The Fawn

While making love to my wife to be for the first time, and while I was inside her, she asks me this;
“My head is full of colors. Are you doing this?”
“Yes!”

I can not take full credit, for Marilyn and I left our bodies after engaging in dry-humping. Our afterglow took us to Paris. My first girlfriend was sexually abused, and would not let me be inside her. But, we got close.

After Melinda’s father did not want to murder me anymore, and as I sat in his living room listening to his explanation as to why it was his duty as a protective father to kill me…..a White Light came out of my stomach! I was alarmed. Did Don see it – as he droned on about father rat having to protect his baby rats. This was his Purple Gang thing, his code of honor that Don and his brothers obeyed. Later, Melinda told me this was all bullshit, because her father and uncles held contests to see how many virgins they could deflower. They had no concern for their fathers sense of duty and honor.

I looked at Melinda, my Juliet, lying on the floor on her stomach, in her pajamas. She was a kiss away. Her mother had given her a shower to get the massive amount of blood out of her hair. Not but forty minutes earlier I saw my love being crucified. He hair was matted to her head, their stream of blood flowing down her face, as she said;

“I’m not going with you unless Greg comes with us!”

Melinda saved my life with this demand, because she knew I would be dead if we got separated.

Melinda had put an album on the stereo, and I am hearing.

“Come gather round people wherever you roam, and admit….

I never felt such love. I was Melinda’s real protector. This light that was now all around me was sent her way. We were in a cacoon of light. Melinda was bathing in it. So was Don. He is telling me he likes me. He can see I am very fond of his sixteen year old daughter, and, we had not had sexual intercourse. Not so with Sky, whom he had murdered. Sky was twenty four, and I was seventeen.

In this light, I now understood I was being given lessons from a divine source, for divine reasons. I let go my powerful urge to lose my virginity. That light settled in for a long stay.

* * *

Carol Schurter was an inch taller then me. I am six feet. When I found Nancy Van Brasch living in an apartment on Pine Street in San Francisco, I tool Keith with me to visit the first girl I ever kiss. We were twelve.

We partied and had great fun. Nancy and Keith became lovers. We did drugs. We dropped acid with two members of the Jefferson Airplane.

One evening, Carol came to stand over me and offered me a hit of MDA. When I lit up, she invited me to her bedroom. We got naked, and when I made an aggressive move, she suddenly froze. Then, she pushed me away, and started to cry.

With all the gentleness I can bring to bare, Carol is soon telling me she was raped as a teenager, and even though she wanted to make love to me very badly, when that threshold was reached, she felt violently repulsed. I now found myself at the core of a great tragedy. We lie there naked. Carol told me she had tried to make love to other men, and the results were the same.

“They leave me in frustration.”
“I’m mot going anywhere!”

Carol was tall any lithe she had long curly bolide hair almost to her waist. She looked like Venus on a half-shell everytime she got ready to lie down with me. She needed me to see her naked, and I needed to see her beauty. We would kiss and touch one another, and one night she considered going down on me. She kissed her way to my crotch, and stopped.

“I can’t do this anymore. This is what other lovers wanted instead of intercourse. I don’t want to get started with you.”

“I don’t ever want you to do this – for me.”

In weeks Carol and I would awake bathed in a light that seemed to go out the window and fill the city. We had found our bliss. We had full permission to be light beings, rather than just sex-beings. I assured Carol that whenever she was ready, I would be here for her.

Six years later I get a call from Carol. She wants me to come see her and have wonderful complete sex. She gave me a loving bath, first, and told me what had happened to change her.

She was kidnapped at gunpoint, and held hostage for three days while she was repeatedly raped. All of a sudden, the light switch that was permanently in the off position, was now permanently in the on position. She loved sex, and could not get, and receive, enough of it. She was contacting all the beautiful men she had denied sex to. Carol was absolutely radiant. She was now a beautiful sex goddess. A high priestess. She was a great lover, and her soul entered your soul and made love to it. It was the best part. The physical contact was a pleasurable tool, but, that was just the door. The best part, was, Carol was – powerful!

Goodbye my dear Fawn.

* * *

I wrote a poem about Carol and titled it ‘The Fawn’. It captured the fragile and delicate nature of Carol. You had to approach her with a pure heart, or she would bolt away. Carol cried When she read this poem, and so did Nancy. I captured
this beautiful woman with my loving words. I lost the poem.

I can’t stand how young men treat young women today. They pound the light out of them. They shame the light away lest it get in the way of their dog-like penis and ego. They go out of there way to humiliate these beautiful women so they will surrender to their need to experience sex – but on what level.

To feel vulnerable, and be a sensitive man – is to be gay. If a young woman wants her boyfriend to be more caring, she is accused of wanting a gay guy, and not a Mr. Stud. This is sanctified rape. Alcohol is used as a weapon along with Chevy trucks – and cheap religious bullshit. Only the Dudes can be in the fake light. Women are whores looking for someone to support them.

This is coming from the fake evangelical religion that has entered into politics to gain power, and is employing the shaming of women, as a means to get votes. These are – pimps!

When I read the Bible, all of Luke, in 1987, I was in the light. I saw something because I had read about the Indian Religion. I closed my eyes, and whispered;

“If you are who you say you are, then come into the darkness of my sexual abuse, and save me.”

I had been in hypnotherapy and looked at my sexual abuse from both parents.

Suddenly, as I meditated in this darkness, he appeared. There was a gold aura around him that was made up of very fine slivers of gold light that were moving about him.

“I and my father in heaven are already working on this matter. Be not afraid. Spiritual Courage will be met with Spiritual Courage.”

There are tens of millions of sexually abused women in America. Most of them were betrayed by their fathers who used a God-given Trust to break down the natural bounderies that ever soul is born with. During the act, many women leave their bodies, rise above their bodies, so they are not there. Gettng back into a violated body is very difficult. This is extremely painful state. If you can not get grounded again, you will go insane, because out of body, experiences are religious experiences. When you get in touch with your light – her come the dark shameful deed.

Many abused men and women use sex as means to get grounded, but this is Shadow Sex, sex in the dark – without light!

When Rena and I left the waterfall, my healing of her began. I would later learn that victims of incest can recognize each other across a room, and come to one another to form a powerful alliance and bond. When Rena came out of that dark door, it was the eye contact we made, that makes me suspect she was a victim of incest. She had time to study me, my aura. She detected a kindred soul.

“I was expecting you!”
“Don’t be afraid. I am a romantic soul!”

Rena approached me like a fawn in the forest. We could have kissed each other then and there, but, what would be the explanation for doing this?

For six years before my daughter came into my life, a woman I called my Angel was down-loading massive ammounts of material while I slept, and bid me to go to my computer and get it all down. I used to work fifteen hours a day. I am back to that schedual, because………..she’s back!

For six years she left me. I wondered what happened. I dearly missed her. She had brought me to the brink of speaking of what I reveal now. She wanted me to write about my lovers, especially Rena Victoria.

I’ve been having many out of body experiences. Yesterday I had to go see my wonderful attorney. I was flopping around downtown Eugene, not quite able to make contact with the pavement. I could barely feel my legs. I was embarassed as I talked to Sylvia, because it’s like having your fly wide open. She had a clue because I told her I suffer from PTSD.

Above is a painting called ‘The Writer’s Muse’. Check out the eyes in the other image. I have seen these eyes before.

Jon Presco