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Monday, December 31, 2012

So You Could Say...

That times were interesting when I was younger. They were certainly a lot more interesting than they are now, although they were also a lot more traumatic.

That werewolf spell experience from my childhood would serve me amusingly later when I was living in Schenectady, New York.

A lot had happened to me by then. I'd married, been cheated on, been left, been reprimanded by the handlers, been discriminated against while living in New Jersey, had to send my children away to my abusive ex-husband to protect them from the discrimination in New Jersey, you name it. So I was living in Albany New York with a man who claimed he wanted to be my boyfriend that said he'd help me get back on my feet after I'd lost everything in New Jersey.

This was just before 9/11. The house I was living in was a two story that was divided into two apartments. The young man said I could live in the bottom apartment. It was a nasty house, to say the least. I mean there I am with fragile lungs (I was also recovering from serious walking pneumonia I couldn't get any doctors to take seriously) and he had these long-hair cats he and his roommate never cleaned up after, and he refused to open any windows to allow fresh air inside even though the screens were secure and the cats could not in any possible way have gotten out. I grew up with cats and I was pretty sure I knew enough about them to know an open secure window was safe, fresh air was healthy, and cleaning up after them was a must.

I won't go into the clique activities in that house - they're not important, and they're all Otherkin related anyway. The petty incidents with one of his "friends" who came only to get him to help with homework and was nasty to me when he was out of the room is basically something out of a movie about high school spoiled rich kids. The important parts are what he did to me - although some of it may have been good intentioned I still can only view him as evil these days.

He spent money on me, I'll give him that. He got me some new clothes to find a job in, which I found almost immediately being as I'm highly skilled. He got a friend of his set up to babysit my daughter for me while I worked - boy that was a mistake. That horrible woman soon proved to be resentful, petty and prone to take things out on my daughter, so I soon found myself looking for someone else on the side. Not fast enough, though - the bitch picked an argument one morning and quit on me thirty minutes before I had to go to work, causing me to lose my job.

The young man, I guess I'll call him Fred, also would do past life readings for me. He had a skill called scar reading: he would lay hands on you and read scars your soul has from past experiences. They were amusing stories he'd tell me, and I loved to hear them. They validated my existence when I needed it so very badly. One day after one of his friends had come to teach me how to fight with swords but spent that time telling me how since I was obviously a split personality that meant I didn't exist (only a nightmare for splits everywhere) he used the readings to make me feel better. I look back on the pattern that was around me: everyone around him treating me horribly when he wasn't there and him picking up the pieces every day and I recognize a particular training pattern.

The problem with that particular pattern, you see, is that I was already MKultra and didn't know it. Oh, he knew I was "manifesting" from the trauma I'd faced and was having a shift inside of me. He obviously didn't know why or how. I don't know if I've talked about it before, the Black Princess programming, but that's when this was finally fully awakened.

You don't tamper with a Butterfly's matrix, especially not to reprogram. The pattern I was thrown into there wasn't a matter of being handled or reinforced. It was a matter of fresh programming being laid upon me: it was tampering. That's stupid and dangerous to do to anyone, much less a Butterfly. I know that now. Of course back then I only knew I was in a world of pain, confusion, and felt cornered without really knowing why.

I don't know how it is for the others, but when I'm pushed into feeling a certain level of angst I forget that I can't do things and just take it for granted that I can. So my "powers" came out on dangerous levels. At first it was little things - being able to predict what someone was going to do next - and it moved on to bigger things like self defense.

Fred's true form isn't human. I don't know what it is... it has a lot of tendrils that he attaches to people. In fact it's where I learned the skill, but with him I don't think it was a matter of conscious thought so much as that was what he is. There was this time I was washing dishes (SOMEONE had to clean) and he walked up behind me. My senses caught hint of this monster and I quickly turned, automatically throwing energy throwing darts at him with my right hand. They went out as bright points of white that my 6th sense saw and melted into him.

I was so proud that day, bouncing around him saying, "Did you see? Did you see? I remembered how to do that!" I had no idea what doing that really meant in the grand scheme of things. I thought it meant that my past life self - the Malek persona - was finally reawakening fully and I was going to manifest into that phoenix I'd waited for all my life. Fred nodded and didn't congratulate me as much. He claimed the energy bounced off his armor.  And the next day for several days he was very sick; couldn't even get out of bed.

At about that time the observant bits of me started to catch on, and I found myself separating internally from the stories Fred would tell me. By then I was breaking inside completely from what was happening around me. One day Fred told me this lovely story about my past life and a love. I can't remember the full story now, nor do I want to. I remember he said my past body had six fingers on each hand and he described this form that matches some popular conspiracy theories. But I, after hearing it, contemplated the information he gave me. I realized I didn't remember any of it, and because I couldn't remember it that meant I couldn't validate it. This is a skill you must exercise to keep from lying to yourself, and I probably will talk about it over and over again in this journal.

When I sat down that evening to record what I'd learned in my past life journal, I omitted Fred's story. He noticed and was furious. I was confused at the time, of course, as to why he'd be so angry that I had not taken his tale as gospel. And there was another part of me that said, "See? He's manipulating you."

Halloween: I wanted to hold a party, so we did. Man that house was disgusting to clean. I was picking up three year old cat puke in corners, I kid you not. Omigod. But the point behind that is while cleaning Fred's room I accidentally came across a compartment in his floor; it wasn't secured very well. And inside were about half a dozen books on how to manipulate people. I just sat there on the floor looking at these books. My inner selves wanted me to pick them up and read them, but I wouldn't touch them. No way. I just filed their existence away in my head - as obvious as the situation could have been to an outsider, things sink in slowly for me somtimes. And I knew this was a blatant red flag that everything else was bad bad bad. But I was also trapped and maybe didn't want to acknowledge it.... but I'll have to tell more of the story next post.

While doing research trying to rediscover the information about blind alters, I came across a blog post by someone talking about Katy Perry's "Wide Awake" video. The blogger cautioned the reader to look at the "Alice in Wonderland" imagery, that it was a definite statement about Katy Perry's entrapment in the MKultra program (because only famous stars are MKultra slaves).

So I watched the rather entertaining video and what I saw was not Alice in Wonderland imagery. It was straight Jim Henson's The Labrynth. Yes, falling into the Green World such as the character in Labrynth or how Katy Perry does in her video does can be construed as Alice in Wonderland imagery. Wonderland is a very bright and fantastical dream world and it's well known that the book was used in MKultra programming.

But one mistake I see people making repeatedly is instantly pointing fingers at something fantastical and calling it a conspiracy shot because it has butterflies, colorful images, and things our culture associates with a magical world. Sometimes that's just not the case whether you like it or not. Shakespeare was writing about falling into magical worlds long before Alice was a twinkle in her father's eye. Before Shakespeare there was the mysterious poet who immortalized Beowulf for us. Sometimes a fish is just a fish, no matter how much you try to descale it.

It's like the HAARP fad a couple of years ago. HAARP was blamed for everything; a dust devil, high tide, your baby burping up it's juice. Whatever it was, HAARP did it. Omigod, seriously.

Look. I think this is probably another important part to getting to the truth about yourself. You have to keep to the scientific process and remember that ability to reason your god gifted you with. Maybe Katy Perry is a MKultra diamond. Maybe not. I haven't looked into her enough to know for sure. If you're going to try to reason one way or the other, use your brain and get to know the material first.

Which means being able to tell the difference between a movie reference and a classic children's story. Yes, that also means knowing the difference between Satanism, Devil Worship, and Zen. Not being biased just because you're Christian and assuming everything else is evil. Not being biased just because you're athiest, etc.

The information we give each other is so confused and muddled because of the people out there feeding us with mixed information. You want to defeat this problem? Work to beat that, first.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Moon over Star

I took a moment to try to find out some information on alters that had their eyes sewn shut or were missing in some way. I remember faintly my husband mentioning finding something about it before, but now that I want to find it I can't. As happens when I try to dig into this sort of information I am suddenly very sleepy. Oh, well.

I am hesitant to read too much anyway, for fear I'll stumble across something I haven't talked about here yet. I know that sounds silly. But, for example, I keep coming across references to mirrors and implants. When I was younger mirrors figured a large part with me. My brother and I tried to open a mirror to see if we could escape this earth that way - and it opened alright, but not in the way we intended. And that's a story for another post.

And the implants: I always played with the lump behind my right ear. I'd always known something was there. I'm grown and I hear that's a popular spot for an implant - and a lot has happened with that. Which I'll have to try to remember to discuss later.

But for now before the time of the open mirror back when I still fudged with the lump behind my right ear because it was a lump - just a lump to me - and I was a kid. And kids picked - this is where I am in my time line. And my next attempt to get away from the world was to turn myself into a werewolf.

Mind you I was already half-convinced that I was. I had dreams of turning into a small black wolf a lot. I'd go out the front door of the house at night when everyone was asleep as if by commend, shift, and go running with the neighborhood dogs. There were times I'd go to the door because I'd been summoned and there waiting for me were the Dire Wolves (so my father called them when I told him about it. He said so proudly.). They were large as a big man and I was the run they ran behind, waiting for me to lead the way. I took it for granted I was their "leader" and man, I craved the times we ran together.

But then one night happened when I was running with the dogs and the alpha male of the neighborhood challenged me. We got into a fight - and I can't remember what happened after that. I woke up the next morning with scratches on my face. Three long ones going up my forehead. And I never shifted again. Into a wolf that is.

The last time I can think of offhand that I shifted started out like all the other nights, but it happened a couple of years after the dog fight. I stepped out of my bedroom and went to the mirror on the wall by the front door, which I always did in this particular "dream". I looked in the mirror and my eyes weren't human anymore. They were bird-like: golden and slitted. I said "no!" and ran out the front door and fell on the grass of our front yard. My mind was filled with an image of what I was going to become: a bird like creature, colored like fire. A phoenix.

And I craved it to happen to me now. I wanted it. I needed it.

I'm getting old and it still hasn't happened. LOL

So I'd went on a research trip for a school paper, and the subject I'd chosen was werewolves. Which, if you know your research lead me to vampires. And the information was thick - and hard to find. Back then in the 1980's there was a problem in my home town with a large "Satanist" group that liked to steal any material from the library that might be construed as metaphysical. But I got lucky. I found an old book from the 1940's or 50's in a hidden nitch of the library and it was entitled, simply, "Werewolves." It was perfect.

In it was a lot of good information. And one bit I latched onto was an old spell on how to turn yourself into a werewolf. Essentially you took a bit of werewolf hair, tied it to a bush, and said a chant. So long as this charm stayed in place you'd turned into a wolf under certain conditions.

So I took my dog's fur (being as he was part wolf) and did the spell. I went to sleep that night fully expecting to be a wolf the next day. Sure, going in heat worried me (was 14 at the time) but I was determined to get out of the human world somehow.

I half-awoke to find myself in a large round room. My eyes stayed shut but I knew I was surrounded by at least 12 men and one woman. The woman stayed by my right ear and spoke to the men as if she was defending me. And the men were debating on what to do about this: my desire to get the fuck out. And this spell I had cast. It apparently was a real problem for them and they had to determine if I would be allowed my wish or not.

I woke up the next day quite human so I'm pretty sure I didn't get my wish.

I stopped trying to escape so much after that. Something in me just gave up.

Friday, December 21, 2012

Thursday, December 20, 2012

A Strange Defense

To continue my thoughts from the previous post, I don't know if I'd managed to open a stargate or not that day. Considering I was trying to go, once again, to Pern the chances are not. Chances are really high that all I'd managed to do was pour energy into my doorframe and create a nifty visual effect.

With that failed, I turned to other ways to try to escape. My next tactic was to turn myself into a werewolf. LOL. But I guess I'll talk about that later.

There is a mental exercise I will do on occasion - it depends on my mood shift I guess as to whether or not I remember to do it. I figure I probably should do it every night, but most days I'm so exhausted from working or what have you that I just crawl into bed wanting to sleep. (Some day I'll get to work regular hours instead of 12+ and that will happen to me less. Then I shall get to write in this journal more frequently. Woo hoo!)  I want to share this mental exercise with you because if you're built like me, it's a very good step in gaining control of the matrix that has been put into your head. And if you're "at that age" you need to get control or you won't make it to the other side.

When I lay me down to sleep, I mentally speak to the other selves I have in my head. It's not hard. You're preparing to put yourself into that all-important liminal state the handlers need you to be in when they trigger your alters, so it's not that large of a leap to reach out and touch someone. So that's what I do - and it's how they reach out to touch me when they feel they need to. If you learn to listen you can hear them talking to each other (even though I'm told they're not supposed to know each other exists). Sometimes I can catch snippets of conversation - but never enough to make much sense. About half the time I can actually manage to walk into the "between space" and see whose there.

The "between space" is like a brown-floored room. It has no walls except for darkness, and that's where we all go to talk to one another. I've been there a lot of times. When I was younger, I didn't know where I was going but now I understand it a bit better. It's only a bit of shared headspace.

So when I lay down to sleep two nights ago I "spoke" specifically to the one alter I have come to view as the most active and prominent one. She has no name that I know of, but I've called her a lot of things over the years. She's a shapeshifter, a practical joker, very sly and really everything I could have been but was shaped into not being. The white fox. I envy her and her power, so often when I remember to I beseech her to please help me continue assmiliating all of the people into one person with me.  Because I don't want to be split anymore. I want to be one single person, to hold all of my memories, to know where I've been, and to remember it. To genuinely remember it. I view that personal knowledge as the greatest power.

The feeling I've always gotten from her is that it's a good plan (being hers) but she has to assimilate as the very last person. Sometimes I think it's because she's afraid. Sometimes I think it's because she's the one trying to round things up and if she's gone things will stop. Sometimes I just don't know.

While calling to her, I found myself walking into the "between space". As I did, I saw another me already there. She had really long hair and her back was to me. Thin. Man, I wish I were thin like they were.

Someone walked past me. Her hair was long in the style that I wear it but it was an unkempt mess. She wore a beret; a woolen or crocheted one. It had a texture anyway. I think it was brown.  She passed me to my left and walked up to the other girl, who turned to the side a bit to greet her. I still couldn't see the other girl's face. But I saw the newcomer's face. Her eyes were sewed shut. And it wasn't just eyes sewn shut. The eyelids were sewn in these humongous half-moon shapes that basically lined where the skull eye socket would be. It was unnatural looking yet natural at the same time, and her face was lined by... I don't know what. Too much sun. The world. I don't know.

She turned to face me and even though her eyes were sewn shut she could see me, and I knew she could see me. The first girl whispered something into her left ear and left, all without me seeing her face. Newcomer and I faced each other a moment and I'm not sure what happened after that. I walked away or she walked away. Either way I was pushed back out of the between space, which happens when they realize I'm in there, and I was laying in bed with my eyes open.

There is a person in my head that I personified into comics that was a war general. The black peacock, I suppose, although I don't know if she is that particular persona. She is most likely linked the way all alters are in some ways and others.  But this person I've always known was blind. She's fond of alcohol, and her power is brutishly strong. She can kill you by manipulating your body's electric current - but she will only strike in self defense. So I guess of the alter types she's what they call a "defender". Although another word that pops automatically into my head is "the leader".  One of the trinity that makes up the me that is truly me. Or is it 8? 10?

She has no name, and all I can tell you about her is a bunch of feelings and two events when I think it was her that decided to come to the front of the room. The feelings are warlike: angst, power, a desire to flatten cities, a need to put some things to right, a need to follow the plan, a natural inclination to delegate, full expectation to be treated as a queen. Things like that. Most of it is a strength that swells in the bottom of my throat, and when I feel her inside of me I'm driven to research mind control, the source of our problem, learn more about the political environment going on in parts of the world, and to make contact with those "beneath me" for the information they have to give.

Like my trickster, she has come forward many times I am sure. But the two that stick out the most in my mind happened in the past 15 years. The first: a friend had come with her boyfriend and we held what we call "the Black Ritual." It's essential a truth-making ritual involving a bottle of wine that I charged with energy for a while. One person who is in the drinking circle will get hit with the magic and their inner truth will be revealed.

I was living in Jacksonville, Florida at the time. I think it was... 8 years ago? I was the one hit with the truth and even though I've drank more than a bottle of wine before, I blanked out. I remember coming to the front a few times while I cried about being abandoned by people and other things that had been bothering me. I remember keeping my eyes closed because as far as I was concerned, I had no use for them.

With my eyes closed I knew where everyone was, their every movement. My sense were wide open. And my friend insisted on calling me "Malek, Malek, Malek" (she didn't even pronounce it properly, which annoyed the shit out of me) and I finally shouted at her that "Malek" was NOT my name. She asked what was it then but I had no answer for her. Just a blankness inside where a name should be. And I was content with that.

At one point I became concerned for my daughter and needed to know where she was. My friends told me she was in bed, but being as this was my child I had to check on her. So I grounded and centered myself to get enough control to find my child and check on her. I opened my eyes as I pulled in air through my nose to see my friend step back as I did so. Her fear hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd never felt someone's emotion that strong before. I registered it but was not concerned by it. "This person is afraid because I have opened my eyes and they have seen something." So my eyes closed again and I checked on my daughter by walking through the house and down the hall that way. I didn't open them again until I stood by where she was in the bed to fix her blankets.

And that's all I remember of that night.

The other time happened years before that when I was living in New Jersey. I was at a party - an Otherkin party being hosted by one of the prominent social climbers in the group. I was hanging out having a good time, just happy go lucky me, when something in the conversation I was listening to went silent. I don't' know if it was on purpose, but to my best guess a trigger phrase had been said. I felt myself shift immediately.

I was cold, quiet, and wanted nothing to do with the group of people in the room. So I went to a side room and sat in the dark by myself, staring straight forward and waiting. One of the people, the socialite's roommate, got concerned about me and came in there to see how I was doing. I can't remember what he was saying to me. I just remember thinking consciously that I had to give him answers he wanted to hear; things programmed in my mind as the appropriate response to make people think I was actively engaged in the conversation even though I was only running through a program.

He was expressing concern - and I could feel his concern - when he laid his hands on my upper thigh. That was his mistake. I slapped his hand quickly with my right hand like a viper, bringing my hand up as if it were the snake's head that had just struck. I *felt* energy like a stream of electricity leave my hand as I locked onto him in this way. The energy poured into him for about a full minute. Then I slowly put my hand down and resumed my waiting stance.

I kind of remember he apologized. And I kind of remember telling him that it was okay, that I just didn't like to be touched that way. I definitely remember the feeling that no one was allowed to touch me that way. I was above them. I have no way of knowing if someone attached to me like my husband would have been able to tup me or not in that state. I'd like to think so, but that's something to talk about another day.

The roommate went back to the others but after a few minutes he said he didn't feel well and went upstairs to lay down. That's the last time I ever saw him. About an hour or two later someone went upstairs to check on him and called for an ambulance because the roommate was having or had a heart attack.

He lived. But that's all I know about it.

It could all be coincidence. I don't know. But these are the things I was reminded when I did my contact exercise. These are memories that would otherwise be lost. Pieces to the overall puzzle.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012


The thing about when we were young is that sense of Hollywood neediness - that feeling you tend to remember when you get all grown up. If you let that feeling take over, you end up bitter that the adventure was never had. Many of us never stop to consider that maybe it's our fault we never got to do anything amazing - we weren't brave enough to quit our job and look for something better. We weren't brave enough to join the army, weren't daring enough to risk having sex for the first time, weren't adventurous enough to actually work to take that trip to France.

I know people who have never left their house, never been on a date, never lived. I mean sure, I've had some damn hard times over the years. I've loved and lost. I've been beaten and thrown around. I've been on the bottom of the barrel. But I've also went driving cross country just because I felt like it. I managed to get a wife-beating bastard put up on federal charges for trying to force his wife to miscarry. I've helped a homeless girl get back on her feet, slid off a mountain in my car, and sang with such powers the sea waves literally divided around me in straight arcs of glittering sea foam.

The thing we never truly realize as children is that an adventure is not one unless it is riddled with hardship. Adventures are not fun until they're over and you're sitting by the campfire, telling the next generation of dreamers all about it.

So my older brother and I were young, and it was the mid-80's - a time I've come to notice that a lot of big events happened. A lot of the UFO information began to get disclosed, several reports of mass UFO abduction have been made, the energies themselves experienced an influx of activity. Off to the side of it all was my brother, me, and a host of other teenagers who found ourselves suddenly having memories of times long ago and far away from us. As I've talked about before, we remembered entire planets out there - cultures, foods, clothing, drink. Political drama.

And we'd formed that group I talked about before. My function back then was to "find the others" and I did after my fashion. I'd find the others in school, carry them home, and we'd form our little think tank groups just because that seemed the right thing to do. Part of that I realize now is spawned from the adolescent's natural inclination to group in cliques. (What a useful tool.) But then there was the other part - the part where we knew we each had our place in that clique. We knew one of us was the seeker, one was the battery, one the book, and so forth.

Inevitably, the clique that formed around me and my brother ended up with one goal: we wanted to build a stargate. We didn't try to build it using technology, even though we knew that this stargate required a special black rock. We hung out in an old church bus my father had converted to a home when our family was really down on its luck, and the emergency exit in the back was our portal.  We'd spend hours gathered in front of it sending our energy into the framework, trying so hard to get it open.

I was more fixated on escaping than the others. I just wanted out. At the time we believed the theory that books are born from alternate universes was true, so we had chosen Anne MacCaffery's Pern as our destination. Even when I was by myself, I would work on pouring energy into that doorway. Or I would spend hours plotting how I was going to survive the dangers when I got there; how I would find other people, what I would do if I didn't speak their language.

There was only one time anything happened from our efforts - and it was more my effort than anything. I was home alone. This was at the time "Matt", my brother, had started to cut me out of the group fun.

So there I was home alone - just me, the empty trailer, and my bedroom doorway. I randomly decided to open my own portal and just leave. I planted my feet in front of my doorway, put up my hands, and began to concentrate.

I don't know how long I stood there working on pouring energy into that pinewood frame. Maybe it was only a few minutes and maybe it was an hour or more. It was over in a flash when a simple yet extraordinary thing happened. The empty space of the door glowed a bright, neon blue.

It only happened for a second - the minute I realized my efforts were working another equally extraordinary but definitely more annoying thing happened. Something in my head slipped out of place, like a jolt or realization, and the power stopped. The glow disappeared. My doorway was closed to me.

It's a problem I've dealt with my entire life, even until today. I'll start to do something neat - like long distance telepathy. I'll realize Hey, it's working! And then the short circuit happens and everything stops. No matter how I try after that I can't get anything to work again.

So no matter how I tried there in front of my doorway, I couldn't get that blue glow to happen again. I tried for a long time, too.