MILAB at Fort Polk

Several weeks ago there was an exercise where I ran with my daughter into what I considered to be a swamp with a house in the middle, but now in the waking world I realize it was laid out like a certain spot in Area 51. My handler was there, and there was a tiny shoppette, and lots of military men in stereotypical backwoods redneck outfits (save 3 who wore dress blues) observing. I decided I'd lost my daughter, and that little prick of a handler started saying things to me like, "Yeah, it's not fun losing your family and not knowing where anyone else is, huh?" Basically, threatening my family. So I treated him proper Red style and turned my back on him, turned to the man in dress blues by me and poured my heart out to him. I haven't seen the little prick since. From that time to now in the waking world, our little family have been transferred from Fort Campbell to Fort Polk. We've been here about 12 days. On the 2nd night here, I was taken out of the hotel for another exercise. A short blonde woman was handling me that night. She asked, "Do you want to remember what happens tonight?" Like a fucking idiot I replied, "Only if you do nothing to hurt me." And as I began waking up the next morning I remember being very frustrated in my inner thoughts: I didn't remember a damn thing.

milab mission

Hello, Eve! I'm posting so much on your Facebook page, I figured I should just go ahead and take the time to write to you. I've just returned from the beach and am not ready to return to the work grind right now anyway. Thinking of a shower first. It's been soooo long we've totally lost track of what we were talking about, so I'll just start fresh - that guy on your Facebook aside. Although I do find it disturbing how defensive people get of their personal conspiracy beliefs. Might as well raise a chapel to them and be done with. During and right after the Bin Laden mission was going on, I was fortunately in a position to hear some interesting things. It goes beyond that he hid behind a woman when his guards failed him and he was about to die. Or that my husband gave his entire box of 500 cigars to the boys who were still out in the field fighting when one of the higher officers was returning the field. (There were a lot more wounded out there than has been reported.) We were also shut down here at home. The phones wouldn't work right, my husband was blocked from contacting us here, and it trickled to me that one way they'd tracked down the location in Pakistan was by using people to follow his couriers home when they did things like fly in airports to various locations like Africa. It was a very difficult time for me because a lot that I had been forced to endure was finally coming full circle, including the vision of the mission I'd desperately tried to get word to Stargate about. It wasn't as hard as those in the field (some of which brought home actual footage we had briefly before the drive mysteriously died), but it was still an emotional upheaval. I could never have turned to you or anyone else because I wasn't allowed to even had I been able. And I'm having to bite my lip on your Facebook right now; so much I could say. So much I'm not allowed to say, except to you and maybe Bartley later. Maybe. So much intelligence I saw was accurate, including his location in Pakistan. So I'm telling you as one of the psychics that probably was one the job: I don't believe Alex Jones. Rating aren't that important, to belittle the loss of life our men went through on this mission. And it belittles me, too. It's bad enough that when it was over, Obama HAD to put in an appearance at Fort Campbell. He HAD to make it so my husband still couldn't come home to see me. So I complained on the telephone that it was bad enough he'd messed up my birthday and I'd sacrificed so much, but now he was taking credit for everyone else's hard work while keeping the families from being reunited. And what does he do in his speech? He claimed he remembered everyone there. (He'd never even been near that area, who was there for him to remember exactly?) And he thanked the families for their "intangible sacrifice", citing ruined birthdays as one such thing. .... I am still livid. I want a damn personal thank you. I want a medal for being dragged out of my bed at 2 am and put into a drugged stupor, for having to put up with this immature little bastard, and then not even being given a pat on the back that what I saw led us to the man they were after. And back pay. Humph. Anyway, something humorous happened the last time I went to "work." I was picked up with a bunch of people - I think they were people from around my neighborhood area because they looked and dressed like the class of people that live here. But I was taken aside by two men and told to "wait here" in the white waiting room that's near the office with the big windows that's near the underground rock train terminal. Unfortunately they had me in a small child frame of mind. "Wait here" doesn't mean anything to me in that state, so as soon as they were gone I walked out of the room to explore. I walked down the hallway (it's one of the older facilities with the low ceilings, heat, and pipes in the ceiling) until I got to a t-section. There was a muscular young Caucasian man in solid greens and the older hat walking down the hall. He had his sleeves rolled up in that 1950's fashion. (I've begun to notice the 1950's and 60's way of dressing and being prevails in this realm a lot.) I about-faced immediately to go back the way I had come because I did NOT want to be caught. I was almost back to the waiting room when a black woman in solid greens stepped out of the door to the terminal. She saw me and I saw her. I read her mind immediately: she thought I was one of her group. I was surprised to see a minority anything here in power, much less a Black woman. Her hair was in the sock bun military women wore, but she'd been on the job long enough her bun was starting to become unraveled. Her skin was a beautiful cocoa brown. She could also have been South American, Cuban... anything dark like that. So while I studied the grey hairs unraveling on her left temple, she spoke to me in three complete sentences that were laden with command and key words. I knew what she was doing. I courteously listened as she did this. She basically told me that I was supposed to be on a mission to go to space and fight, and that I needed to follow her in to rejoin the crowd. It wasn't my mission. I knew it wasn't my mission... but I miss space... so I followed her in. As I entered I could hear the end of the fight pep talk and the people shouting, "Go USA! Go USA!" and they lined up: they were all Caucasians, mostly women and a couple of children. I got at the end of the line. And then... not sure, but my cat came up to me. I picked him up and remember how heavy he was. And he leapt from my arms and I followed him and that's how I got separated from the group again; the vision of one of my other cats on the rocky ground mewing in pain. I tried to call for help but there was something in my mouth like a mouth guard or something, and I couldn't do it. I looked up and everyone had already boarded and left There were two guards at the terminal doors (they're big like large elevator doors.) who couldn't hear me cry. I was pretty upset when I opened my eyes in the bed. That's not the first time I've decided to act on my own and something came up to get me from it. I truly think I went somewhere that night. I find it interesting my kitties are used to get me to behave. And it's just funny. "I'm bored. I want to go to space. Well now. HERE'S an opportunity!" :-) Anyway, I hope you've been doing well over there. Not much else has happened for me lately. I think I'm bored. Yours, Blue

dream

We were magical creatures; I and those I was with. They weren't anyone I know in real life. And I was a queen, their queen, while at the same time there was a blonde queen. I, the dark one. She, the fair. There were rules, and orders, and a need to stay out of sight. And I, finding a hollow tree embedded in rock we could live and hide in. We were pregnant, both we queens, and I was in slow labor. I'm not sure about her. It was her they worried about the most. My daughter was there; she was the princess. She was going to school, but as our identities were hidden while we remained in exile no one knew what they had in their possession. And I felt that was best. But at the end of the dream, the fair one's feelings broke and she ran away. She ran so fast. I couldn't stand being left behind no more than I could stand being shut up, hidden, in that tree while soldiers looked for us day after day. So I ran after her. I'm a slow runner, and she left me behind. But I had an advantage. I knew the way, I knew the path she would take. When I lost sight of her cloak, I kept going. I would turn a corner and she would be there, resting against a tree, hiding behind a rock. So I kept running. We ran across a field to the wall edge of the thick black forest. I woke up before I reached those sheltering trees and freedom. Later there was a repeat dream about dragons in the sky, a long bridge over whatever, and dragons catching on fire while birds attacked them. Have had the dream before. Took pictures with my camera.