Alanzo
Bardo Tulpa
For the True Suppressive, such as myself, PTSness has a bouquet not found in any other mental or spiritual state.
Especially in the morning.
Do you know that just-showered feeling when you walk naked onto a breezy summer beach-front restaurant? That panic you feel when you realize that you are not dreaming?
What if you could bottle that experience and sell it like the latest celebrity scent?
What if you rushed to WalMart at dawn on the day of its release to purchase a bottle of it, cracking open the bottle and taking a deep sniff - only to realize that fat Walmart security guards are waddling toward you in the parking lot because - in your excitment - you forgot to pay?
Do you know the sound of the sirens of an early morning paddy wagon, the feeling of the handcuffs on your wrists inside the cab, the smell of the homeless man chained up next you who is smiling and poking at your butt, and pointing at you, laughing maniacally?
Because you are still naked?
And this is still not a dream?
Like that.
I love the smell of PTSness in the morning.
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this is hysterical 
