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It would be our last Christmas together in the 3-D. His house in San Francisco in 1991. He gave me an axe with a blonde wood handle and red satin bow wrapped under the head. I was wearing a black turtleneck, my favorite red tartan skirt, black tights, black knee-high boots and my silver Lorraine cross. My skirt flared out a bit and hit mid-thigh. I liked it because there were shorts built-in.

His gift confused me. Being 17, I didn’t see everything behind it. Maybe I still don’t. Through the lens of 48, I see the practicality of it-the axe is defense and can be used for firewood. He was also honoring me as the embodiment of Red Riding Hood. He was claiming his status as my wolf and true partner. And there was always the fun “Shining” element of it. “You got me an axe?” I can hear me asking those words even if the memories are fuzzy. He had a big smile on his face and said, “yeah, isn’t it great?” At the time, it wasn’t great. For a 17-year-old in love, it was the most unromantic gift next to getting a set of screwdrivers. But now I see it. Not to mention we were all on very limited incomes.  It was truly the thought that counted. Or maybe I am still romanticizing the gift and he meant nothing of the sort. Given that I had been brutally assaulted the month prior, maybe it was his way of giving me some protection. Who can say?

He had me pose for a photo and wanted me to look menacing. Had I known he was already seeing her and she was pregnant, I probably would have used the damn axe on him. But we didn’t keep secrets from each other, so there is something I must not remember.

The last I had heard, he was seeing a hybrid that he previously hated. I don’t have any memories of him telling me of the new one. And he and I continued to see each other in the 5-D at least up until 2008.

I even saw his house. He wanted me to see it before anyone else. Since the electricity was turned off, we had to use a flashlight. Then I saw what he had done. The turret steps were lined with candles, and he properly “introduced” me on the floor of each room of the house. I even carved my initials in several hidden spots. Whether he later did the same with her or anyone else, I am not sure, but that was our time together and I was with him. In a psychic memory, I can see him during renovations lifting the board up and seeing my initials carved at the end. In that particular room, most of the flooring had to be replaced but it is the one piece he refinished as best he could with a hand sander. He then placed it back with my initials facing down and placed a rug over that. His chair is placed on the board and he sits over my initials. The Wm I loved and craved was fully encapsulated in those gestures and moments.

But then there are the dangers of social media. I saw a photo of his now legal partner-the same woman from back then. She was standing, 17 years later, with an axe in hand. There was a red-satin bow under the head. It was the same damn axe-my axe. She was dressed in a black turtleneck, with a straight green tartan mini-skirt with black tights, black knee-high boots and a long silver necklace. One year later for every year I had been on earth up to that Christmas we shared. He took her photo and she looked severely disappointed. I am guessing he wanted to see who would play. She did not take the bait.

I spent another Christmas or two with him in the 5-D. At least one of those was with his family in Bakersfield, but he had a baby with her by 1992/93. We sat on the green shag carpet with the baby as I looked at him and cried. It was too painful to continue. Maybe it was all to torture me or show me I was replaceable or what I could have had. 

He and I were meant from the very minute I came to this incarnation. But others intervened and I forgot. I suppose he got tired of being seen for the first time and having to rebuild. I had to be a flower girl at his first wedding. It was hell. And so there was a best friend of mine that I developed a crush on. That best friend of mine hand-fasted with me, betrayed me and was behind plotting horrific things against me.

Yet, when I awoke in February/March, I immediately remembered that best friend and tried to reach out. I expressed the feelings I had for him as a child. But this process is like an onion or flower unfurling. It took time to see who I was really reaching out to. There may be a thousand memories to come that will prove me wrong. I am not sure I care at this point. I want the memories but the feelings are real. As I look back, I realize the words I wrote to someone else were for that person, but from when I was much younger, and those sentiments, from the fingers and heart of someone older and wiser, were only meant for Wm.

So I wrote him also. If all of this was a figment of my imagination, then I risked sounding unhinged. But I couldn’t let it go unsaid. I fumbled with what to say but still hit “send.” And all in return, there was silence.

Some could say I got hustled, or that it was all bullshit. From their perspective, that might be truth. But one of the hardest lessons humans have to learn is that not everything exists on their plane, from their perspective or according to their directives and will. They are not the centers of our universe or our puppet masters. We share marks. That means something for and to our kind. More importantly, it means something to us.

I am not sure what to make of all this. But it had to be said, regardless.

This is similar to what my skirt looked like. It was actually a skort. I cannot remember the brand. It could very well have been SMAK (since they use thin yellow lines in their tartan) but was also very close to the color of the Lip Service tartan. I was buying some Lip Service in the late 80s and early 90s so it is hard to say for sure.

For those who know their tartans, his “wife” was wearing one close to that of the McAlpine clan (note-several clans have similar tartan designs and colors) though I have no knowledge of her being part of my paternal clan or even her caring about tartans. The McAlpine tartan was first recorded by the Scottish Tartan Registry in 1906 and is the green tartan below. Her skirt was similar but not exact. The tartan of her surname would have been the blue but only dates back to 1994. In 1991, I wore the royal Stewart tartan whenever I wore plaid.

Stewart tartan or red plaid has a number of variations. It is also called golfing plaid. The two I wore most often are below. There is a link between the Stewart Tartan to Rothesay, which I sometimes wore as coat lining. My family did own property on Rothesay and lived there for a number of years.

The other Stewart tartan that I wore, and was the plaid of my skirt, was also tied to the Black family, which is a last name on my mother’s side.

My maternal line does extend to the royal Stewart’s and, yes, I did know Palmer.

For anyone who doubts or questions that, I can offer this-I was presented a sword by him. It was later taken from me and resold, but it bore the name of one Fred Stewart and he had clearly been a Freemason.

I cannot remember the brand of axe, if I even bothered to look. Those details would not have been lost on him though. It looks similar enough to the Collins brand, that he might have been sending me a message regarding the manuscript. Of course, he is forgetting that his choice to not save me and to let them have the manuscript cost me (us) many hundreds of millions of dollars from what others have stolen over the years. Yes, some details of his European family were used in the manuscript, as were many details of my family, my relationships and my house. The Collins family is literally in my line. I tried to control the information I gave the woman who demanded I write her a manuscript based on my story and history. An example of what I held back was how to design the “V” from my house for merchandise. And I kept other family/house details from her boyfriend and her family as much as I could even with nodes stuck to my brain and part of my skull missing. He was busy cozying up to his artist girlfriend. I was being tortured.

Now in hindsight, I saw something. At the last minute I was invited to a birthday party of a friend named Amy. I was 13 or 14, did not have money and money was tight for my family. I wanted to give her a gift so I gave her a ring my grandfather, Don had given me. It was a gold band with a small diamond. I had treasured it so I hoped it would show her I valued our friendship. I felt bad for giving up his gift to me and she offered to give it back but she was my best friend. I did not know that would not last as soon she said we were no longer best friends and she became best friends with a girl named Julie. Perhaps my eternal’s actions were revenge for that as later he would ask permission to re-gift a print he had given me and he gave his legal wife my axe. He said he had no money and nothing else to give the daughter of someone important. What could I say? Well, now I can. No, I was not okay with it. It was not his place to get revenge for anyone else-especially when those people said nothing to me. I am not okay with him giving away the gifts he told me he would hold for me.

It was bad enough when he did not save all of my belongings from being pillaged and taken in the last life time. They were sold off even though I had houses they could have been stored in. The truth is he did not want to bother and immediately took up with yet another human. It did not matter that his ex-wives took from little he had saved of our belongings and that out of funds I saved/inherited they had to be paid. Or when he did not bother to save me or my belongings in this one. He knew they were erasing memories. He knew what he meant/means to me. But this has now gone too far. He gave a piece of human scum my print and our rules demand he get it back and return it to me. So I am invoking this protocol. I will never purposely humiliate him, nor allow him to humiliate me. It is time to do this differently. I know who and what I am. I know who and what I want. It is time for him to discover that also. There will be no humans. This time, if he chooses to stay with his current one or chooses another, that influence on him will kill him. He had his 30 years of fun. Now it is done. I will no longer protect him with the human females. And I will not allow him to destroy me, my young, any of our future young or us.