My confession

I finished up Philip K Dicks Autobiography and wrote this a while back ago before I found out I had hepC. Funny the time period I talked about was about the time I probably contracted hep.

Philip's speech in France:

I am sure, as you hear me say this, you do not really believe me, or even believe that I believe it myself. But nevertheless it is true. You are free to believe me or free to disbelieve, but please take my word on it that I am not joking; this is very serious, a matter of importance. I am sure that at the very least you will agree that for me even to claim this is in itself amazing. Often people claim to remember past lives; I claim to remember a different, very different, present life. I know of no one who has ever made that claim before, but I rather suspect that my experience is not unique; what perhaps is unique is the fact that I am willing to talk about it.

philip k. dick

The story it inspired me to write:

To begin with I would like to say straight out that although this life isn't my life, it's a good life. For an imagined life its quite engrossing. I dare say it is more captivating than the life I now remember myself living. I wish I could tell you all that in my real life I am some kind of super hero or at the very least a young Hollywood star. But alas I would be lying and I think I have had enough lying, enough deception and duplicity for one lifetime. It is time to be honest with all of you. For one thing I am tired of the charade but more importantly I need your help.

Though I wished for this life from the start, to continue the false pretense of living a life other than the one I have is tiring and at the age of 47, assuming I am 47 and not imagining I am this age, it is time to begin living again... not the life I've been imaging I've been living for the past 30 years, but the life I am actually living which brings us to the beginning of this imagined life. To the best of my re-collection I am in a small medical office in the Mission district of San Francisco. It is 1976 and I have just been anesthetized by a quack dentist.

I had my suspicions that something irreversible was going to happen to me that day and today I wish I had canceled my appointment. I remember the Phenobarbital being injected into my arm and the slow rush of a drug-induced paralysis creeping up my arm. Hours later when I thought I awoke, the dentist told me the surgery went fine and said I was a model patient. I paid him with cash, thanked him for his time and headed out to the street. As I walked down Mission things seemed a bit out of joint. At first I thought it was just a hangover from the drugs but I soon realized that I was not actually walking, but in fact was still in the dentist's chair. Though I was unconscious I entered REM sleep every 90 minutes. During these intervals I was able to force myself into a state of lucid dreaming and thereby deduce that the dentist was injecting me with Phenobarbital every six hours. Once a week he would extract blood from me which I imagine he sold to the local blood bank to pay for his expenses. That's about all I know of my real life which now brings me to the request for help I would like to make at this time. His medical office is on the corner of Mission and Valencia. I forget the address and suite number but it's a three story brick building on the south east corner and his office in on the third floor. I'm not sure this is possible but if it is I would like one of you to call the police and have them send some paramedics. I'm pretty sure the dentist is unarmed and should put up little of a fight.

Thanks in Advance,

steve