are needed for beauty, wholeness, harmony and radiance. Do these correspond to the phases of apprehension? Are you following?
- Of course, I am - said Lynch.- If you think I have an exerementitious intelligence run after Donovan and ask him to listen to you.-
Stephen pointed to a basket which a butcher's boy had slung inverted on his head.
- Look at that basket - he said.
- I see it - said Lynch.
- In order to see that basket - said Stephen - your mind first of all separates the basket from the rest of the visible universe which is not the basket. The first phase of apprehension is a bounding line drawn about the object to be apprehended. An esthetic image is presented to us either in space or in time. What is audible is presented in time, what is visible is presented in space. But temporal or spatial, the esthetic image is first luminously apprehended as selfbounded and selfcontained upon the immeasurable background of space or time which is not it. You apprehended it as one thing. You see it as one whole. You apprehend its wholeness. That is integritas.-
- Bull's eye!- said Lynch, laughing - Go on.-
- Then - said Stephen - you pass from point to point, led by its formal lines; you apprehend it as balanced part against part within its limits; you feel the rhythm of its structure. In other words, the synthesis of immediate perception is followed by the analysis of apprehension. Having first felt that it is one thing you feel now that it is a thing. You apprehend it as complex, multiple, divisible, separable, made up of its parts, the result of its parts and their sum, harmonious. That is consonantia.-
- Bull's eye again! - said Lynch wittily.- Tell me now what is claritas and you win the cigar.
- The connotation of the word - Stephen said - is rather vague. Aquinas uses a term which seems to be inexact. It baffled me for a long time. It would lead you to believe that he had in mind symbolism or idealism, the supreme quality of beauty being a light from some other world, the idea of which the matter was but the shadow, the reality of which it was but the symbol. I thought he might mean that claritas was the artistic discovery and representation of the divine purpose in anything or a force of generalization which would make the esthetic image a universal one, make it outshine ~its proper conditions. But that is literary talk. I understand it so. When you have apprehended that basket as one thing and have then analysed it according to its form and apprehended it as a thing you make the only synthesis which is logically and esthetically permissible. You see that it is that thing which it is and no other thing. The radiance of which he speaks in the scholastic quidditas, the whatness of a thing. This supreme quality is felt by the artist when the esthetic image is first conceived in his imagination. The mind in that mysterious instant Shelley likened beautifully to a fading coal. The instant wherein that supreme quality of beauty, the clear radiance of the esthetic image, is apprehended luminously by the mind which has been arrested by its wholeness and fascinated by its harmony is the luminous silent stasis of esthetic pleasure, a spiritual state very like to that cardiac condition which the Italian physiologist Luigi Galvani, using a phrase al-most as beautiful as Shelley's, called the enchantment of the heart.-
Stephen paused and, though his companion did not speak, felt that his words had called up around them a thought enchanted silence.
- What I have said - he began again - refers to beauty in the wider sense of the word, in the sense which the word has in the literary tradition. In the market place it has another sense. When we speak of beauty in the second sense of the term our judgment is influenced in the first place by the art itself and by the form of that art. The image, it is clear, must be set between the mind or senses of the artist himself and the mind or senses of others. If you bear this in memory you will see that art necessarily divides itself into three forms progressing from one to the next. These forms are. the lyrical form, the form wherein the artist presents his image in immediate relation to himself the epical form, the form wherein he presents his image in mediate relation to himself and to others the dramatic form, the form wherein he presents his image in immediate relation to others. -
- That you told me a few nights ago - said Lynch - and we began the famous discussion.-
- I have a book at home - said Stephen - in which I have written down questions which are more amusing than yours were. In finding the answers to them I found the theory of the esthetic which I am trying to explain. Here are some questions I set myself: Is a chair finely made tragic or comic? Is the portrait of Mona Lisa good if I desire to see it? Is the bust of Sir Philip Crampton lyrical, epical or dramatic? If not, why not? -
- Why not, indeed? - said Lynch, laughing.
- If a man hacking in fury at a block of wood - Stephen continued - make there an image of a cow, is that image a work of art? If not, why not?-
- That's a lovely one - said Lynch, laughing again.- That has the true scholastic stink.-
- Lessing - said Stephen - should not have taken & group of statues to write of. The art, being inferior, does not present the forms I spoke of distinguished clearly one from another. Even in literature, the highest and most spiritual art, the forms are often confused. The lyrical form is in fact the simplest verbal vesture of an instant of emotion, a rhythmical cry such as ages ago cheered on the man who pulled at the oar or dragged stones up a slope. lie who utters it is more conscious of the instant of emotion than of himself as feeling emotion. The simplest epical form is seen emerging out of lyrical literature when the artist prolongs and broods upon himself as the centre of an epical event and this form progresses till the centre of emotional gravity is equidistant from the artist himself and from others. The narrative is no longer purely personal. The personality of the artist passes into the narration itself, flowing round and round the persons and the action like a vital sea. This progress you will see easily in that old English ballad Turpin Hero, which begins in the first person and ends in the third person. The dramatic form is reached when the vitality which has flowed and eddied round each person fills every person with such vital force that he or she assumes a proper and intangible esthetic life. The personality of the artist, a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalizes itself so to speak. The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic like that of material creation is accomplished. The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.-
- Trying to refine them also out of existence said Lynch."

The suburbs

I've moved to the suburbs.  I'm used to urban deterioration.  It isn't easy...

...