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Aside from the overriding feeling that we were on a deadline, things changed almost overnight once we arrived in Charleston.  On our arrival, I used my android phone to book a room in the city, we came over the James B. Edwards Bridge from James Island into the city, and parked on the street.  Looking around, it reminded me of an Old English city.. cobble stone streets, practically ancient construction, and had an aura surrounding it that gave me a warm comfortable feeling inside I had been lacking for the past two months.  Finally home, I thought.
For the next twelve days, Mary and myself would travel from hotel to hotel, on James Island, in the city, and on the Isle of Palms in what was the best vacation we had ever been on.  Not one time did a hotel clerk act strangely, or a police officer harass us.  It seemed as if my internal feeling that everything would be OK once we escaped from the immediate surroundings in South Florida was correct, both of us felt like we had a real chance at making our relationship work, and we began looking on Zillow for affordable rentals.  It was cold there that month, and off-season, so the city was nearly empty as we galavanted around absorbing the antique beauty of the old town.  We enjoyed each other’s company, saw the “sights” in the city, and the entire saga of strangeness seemed to have been completely left behind.
In between our romantic meals, trips to the beach and excursions through the gorgeous city, we would stop and look at available homes for rent.  Everything in South Carolina was cheaper than Florida, significantly, from food to lodging to rentals, and it seemed as if the universe were conspiring to give us something we needed dearly.. peace and quiet.
After a few days, Mary started talking about needing to go home to pack up our things, we had both decided this was the perfect place for us to move and try to build a family.  To get things done faster, we called a Realty service, and began using a professional so we could finish the process.  It took only a few more days, and we both signed a lease for a three bedroom house on James Island, the first time in my life we would have a single family home together, instead of an apartment.  After signing the lease, we made arraignments to travel back to Fort Lauderdale, this time taking a train — another first for both of us for this trip.  

I would later find out that the little over a week we spent in Charleston, SC during that cold January month was a significant part of the information operation that was being used against me.  Its purpose was to make me sincerely believe, as if it were something I had discovered, that the corruption and strangeness which was happening in South Florida was localized there, that the group of people would not — for whatever reason — extend their reach of power to Charleston, and that we would be safe.  It worked very well, and at the time my intent was to move away from the strangeness as quickly as possible.

Gang-stalking is in essence one very large information operation composed of smaller ones which feed into the whole purpose of implanting a deception in the minds of the victim or victims.  It’s a lot like the movie Inception, making the target believe that they have discovered the truth themselves makes it more believable, even in cases like this, where the truth is so outlandish that its almost impossible.

We left my BMW at the train station, knowing that we would have to drive Mary’s vehicle up on our next trip, with our belongings from our apartment.   The night before we left, and the train ride home should have alerted me to the fact that the storm of chaos was returning, but it did not.  We got a room at the Airport Sheraton, right around the corner from the train station, and noticed that there was a Lodge meeting, one of those “Ancient Orders” congregating in the hotel.  To this day I’m not sure if it was planned, but I have slowly started disbelieving in coincidence since this time in my life.

We went to bed early that night, so we could make the 4 AM train back to South Florida, and right before bed Mary made a strange comment.  She said “they like it when we sleep naked.”  In my mind, it registered as if she had said “Iinstead of “they,” an one of my first examples of Orwellian doublethink in action.  As I lay there dosing off to sleep, the phrase kept echoing in my mind.. this time I understood the actual phrase, and while its connection to the “Truman Show” information operation wasn’t clear that day, but it would return to me in a cascade of implanted thoughts in the future.

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