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We had been under observation for some time by other civilizations but had never been interfered with because they wanted us to follow a natural course of development.

The invasion of our own Milky Way galaxy by an alliance from the Andromeda galaxy was beginning. The war was initiated because our galaxy had valuable resources that the Andromedans had depleted in their own galaxy.

The invasion forced a unification of the divided factions in the Milky Way. A key factor in the conflict was a neighboring galaxy, which also had an alliance of the civilizations within it. This alliance could swing either way but was remaining neutral so far. n

What was particularly fascinating for me was to understand the different humanoid species involved in the invasion. There were full mammalian species like ours, and there were marsupial and reptilian humanoid species as well. I spotted one of the marsupial types in a health food store one day. She was dumpy and rather unattractive. Each galaxy had an array of each of these types.

I had even begun to decipher the languages of the invaders. One of my therapists, who at one point told me he wished he knew what it was like to be crazy, asked me to explain my language delusions. More than happy to have a receptive audience, I picked up a crayon used in regression therapy and proceeded to lecture, writing notes on the white refrigerator.

I had sketched out quite an elaborate schema explaining the outer-space languages when the house manager walked in. She stopped the lecture, told me to scrub the writing off the refrigerator, and demanded to talk to the therapist upstairs immediately. The incident didn’t bother me because I had suddenly realized how to say “fuck you” to the capital city of the invaders. The proper pronunciation was “shainuh lasha,” and I only needed to find a way to use this information to fight the invaders.

After months of delusions about the outer-space invasion, things took a turn for the worse. One sign of this trend was the time I found part of the mouth of one of the reptilian invaders in the group room. It was a white, slimy piece of flesh. The reptile had apparently been blown apart by the small-weapons firing going on in the neighborhood. One of the residents insisted that what I found was part of a fish that he had caught — but there was no way that I was to be convinced of that.

About the same time. I figured out that the reptilian humanoids invading were not doing so of their own free will. They had small computer circuits implanted in their brains that were controlled by another society in Andromeda. This very sinister and terrifying scenario was intensified by the fact that the third galaxy, which had been remaining neutral, decided to align with Andromeda in the war.

I became more frightened than usual, so frightened that the staff handcuffed me at night when I slept. To make matters worse, I realized that my own brain had been damaged by the electromagnetic weapons being fired in the area. At least that is what I thought when I was taken to the County Mental Health psychiatry ward.

County Mental Health was quite a relief after the turmoil and confrontation I had experienced at Morningstar. I felt some discomfort when the medication they gave me first took effect, but before long I was striding around the outdoor courtyard, holding forth on various subjects in the mild June weather. The Life Flight helicopters frightened me because I thought they were involved in the invasion, but in general I had calmed down.

After nearly seven weeks, the staff at CMH decided that I should be released. They gave me a small bottle of pills and an ill-fitting outfit put together from a clothing storeroom. I was soon wandering the streets. I spent the next two weeks sleeping behind stores, begging for money, rummaging through trash cans for food, and smoking cigarette butts I picked up in the streets. I did all of this because I decided that I didn't want to go back to Morningstar and had no place else to go. Morningstar hadn't been notified of my release and couldn’t determine my whereabouts.

At one point I tried to hitchhike to the San Bernardino area, where my sister lives. I got as far as Tierrasanta and ended up hanging around the front of a bar listening to the band playing inside.

At closing time, a police car came up, and the officers began asking me questions. I figured they must have had something to do with the invasion from outer space and, according to the Geneva Conventions, I did not have to answer anything but my name, rank, and serial number. So to each question they asked, I responded with my name and my social security number, the closest thing I had to a serial number. I was uncomfortable when they determined most of what they wanted to know from my driver’s license. They put me in the back of their squad car and drove me back to the County Mental Health psychiatry ward.

At CMH I decided that I’d rather remain free, so I told the examining psychiatrist that I was tripping on psychedelic mushrooms. He gave me an injection of antipsychotic medication and released me. I continued to wander the streets aimlessly until I found my way to the downtown Rescue Mission. At that time the mission, a place for the homeless to sleep and get a meal, was located on Fifth Avenue near Market. During the day when there was nothing to do, I wandered in and out of the posh art galleries in the neighborhood. At night I relished the hymns we got to sing during the worship service, but the meal that followed would normally be less than appetizing. It was nice to have food regularly, though. We were required to shower and were given a bunk.

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