A response to a reply...

I received notification of a comment on my last post. It heartened me to get anything. I know someone, somewhere is reading this.

The reply read: "its spelled america.its south of canada and north of mexico"

I wanted to reply directly to the commenter, but that does not appear to be an option available from the interface.

So I made a new post to tell you something. I have to wonder if it surprises you or it does not, but here it goes:

None of those places exist, but the name 'canada' is similar to a word from one of the larger languages in my country. 'Canad.' In my language it translates to 'north' so I thought that was rather interesting. I could be the victim of a joke right now but I'm not willing to rule out that maybe someone who understands Louis is reading this. 

He writes things down now, when he remembers them. Sometimes they make little sense and sometimes he tears the paper he wrote them on and keeps it for himself. Sometimes he gives it to me. They can be rather interesting, sometimes but often he doesn't entirely understand what it means when he's done. He says he has forgotten how to remember or something of the sort. 

Here are a few of his interesting scribblings that remain unexplained. I can provide no other information for anyone reading or for myself right now. They're in haphazard lists of half thoughts, so I'll bullet point them for you. 

• My brother is alive. 
• ache of sleeping on cement 
• ropes of night flesh
• he has forgotten himself and them
• she is sick but he could help but doesn't know
• the footprints stop why do they stop
• It is not a mask, there is nothing
• It may not always be that way
• many victims found a home, all yanked away
• i am the mystery now
• i am the voice of the commune
• he and she were at their funeral? why? only for me. 
• a broken heart and not much else

 

When I first found Louis, I was disconcerted that someone who didn't know themselves wasn't known by the field. While he cannot decipher his writings and neither can I, their nature is somehow wrong. Now, I am becoming more than disconcerted.

I am having problems sleeping and so is he. 

Something moves outside my window but nothing is there. 

I hope it is not him, I want to trust him. 

I want to understand him. 

I have to. 

The Blog Has Problems

I know it has been rather a long silence. That is alright. Sometimes long pauses are simply the vehicle for deep thought. This was not exactly the case, this time. See, the longstanding problem with my blog has yet to be fixed. There has also been the matter of tending to my new roommate. He has not had much luck in recovering his memories and the two times that I have attempted a guided meditation or hypnotic technique he has had adverse reactions. The first time I simply tried a visual of opening a book and attempting to read it, retrieve what it says inside. The result was a long period of him doubting whether this would work. Well, there is no way to meditate when you're busy doubting the worth of it.

So I did indeed put him under.

When I tried to recall the memories that time, I still tried a guided imagery technique but he simply began to babble nonsense words and shake. Looking back now, I believe it was out of fear. That was disturbing enough, he was not well for a couple of days after. It was the second attempt, when I used a more direct, forceful approach that truly scared me. I have never seen him show much irritation or any signs of violence but after several minutes of directly questioning him about his past, trying to push him to remember, he rose from his seat and struck me. It was only one hit but it was enough that, I'm afraid to say, I did not want to continue. He held no memory of the attack after I snapped him out of it. Indeed as soon as he punched me he simply sat back down and looked the other direction as if nothing had happened.

I'm all for the consideration that the genders are equal, but all the same I recognize that I am a small woman and he is, while not very large, a larger man. The one hit took the wind out of me. He apologizes profusely for it and has taken to cleaning the house or having lunch ready by the time I come home from work. I have forgiven it but he has not.

As for the issue with the blog it is a bit complicated.

I can access the interface to write my post and make it. I can even edit prior posts through it, alter its appearance. Yet, when I go to the address to read it, click on a link in the interface to go to the page, anything of the sort, it does not exist. It is not there. The company has no explanation for me, but I know that the account is out there and it is getting views. What is very odd is that the sites it lists as sources for these views do not exist.

So I am wondering if it is not some sort of error... I have to ask, is there anybody out there?

Perhaps someone who knows who Louis is, what it means to be 'googled' or what Amarika is? It is the only fact about himself he has recovered so far. He is from a place he calls Amarika. I have tried to find such a place on a map but it doesn't exist. It forces me to confront the old worry that I am living with a mad man.  

When I found him.

It occurs to me to get this recollection down while details remain mostly solid in my mind.

It was early morning at the time and I was out of bed and uncharacteristically awake for such an early rise. While I was readying for my day, unnaturally colored light came in through my bedroom window. I will not pretend that my first concern was not for my privacy, however when I covered up and looked out of the window, he was lying in the grass behind my home. I could not focus on him properly at first. I opened the window to try to speak to him, scare him off, threaten to call the authorities.

That was when I heard, faintly, voices, hundreds of them, as if a group of people were standing beside him, whispering. Strange music that I have never heard before, just as faintly, seemed to hang in the air. It passed very quickly and as it did I could see him more clearly. I dressed quickly and hurried out onto the frosted lawn, across it and into the field behind my home, barefoot because I was not thinking clearly. I heard no voices, no music and he was not moving. For a moment I think he may not have been breathing, but the moment I laid a hand upon him to check for a pulse, he gasped.

There is little to say about what followed. I managed to get him inside and I waited for him to wake up. I chose not to go to work... and I have not since. He slept for a very long time and woke up unsure of who he was and unreasonably hungry.  I suppose he is, sad to say, exceptionally small for his height, which is about three inches taller than I am. 

Introducing "Louis"

I have not written again in a short time. That is to say, I have had more pressing concerns. The chief of these being the unknown person now sharing my home with me. He attempted to allow himself to be taken elsewhere originally, but had some… difficulties.

Speaking of difficulties…there are some difficulties with the blog. They are truly baffling and asking around has revealed no answer the problem. I’ve e-mailed the company itself, but no response quite yet.

More importantly, on the off chance that someone out there knows of someone missing, I thought I would introduce him. When all I have to tell you is his name (and for some reason he does not want me to say his last name, he is afraid of being “googled” and is unable to explain what that means or why it scares him) and a physical description it is not necessarily very much of an introduction.

However, this blog was created in response to him, a mystery. I hope, that in time, he will write here too and perhaps help unravel this mystery. I suppose I would have to explain the Irdi Field to him first… but not many people believe in it, he might simply think me mad.

Either way, he says his name is Louis. I had to have him spell that for me, I’ve never met anyone with that name. When I first saw him I assumed he was in his mid to late teens but the more opportunity I have to observe him, I would actually guess older. He has not remembered yet and seems a little confused when I ask.

His hair is a very light shade of brown and eyes an unusual though not unheard of color, blue. He is rather pale… actually very pale. Being about the same myself I recognize it for what it is, a sign of being inside often. There are other signs I recognize in him… though they are more in his behaviors and actions and are indicative of isolation. I toyed with the idea that he may be mentally unstable, surely all the signs are there with words that I occasionally cannot understand there is a reason to consider it, but even so it does not explain why I cannot find him within the field.

He is often very withdrawn and has gone for hours without speaking or moving, he is slow, as if scared or unable to act quickly or take initiative. This does seem to suggest some sort of issue partially in his mind. I do not know how to help.

For now I have a house guest I cannot entirely understand and yet find myself unable to turn out. 

Arrival

It has been 39 hours since I found the boy in my yard.

He has strange clothes and the only thing he says he remembers is his name. It is a very strange name, foreign. I don't know where it is from. We speak the same language, at least. Equally strange-and the reason I've started writing about this-is that a few hours after I found him and the police determined that they did not know who he was I decided to try to find out for myself. 

I went into the library that the field takes the form of in my meditations and I searched for his name. I can meet someone for the first time and they can tell me about a friend that I have never met and that very evening I can 'walk' into that same library and find out anything and everything about that friend. I need a notion, a connection within my own mind. Having a name or a face, or much less both should make it easier.

He was not there.

For those who are having trouble understanding why this is strange, I ask you this. If you could look into the mind of your deity for information on a person you met and yet it was not there, can you imagine the discontent you might feel after?

He is asleep on my couch now and he remains as much a mystery to me as anything I have ever encountered.

When he wakes, I am going to try to lead him through a meditation to see if he can remember anything. It may simply fail, not many people I know have the needed discipline. Then again, if his cup is truly empty perhaps it will not be able to spill.

If my grandfather were still alive, I wonder what he would think of a boy who the field does not know.

The Irdi Field

The Irdi (pronounced: ear-dye) Records or Irdi Field is a phrase from the realm of metaphysics. The word Irdi comes from the kayen word for divinity. In theory it is an energy field which vibrates with all of the knowledge of what was, is and will be in the universe as we know it. Most people cannot begin to fathom such a thing but thirty-three years ago (about twenty-five years after it was first theorized to exist) a man claimed to be able to access it through self-guided meditation using a tape recorder and also in his sleep. What he described was a mix of lucid dreaming and essence projection.

Most people believe he was insane but I know better.

He was my grandfather.