Freddy was supposedly a former husband from a past life. According to a taro card reading, I had a past life in high society England, sometime during the 1700s. This Freddy was a friend of my family, and much older than me, but I was arranged to marry him. After we were married, we fell in love, but this love became dysfunctional. It was loyal and unconditional, but more in a toxic codependent sort of way. We were as wrong for each other as a curious toddler and an oleander bush, but we couldn’t stay apart.
When Freddy died, he became Earthbound. Death came too soon for him, leaving him with unresolved issues that he wouldn’t get over. When I died, I let go, and embraced heaven, and then I moved on without him. But he caught up with me.
He was unchanged, while I was in a different life. In a different physical form that no longer looked or talked like the woman he was married to. And with a different family, in a different time and country. However, he still had feelings for me, but in a twisted, Sleeping with the Enemy kind of way. He appeared in my life, when I was 15. According to the taro card reader, Freddy chose this age, because I was fifteen when we were married.
Ever since then, Freddy has been a coming-and-going presence in my life. I could accept that he might’ve never been real. A hallucination, or perhaps a part of me that I perceived as having a totally different identity. psychiatric disorders do run in my family. On the other hand, I never had an issue with hallucinations.
At the time when Freddy came into my life, I was really into song writing. Melodies and lyrics were constantly springing into my mind, like they were a never-ending bumper crop. I was also obsessed with Freddie Mercury. Freddy convinced me that he was him, which got me to believe that my obsession with Freddie Mercury had conjured up his spirit. Even though I thought this was Freddie Mercury, my first encounter with him didn’t get me star struck at all. This guy seemed awfully familiar to me. Like I had already been in his company, a trillion times before. There was no introduction, and no getting-acquainted small talk. We just fell into wisecracking conversation, as though he was someone I hung out with every day. I had chalk-thick cataracts, as a kid. So I couldn’t tell whether or not if he looked anything like Freddie Mercury. The British accent was enough to convince me who he was, and so was his weird outfit. Years later, I found out that his outfit matched the description of how wealthy men dressed, during the 18th century. I didn’t think anything of it, because entertainers dress weird all the time.
Freddy latched on to me, like a shadow. Hanging around me, whether I was at my boarding school, at home, and even while I was at other people’s houses. My family and friends knew about him, and he was somehow accepted. Nobody advised me to see a psychiatrist, or advised my parents to take me to one. People acted like it was perfectly normal for a teenage girl to claim that a spirit was hanging out with her, in her room, and going to school with her. While in school, nobody minded that I was doing things that looked completely schizophrenic. Like pulling out a chair for an invisible person to sit with me, in the cafeteria. Or holding on to an arm that no one else could see, when Freddy was sighted guiding me somewhere. Or the time when a boy I knew, named Donald, was playing Micheal Jackson, during a bus ride home. Freddy, who was in the seat next to me, started making fun of both Donald, and the king of pop. I laughed my ass off, but of course, everybody else on the bus just saw me laughing my ass off at an empty bus seat. the bus chaperones, and the other kids just laughed with me. Then everybody forgot all about it, on the bus ride back to school. The other kids didn’t pick on me, for acting insane, and my little social life carried on as normal. It was as though Freddy had an influence over their minds too.
I thought he was really cool, and fun to be with, but also kind of dorky. He had a silly, corny sense of humor. I was never sure about what age he was stuck as. Sometimes he acted like a teenager, and other times, he acted as though my parents granted him joint custody of me. He comforted me, and told me things I wanted to hear, during times when I hated my life. And he seemed to understand me, better than anybody else. So I didn’t suspect that there was anything dark about him. He lead me to believe that he was there to mentor me with my music. This encouraged my delusional thinking that I was destined to be a famous singer/songwriter. I felt so blessed to have a celebrity spirit as a new best friend, and musical mentor. Someone who would pass the torch of artistic greatness to a new generation. I felt like such a “chosen one”.
Being my mentor was not Freddy’s intentions at all. I was gullible, and at a very impressionable age. I had a naïve, ferry tale way of believing in my grandiose dreams. I was also a loner, and the typical troubled kid with a bad attitude towards a lot of things. This all made me easy prey for him.
He wanted me to love him, devotedly and unconditionally, inside and out. When I did, my love wasn’t enough. Love turned to worship, and worship turned to brainwashing. He didn’t show me that much love in return. When he did, he acted like he was just doing me a favor that I obligated him to do. I was so spellbound that I looked past this. Even a few seconds of Freddy’s undivided attention seemed better than winning the Power Ball. I picked up on the vibe that he got his jollies off of having such a power over me. He liked to make me miss him, when he would disappear without warning, for a while. He wanted to feel me pine for him. He liked to have me constantly fantasizing about being with him, and fixating on how great I thought he was. I knew that he was power tripping, but I was too under his influence to care.
Although I considered Freddy to be the true love of my life, I was still a flesh and blood, Horney teenager. So I dated real guys. According to Freddy, none of my boyfriends were good enough for me. He always criticized them, and made fun of them. One boyfriend claimed that Freddy was harassing him. I believed that Freddy acted this way because he loved me.
Freddy became my lord, shepherding me to the dark side. Being brainwashed, I believed that I didn’t belong in this life. I belonged with him. I belonged TO him. I contemplated suicide, because I was willing to give everything up, to become one with him. I felt that this world wasn’t worth living in, anyway, because it was no longer graced by Freddy’s living presence.
Part of me knew that this relationship was sick, abusive, and self destructive, and that part of me wanted to fight back. I felt owned. Like I had stupidly given up all rights to my mind, heart, and soul, and signed them over to Freddy. By the time I was eighteen, I felt that enough was enough. I wanted back what was truly mine.
One day, I was so desperate to fight him off, and save my soul, that I snuck off campus during school hours, and sought refuge in the nearest church. It was like being in a Christian themed movie. The streets were busy with work day traffic, but every time I was about to cross a street, the traffic cleared away. As though God was clearing my path, so I could get to church. Then I just-so-happened to have walked in, just in time for Monday morning mass. Participating in the church service gave me some temporary comfort and reassurance. I met a group of sweet old ladies who saw that I had a visual impairment. So they let me know when I was supposed to sit, kneel, or stand. When the service was over, they invited me to have coffee and doughnuts with them. After I thanked them for everything, and we parted ways, I wasn’t ready to face school authorities yet. So I walked to the fifty foot cross, which towered over a sitting area. This sitting area was part of a bayside walking trail, near the Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind campus. I prayed and meditated there until my ass got too sore from sitting on a hard bench for so long. So I got up, and just wandered around the areas of St. Augustine that I was familiar with. The Christian movie plot continued, as one of my classmates and the mobility teacher found me. When they questioned me about where I had been, I just lost it. I wasn’t going to flat-out tell them, “Some crazy English guy, in a ridiculous poofy wig, is out to take my soul!”, but I cried out loud, in front of them. My classmate, a boy named Charles, just-so-happened to have a Bible on hand. He didn’t push the issue about wanting to know what was wrong with me. Instead, he had me hold his Bible, while he prayed for me, right there on a public sidewalk. Then I got in the teacher’s car with them, and was driven back to school. When the school called my parents, to inform them that I had gone missing, my parents felt a strange peaceful calm feeling. Like angels were telling them that there was no need to panic. They were looking out for me, and everything was going to be all right. I didn’t get punished for skipping school. Instead, the school fixed me up with an appointment at the Child Study Center, which was an on-campus counseling place for students with behavior problems. Then this Christian movie ended with me making it through the rest of the school year until I got my diploma. However, the nightmare wasn’t over yet.
I won’t get into more detail about it, or else this blog post could go on for another fifty pages, but I plan to write a book about it, sometime after I’m finished with my Hecctrossipy series. I’m thinking of calling this book, something like, The Celebrity and the psycho Ex Husband. Long story, uhm, a little less lengthy, I did eventually realize that Freddy wasn’t who he said he was. Later on, he did a 180, and decided that he wanted to go into the light.
When I ODed, it really affected him. He was remorseful about all the hell that he had put me through. He was finally ready to get over himself, and his unresolved troubles, and get his shit together. He wanted me to believe that he honestly loved me, and that he wasn’t truly evil. One afternoon, when I was minding my own business, watching Dr. Phil, in my room, he interrupted my show to say good-bye. He gave this whole heartfelt good-bye speech, promising that he would stop medaling in my life, and that he wants nothing but the best for me, and a bunch of other sap. By this time, I felt completely cold toward him. I wanted him to fuck off, and NEVER come back.
Then the dark curse of his influence on me, was lifted away. When I thought back to the days when I was brainwashed into loving him and worshiping him, with such mindless passion, it no longer made me feel violated, or enraged, and scarred for life, like it had before he left. The memories of the hell he put me through had no affect on me at all. As though it was nothing but a bad dream from long ago. This was proof that he really meant what he said. Still, I trusted him as far as I could throw him, which of course, I couldn’t throw him, since he wasn’t solid.
Some years later, when I was living alone in my own apartment, I watched a documentary about Queen, called something like, The Days of Our Lives. I wanted to compare the differences between the real Freddie Mercury, and his disturbed imposter. I was satisfied with what I saw. From the time that the show was over, and all through the next day, my whole apartment was filled with an angelic, peaceful feeling. That’s when I knew that Freddy had rehabilitated, and was fully converted to the bright side of the spirit world. So I welcomed him back into my life.
He really had changed for the better. His personality was sweetened, and more mellowed out. The most drastic change was, since he was no longer earthbound, he stopped hovering around me, like a shadow. My encounters with him were fewer and far between. I could no longer see him, and communicating with him was more like communicating with a spirit, rather than being like having conversations with another living person.
What didn’t change was, he still acted like a protective, second dad, when it came to the men in my life. He was very supportive and encouraging, when I confronted an issue I had, with a guy who was involved with one of my most traumatic experiences. All while everybody else ridiculed me. He also supported my choice to cut ties with a life-long friend.
This former friend had harbored unrequited love for me, for many years. Whenever I turned him down, he reacted like a frustrated two-year-old. Time would go by, and he’d try to put the moves on me again, only to get turned down again. It was a pattern with us. Then he thankfully found love with someone else, and got married. So I thought we were cool. Meanwhile, I had a friend with benefits that I had stupidly grown attached to. When that relationship ended, I was a wreck. My friend with no benefits had to hear earfulls about my heartache, during our phone conversations. Still married, he tried to move in for the kill. I thought this was a very manipulative move. Attempting to win me over, when I was so emotionally vulnerable. Time didn’t make me have a change of heart toward him. Once again, I turned him down, and he reacted like a frustrated two-year-old. If being my friend wasn’t good enough, then we might as well not be in each other’s lives. I felt that his side of our friendship was fake, and Freddy agreed. He assisted me through the technical steps for unfriending this guy from FaceBook, and blocking him from my phone.
Whether he was evil or good, Freddy never approved my choices of boyfriend or lover. Sadly for me, he was always right. Recently, I had a spooky thing happen that got me wondering if Freddy was still around, being all disapproving and protective.
I still see my old friend with benefits, sometimes. We’ve had an on again-off again, on again-off again, on again-off again thing going on, for the past four years. He’s a really sweet guy, but I know that we’re not right for each other. I’m not stupidly in love with him, like I was four years ago. But I still enjoy his (eh hem) company. However, I’ve been trying to break things off with him, for the past year, but I keep stalling.
The sexual part of our relationship often feels like it’s getting old. We’re both piss pot poor. I can’t drive, and he can’t afford to get his license renewed, and he especially can’t afford to buy a car. We live three counties apart, and we both have busy lives. If we want to see each other, we have to check with each other’s schedules. Then he has to make reservations with the door-to-door public transportation, which commutes across multiple counties, but is not always on schedule. We used to throw around the idea to make plans for a Rendezvous at a hotel, but I can’t picture that working out. Trying to get our iffy transportation to drop us off at a hotel, in synchronized timing? Yeah, right. Also, we can’t afford a hotel stay. At least not a stay at a decent one. So we hang out at my house. My family is always around, so we can’t really get into it. Having to be careful and quiet is just not hot. I prefer to have him come over, when I have the house to myself, but that rarely happens. Going to his apartment is no option. That place is more cram-packed with people than my house.
I had talked about these complaints with him, several times, and told him that we would be better off keeping our relationship platonic. But he has a way of making me still want him. A couple Saturdays ago, my family was talking about their plans to go out of town, to visit the grandma and aunt, and spend the night there. I decided to stay back, not wanting to pass off an opportunity to have the house to myself. I texted my FWB about it, and told him to come over, the day my family leaves.
The following night, I had a dream that I was hanging around at some sort of multi-purpose recreational park. There were horse races going on, and a horse show, and a few other events. When I took a seat in a metal folding chair, a pony came up to me. I could sense that this pony was male. He was a really trippy looking guy. His Maine and tail, and even his long fur was all streaks of rainbow colors. In the dream, it was normal for ponies to be rainbow colored. When I petted him, his colorful fur was silky and lustrous. I couldn’t stop petting him and hugging him, because his soft fur felt so cozy. Then I saw his ears perk up, and felt him go tense. At first I thought he was getting excited, because he heard one of the races about to start. Then he growled, a low, threatening sounding growl. I thought this was weird. Ponies don’t growl. I looked around to see what he was growling at, and saw a golden retriever slowly coming towards us. This dog was male too, and in the dream, I knew him. He was a laid-back dog, who was very overweight, and had health problems. I was happy to see him, and I wanted to pet him too. I tried to reassure the growling pony that the dog was no threat, but the pony didn’t listen. He went into a rage, and lunged at the dog. I panicked, as he attacked the dog, kicking and stomping all over him. Then the angry pony galloped away. The dog was completely unfazed, as though he didn’t notice that he had just been viciously attacked.
The dog seemed to have symbolized my FWB, because he has a laid-back personality. And he’s overweight, and has health problems. The fluffy rainbow pony seemed to symbolize Freddy, because I remember how fluffy he looked, with that big stupid wig on. And he does have a colorful personality. Being that the dog was unfazed, after being attacked, and the pony galloped away, I thought this meant that Freddy was going to change his attitude about the men I choose to be with.. Perhaps the dream was his way of telling me that the FWB and I have his blessing.
Then perhaps not.
Days went by, and FWB didn’t text me back. The day before my family was leaving, I finally got a text from him. He couldn’t return my text, because his phone suddenly got all messed up, and it had to be repaired. He also said that, even if his phone didn’t break, he wouldn’t have been able to see me, because he caught a nasty yeast infection…
Truth, or a figment of mental illness, the two Freddies put together became the inspiration behind my Leeandro Paul character. The famous singer/song writer/musician who becomes the leading villain, in my Hecctrossipy series.