STTOS Dreams that WILL Ramble


Wow!  I’m on that edge of nervousness with nothing in my mind that I want to write. Where do I begin? STAR TREK helped to save my life.  And my sanity.  AND my insanity, which is now sanitized.  PRAISE THE LORD JESUS THE CHRIST FOR HIS PRECIOUS BLOOD!  I don’t know when or how I was first exposed to Star Trek, the series with Spock and Uhura.  (I happen to love me a marathon of 12 episodes of TNG, on occasion.  That’s 12 episodes per day.  Just kidding.  Or is he?)  Anyway, it seems to have ALWAYS been with me.  I wouldn’t have yet been 2 years old upon its initial airdate.  But it could NOT have been then, because my pops would not have allowed it to have been played in his house.  “GD COMMIES!” would have been in a slew of the invectives that you would have heard from Archie regarding anything so avant-garde.  Even the WORD avant-garde would have engendered a similar slew.

But back to Star Trek, I remember the decision to Spockify, back when I was 6 or 7, perhaps.  I became Spock-like to hide my rage.  Funny thing is, I was born with pointed ears.  I kid you not.  One of my nicknames, by this time, had already BECOME Spock.  They meant pain, I knew that they meant pain, I took it as a grand compliment, and confirmation that my dreams were true, and that I was actually only 1/4 Vulcan, because Spock had been stuck on Earth, in the past, during Pon farr, and, well, he was my father.  So I became my father, Spock.  To a functional level.  Few knew.  Oh, it was clear enough that I was a little “touched.”  Indeed.  I was relatively accepting of this most of the time.  Until a certain age, anyway.  Some of the other, harsher monikers that I endured, they weren’t quite so kind as the Spock one.  I’m sure you don’t want me to ramble about all that.  Besides, I’m over what is UNDER THE BLOOD!

That pained boy has THOUSANDS of LIVING SCIFI WORLDS with him at all times.  And GOD, SALVATION, RESURRECTION, REDEMPTION, and a whole lot of SCRIPTURE woven in like MAGIC!  I shall learn to represent this imagery that I see, and it will soon accompany the magical words that jump and dance and swirl around, visible to me, twirling like MULTIPLE psychedelic paisleys.  Which thing, by the way, I understand the origin of my early fascination with glitter and psychedelic colors and paisley.  But that may require longer than even my own interest span.  So, perhaps, later.

One PURPLE day at a time, spread HIS Love, SPEAK LIFE, and paint something PURPLE.



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