Sorry it has taken over a week to get this entry to you.

It has been a lot to process.  Just amazing.  Here it is.


We met at Starbucks and then went for a walk down by the library and sat together on a wooden green bench. It was so bizarre.  How could this person know?  It was 40 years ago when the DARK MAN perpetrated his madness on me and 40 years ago when I locked that traumatic memory deep in my subconscious mind and in the muscles of my body.   How could this person know?  I didn’t even know and I was there. I have sifted through the sand of my unconscious for years. All I have are brief frightening images, (trees, a porch, a balding man, being so scared to tell anyone for fear I would be murdered) and the crazy somatic responses in my body while I was involved in my People in Hips journey (hands on my neck, being hit repeatedly on my back and all over my body, and an automatic bouncing of my body that seemed as if I was being raped.)

Now this person from my past was going to tell me what happened.  It was 40 years ago.

And I thought this story was finished...

I am crying as I write this for it is the beginning a long conclusion.  I thought putting it away in a box in my past was enough, and it is enough to prevent the PTSD, to prevent the shaking, to prevent the spontaneous cramping of my hip flexors.  It’s enough. Putting it in a box in the past works.  It relieves the pain, the present day pain. There is no baby Ken here, no Dark Man. They are and were manifestations of my past, my trauma, my lost childhood.  

But now, knowing the truth seems somehow… sublime.

It is said that the truth will set you free, and in my case, it will.  It will set me free from the fear of not knowing, free from the fear of being crazy and free from the fear of Baby Ken and The Dark Man returning someday for even more fun. The truth will firmly seat me in my body, validating my People in my Hips experience as being real.

After all this, I like real.


Now this person from my past was going to tell me what happened.  It was 40 years ago.


So this is what was remembered in hypnosis… not mine… this person’s hypnosis.  (I am going to tell the tale in the female gender although that is not necessarily the proper gender, for I was asked to keep this anonymous.)

She was walking up a road in Yorktown, and heard noise - yelling, arguing coming from down the hill behind a house across from where I lived as a child.  (The same house that my hip lead me to on December 24, 2006 - the day I was cured of my PEEPS condition.)  She walked further down the road where she could see what was happening down behind the house.  

I was there.  Yelling. Wearing a red plaid shirt, my hair parted at the side.

And a MAN was yelling back at me.  Balding.  Dark squinty eyes. Partially graying. He was standing on his back porch.  Yes, that porch that porch, the one I remembered so often in Yoga, that porch connected with so so so so much fear.

“I can walk through your yard anytime I want.” I said defiantly.

“Oh no you can’t.” He yelled back.

“I am just taking the path down through the woods.”  (Yes, those woods the woods that I remembered so often in fear.)  

“Get out of there!  Get off my property!

“I will do what I want.” Egging him on like I egged on my father. “What are you going to do about it?

There was an aluminum bat, with a red handle and a silver top.  It was in his hand.  He came at me.

“Leave me alone. Get away.  God damnit! Get away!”

And then she saw this man, this DARK MAN, this god damned fucking monster of humanity come at me. As I turn to run, he hits me in the back of my left knee with the bat. I fall against a big oak tree, and the Dark Man starts to beat me repeatedly as I scream in terror.

THE DARK MAN stops a moment and turns, and sees, maybe he sees or maybe he doesn’t see but this person watching thinks he sees her so she runs and runs and runs, terror racing through her veins. She runs and runs and runs and has to get help but she is so scared - she doesn’t know what to do, she is so so so so crazy scared she needs to help me but she can’t  -  “Should I go to a neighbors house please god oh please someone help me help that boy I know down the hill he is going to die but I don’t know what to do Oh please please help!”

She runs frantically around the block, down a nearby cul-de-sac and around the block again.  She just runs, she becomes the running she becomes the fear “oh god I have to help and I CAN’T.”

A while later, know one knows yet how long, she makes her way back.  She sees me as I come hobbling up the hill from the DARK MAN’s PORCH and his TREE OF DEATH, to my house. (That memory I had during Yoga and in therapy - walking up to my house being so scared so hurt - someone, yes, THE DARK MAN told me NOT TO TELL ANYONE or else he would KILL ME.  HE WOULD KILL ME IF I TOLD ANYONE.  I had to keep it a secret, a secret, or he would kill me.  So what better way to keep a secret - MAKE YOURSELF FORGET.)  She saw this my memory of my fear, and she still didn’t know what to do.  She watched as I hobbled up to my home, beaten and …. Oh God, I think something else but I just don’t know yet… I just don’t know.

Please, can I keep that in the box.

Because of this event, my “Watcher” spent the rest of her life up until now unconsciously trying to help/save people for she was unable to help me on that oh so dark day, 40 years ago.

And I, by the DARK MAN, was given the curse (now gift) of the people in my hips.

One event changed the course of our lives.  I thought this was my story but the miracle here is, it wasn’t.  This tale, my tale is shared.  Someone was there.  Someone was there.

Oh God, it was real.


“Can you ever forgive me?” my “Watcher” wept as we sat together on that park bench.  “Can you ever forgive me, I didn’t know what to do, I had to run, I couldn’t help myself I had to run I had to -  can you forgive me please oh please oh please?”

She was there again.  A child begging my forgiveness.

“Of course I forgive you. You didn’t do anything.  He did.  He’s the evil one. Of course I forgive you.  I am fine. It is forty years later, and I am doing really well.  That was the past. It’s over.”

“I didn’t want to tell you.  Are you alright?  I didn’t want to bring stuff up for you.”

“I am fine.  Totally fine. You didn’t do anything. You were a child.  Just a child.”

She wept as we embraced.  I felt somehow devoid of emotion, yet filled with so much compassion for my dear and wonderful Watcher.


I vaguely remember the incident behind the Dark Man’s house.  The somatic feelings of getting hit on my back when the People in my Hips first manifested big time now made sense.  I was beat on my back by an aluminum bat.  The somatic hands on my throat must have been his, and the memory of being held down when I had the Moobee points done on me by Alexander Hand, must have also been from this experience also.

And then there was the somatic memory of being raped which showed up in Yoga.  Did that happen that day when my Watcher ran away?  I don’t know.  … And I think so.

The next day, I received a phone call from my Watcher.  She found out the identity of THE DARK MAN by searching the internet and she found a picture.  In the picture, he was balding with dark squinty eyes.  It was him.

He was dead.  He died three years ago, in 2007, in a car accident.  

He can’t hurt me ever again.


When my hip lead me to his house on that fateful Christmas Eve in 2006 when I was cured of my condition, the Dark Man was probably sitting in his house less than 30 yards away.

The world works in mysterious ways.



Here is that video from that fateful Christmas Eve re-presented here in this context.



Ken WolfComment