11. The secret life of us

 

My publications on the internet, both my business site driving-school.com.au as well as my personal website dieterfischer.com, brought very little direct feedback from friends or relatives. The fact that my driving-school site was amongst the top 10 in the world’s biggest search engine, did not change the negative attitude towards my work from family and/or ignorance by friends.

 

This could only mean two things; one, few people had discovered my writing, buried in the ever growing mountain of online information. Or two, there was a certain level of fear in approaching me openly, possibly because of the mystery surrounding it all.

 

This would be understandable, since I had made some outrageous statements and assumptions. (Later, I’m afraid, there will be more facts that need disclosing, which may be even harder to comprehend and digest). To my friends I was just the average Aussie bloke, father of four earning a crust teaching people driving.  

 

My sense of confidence came undoubtedly from my early morning prayer sessions, the hour on my knees, where I poured out my heart and thoughts to God. I thanked HIM for who HE is, for his goodness and prayed for guidance for the day ahead. I believed that if I saw any visions or dreams, it was with HIS permission and by HIS Spirit. If I was led to act or comment, I did so in the appointed time. HIS timing had always been perfect.

 

Early in September I watched a program from the US called the Newshour. The name Chuck Colson clicked, which made me sit up. Through his organization prisoner’s lives were changed by the Christian teaching. What I found hard to understand was that a Minister of Religion made negative comments about it. When I noticed his name (it contained a Y, N and L) I emailed the program.  

 

Email to Newshour   -   03/09/03

Hi all,

How refreshing to see prisoners coming to Christ. If any group has reason to accept forgiveness it would be convicted lawbreakers. (Sadly, there are many people in prisons everywhere that are innocent).

Chuck Colson's work must be commended. I find it hard to understand that Rev. B. L. has objections, classifying the work as that of fundamentalists. If a person is called a fundamentalist because they believe that Jesus is the Son of God, that he walked on water, fed 5000 with 2 fish and 5 loaves etc. then I am a fundamentalist. Oh, how we do need more of us in today’s confused world!

Wishy-washy religious jargon is not going to stop the enemy from taking territory in our free society. "You shall not have any other God beside ME" says it very clearly. Without engaging the Power HE gives us, (His spirit) I can see no victory from evil. If we want the enemy to sit up and take note - we must stand up (in HIS name) and take charge.

Kind regards from Australia

Dieter Rolf Fischer

PS. Mr. Lupu was right on target. I forgot what he said, but don't you just love his name.

 

Was I naïve to think that people everywhere read my story and many started to believe? Receiving direct feedback would tempt me to become proud and receive credit, when I knew very well it was God at work through HIS spirit with great power. Those of “my followers”, who wanted to communicate with me, did so in a secret, coded way.

How else can I explain what happened one Sunday morning as I was about to leave for church? Isobel phoned (after my prompting) a gardening program on the radio to ask about removing weeds in our lawn. The host of the show (if you can call a radio program a show) advised her to apply power salt every fortnight.

It made me smile, because it was only days since I had uploaded the word SALT = South Australia, (featuring) L on a cross. Did the presenter have fun with my wife, knowing her name is Isobel? I had rung many times and thought that by the telephone numbers of people ringing in the radio presenters know who is on the line.

I made some fun before I ran out the door to drive to church. (She was not well enough to come to church that morning). As she was talking on air to thousands of listeners, I got close to her face and whispered “See you darling” and blew a loud kiss right into the mouthpiece of the telephone. I would have loved for everyone to hear me kiss Isobel, especially those who knew how desperate I was for the liberating kiss from her. (Chapter 74, More in number).

Amongst many peculiar observations that stopped me in my tracks, as it were, was a picture in a Christian Magazine. It was printed around Father’s Day and titled “Hero fathers”. It depicted a knight-like figure with a ‘breastplate’ in the colours red, yellow and blue. Those three colours are the colours of our state’s flag. These are the three colours I had emailed to the Advertiser Newspaper as a riddle (see Ch. 43 and 57 - More in number). If these colours were meaningless to anyone else, they made me think deeply.

In a Reader’s Digest Magazine, which I read occasionally, an article about “Love” was ‘coded’ with data, which my brain deciphered in an instant. Since I had not emailed this magazine very often, I felt the urge to respond on this occasion. I looked up the researcher’s website. If the writer did not want people to contact her with feedback, why was her website listed at the end?   

The surname of the person doing research into ‘love versus romance’ was virtually identical as mine. She met the writer of the article in New York (NY) giving him a long, wary look that says: “Step forward if you are who I think you are; otherwise get lost”. This line grabbed my attention. All the pages contained various other thoughts that send signals to my brain. She was looking for a permanent relationship – with who? If with God, then it will be very permanent. I read about 4 million years of evolution. Such scientific assumptions always cause a reaction in me.

Despite calling herself a feminist, the scientist with the identical name and age as mine, (except for the c) challenged the idea that boys and girls are all the same. She quotes Jane Goodall’s book: In the Shadow of man. How could I not recognize her name (Fisher) and the name Jane Goodall and fail to respond?

I sent the following email to the scientist. The address I got from her website:

 

Dear Helen,

I just read your article in our Australian RD Magazine. Allow me a few comments.

That old man you are hoping to build a long relationship with, can't he take you along on one of those trips to Europe? Could be separate rooms (the old fashioned way).

Secondly, could the 4 year cycle of marriage bliss have to do with people having children soon after the wedding. They may even have done the right thing for the baby and after the four year period, realized it was all a mistake.

I believe any two people could live together. It just is harder, when they don't match. To look around for the right one is often the core problem. Often at a late age, these perfectionists missed the boat and either stay single or marry a divorcee.

"Bloom where you are planted" can be transferred into marriage. Make it happen. Love is the most powerful force in the world. Why do you think Christians use the phrase - God is love? If you haven't read the bible, start with an easy book like John's Gospel. Revelations, the last book, can get a bit messy, speculative with colourful horses, little open books, measuring rods, earthquakes, a man standing with one foot on the ocean and the other on land.

I have been reading Revelations with interest, but am still looking for a theologian who may have some insight, not just take aboard what others said. (Like you did with your theory on Love). Congratulations for being brave and exploring a little deeper.

Kind regards from Adelaide, South Australia

Dieter Rolf Fischer

PS That man who travels to Europe, how old is he? You didn't mean to say he is 4 Million years old?

 

Scanning the article again just for this writing, I noticed the words “plain and simple”. My brain reads these as – L pain and le mp & Is. I keep asking my Is (my wife Isobel), if indeed this kind of brain-function is a mental illness, then I’d love to know exactly which and start a support group. What fun a dozen of us would have during our monthly meetings! We’d search out articles in women’s magazines and make fun about our wives!!

 

A person at the other end (in the US I presume) must have received and read my email. I did receive the following reply within days:

 

Thank you, Dieter, for your lovely e-mail. Yes, I do think the four year cycle evolved millions of years ago, in order to rear a child though infancy. But we sure can make long marriages, and happy ones I think. In fact I am extremely optimistic about marriage. "Bloom where you are planted" is a truly lovely phrase. Off to my desk to finish a book on all this. I hope you will like that too. my best to you.

 

The same edition Reader’s Digest featured at the back cover a well-known Australian athlete. The photo shows her in a swimming costume, entering a door with a sign above: Female Changing. Did this lady indeed experience change? Her name would suggest it. Did other people change their thinking in our society? Did a shift in community attitudes really take place or was this my illness coming through.

 

Those who wish to know who I am referring to read the Sunday Mail (Adelaide), Nov. 2nd, page 9. You will find a small article about her involvement in the Athens Olympic Games. The rest of the page features a re-cap of the road deaths on 22/8/02 (Glenn Knott and Ben Mitchell, Chapter 43, More in number). Their mate Adam Cooney tells his story. He was supposed to have travelled in the car with Ben, his best mate, but felt unwell that day. The article also revealed that a carload of friends followed immediately behind the doomed Nissan Sylvia.

 

On Radio 5 DN recently I heard Jeremy Cordeaux mention that he keeps hearing folk deciding to stay home and spend more time with the family. He said it as if an epidemic was spreading across Australia. If he was referring to people deciding that children are our greatest asset, and were paying them more attention, then I think we need more epidemics of this kind.

 

As the year 2003 rolled on the option that it was all my imagination seemed more remote with every magic God showed me. There were so many little incidences, meaningful names, articles that made sense in the context of my auto-biography that I could not possibly write about them all here. Even writing my journal was taking much time and thought.   

 

Long after I had discovered that replacing the 3rd letter d with an n in the name Liddy it would spell the name of someone wrongly convicted of murder (Chapter 18 – More in number), the phrase “en-war” was created. My brain often read words backwards in syllables, I read the name Warren as “n-war”. One day during a driving lesson I drove along Warren Ave. in Para Vista. The long street in a residential, middle class suburb looked like a giant landscaping project. Many properties had mounts of dirt and diggings everywhere. It indeed looked like the earth had moved in that quiet road in Adelaide’s North East.

 

One Sunday morning before church I felt to go for a ride on my bicycle in the direction of Para Vista. In my spirit I was impressed to ride to a particular church and to just drop by. As I climbed steadily up the steep hill of Nelson Road, I took note that a white car had stopped in Billabong Road. A moment later it overtook me and stopped again approx. 100 meters ahead of me. The left hand side door opened and the passenger, which appeared to be a teenage girl, dropped something onto the ground, before the car drove off again.

 

My curiosity increased with every turn of the pedal. I wondered what that was all about. I got off my bike and picked up a piece of crumbled up paper. I was sure the girl had placed it there. It was a hand-drawn piece of writing in large ornamental letters: “TOMORROW WHEN THE WAR BEGAN”. I certainly felt if I had been in a war for a long time. Was this another secret contact, a note of support, literally dropped into my lap? I kept the note as memento of which I slowly accumulated a small collection; bits and pieces, all telling a tale of their own.

 

That morning, while briefly looking around the foyer of the church in Para Vista, it became overwhelmingly clear that my story was read and understood by many. Minute details, clues in printed matter, in photos and other displayed material showed me that Christian were identifying with my mission that as yet existed only on in the realm of the unseen. But for all of it to be co-incident this far down the track would be impossible.   

 

If my assumptions were correct, a camera somewhere outside our property was keeping an eye on us. How else would people know my whereabouts at any given time? Plus a communication network must have existed to pass on my precise movements - spooky stuff, but quite in the realm of 21st century possibilities. I had seen advertisements for surveillance devices for less than hundred dollars. Being watched did not bother me. (I was just more careful picking my nose in my own garden). The opposite was the case. It gave me a degree of feeling safe. Every Christian knows he is watched over 24/7. 

 

In my mind I believed to still receive secret, coded messages from many supporters in all kinds of ways. One such piece of communication was a newsletter from a politician of our State Parliament. I knew what was meant by including two copies of the “with compliments” slip. My suspicion arose reading an article about the newly elected State Labor Government. The writing did not make sense, because it quoted a speech outlining the government’s policies, as if it was given by the Governor.

 

The Governor is merely a representative of the Queen and is largely removed from the political process. It was the job of the leader of the Government (the Premier) to announce policies.

 

A politician would not make such a blunder. Was this another kind of test? An observation and intelligence test all at the same time? The name of the politician, if translated into German, means something very special. I was just not sure, if I had merely gained another supporter in State Parliament or indeed a serious convert for a much higher purpose.

 

I received numerous threats, or at least I perceived them to be that, in coded form. The fact that I had blown the whistle publicly about a Government stuff up and subsequent cover up, made me still a little uneasy and wary. My hints that possible crimes had been committed made me realize I could be a target for retribution. But the war so far had been played out at a psychological level. My inkling was that people, knowing how sensitive I was to car registration plates, names etc. were using psychology to try to confuse and scare me. This tactic had succeeded three years ago when I finished up in a mental institution for a short time.

 

In those scary times I wished that indeed it all was a mental illness. Coded hints about death, burning, bullets, boom, boom etc. would then be just an illusion in my mind. All I’d be fighting would be my own self. Tablets would assist me in winning this war. But this drawn-out, secret battle was a spiritual one, not chemical warfare.

 

When I saw two motor-cyclists following very closely behind, as I drove home very late one night, I could have imagined anything. When I noticed a tradesman’s vehicle pull out ahead and read the registration number DEAD ... my mind started to wonder. I was determined not give room to such pressure. It could indeed be just co-incidence. 

 

Driving up a steep hill on the open road recently a red vehicle was parked in the middle of nowhere. Just after I had passed, it pulled out and overtook me.  The registration number, or should I say the registration letters ….. spelt the name of a convicted murderer, whose case had recently been featured on TV. New evidence was shown that had never been taken into account at the trial.  I wondered if the display was meant for me and how many people are imprisoned in South Australia, but are totally innocent?  

 

By sheer fluke I overheard a statement in the media made by a mother at her son’s funeral in Melbourne. He was reported to having been a member of a powerful crime family, a ruthless man, hated by many. One afternoon he was shot at point-blank range, right in front of his children in a public car park. His mother speaking at the funeral vowed: “All will be taken care of.”

 

Another scene had me thinking on the scare level for a few days. If it was not arranged to frighten me, it may have been as a warning or just co-incidence. I turned at Mitchell’s Store into a side street to pick up one of my clients for a driving lesson. I spotted two deep excavations, each approx. the size of a motor car, one on each side of the road. Originally they were traffic islands to slow traffic. It looked as if it was in preparation to plant new shrubs and flowers. Whatever the reason was, the diggings were left for a number of weeks. 

 

One day as I was about to pick up my client I noticed a Ute (U & cross) parked right beside the deep holes. On the side I read the name of the business, a company supplying water tanks. Translated into my coded language it could be read as:  Re: Why the d & n? The letters y, d and n were all plain to read. Was the message from friend or foe or another one of my ‘outside the box imaginations? Or was I supposed to imagine myself in one of the holes inside a box? If so, I knew of a reason why there were possibly two holes dug.

 

On October 5th 03 I was much aware that my three numbers 1, 5 and 3 formed a perfect sequence for something to happen. Not that I was into numerology, yet these numbers had significance which, as a six-digit-date, would not happen for another 100 years. That morning a major fire was deliberately lit at the Enfield Highschool, in the suburb, where our church is located. Perhaps someone was into numerology, knew about my figures and used the date as a reason for a revenge attack, or should I say another revenge-attack?

 

One of my greatest fears was that my enemies would retaliate against people and property connected to me. The fire in the German Club in November 2002 took almost 12 months to repair. I had often wondered, if it was a deliberate attack on Germans, especially when someone mentioned to me that the fire had been lit in 5 different places.

 

There were still the usual registration plates, names of students, names on TV etc. which occupied my mind. But increasingly I just smiled at the creativity of the messages arriving on my brain. Car registration plates such as WENDI (when die) or CHELL (see hell) were almost standard every time I was in traffic. One name at a meeting stood out as: re: me dy.  It may be only my awareness, but I perceived the number of custom-plates was on the increase.

 

The names of people and/or their addresses also continued to surprise me. One of the most obvious addresses was Manton (man on cross) Street. A classic name, which of course I can’t mention to protect privacy, I could translate easily into “hail the son of P”. One learner, Adam, lived in Adam St. in the house with a ‘good’ number. Even his weekend pick-up address had the right number and a meaningful name. (It contains a colour and “field”).  

 

My suspicion was that somebody in a position of influence still searches out suitable names and arranges to have lessons with me. Often they are licence holders simply wanting a lesson to learn gear changing. If these connections were of my crazy imagination, they surely were fun to observe and very co-incidental. It was hard at times to concentrate on driving tuition. I think the learners felt the same way.       

 

But the firmer I believed in my destiny, the more I realized that I was slowly driving myself into a corner. Humanly speaking I was in a real dilemma. If my wife was right, then I did have a serious mental illness. On the surface it would look like that, because of my strange behaviour.

 

On the other hand, if my interpretation of events is correct, then I would possibly sooner or later suffer for all my whistle-blowing, for speaking out publicly for the truth to be heard. How, by whom and when any retaliation was going to take place was an unknown. It would be difficult to live in this state of anticipating catastrophe forever.

 

The third option is my preferred one: A happy end, probably a miraculous one, caused by the J-factor. I had been telling God that I trust HIM in every circumstance. If HE was my strength in my deepest despair, why should I not trust HIM when I can almost taste the ecstasy of victory around the corner? I had been blessed reading the book of Isaiah. The stories of how the God of Israel had rescued HIS people from the claws of death must be counted amongst the world’s most magnificent literature. Just reading it filled my tormented mind with hope and peace. HE always seemed to direct me to the passages that I needed, and exactly when I most needed them.  

 

Doubts about my mission, my future and the constant reminder by the family that I was a mental case, pushed me into the comforting arms of God.

 

Where else was there to turn to?  

 

Isaiah 30, 18 – Therefore the Lord will wait, that HE may be gracious to you; and therefore HE will be exalted that HE may have mercy on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for HIM. 

 

One of my favourite verses in the Psalms is 73, 25:

 

Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is none upon earth that I desire besides You.

 

Chapter 12

 

Index