A couple of my memory recover techniques...

In a discussion at the Above Top Secret forum, I was reminded of my two favorite ways to recover memories from "the other side of life". I thought it would help others if I shared. I've always liked a technique that I refer to as bouncing for memory recall. It's based on the fact that although experiences such as, oh, going to the store are personal for an altar, data collected is not and goes into this collective knowledge pool that all can access. Thus my first few months at Fort Polk I knew the way to a certain building in the ops 4 training area that I had never been to before, even better than my husband who was there frequently. I knew the side road he doubted. So when you're talking to someone else and are put in situations where you need to access that information - like that day driving down the back road - you can. It just comes to you. And it's a pretty reliable method so far, I've found, better than anything I've ever done. The problem is finding people to do it with you, because you need some sort of equal interaction. Although me just driving randomly in the back roads might have triggered the information, it's hard to tell. You may miss it. You may never access it because you're not defending your stance, connecting with another human, etc. You need someone to be a sounding board, someone to "bounce" the knowledge off of. Hence, bouncing... I've been doing bouncing since I was a young adult, something like over 20 years ago or so. =^-^= I see my method starting to get used a little here and there. But even with that you have to be careful. You can't sit and be talking about a mutual mission, for example, and expect the information coming out not to be fake memories or traps. And the people who are trying the technique now leave so many aspects out. I wince when I watch them. It almost hurts. Self hypnosis has also been recommended. A simple self hypnosis technique I sometimes do is to drive my car long distances alone. I used to work in a job that had me driving a lot so it was easy. I managed to recover a self-containing nuclear power plan out of my head that way once. I thought it was thermal power until I looked it up. Interesting confirmation, that sort of technical thing. Couldn't fake THAT.

Memories vs. Coincidence: part 3

Her first mission - in essence MY first mission - happened in a jungle. For years I thought maybe it was Vietnam, because the Vietnam war was really hot and deadly at about that time period. So I've spent a good amount of time looking for MKultra conspiracy theories involving the U.S. using children in that jungle. I've looked at jungle images, read excerpts, listened to soldier stories. And although some of the things were a close match, they never were a fitting match.

Her story: She arrived at the camp. It was a village type camp deep in the jungle. There buildings were close together and the jungle was a wall around the place. The road she walked on was wide and very dirty being made of dirt. She walked in by herself, but didn't go far. I'm not sure if it was her first time, second or third. I don't think it was her first because she was familiar with the terrain, although now that I think about it... having been her co-consciously once as a drunk accident, she has these tendrils that just... go everywhere. And she knows *everything* around her. She's very vastly aware. So who can say.

 The buildings were raw wood, unpainted. There were support poles that were round, sort of like cleaned trees, and rough looking roofs. To her left was a row of low buildings, almost like a long house, and at the end she knew was the cages. This is where run away people were kept. They were metal with thick bars and low to the ground. Maybe they were meant for large dogs.

This is problem one I have always had with the Vietnam scenario: from what I've found Vietnam kept people in bamboo cages. Not these filthy yet factory made monstrosities.

 If she walked ahead the road would curve (or maybe it split) to the right and down a few buildings would be the entertainment area. It was an open walled long house type structure. I'm not sure what those things are called. They're not quite gazebos or pagodas because they're square, and they're square because that's easy for people to build. There were a few tables under the thatched roof, and you could watch movies on a little screen. She'd never been entertained there, but she knew what it was for. I think there had been something going on there once when she'd come to the place, and she'd taken note of the activity.

 She knew that the immediate building to her right upon of the place had a radio in it, something that also acted like a sort of CB or something. It was a very valued piece of equipment by the camp leader, "Black", that no one was allowed to touch.

 When she arrived in front of that building, she was immediately met by Black who ushered her inside and angrily ordered her to curl up in a corner away from the radio and wait like a dog. So she did.

 He was an angry angry man who towered over her. His anger was directed at her, but he wasn't angry with her I don't think. She was there to help with a problem, and before long she was sent out of the village to do what she had to do. To find the hiding tribes. She was told they were her people, and she was there to basically help exterminate her own people. So. There were people that were hiding from the camp, and she had to find them.

She sensed her way through the jungle and came upon them. They had made themselves homes in clearings behind walls of bamboo and plants pushed together to act as camouflage. She pushed past the camouflage, and because she was a child no one thought twice about her presence. They carried on with their lives and she played in the dirt a while. A woman gave her something to eat. Then, once she had seen all she needed to see, she want back to "Black" and reported the location.

 Immediately, units would move out and attack the hidden villages. The people would be rounded up with no ceremony, carried back to the village, and locked in the cages. They were sentenced to die, and she knew this was so. The people would sit listless in their cages, full of despair. And she would stand nearby trying to fathom the fact of their emotion. Not just their emotion, but more the fact that they were feeling. She did not feel anything.

 She did this two, three times. Maybe less, maybe more? Always it was the same scenario. Always the same result. This is problem two I have always had with matching it to Vietnam: the villages she was locating to be rounded up had women, children, and a few men. It had no soldiers. They never whipped out guns and fought back. They never strapped bombs to the backs of their children. They always ran, terrified, and didn't get far because they were surrounded. (She knows because she was always brought along to watch the consequence of her action.) They weren't military units to be rounded up, and she wasn't helping the Vietcong put people in cages. So... not a fitting match. At all.

 The final memory of this first mission is standing on the outside of a big village - one with small houses as opposed to places cleared away in the brush hidden away in palm leaves like before. There's a lot of screaming. There's a large cloud of smoke or something. And there's a lone plane above the village dealing out the death. It's a black plane that flashes in the sun with a long nose. It has twin engines. I can't remember more about it than that.

 She had been inside the village when the attack began, but she'd run for her life and stood far away watching it happen. Out of reach, safe, and with nowhere to go really. This was different than before, because she always reported the attack location before something happened. This time she had still been inside. And the memories of the mission end there.

I've always wondered what happened to Black. So my husband and I have the audio book for American Conspiracies by Jesse Ventura. It's a very good book, and I enjoy listening to it when we're on a trip that's going to last at least an hour if not two. We got to the chapter about the Jonestown Massacre. Now I don't know about you, but I haven't heard much about that growing up for all it happened when I was a kid. "Don't drink the koolaid" is as far as my information went, and inside my mind I had mixed it up with the Waco tragedy and thought it had happened in Texas somewhere.

So when the book said this had happened in Guyana, South America my mind kind of did one of those record scratches. You know, the sound when the needles is ripped off the record and you have to stop everything in order to process. I turned the book off.

 My father spent some time in "French Guyana" shrimp fishing. He talks about it sometimes. He'd gotten married to a local headhunter and was actually doing quite well for himself. He had money, he had a wife, and he was respected with the tribe he'd become friends with. And then JFK was assassinated and he was deported back to America. Bye bye wife. Bye bye financial success.

 I waited until I got home, after I spent some time rethinking these memories, and dared to look at pictures of the Jonestown Massacre. The erratic leader, The Reverend Jim Jones, looks like Black. The village looks like the village. They had an open air meeting/entertainment area. Rumors are 700 people were hiding in the jungle when the massacre began.

And you know, I'd ignore all of that and cry coincidence if it weren't for the fact that Jim Jones had a radio device, a PA system, that he treasured very highly. He'd use it to talk to the village all night long. It was his baby. If it weren't for the radio... However, like I said at the beginning of this little three post series, until I get to actually hold a service record I can't say one way or the other.

It feels disrespectful to do like so many MKultra people do and go around touting "I was at this horrible event and I did these things!" besides. There were 11 survivors from Jonestown, and I look at pictures and look and look. I'm not in any of them. So I won't say that Jonestown is the event of her first mission. And to be honest if I did get to see my service record, if it exists, I'd probably not say anything in public. So rather, I will make note of this strange and scary coincidence.

There was this event that I've been remembering for years. And just last week I was made aware of an event that hit the news that happened during the same time frame. And the weird thing about these two events is they are a very, very close match. But out of respect to the Jonestown survivors... I can't say I was there. Because I don't know if I was, and logically it may not be true. I could have been told the story during an abduction or picked it up psychically from a twin. After all, if I went to Jonestown why didn't my parents notice I was gone?

 Logic. You have to hold your logic carefully when picking through things like this. I will be researching about Jonestown from here, though, and posting some of what I find. Because if I didn't know the story, then other people don't know the story. And we all should know the story. When you see things, ask yourself: who held all those crossbows? I've yet to see anyone make note of that so far.

Memories vs. Coincidence part2

See I need to make sure this is written out before I continue with my research because of something I found the other day. I wasn't expecting these particular memories to *ever* come to light like this. But they have. It's not a bad thing or a good thing, because until the day I get to hold a service record with my name(s) on it I can't say it's anything more than a fairy tale. A very much ignored and unknown fairy tale.

 So I start with environment, which isn't easy. I connect that to the early circumstance. When I was a child, on the "waking side" of life, I related very strongly to the parts in my history books that covered Mesa Verde because the people lived in carved rock. That was how the "messenger school" was to me, except things were shaped very differently in my mind. There were arches, except I didn't know they were called arches being a little kid, and structured class periods. It felt odd you had to climb a ladder to get to the homes. But mostly, as a kid, what I centered on was how I was treated at this school - as little kids will do.

 Day after day I told myself the same thing after waking up. I drew pictures of it in the dirt road with a stick and on the sides of paper bags. My mother was pregnant with my little brother at the time, and although I looked forward to being a big sister there was this event going on that haunted my mind quite strongly. I spent hours after school telling myself this story over and over again.

 She was the fastest (flapping flight) flyer in the entire school. Her wings were that of a swift, even - but only because hummingbirds were not shaped right for the human body somehow. But they were colored like a bald eagle's, and that was a mark of rank and intent.

 And the other messengers didn't like her because she was so fast. There would be races, and she always won. Again and again. This made her time in the school difficult, and she was quite lonely. So she spent a lot of time by herself - except when there were races - day after day after day.

She was a master at "skipping" which is a technique you use while running. You "skip" yourself ahead through space and time. I even would run up and down the road in front of my house, trying to skip. And fly... because I believed the secret to THAT was a type of telekinesis. I even thought I managed to lift off the ground for more than a minute once, and told myself often "I skipped!"

But I was alone doing this always, so who knows.

 It was like this for a full year. At the time I wasn't made fun of in school as hard as I was after I told myself this story - almost as if the abuse needed to transfer down or I had a psychic premonition. Ironic, kind of. 

When I sat down to write my story as a series of sci-fi tales, I took it upon myself to do a quick bit of research on Mesa Verde. And I found... Cappadocia: the barracks. And Petra, Jordan - the city.

 The thing about Petra is that it's very scary a near perfect match to my memories of that flight school. With Cappadocia it's hard to say, because history can repeat itself. But some photos I've found can make you blink. A lot. But what are you gonna do... so I filed this information away, wrote my stories, and carried forward.

History can repeat itself, as I said, and I could have gotten the idea from a book or a TV broadcast. It wasn't enough to go by, really.

 There was a man, someone I didn't come to think about until I was grown. Oh, sure, names surfaced for me as a repeat pattern: Windham - a last name I know now but I used it as a first name, Paul, and Dr. Black. My handler, an old man, was just someone that was there and later I'd realize felt like a grandfather or other type of family member for me. He never got a name.

 Now Dr. Black is the subject of this particular memory sequence. I think back and I wonder if there were two that I thought of as "Black". Or were they the same person? The first was a teacher at the messenger school. He was a harsh man who drove her to go. She never felt tired when he made her do things. He was responsible for her learning to handle her powers. He yelled at her a lot. He was tall (all adults are tall though) with black hair he kept slicked back, and he was a little on the thin side. Mostly she centered on his hair, because she could relate to it being as this was the hair color of her family.

 Through the training, she came up for her first "real" mission. Another something I didn't remember until much later, and it's something I've always wondered "did I make this up"? And if so, how could some things be so close a match to information that wasn't released to the public until years after it had happened? Stuff I never cared to look at in detail until just last week?

 This mission was headed by the possibly second "Black", in the jungle.

Memories vs. Coincidence - my first mission

I have this hazy memory. It's one of those that I've always associated with "past life" material, and even though I never thought it was connected to another "past life" material pocket in my mind I have to wonder. In fact it's one of the many things in my head I poke at, wondering if I made it up. It's important to make sure you haven't made anything up.

The time line is that Kausha - the original me, the perfect hybrid created artificially in a Blue Valley on a planet many light years from now on the other side of a black hole - was lonely. Her planet had been hazed and almost everyone had been rounded up for slavery by the attackers. This was when the united peace that was a universal wide empire fell. She had lived at the capital.

So she lived there on this abandoned, lost world with only a few things to keep her company. The loneliness drove her mad, so she put herself into a deep sleep and sent her soul forth to find company. While floating in the upper realms, there was a giant creature that many would call God. It took notice of her and swallowed her in order to make it part of it's own kingdom.

Not to die, but to be remade into one of it's many clones. But she valued her individuality very much. She knew she was unique, for all there had been five of her at her cloning... she was the only survivor. So she begged for the being to please not take that away from her. He took pity on her tears and let her keep her identity, but he had to change her a little bit... so he changed her just enough so that she could survive in his "Heaven."

She mostly ran errands in Heaven. There was a team of five others she was attached to. They were a lot older than her and more viewed her as an annoying little sister. "The Team of Light" they were called; Lightbringers. Or at least, that's the best way I can describe the pictures in my head.

There was one being who did not like the way things were being run, so a rebellion was planned. She learned of this rebellion and went to the Being and asked him if it was okay if she joined the other side. He said yes.

Why she asked, or why it was brought up I can't say. Maybe she was spying. Maybe she was just so obedient she had to ask for permission to do such a thing. Either way, there was a battle. It was short, and she was on the sidelines for most of it. And it was over. Tables were turned and the "red one" had managed to gain the upper hand.

So he lined up everyone who had ever followed him. Her team as well. She stood on the far end - to the right of the line - and watched as each person was approached. "I order you to die." And they obediently did, one by one.

So she ran. She ran and ran and ran. She leaped from Heaven, back into the aether, flying with the wings the Being had given her. She ran until she came to Earth and hid in a body that was not her own.

But most things are metaphor when describing how things happened, keeping in mind that much of what happens to a Butterfly is done under a hypnotic state. We interpret things with visual references, and we even replace real things with dreams. One exercise I distinctly remember from only about five years ago had me on an island serving a dictator. I knew I was on an island, and I was to enact certain behavior around the handler who was being the dictator. But while this was happening, I was also aware that items in the hallway I was to take to be equipment were really cardboard boxes with peanuts.

There was a young blond girl who was in the exercise with me. I remember her because - as happens often when subjects are too young in these exercises - she passed out mid-action. Well, having been a parent my instincts to protect were strong so I followed the doctors when they picked up her limp body and carried her into the hall. I watched as a lady doctor put music headphones on the girl's head after she had been laid on one of the boxes of peanuts. The doctor saw me watching and asked if everything was okay. I knew if I let on that I could see what was really happening I was in trouble so I just asked if the soldier would live, listened to the planned reply, and went back to the exercise.

A couple of days later I was at a gas station in the back woods near my home. The girl was there with her family. She saw me, I saw her. She jumped into my car - excited - and said, "Hi!"

I wanted to say hi back, but... I had to look at her and say, "Honey, you don't know me."

She jumped immediately back to her family. And I've wondered about her ever since.

Why *would* anyone believe a Butterfly who remembers these things, when we've been told to see things not as they really are?

So I went to Heaven after I had been nearly created. And I served The Lord. Who was at the bad end of a coup. And watched as everyone was put to death, one by one, until I feared for my life enough to run. Because of everyone there, I had managed to retain individual thought. Which, I might add, my first handler prized in me. I'm not sure why.

The surroundings of that memory are full of smoke, clouds, and there's just nothing there. So. Maybe it didn't happen. Who knows.

Military Abducton Experience Story

I promise this story many moons ago I believe.

Super Soldier Summit

This year's Super Soldier Summit was this past weekend. As a poor person who can't manage to get together the money to pay her hiked taxes, I obviously couldn't afford to go. And am a little bummed by it. So many others have stepped forward, and it would have been nice to just come, sit and listen.

I'm not going to say "maybe next year" but finances never seem to get better for me to afford something so expensive.

There are still a lot of things for me to talk about, there always will be, but physical confirmation happened recently and I need to record it.

One the right side of my mouth I have a cavity problem. I've already had to have one tooth pulled, and the one next to where it was has a bad cavity. And tends to get infected. It got infected this last time so badly the flesh around it was extended and the infection just kept coming out. When I finally managed to fight it off (we have dental insurance but can't afford the dentist) it left bad damage there. A big flap of skin that was no longer attached just annoyed the living hell out of me.

One morning a few weeks ago and my mouth was full of blood. Blood was all over my lips, etc. As I recently  had switched tooth care tactics and had even seen one small cavity  heal, I thought at first I had regressed and my mouth was bleeding all night. I brushed it out, cleaned up, did the fish oil, etc that I do, and went about my day.

I was aware I had been going to work again, but everything is such a background hum for me since they caught on I was remembering that all I can now is reach for the feeling.

But you know how it is - when there's a sore in your mouth, a cavity, or just something wrong you automatically pick at it with your tongue. So after a bit I realized, wait a minute. The skin area is gone, and it's sore as if it's been sliced away.

I checked - and yes, it was a clean slice. Very clean. My mouth had been worked on.

Oh, the cavity is still there. But that skin is not. And after that the healing rate of my mouth went back to where I've been  having it: no bleeding gums, etc.

It it not physically possible for me to have bitten it off, and if I had it would have been ragged. Not a clean slice.

So that, hey. They fixed my mouth a little bit.

I've heard of other accounts where people in the program and alien slaves get fixed up because their handler decides giving their pet a shot might be a good thing. Never thought it would happen to me.

So maybe I'll do some research on that phenomenon for a while. See what I can dig up.