May 1997 – Aaron finally leaves to go to help his father, and never said good-bye, he just left. Which only reinforces my suspicions.
July 1997 – After about 18 weeks, thousands of dollars, and two different “sets” of psychologists, and psychiatrists. The third psychologist I go to, who was referred from the second one after he said: “I have no idea how to help you or what to do with you!” because I was not “chemically imbalanced” and in spite of all of the drugs and attempts to simply make these “memories” simply go away he referred me to another doctor, and he was vice a president of the psychology department at Emory University hospital in Atlanta.
The third guy finally had a good idea. He says to me with a very egotistical demeanor “If you believe that your problem can all be solved using hypnosis why are you here in my office?” I laughed and thought about it and said: “you know, your GOD D*MN RIGHT!” I got up and walked out of his office. All along, my parents, especially my mother are very very concerned about my well being. My mother especially seems to want to know EXACTLY who I am seeing, and EXACTLY what medications they are prescribing to me. And of course, I tell her as she is threatening to come down and stay at my apartment until I get through this.
August 1997 – On the second, I had made arrangements to go and see a hypnotherapist. For the initial appointment, I had inquired as to if he had ever heard of the Silva mind control method, and he responded that he did and “was even aware of the technique and was fluent in its applications.”
I specifically did not mention anything about the government or the experiments. When I went in with Pilar, all I told him was that for some reason, that I, no matter how hard I tried, could not go down to my level using the Silva Method. I didn’t know why but I thought it was just because I was under a lot of pressure at work or something. He tries to put me under and I keep for some reason coming out of it. He said, “this is like trying to keep a rubber duck at the bottom of a tub of water when all it wants to do is keep popping back up to the surface.”
He then gave me his professional opinion. This is what he said “the mind is a funny thing, and we are not even close to beginning to understand it. Of all the functions in the mind, 95% of what occurs, occurs in the unconscious, and only 5% of the mind functions in the conscious. There is DEFINITELY something blocking you in some way. What’s happening is this, your unconscious is what really controls your mind. I suspect that something happened in your past, something that is so agonizingly painful your unconscious JUST WILL NOT let it come to the surface.
Like a “clenched fist,” it will not let it go. At that point, I knew that he knew I was lying about why I really came to see him. He was a nice guy and I liked him, but I had already made my plans to move back home, so I didn’t want to get started with a new “therapist” and then have to start all over again when I moved, so I never went back to see him. He didn’t even charge me for the session.
August 18th – My roommate from college and one of my best friends is getting married in Oswego NY. I flew into Newark NJ and drove up to upstate New York. Oswego is located about 50 miles or so North of Syracuse, with all this going on in my head I didn’t make a plane reservation until the week before.
The airlines wanted $1,200.00 to fly into Syracuse directly so I flew from Atlanta to Newark for $199.00 and borrowed my mother’s car and drove up. It was good to see my friends and we had a great time. On my way home, since I was already up there I got on the New York State thruway and went to Rochester as opposed to coming directly home, more specifically the University of Rochester. I was only going to one place and one place only.
The building where I scaled the wall and the girl was killed. The building where I remember seeing men in yellow suits working at 3:00 in the morning “fixing” everything. The building where I went back in the morning and found the crack in the block, and where the railing had been replaced with a “new” one but the cement was a different color.