Time for A Paradox

This story comes from a long ways away.

Once upon a time I had this dream:
2005-10-26 23:54:00
In my dreams last night, I was with Jessie on some great, green lawn. Jessie said to me, "Someone is here. He's your husband from the future, and he's here to tell you something. You died in fire in a warehouse."

I'm not sure if he said warehouse, but I think that's what he said.

The future husband had long, curly brown hair and a roundish face. At least, that's how his face appeared one minute. Then it changed, and I could see lines and a different structure. I studied it, trying to see if he was someone I knew. I wondered if it was Jack. He told me that I'd not recognize him this way, that it had been a long time and he had changed.

He said that he had brought newspaper clippings with him so that I could read what the newspapers had said about the fire. Jessie objected, saying I shouldn't read them. I grabbed Jessie by the collar and said forcefully, "Jessie, you know what it is I have to do. You know what it is I'm here on Earth for. You KNOW I have to pay strict attention to the future, all of the time, and I WILL read those newspaper clippings!"

Looking at my future husband, something told me that he missed me... I mean there I was this younger version of the woman he'd married, and I hadn't married him yet. It must've been hard. I kissed him full on the mouth, and at first he returned the kiss but then pushed me away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you must be uncomfortable."

"Thank you," he replied.

We went away from the field to talk, and we entered this dark little trailer in the middle of a swamp area. I don't know what happened to him. I was there, waiting for him to come talk to me about this thing he'd come to say, but he wasn't there yet. There were mushroom growing on the wall; miniature versions of the kind you find on tree trunks. They were lined up like little soldiers, or trees at a tree farm. I ate them one by one, thinking thatI wasn't hungry at all and I should stop.

I woke up from that dream, the way I do when things are a message, before my alarm clock rang when it was still dark outside.
***
And then I met him and married him.

2009-07-01 18:21
Note: I am now married and my husband has a round face and brown curly hair.
*** 

And have been stressed and worried about dying in a warehouse fire ever since.
So on Saturday night I'm in bed listening to him snore and worrying about dying in a warehouse. I worried about how sad he would be, you know. The typical things you worry about.
And They said to me, "We can fix that." The message came to me from the right frontal side of my head. I can't remember the exact way they said it, but they basically said they'd change my fate. And I knew, the way I always know, that it was time for a Peer review - which is basically when they take the folks who have certain roles on this planet, review their actions, hearts and minds, and see if they get to stay in their job. Or, if the contract is up, if they want to go for another round. It's all very legal.
I said, sure. I'd work some more... but I wasn't willing to exchange the life of my children, my husband, father, or really anybody to save my own. Imagine: living out a long life with such a sorrow on your shoulders.
I don't know if I fell asleep at night or not. I do remember feeling frightened and uneasy through this and wondering what on earth had set me off. The TV shows hadn't. I didn't know. And then I happened to notice tht there were 3 humanoid figures in my room by the bed in a row.
So I freaked and tried to crawl across the bed to my husband's side of the bed by the wall away from the figures and the edge of the bed. I'm kinda scared of the edge of the bed.
And while I'm doing that it's the typical thing. You're scared but you've got something inside of you telling you that you're faking being afraid, you're faking everything, you're imagining it, etc.
Tim started to wake up and said, "What are you doing?" very clearly. Normally he'd have gotten right up. But he didn't. He lay there like a stone, you know. And after a while I calmed down and fell asleep.
The next day I woke up very early, which is a habit of mine when I've "worked" and just kind spent the day in a foul mood and panicky.

Here's the thing. Got a call from one of my "hand maidens" a few hours ago. It appears Saturday night she also was picked up. She woke up that night to a very tall being in her room to collect her. And no matter how she told herself she needed to get up and confront things, she couldn't.

Thing is... were they lying? If so, this will happen. If not, as I have accepted another round of work, then we have a time paradox.

I know from experience you can change time. Oh, if you want to change a huge event you need several sets of people because that's a lot of flow you have to fight against. Picture standing on the beach alone when the tide is coming in, and you're trying to turn the tide with only your hands. Kinda hard, isn't it.
But there was this one time when I worked in a probation office and I couldn't find a particular folder. My supervisor was a former Navy officer, and she was awesome - but I knew me having to go to her all of the time to find things was getting to her. It would get to me.
She was out of the office when this was happening, so as I looked I worried. I didn't want to have to ask her where the stupid folder was. And then I remembered a deja vous dream I had as a teenager of that very event, and in the dream Navy Supervisor was indeed irrirated. And lectured me on not thinking for myself as she went and got the folder, showed me were it was.
And I realized: oh. She showed me where it was. I'll go to where she showed me it was.
And I found the folder.

Blanche

Dr. Karla Turner pointed out one day that the only fact we had about the experiences abductees describe is that these experiences are verbal tellings of what has been perceived. The problem is that the aliens, and these days the military, have the ability to control what is perceived, to make the abductee believe they are going through something completely different. So it is that we see a beautiful woman instead of a hungry Reptilian, or think we're giving a speech when really we're being experimented on.

When I was a child I lived in fear of my dolls, because I knew they were going to come and try to kill me. I had a doll that was about 2 feet tall; one of those dolls that's meant to be a life-size buddy to a small child. That doll freaked me out. I woke up many times in the night thinking she was right next to me by the bed, reaching for me to grab me.

Back then my family was extremely poor. Our trailer had been repossessed at one point, and my father had converted an old school bus into a passable home. We had all lived in it at one point. Then my parents managed to get another small trailer, which they placed at the near front of our 1 and a quarter acre while the bus stayed in the far back. The bus was then divided into two rooms; one for me, and one for my older brother.

There was an entire yard away from my bedroom and the trailer where my parents now lived with my youngest brother. I was already an insecure child who felt abandoned. So when my dreams were pervaded with images of bright lights, of me clinging to the bus door and screaming while I tried not to be sucked into that horrible light, I basically became a nervous wreck. Getting me to go to bed became a fight between me and my father, who'd yell and scream and finally resort to violence while I wept and told them how terrified I was.

Couldn't I just sleep on the couch? No. To bed with you.

But I perceived my predators as my dolls - which I now know is a common thing. Many people perceive them as dolls. I have memories of countless nightmares where I'd be in bed and a doll would be on the bed waiting for me. Even though it appeared to be a harmless Barbie or baby doll, my reaction would always be one of abject terror. The doll was there to do evil to me. To kill me, or hurt me horribly.

When I was younger I could scream myself awake, but there was one time the doll said, "Go ahead and try to scream." And I tried. I kept trying. But no sound ever came out again.

This is the power of the perspective that they use to hold power over you.

When I was 14, to my knowledge a succubus came through one of the mirrors in my bedroom and wooed me. He wooed me a long time; took me places, things like that. He was a pale man with curly blond hair. I called him George because back then I called everything George.

One night he asked me to marry him, promising me great beauty if I said yes. (He dressed an image of me in a white Sioux wedding dress with romantically long fringe, pale brown hair, and a perfect figure.l) I said yes at first, but then this woman came from far away and claimed to be one of my ancestors and got me to say no. I'll never forget the hurt on George's face. It was like that moment in the Labyrinth when dummy spoiled girl says "You have no power over me."

And then he proceeded to haunt my bedroom and drive me outright nuts. Throwing things at me, making the room cold in the summer, etc. Dad got mad and told him his ass was just as good as kicked, and I never saw nor felt George again.

But I also stopped having my period. Mind you, I'd only had one and sometimes a girl doesn't have another for a full year. But my belly got bigger and my mother kept asking if I was pregnant (and you know, I was a kid I had no idea) and then one night I dreamed the men in suits came and took my child from my body. It was a girl. They let me see her and then they took her away.

And from then on every time I went to that "other world" I'd do what I was there to do, get relieved for the night, and waltz happily over to the nursery, pick up my young'un, and make a run for it. :-) In that fashion I got to watch her grow up, sorta - so it's hard to say if she's a figment of my imagination or not.

But somewhere along the way I decided her name was Jennifer, after Guinevere, because she looks like her pale father. I'm not sure what they call her. That's my name for her.

Thus. Jennifer White - this name is my badge of experience perceived.

Jaded in Jacksonville 19

Just my personal thoughts and feelings in regards to Pleiadian belief vs. what I was taught and believe my own self. No more. No less.

Jaded in Jacksonville 9

I talk about a past life memory in which I was cajoled into coming to Earth among other things.