Escape to Another Reality

Jack Groverland

Description

“Escape to Another Reality” taps into the universal wisdom of an Infinite Source ever intervening in our lives. It’s purpose is to awaken us and inspire us to make conscious choices, regardless of adversity or threat, that lead to a life each of us is best equipped to live.
“I once believed like you, that I was an objective observer of the world around me. Then at age 22, I was arrested and bound for prison. Suddenly, I had a mental shift which felt like an invasion of my mind by an unknown entity and it had me running for my life under a hail of bullets.

In the terrifying process I did not just escape the police, the city and state I was arrested in, but I escaped reality as I knew it, running past buildings that were sky high, and flat without definition—people were taller, cars longer and the street I was running on narrowed all the way to the horizon like a surreal painting. In this psychedelic state, everything appeared to move shower, allowing me to dodge gunfire and miraculously escape the police. When the hallucination ended I was in a different City. Without money, personal I.D. or a place to sleep, I was forced to live in a different reality, one which included an unseen power that meddled in my life.” WARNING: Jack’s memoirs include miracles ,mayhem, love and murder.

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• Inspirational
• Adventure (Guyana)
• Espiritual
• Biography
• Spiritual
• Hummus
• Adventure
• Autobiography

Informations

• Publié par: Balboa Press
• Date de parution: 24 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798765233696
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

ESCAPE to ANOTHER REALITY
Memoirs of a Reluctant Messenger
JACK GROVERLAND


Copyright © 2022 Jack Groverland.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
Balboa Press
A Division of Hay House
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.balboapress.com
844-682-1282
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
 
Scripture quotations marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.
 
Cover Background PhotoCredit Caren Aronson©2022
 
 
 
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3368-9 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3367-2 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3369-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022915950
 
Balboa Press rev. date: 12/19/2022
CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgments
 
Chapter 1 Life Changing Trouble
Chapter 2 The Orphanage Miracle
Chapter 3 The Wagon
Chapter 4 Hard lessons at an early age
Chapter 5 Fight Or Flight
Chapter 6 Without A Clue
Chapter 7 The Growing Insanity
Chapter 8 A Book Beating
Chapter 9 Cutting Cards With A Grifter
Chapter 10 A Friend In Need
Chapter 11 It really only takes one to Tango
Chapter 12 Lady Luck, Slayer Of Proud Gamblers
Chapter 13 Broke In New York City
Chapter 14 Life At The York Hotel
Chapter 15 The Show Must Go On
Chapter 16 Always Steal Alone
Chapter 17 The God-Sent Girl
Chapter 18 How Do You Get to Broadway?
Chapter 19 A Time of Radical Changes
Chapter 20 Eating Crow
Chapter 21 How Much Is Enough
Chapter 22 A Door Never Closes but Another Opens
Chapter 23 Writing A Farfetched Film
Chapter 24 Bloodbath In Chicago
Chapter 25 At Least We Have Our Health
Chapter 26 The Sleeping Prophet
Chapter 27 Of Signs and Lady Luck
Chapter 28 Then I Met Jesus Personally
Chapter 29 In Search Of Trees
Chapter 30 All That Glitters Is Not Gold
Chapter 31 The Last Straw
Chapter 32 Clueless In Limbo
Chapter 33 Lafayette Or Bust
Chapter 34 Masters Of Divinty
Chapter 35 No Farm—No Orchard—No Housing
 
Epilogue
PREFACE
All the events written about in this book happened. I know because they happened to me with me but not always because of me. This is not an autobiography per se, but more concisely a compilation of the significant events that influenced my life, from early childhood to this present day.
I have tried to write about most of the events from a perspective of who I was and how I thought at the time each event took place. There was no way to convey these events clearly and honestly without using a modicum of profanity. Looking back upon the experiences of my life has allowed me to see the humor in most of them, even those that were painful and tragic at the time.
I have written this “concise” autobiography in much the same way I would write a novel. This method was helpful because reviewing memories of my past and the feelings evoked, requiring me to fill in some reasonable description and dialogue.
In many instances, I have changed the names of people and places to protect the privacy of those involved.
Certain events in my life did border on the miraculous, and to sustain the credibility of this biography I have written such events in a matter of fact reporting style. Less significant events in my life have been left out in deference to those that had a greater influence on me.
From the advantage of hindsight, it became clear to me just how many unanticipated, improbable, often unwanted events affected my life over the years. Others reading this may also discover, as I did, that many of the unanticipated events in their lives smacked of a cosmic intrusion by an unseen power.
I use a number of names for the unseen “Source” intervening and “pulling the strings” in everyone’s life. The names for “Source” include Meddler, Cosmic Source, Divine Intruder, Lord of Karma, God and the Deity.
Note, the word “punk” in the opening chapters has a different meaning than the word as it is used today. Back in the days and neighborhood of my youth, punk was the common label for mean-minded kids, juvenile delinquents like myself, who grew up ignorant and cruel under the harsh realities of poverty and back-alley thinking. Punks used fighting and stealing as their distorted way of gaining self-esteem.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank my wife, Norma, for hanging with me through the many challenges of our early married years—for always playing the honesty card when I was dealing from the bottom—for always putting her personal life and dreams on hold to work for the fulfillment of my dreams—and for her attempts to always side with those unfairly treated and to rescue every underdog she could on her path.
OTHER ACKNOWLEDGMENTS INCLUDE
PROOF READING AND SUGGESTIONS:
Professor Cathy Comstock
Wonder Woman, Gail Waggoner
Devoted Friend, Lori Inman
Mike, “The Magician,” Schadle, whose technical mastery I relied on totally.
EDITING: Marco Degatano, Terry Schuler and
Sheree Zink
Art Director & Project Manager: Robert Castellino
Cover Art : Mark Johnson & Robert Castellino
CHAPTER ONE
LIFE CHANGING TROUBLE
“Stupid is as stupid does” -Forest Gump
I was twenty-two years old when real trouble caught up with me. I had been standing in line at the unemployment office, where in those days you had to show up to collect your weekly check. But on that (possibly fated) day my life crashed. On that day, the woman at the pay-window stood up and waved her hand high in the air. Instantly, two plain-clothes detectives rushed me, had me spread eagle up against the counter, searched me for any weapons and cuffed my hands behind my back. One detective recited the Miranda to me.
A sick feeling engulfed me. My legs were shaking and about to collapse as the detectives escorted me outside to a police car. Weak, on the verge of fainting, I did not mentally process anything on the ride cross town except the screaming siren, which served no real purpose except to bolster the egos of my captors. I remember the entrance to the downtown police station , with the precinct number imbedded in bold brass above the entry doors. I also remember the two stairways running pyramid style up to the flat concrete platform at the entrance. The arresting detectives took me from the police car and shoved me up the stairs into the main police station. They booked me at the high desk in the center of the room; the desk sergeant commenting, “You’re a little young for this level of felony.” Then the two detectives walked me downstairs to a brightly lit corridor that ran through the middle of the detectives’ section. The corridor separated offices on both sides and opened into a large, square room that contained a holding cell and a long table with fingerprinting equipment. Instead of putting me in the cell, they led me into a small, dimly lit room (6’ x 6’), with an arched window similar to an old train station ticket window.
One of the detectives removed my handcuffs, while the other left the room, showing up a moment later on the other side of the ticket window. He slid a large manila envelope through the window and told me to put all my belongings and money into it. My mind was whirling but I decided not to turn in my pocket cash, thinking I will at least be able to buy cigarettes in jail. After surrendering my watch, ring and wallet, the cop behind the window counted the money in the wallet, wrote the amount $26 on the envelope and had me sign it. The detective beside me said, “Sit down,” indicating a wood bench jammed between the two walls. He might have said to his partner, “I gotta take a leak, I don’t know—but he left me sitting alone on the bench under the gaze of the cop behind the window.
I remember staring trancelike at my shoes. Then I was bending over them pulling the laces tighter and tighter before triple knotting them. I was not planning to escape—my mind only obsessing at the idea of going to prison. I became aware of cold sweat running down my body from my armpits when something beyond any contemplation or logic of my own compelled me to run. Totally out of my mind, I leaped from the room and raced down the lighted corridor, not hesitating at all when a detective appeared, having just stepped out of his office. I ran right into him, bowling him over as, I continued down the corridor to the stairs. Adrenalin coursing through my body, I flew up the steps three at a time to the main floor. I tore through the main precinct past the sergeant at the desk who shouted STOP as I