Bath Salts, dehydration and malnutrition

Bath salts have been among some of the most intense and unexplainable chapters of my life. It’s as if when I snorted them, it I enhanced all that was me. They magnified my personality and abilities. Which began OK until fears and suspicions entered. While those were magnified too, my mind had some explaining to do. 

Remember in the blog I wrote about my wife dying in the Intown suites? My mind searched for answers. I was in a reality show on drugs. about the effects of stimulants. My wife was now three Heather’s. They work shifts. Some were young, some older, all looked similar. One, was 2 inches taller than the others. There was nothing I couldn’t do about it. What was my answer? To make all three fall in love with me, and let them know that I noticed all of their differences. One didn’t like drugs. One would do all the drugs I had. One loved me. She was used to bend my mind and heart to it’s breaking point and beyond. I tried to explain my situation to others. Some listened. Others thought I was nuts. Either way, my reality had been diagnosed as diseased. My sanity had been seized. The power of what we believe.

After Danny and Jo got us our new place we lived there, and had a place to do our bath salts. During the day I lived life as an adventure, yet under the moon, in a nightmare. I spent a lot of time on High Street. Now my beliefs of underground sex societies and three Heathers all had supporting roles in my reality TV show on bath salts. Somehow I held it together with my "make the most out of it" attitude. The next story takes place on a walk up to the High Street, Whetstone Library.

"I knew they had her. The Heather who loved me. She had been abducted. On High St. in Columbus, Ohio I stood staring at a suspicious window on the side of an out of business antique shop. “They have three girls up there.” I used to walk around with a satchel full of books then. Somehow, in my mind I thought it was like Captain America’s shield. Then I saw them. Two men. One with perfectly edged porn star mutton chops. I don’t remember what the other one look like. I remember what they were carrying though. A mini fridge. I needed to see what was up above that old antique store. “Excuse me. I collect things and sell them, you know like on American Pickers. I noticed your store is out of business. If you show me around up there you’ll make some money." “We are OK man it’s not our decision our boss isn’t here." I knew they were lying to me. As I walked around the two-tier brick establishment I looked toward the second floor and noticed an open window. “I have to see what’s up there.” I dropped my satchel and with a couple steps back I ran toward the rust brick wall. With two swift steps vertically, my hand floated to the roof. I pulled myself up. The soft hot rubber concealed my steps as I stealthily stepped toward the open window where a torn white sheet was blowing as an SOS signal. I peaked my head through the window. “Gross, my house is cleaner than this." The glass coffee table was filled edge to edge with glass beer bottles of different domestic brands. The brown couch lined the back of the room bordered by clothes like a framed picture. I could see the first room across the hall. There was an old air conditioner running in the window. Before I could make it to the hallway I heard a door open. Quickly I grabbed a transparent colt45, 40 ounce bottle and pressed my back to the wall. “I have to see if they are keeping people here. When he turns the corner I just need to smash this over his head." “Eric haven’t you been up for three days? When was the last time you’ve had something to drink? Or eat for that matter. She did say she was going to go to the library. Can’t some of this being your head.” These divine warnings of reason persuaded me to retreat. Out of the window I went running across the rubber roof, I leapt. Soaring fearlessly through the air I landed feet planted with a slap of the hand to the ground. I sprinted. As I was running I stripped off my shirt and swiftly sped down the street. “I have to get to the library fast. If she isn’t there I know she’ll be at the antique store.“ Times slowed down as I approached N. Broadway Ave., a four-laned road traveling east and west across High Street. “I can’t stop.” I scanned the highway looking for my lane to dart across. “There.” My muscles twitched powerfully and I rocketed diagonally against traffic. The last lane I mildly misjudged. “Jump.” Dukes of Hazzard style I jumped over the hood of the moving car. Off I went. I ran for what seemed to be too long. I wasn’t going to stop. I couldn’t stop. “Shouldn’t your legs be getting tired now? You’ve been running for a while. “Then I started to feel the lactic acid burning through my thighs. I began walking. “Man this is crazy. What if people are up there? Man I hope not. Imagine if they are. Still it’s only three girls. There are probably thousands at least across the country. There has to be a better way to save all these lives! A couple at a time is it going to cut it. I hope this Heather is in the library.” I started to run again. When I got to the library I walked in the front door shirtless. “Excuse me“ I said to the front desk “I’m looking for Heather Dilley, could you page her for me please? “Over the loudspeaker of the library they called her name. No response. They paged her three more times for me. Finally on the third announcement she walked up to the desk. We walked outside together. "Babe, you'll never believe the story I HAVE FOR YOU!" After I explain everything I just went through all she has to say was, "I told you I was going to the library. I have to go to the bathroom." I waited outside. "You're a good guy. You have a big life ahead of you." I turned and there was an old man sitting on the bench near by with a newspaper in hand. "Thanks." I responded with a smile. "How does he know that." I thought to myself. Out Heather came and off we walked together."

I've told this story hundreds of times. It's crazy to me to allow it to be destroyed by time. The memories we hold on to, and the truths we choose to believe direct the we's, we grow to be. This old man, whom I've never met again, I've often thought about. I believe what he said. Still. Some people may write off the opinions of strangers. I held on to this one. He, to me, has no reason to lie. Who was this man? Was he just an ordinary person? Or was he directed by something more? What does this really matter? Well I have an opportunity to believe what will empower me. I believe in my inner most me, that this man knew something celestially. Just as that brief moment of divine reason may have saved me from intermittent, semi-permanent incarceration. This man could see something in me in that moment. His truth conveyed to me, I believe. 

Lesson Learned: Harness my ability to believe, this power is to empower me.

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