The Tale #40 - Saved by Baby Ken?

It was June, 2004.  It had been almost a year living with the people in my hips.  I was DONE with therapists so I focused on my Yoga work with Douglass.  We met at least once a week, diving into the weird energy that had somehow lodged itself in my body, and I would bounce and cry and bounce and cry, but the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t getting better. The People in my Hips had taken over my life. 

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was driving on my way to Walmart in Mohegan Lake to do some shopping.   The route I took to Mohegan Lake required that I pass through my old home town of Yorktown Heights where I grew up. I had driven this route by myself on many occasions and there was never a problem, but this particular Sunday afternoon things were different. 

As I drove down Rt 202 through Yorktown, I wasn’t alone.   

DON’T GO THERE!  GET AWAY!  Don’t go there! GET AWAY!

Oh hell, it was a little voice in my head screaming at me?

DON’T GO THERE!  GET AWAY!  Don’t go there! GET AWAY!

I quickly pulled into the Staples parking lot and pulled over and parked.

What the hell is going on!  

My body was shaking and my head was bouncing side to side.

Stay away from that house. Run away!  Don’t go there!

I pushed back my seat back, lay back flat, shook and wept hysterically for 30 minutes.  A little voice screaming in my ear:

Don’t go there!

And it wasn’t referring to WALMART.

Baby Ken was telling me not to go near my old house in Yorktown where I lived as a child for there was DANGER there.

If I went there, I would be hurt.  I would be hurt…

…by the Dark Man. 

 

It was 40 years later.

40 years after whatever had happened.

 

40 years later and a scared little voice had somehow embodied me, and then stopped me, forcing me to cry, and shake for 30 minutes in my little green Honda Civic.

The house where I grew up was only a mile away.

Somehow, in some crazy way, Baby Ken, was keeping me safe.

 

A half hour later, I pulled my crying self together and drove to Walmart without further psychotic communications.

 

That night, I called Dr. Freud.

Ken WolfComment