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Occular Nymphoma

My father was a spook. I know that might sound strange coming out of the mouth of a somewhat homeless surf bum, but it's true. My entire childhood and adolescence was spent shrouded behind a man who never once told me the truth concerning his occupation as a government man working for the CIA. It was only after his disappearance that my mother finally told me what my dad did for a living.

You know how it is when you are a kid. You don't really pay attention to the profession of your parents unless they do something spectacular, like work in a zoo or on television. I saw my dad eat his wheat bran and walk out the door every morning, and I simply figured he had the same kind of job that the neighbor dads had. Every couple of months he would go out of town "on business", but I was too young to actually be suspicious of his actions and I really had no reason to be. It wasn't until I was a teenager and he went missing that I started to look back on my life and began to question his actions and whereabouts.

I think I was about five when he first started teaching me about what he did at work; what the CIA calls Coordinate Remote Viewing. CRV for short. Being just a kid, I didn't think anything of it. My dad told me never to talk about our exercises outside of the house, and without having any of my peers to consult with, I figured the other kids in my neighborhood were learning the same thing when they got home from school. Little did I know...

His CIA assignment and specialty at the time were domestic psychological operations. The CIA not only taught him how to spy on people, but they also taught my father the more esoteric arts of mental manipulation. I guess in the grand scheme of things he already possessed certain qualities which lead him into the obscure and dangerous field of psychological warfare. My father literally took his work home with him, and I, unsuspecting, was his guinea pig.

Maybe he figured he was giving me a mental advantage in a competitive, chaotic and viscous world; I don't know. But it was around the age of five when he began to teach me the Coordinate Remote Viewing techniques. Remote Viewing is the name for a method of psychoenergetic perception. It is a term coined by the CIA as "the acquisition and description, by mental means, of information blocked from ordinary perception by distance, shielding or time." Coordinate Remote Viewing then is the process of remote viewing using geographic coordinates for cueing or prompting.

My father and I had many remote viewing sessions were he would teach me the latest techniques handed down from his superiors. He would set me down in a special room he had created for the experiment. It was basically a small bedroom that he had built in the basement of our house. The room was homogeneously-colored, with acoustic tiles and featureless, with a light controlled by a dimmer so that environmental distractions could be minimized. I would sit there in that room while my dad would prompt me or cue me with specific information regarding an actual place that I had never seen or been to. Slowly, he would give me more and more specifics and ask me to picture the location in my mind, and then give him feedback. I would ask certain questions about the geography of the stated location, such as terrain, flora and fauna, people etc. He would then respond and prompt me with more information at pre-determined intervals. I would generate verbal responses and sketches on a notebook, until a coherent response to the overall task emerged that satisfied my father. It was amazing how good I got at picturing places in my mind I had never actually been to. Given a sighted address, I became highly adept at picturing exact aspects of the given coordinates. I couldn't take part in the action, but I progressed, and I was given more difficult tasks to complete. I could describe buildings, bridges, airfields. I became adept at remotely viewing documents, analytical information, and computer files. The better I became at remote viewing, the more time my dad put into teaching me advanced techniques.

Sadly, with all of my years of training, when my dad went missing I couldn't find him. I tried and tried to form a mental picture of his surroundings to get a clue as to his whereabouts, but I always came up blank. I never found my father.

So by the time I was eighteen, I had become so proficient at seeing places I had never traveled to, that I had become obese and a stated slob. I figured I didn't really need to go outside, because it was all in my head already anyway. So I would just sit on the couch and watch TV. When some place would intrigue me I would quickly cannibalize certain details, turn off the television, recline myself back into the lazy boy and mentally go to the place I saw.

I respected the wishes of my father, and never told anyone of my abilities. I had a couple of close friends, but even they didn't know what I was capable of. One buddy in particular, by the name of Ed, would visit me on a regular basis. He was worried about the state of my health, so he invited me to go on a surfing vacation with him down to the tropical country of Costa Rica. I had already remotely visited the country a number of times because I was interested in the jungle and the wildlife. I agreed to go because I wanted to gauge the accuracy of my visions against the reality of Costa Rican geography and biology. When I got on the airplane, surfing was just a word that had nothing to do with my reality and I didn't have the least interest in learning the sport.

We took a taxi from the airport to the coast. As we drove over the central range of the country I recognized certain features from my previous "travels". The humidity and foliage, the deep green of the jungle and the warm tropical climate all struck me as being incredibly familiar, because of course, they were. The taxi dropped us off in the small coastal village of Dominical. It didn't look to be much of a town. We followed the one muddy street running through the center of the derelict pueblo and made our way down to the beach. Musty locals spotted us getting out of the taxi and a couple of them approached the car. Ed described the scene as typical of most Latin American countries, and told me not to worry. He gabbered with them for a moment and then they left us alone. The ocean was truly beautiful. A handful of people were out catching waves and riding them all the way into the beach. I had to admit, it looked fun.We explored up and down the coast. I pulled out my GPS and went to coordinate points that I had remotely visited from my house in the states. My visions of certain locations had an incredibly high degree of accuracy in relationship to the real place. Of course, this didn't astonish me at the time. I had been capable of seeing remotely for some time by then. What amazed me the most about the trip to Costa Rica was that I was seeing, for the first time in my life, people surfing on waves. The idea took hold of me, and I was on overload. Reboot...

It tickled my senses and actually impeded that night's CRV visits across the planet. All I could think about was surfing. I decided the only way I was ever going to be able to concentrate was to learn how to surf, so I signed up for lessons at the local surf school they called the Green Iguana. The owner, a heavily tattooed, gun-toting redneck, gladly obliged to take me out in the water and show me how to surf. I learned the basics and bought a surfboard. I decided to stay in Dominical for a couple of months longer than I had originally planned, and really try to learn how to surf. I did, and became hopelessly addicted.

Surfing became a part of my daily consciousness. If I saw a surfing magazine at the local dive bar called Tortilla Flats, I would skim the glossy pages, searching out those amazing pictures of beautiful, perfect waves. Surfing videos were playing in pretty much every bar and whenever I would see one on, I would stop in, have a beer and watch the surfing.

The focus of my true talent became skewed. I began to use my remote viewing skills to travel to surfing destinations I had seen on TV or read about. I fell in love with the waves. I went all over the place looking for the most perfect ones. But in the end, I was more frustrated than satisfied. Although I could pretty much go to any location on God's green earth, I couldn't bring a surfboard with me! At the time it made me question the legitimacy of my skills. Needless to say, my vacation was over and I returned to the United States.

I was not satisfied, so I reclined in my lazy boy, and took a "trip" to Fiji. I almost completely gave up Remote Viewing entirely after that. If I couldn't bring a surfboard with me, there was really no point in going at all. So now I actually go surfing instead of watching the TV, and I never use my CRV skills unless it's to go look for some new and unknown, perfect wave.


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