Before I was born, I was at home on another…As I looked out in the direction of my all, I noticed something moving in my direction. I was a bright light with brilliance unclouded, Unclaring. I said to my next self, ‘Look, it is a God.’ Coming to see me. I greeted the being and asked why it was here. My 144,000,000 selves were standing in perfect harmony. All look at us. There were parts of my total self. He said it was time once again to return to Earth—a possible prison planet for those with loose screws and other mental and spiritual conditions. Physicalness was no longer critical. We all had agreed to be as we were—a Larger self of our smaller selves. I had no emotional attachment to this trip, but I knew it was vital. The time had come to complete the overall plan that God had decided. I would once again be paired with my favorite Earthling and fellow 8-time twin. I was whisked away without any interruption. The light god directed me to a tunnel of light, and as my twin arrived, he stopped me after he had let me into the tunnel. He whispered into my ear a commandment. Then, without warning, a third being shot by us both behind my twin. I followed in pursuit. Then I realized it was a birth channel, and suddenly I was pushed out as a new baby. Lonnie Darell harris, as he would be named, was born prematurely and came out second. The middle being was a ghost rider—one who enters the womb at birth without taking a body. Lonnie had a 1% chance of survival, and I had a 5% chance. But we were lucky.A new hospital had just been opened for women with pregnancy trouble by Dr. Colman, who had lost his own daughter in childbirth. They saved us both that Saturday at 6:30 and 6:33 AM on August 1, 1953. Both are named 666. Lonnie Darell Harris and Donnie Harold Harris. You will see why that is an essential part of the story later. We were born with something called TTT, Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. He went to an ICU and had a life-changing blood transfusion from a Black American Lady. He was saved. After a few months, we would be reunited. I thought I had killed my old friend. We went to stay at our dad’s brother’s house, where the troubles all started. I would not even be old enough to roll over when I was sexually assaulted by a teenage boy who was a first cousin. Never allow a male to babysit a baby. Then my other cousin was inappreciative of me and did sexual stuff with us both. This was when we were in the first grade, and I was in the second grade: two molesters and one uncle who liked to show me his dick, hard, but never touched me. My mother was a teenager when she had us. She was 19 and turned 20 the next day. I was her 7th child, 4th son. She was molested at 12, had a child when she was 13, and then had a total of 10 children before she was 23. One brother passed away at 6 months old from pneumonia after a broken window in our house in the wintertime. After being serially molested by Ronnie, a first cousin, we went through the courts to live with our dad, who was going to get married in a year to Larry, a German Jew, and a stepmother. We were pathetic little boys having to eat dog food to survive at this house. Then they were allowed to marry, and we moved up the street from Heaven on Earth. Or at least I thought it was. It was the largest church I had ever seen—Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Indianapolis’ south side. Every first weekend, we got up and went outside and played kick the can. We had no toys and a few marbles. But we had plenty of cans. Our orders are not to cross any street. We were nine. It was easter weekend and we were high on our new life. Then tragedy hit. We kicked the can south down a street to an open parking lot of the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. We were high as we had ever been, so free, and God loved us. He surely did. We had a new mom, a new house, and our dad had a job. Then we spotted two gloryist priests appear to be floating in the air, coming toward us from this church, unlike any I had seen. They were highly animated. They were furious and told us to stop making so much noise on a Saturday morning between Good Friday and easter. They were dressed as gods with robes, hats, and everything that we could dream they would be wearing. When we told them we had no toys and no friends, they asked us if we had ever been bowling. We were boys living in the lowest forms of poverty, of course, we had not. So they took us by the hands, my twin and I, to go bowling. Whatever that was. I was still larger than Lonnie, and we looked like older and younger brothers because of his birth defects. I had felt an overwhelming need to protect him. I felt a survivor’s grief from taking all the food in the womb. I had forgotten my prebirth encounter and was in grief. The two priests took us to the bowling alley in the basement and had us take our shoes off to go bowling. I then noticed holes in my socks and my shoes. He said that they had children’s clothes to give us. Spit us up, then had me take my socks off, my t-shirt, and finally my underwear. He asked me if I had ever had a medical exam. Telling me he was a medical doctor as well as a priest. He then proceeded to examine me and stuck something in my butt hole. I had a nurse feel my ball sack once and thought it was normal. Then I realized my twin was missing and I began to panic. We were united and taken out the door, but we never got to bowl.

Self-awareness