Gooday Gaming Guests - Project Journey Man Day 1-7

Episode Date: April 7, 2025

Revisit each night as the Quest beginsPrologue: Project Journey ManProject Journey Man Day 1Project Journey Man Day 2Project Journey Man Day 3Project Journey Man Day 4Project Journey Man Day 5Project Journey Man Day 6

I didn't start this because I was ready. I started because I couldn't stay silent anymore. All my life I was waiting. Running was the only way. But now, finally, with clarity and a few pieces of modern knowledge, I've made my day. There's no master plan, no clear end, only the weight I carry, and the things I see when I close my eyes. I act in haste, because waiting has already cost me too much. I've made my mistakes. Ones that still speak when the room is quiet. The shadow way deep inside. Ones that show up in the dark, wearing new faces and old dreams.

I don't even know if this will fix anything. Could I be helping others? I don't know if it should. But I'm here. It's time to share. And if you're here too, then maybe this isn't just for me anymore. Maybe this is how we all move forward. This is my first open transmission. I don't know if anybody will understand this, or even believe it. I've waited long enough.

The years have passed. I'm running out of time. I have to try. It starts tonight. I've lived two lives for as long as I have breathed. One in the light, and one I only find when my eyes are shut. At first I thought it was just lucid dreaming, sleepwalking in my mind in some way. I sheltered my bed so I could sleep my own way. But it kept getting deeper, the dreams more vivid, the sound louder than before, and all the smells as if my nose

was pressed against the door. The places I've gone, they're never the same. The places I've gone they're never the same the forms I've met they are similar but all insane I've tried to live only in the day but now it's too real for me to obey it's in the darkness but it's filled with so much ray, that has shown me this new way. I can now see through it. The portal is open. The journey is clear. This reality, our reality, is just a fragment, a layer instant in a much broader existence. We're not dreaming, we're being rerouted. I know this because I found something.

A trace of code, a glitch in the reset loop. And then the pills. The last part of this night. The combination is perfect. Everything now a light. They opened a doorway. I can now see to fight. But they work. They're not a drug.

They're access keys. When I take them, I don't sleep. I transfer. And I remember. I live again. And again. It's always the same. My key is now active. I'm ready. In my sleeping part I will take this night to journey inward with no end in sight. Where I go, I can't take you with me. I will toss and turn. I may scream in fright. This is my struggle to not go back into the light. So I need your help. The stronger the connection, the clearer the sight. Help me record what I cannot see. Follow the journey well within me. If something shifts, log it. If something

moves, log it. If I speak out of character, log it. If I wake up wrong, log it. If I am raised above the sheets, log it. If you see me, but it's not me, log it. I will never remember what happened overnight, but with your vision, I may just find a new night. Now unite now last night something went wrong the transmission caught off at exactly 10 26 p.m. not 10 24 not 10 27 1026 sharp precise intentional I didn't shut it off the power didn't fall you my connection didn't drop it just ended like someone closed a file. Like a program terminating itself. No warning. No glitch.

Just silence. I woke to the darkness. No log. No witnesses. And worst of all, no connection to you. I missed you. I wanted our first night together to be special. We have such a long journey ahead of us, but it began in silence. And silence is dangerous. I received the time code. I run it through every decoder I have. 1026 keeps coming back. A timestamp? A breach point? A reset loop I've never noticed before?

Or maybe it's the time they use to check us, to see if we're still asleep. What happened in that moment wasn't just technical, it was personal. Because the light dimmed, I saw nothing in the pod. Not shadow, not hallucination, a presence. It didn't move But it was just to mirror me. I Felt it all night Something followed me back

The light must stay on tonight the signal must stay alive. I Need your help to keep it that way the stronger the connection, the clearer the path. Help me record what I cannot see. If something shifts, log it. If I rise,

if I freeze, if I speak in riddles, log it. If I vanish from the frame, log it. If you hear a sound and I do not react, log it. If you see me, but it's not me. Log it. This journey didn't begin the way I hoped. But it continues on now. With you. Now. Last night, I stayed. For the first time, the drift held from start to end. Twelve hours, connected, present, monitored. The signal didn't fail, the feed didn't cut, and most importantly,

you were there. Not many, but they will come. I didn't drift alone, thanks to you. And that changes everything. The room was too dark. You couldn't see me clearly. The signal felt muted. That was intentional. I had to ease you into this. I didn't want to expose you too quickly.

The darkness was the veil. I will need a mask to venture forward, to brighten the light for your open vision, while darkening my sight in these decisions. But tonight I've recalibrated. The light is stronger, the signal clearer. I positioned the unit to multi-glow just enough around me so I can drift and still be noticed so you can witness what may be seen. I added a cross behind my bed, a symbol of protection. Will it help me even if I don't completely believe? The sound you hear is the noise to fill the void. It hums through the night, not just

to help me sleep, but to stabilize the transfer. I used to think it was just sounds in the dark. Now I know it's part of the code. And when I begin to move, the tossing, the turning of my head, it may last for minutes or hours. The heaviness of breath to a groan. That's not just my final somber. That's my body resisting the drift. What you'll see in those moments, that's me falling between worlds, slowly, naturally, unnaturally. My breathing will change. You will hear it. Louder, slower, silenced, then repeat. Most call it snoring I call it pressure that's the sound of leaving I don't control it I only allow it if I stop moving log it if I speak in the stillness log it if you see me but something else behind my eyes, log it.

If the light flickers, log it. If I raise above my sheets, log it. Let's begin the journey with a clearer picture, so you may know what is in sight. In the last two nights, it's beginning to happen and oddly both times the feed ended at 11 hours and 55 minutes exactly. Not random, not failure, a limit in some way, a line I'm not supposed to cross. Or maybe I already have. I shelved evil at the corner of prey.

This will help reset the balance of energy that is at bay. My pod will continue to change. As I keep building the connection, I need to create the strongest range. You saw my face this time. Not clearly. Not always. Just enough.

A flicker of my head in the light. Was it completely me? Would be always hard to tell. The heavy breathing. It was often an intense. Finally, I didn't feel like I was alone in the room. And thankfully I wasn't. That's why tonight I'm sharing more evidence, one I haven't tested yet. But the one might explain what's beginning to happen here. Quantum entanglement. It is new to science. It isn't explained.

They continue to try to control it. No rules to go by. Just a feeling at best. If you fall asleep while the signals open, that's okay. It helps fuels our souls that trigger the roads that seem so far away. What's stopping us from finding each other? Maybe we can't prove it, but maybe we don't have to. If you wake remembering something unfamiliar, a place, a sound, a face you don't know, log it. If we both feel it, even once, then the drift is no longer mine alone. It's shared. The forces are in line. The statue and the cross both remain have a vision. One to warn and one to protect, and somewhere in between the space we both

enter. This isn't a transmission anymore. It's an invitation. Keep the line open. I'll see you if you're able to find me. Now. Something is changing. Not just in the drift, but after.

I feet cut a few minutes early this time, but almost 11.55 again. I didn't wake refreshed. I woke wrecked. My body felt heavy, like it had fought something. My skin felt wrong. My breath uneven. I had to shower, not to cleanse, but to wash off what stayed. Maybe this is what happens when you drift too far, or maybe I'm starting to bring pieces back with me. The screen is by my side now, mounted but not secure. It is powerless, it is not active. But it's present. It holds a

purpose not yet explained. Like a mirror that hasn't yet decided what to reflect or a channel waiting for you to connect. I don't know what it will show. It may ever turn on. It might not have to. Maybe it'll show what I haven't know what it will show. It may never turn on. It might not have to. Maybe it'll show what I haven't already said. Or maybe it will show what I dare to say. But tonight, I speak to more than watchers. I'm reaching out to others like me.

The ones who carry things they never say aloud, the one who's done damage to others, to themselves, and still wish they could do some good before it's over. I'm not saying we get complete peace, or full redemption from all our sins. But maybe we still can try. If every one person rises because of something I dare to share, then maybe that's enough. Even with our shackles, even with our shadows, living mostly in the dark, we can still reshape the light. The statue and the cross both stand their ground.

The balance continues to hold while insanity is all around. But the drift is no longer quiet. It is extremely loud inside. It's now leaving marks that are very difficult to hide. I added a broken timepiece to set the clock. It helps keep the momentum as my mind enters the dark. I don't know what I'll become by the end of this. But if I can make a change, something good out of this, you'll be the first to know after all of this bliss.

By the end of the evening, the power didn't hold, not fully. The direct power connection was loose, barely enough. 1101 31. That's how long the new tech battery held during the drift. When I woke, it felt drained like I barely made the flight. So tonight, I reset the stage. The small shelf beside my pod, it's been cluttered, unbalanced, noisy at best. It needs to be reset. The placement is now ready, and tonight I added a new piece. Just a tube. The eyes, the ears of an old

Macintosh. Vintage viewing that can glow even at rest. It doesn't speak. Doesn't flash. It watches. It remembers. I placed it here not to be active, unless it finds its own light. Keep track of the marks, minute by minute. Go forward and back, then rewind again, over and over, until you can find not a familiar right space. until you can find not a familiar right space. The line is open, the path is clear. Log everything, comment at will. I cannot know what really matters or if the combination is right until it's already passed with the day now after the night. I'm leaving only what needs to be in this space, a chessboard of sorts with pawns, rooks, and a horseman in place.

A Ouija test. A reach out to all the unrest. Each night I will move a piece, something small, symbolic, not to be directive, but an invitation at best, a signal to whatever or whoever is watching, that I'm listening. I'm ready. I'm active. The session feeds move forward tonight. From this point forward, every anomaly will be logged through its marks. The session feeds move forward tonight.

From this point forward, every anomaly will be logged through its marks, time stamped, captured live, all in an instant. These are the highlights. They're movements. Some sound, some silent. But everyone is watched. If you see something, log it, comment at will. A twitch, a flicker, an audio upbeat, or even nothing at all, because sometimes the quietest glitch is the one that speaks so much louder in time. The feed is open. The shelf is set. The pieces for the trip are now in place.

The game now is reset to take a new space. Now. The pod is evolving. It is a living time capsule. The record holds steady each session. It is a living time capsule. The record holds steady each session, the light shining almost at peak, not to hide me, but to help guide you. I've learned that if you can't see, you can't track, and if you can't make the mark, we lose the imprint. And tonight has arrived, arrived the mask with its cat eyes Not by chance, but as a way to show sight My vision is now blinded in a much scarier way. I cannot disappear quicker

Into the dark but something this pod still stares back at you. The medicine's changed the weight of the down. It is much harder to sleep, but it held me better last night, putting me further aground. I thought for an instant I'd stay till the end. Reentry was unexpected, as I pulled out not once but twice. The trance was broken from my mind, both exits for nature's calling line. Each time I returned, entry was not as easy. It was harder to maintain, like the drift had closed its gates, needing a new key.

But when I forced it open, it was never the same place. I started all over, in a new space. I fell deeper, the second descent, harried in the first, like being let back into a place I was never supposed to leave. The shelf remains scrambled, the tube still watches at best, glowing silently even in rest. New pieces will always change, night by night the board transforms, the game will always evolve. My watches are growing, they doubled last night. Most stay for a moment, some return for another sight. But every view, every breath I take, could be the one that matters the most. So well into the night, look for the whispers of my

voice, the hand twitches in the height. If you see something, log it, comment at will. If you feel something, log that too, comment at will. Every glitch, every shift, every sight. These aren't just minutes. They're echoes Some mean nothing Some could change everything But we won't know for quite some time Until the series is reviewed line after line The stage is observed the journey is here here. The path is still narrow.

Let's see what happens this time around. Now.