The Serial Dismisser

Metaphorical Narrative

Every window and door once looked suspicious, as if some little bird couriered messages from unseen enemies. Thoughts appeared there, sharp and abrupt, like secret notes slipped under the sill. It felt like surveillance: not chosen, not mine.

But look closer. These aren’t messages from spies. They’re cached files, triggered by the liminal edge of a threshold. The brain keeps a drawer labeled “door/window” and when you approach, it flings it open. What seems foreign is nothing but old storage.

And so you stop playing the target. You stop imagining spies perched outside. Instead, you stand in the doorway like its rightful owner, and every stray thought gets the same treatment: Dismissed. Mine, not theirs.

Core Insight

Thresholds (doors, windows) trigger memories and associations because they signal transition. The mind interprets this as new input, when in reality it’s old files resurfacing. When you believe the story of “enemy spies,” the thoughts feel foreign and invasive. When you claim sovereignty, the same thoughts become neutral echoes.

Dismissal is power. Not suppression, not argument. Just a simple act of refusing to carry what doesn’t belong.

Saturday Experiment

1. Visit a threshold: Stand by a window or door where odd thoughts usually appear.
2. Do the Gesture: Brush your hands outward, as if sweeping crumbs.
3. Say the Seal: “Dismissed. Mine, not theirs.”
4. Repeat three times until your body registers the act as final.

Each repetition reinforces you as a Serial Dismisser — thoughts come, thoughts go, and you remain the sovereign gatekeeper.

Sunday Reflection

• When the threshold thoughts appear, what changes when you label them as “old files” instead of “spy notes”?
• How does your body feel after the hand-brush gesture of dismissal?
• If you truly owned every doorway as your territory, how would your daily presence shift?