When the pickups got real

 Growing up, my folks liked to watch a lot of documentaries about UFOs. It was of interest, I think, more to my father than my mother although she enjoyed the shows as well. As a child, I took it for granted I think... when my father would play "psychic cards" with my older brother and I, how he taught us to use the pendulum, or would talk for hours about things he had seen, done, and how the paranormal world worked. This was the norm for me.

The documentaries of then aren't really that different from now - except talk of what happened to people who made contact of the third kind (abductions) was rare. It was equally rare to talk about the horrors many people faced, from stolen babies to rape to painful experiments. Hell, it's almost as rare still today what with all of that drowned out by people preaching love and light from the same entities that do these frightening things.

So I'm a child of 11, or 12.. maybe younger... and it was my fervent hope to be picked up by one of these saucers. I didn't want to be on Earth - never felt like I fit in really and was bullied at school - and I saw the aliens as a means of escape. For a while I'd step out into my backyard and think as hard as I could, Here I am! Please come get me! And of course no one came.

It was hot weather - summertime I believe - when my mother stopped hanging clothes to look at the sky. I had been playing by the back porch and my older brother was hanging somewhere about. "Look!" my mother said to us, "There's a UFO!"

So we, all three, stopped and stared in the sky for a while. I didn't see it at first and when I did think I see it, it was nothing more than a grey dot in the distance that didn't seem to move. I was actually disappointed that it didn't come closer or wasn't, at least, close enough for me to see better detail.

After a while, my mother got bored and went back inside. My older brother had gotten bored and wandered off a long time ago. It was only me standing there, staring at the sky, hoping. After a while I gave up, too. I can't remember if I saw the UFO wink out of sight or not.

The incident was forgotten over the next year or so. We were a poor family - what with the new fishing laws squeezing the already-thin wallets of generation shrimpers like my father - and real life seemed so much more important. Our living conditions were changing - we had gone from living in a converted church bus my father had bought when our trailer was repossessed to a one bedroom trailer with the church bus stowed in the far back of our acre yard. My little brother was getting too old to sleep with my parents, so Dad converted the church bus again into a two bedroom suite for me and my older brother. My little brother was given a space in the trailer with the parents.

I hated sleeping in that bus. I was caught between feelings of being abandoned by my parents, jealousy that my little brother got to be in the house, and insecurity over being so far away from Mom and Dad at night. I was already given to having night terrors. The situation didn't help me any more.

But on a side note, my parents were doing the best they could. As I said before, we were very poor. We were probably lucky to get food on occasion, and I can remember my parents going hungry just so me and my brothers could have something to eat. They meant well by building that bedroom bus for my brother and me. They were providing as best they could.

It’s just that as a terrified child, I couldn’t understand all of that.

At first, right before being exiled to the back yard, things weren't as bad. I was always given to waking up screaming in the night, so much that my parents had stopped coming to my aide years ago when I was about five or so. I thought nothing of the reoccurring dreams I had of my dolls coming to life, always to come and hurt me. I would never have confessed, of course, that I was terrified of my Raggedy Anne doll. To be honest, I thought I had gotten the idea from a book I had read. The doll in that story would come to life, too. And, I thought, this only happened in dreams.

I hated to be alone, too. I always felt like I was being watched - unless I was in the woods. There I would find peace. But around the house I was jittery and always looking over my shoulder, especially when no one else was home. But I couldn't tell anyone how I felt. My parents had no patience for my insecurities, and I didn't have much in the way of friends.

My time in that back yard went from bad to worse in just a matter of weeks, it seems now that I think back on it.

MY SOUL FLEW HOME.

1997 (Date estimated: back entry taken from my grimoire before it decayed entirely)
A vision/dream.

MY SOUL FLEW HOME.

I think this was the first time I've come home since I slept to astral travel out and search for Juvinich.  I did that lifetimes ago, and I stepped to earth as I always have been; an adolescent, the Earth equivalent of 14 years old, and small.

I walked down from the mountain and to my castle.  All around me was lush vegetation; the plant leaves were enormous and succulent.  I went to the back of the castle, which was covered in vines and overgrowth as if it had been in ruins for a very long time.  This was a definite change (in my mind) from when the place was inhabited and cared for.  I remember noticing how brown everything was.  I entered through a small side door; a servant's entrance and not well-known.  I had often used this door when not wanting to be noticed.

I walked through the halls, noting the disrepair of my home, and suddenly the regent came around the corner.  He was a redhead with wiry hair and a beard.  He stopped short and exclaimed, "You're back!!" as if overjoyed, and then he encased me in a bear hug.  Immediately, he called for servants (there were only three) and arranged to have me cared for.  We walked through the audience chamber, and sitting in my mother's chair was the regent's daughter.  She was blond and her hair flowed like shining silk.  She was not happy that I had returned and complained loudly.  She must have been in her twenties.

They put me in my old room, and how overjoyed I was to see they had kept things the way I had them! It was a small chamber, and most of the decor was red-brown.  My couch was there - gods, how I miss my couch at times - and I immediately went to sleep on it.

Time passed, most of it with me spending time in my bedroom among my familiar things.  The regent spent a lot of time playing with me; he taught me this chess-like game.  I was aware he was acting like the father I had never had in that life, and I adored him for it.

Came a day - perhaps three days after my arrival, no more than a week - that I finally ventured onto my balcony that adjoins my bedroom.  I love that balcony.  I started to sway and dance to myself, and I began singing, in English, "I am the princess of Shiro, and I have come home." I was very aware that I had switched to English.

And then, I was picked up by an invisible force; the castle was rejecting me, it was trying to throw me off and dash me to my death on the ground below.  It was all I could do to cling to the wall and repeat, "I rebuke you I rebuke you I rebuke you," over and over again as if I were fighting a demon.  When I realized I could not rebuke the castle - the very thing I commanded by rights - the force stopped.  I picked myself up and the regent came.

"Who are you really?" he demanded.  "The castle would not have rejected the REAL princess!  Who are you?!"

Somehow, I knew the regent's daughter had gone into the controls of the castle to try to throw me off, but I said nothing about that.  Instead, I opened my mind in the old way of communicating through mind/dream speech.  I began to tell the regent what had befallen me after I had left.  It began with me selling myself to the winged folk in the caves for the sake of my people, and working my way up through their army until I was a great general of much trust and importance.  The winged folk would send me to destroy and conquer - I was very good at it.

And then came a day that I was transporting my people via starship from one destination to another.  (Think trains for Comanche and Lakota Indians.)  I knew the kingdom's regent was on-board, so I went down to visit him.  I opened the door and... to my horror... the regent was sitting on a cell bench, but he had died ages ago and all that was left was a skeleton with a red beard.  I ran to the cargo hold and opened the doors to behold my people - the people I had sold myself to save - and what had been done to them.  Genetically manipulated, all of the people who were once revered to be the most shining and beautiful creatures in the cosmos were monsters such as ogres, walking skeleton creatures, and distorted things turned inside out.

I was furious.  I made a speech. I was passionate.  I cried, "Let's fight!" and they cheered.  I opened the cargo bay doors, and they streamed by the hundreds out into the ship to attack my own regiment.  I turned to my second in command, a blond young man with a somber/troubled expression, and said, "So begins my rebellion."  I would have returned my thoughts to the regent to face his shock or wrath, but I found myself being wrenched out of the dream instead.  I fought it; I didn't want to leave my home, but after much fighting I opened my eyes to (my ex-husband).  He had woke me and complained he had to send his demon to wrench me back to Earth.

Dammit, I was home.  The place needs me, I was home, and (my ex-husband) wouldn't let me stay.
________________
This vision/dream happened to me at a time when I was just beginning to truly explore what was in my head. In a sense it's where my story begins and is probably where I should have started this journal. My home was a place in the stars very far away and my people, as far as I believed, had been decimated in a huge invasion by "the black shelled beasts" who enslaved us and scattered the empire to the winds.

It was much much later I learned that among the UFO community there was the legend of the Lyrans that matched my story - well, except for the Pleiadian-born propaganda about the people having been too warlike as a reason why they fell apart. The way I remembered it, we chose to remain neutral and did not act to save our outlying regions which were falling prey to invasion and persecution by a new race of beings on the outside.

Also at the time there was a plague happening, something I came to call the "soap bubble disease." Basically people would just suddenly fall sick and fade away. I thought maybe it was because their souls were too old and were popping like decrepit bubbles. I had memories of watching my father fade and then my older brothers - and that the rest of the family had also met to tragic end after tragic end so that it was only me and my mother at the end.

I was the only survivor among my siblings. 

So we as a race acted to create a bridge between us and our enemies.... and to try to save our dying creed.  That was how I and my siblings came to be. We were created with immortal souls, a genetic blend of all races. We were the symbol of unity. My mother was from one of the more oppressed races and had been married in to my father. It was very important that he had midnight black hair - that black that's rare even among humans today - and she was a fiery strawberry redhead. I had my father's hair. Something I also learned much later was how black hair was reserved for the Lyran nobility, so again another match.


She wore a grieving mask - which was traditional like we would wear black today. As a small child watching her pass by me in the hallways of our large "ant hill" I was given the impression that being forced to be queen made her sad. Now I'm older and I think it was much more than that.

(Stop me if I've talked about this here before. I honestly forget what I've talked about and what I have not; it gets confused in my mind.)

So these memories stand and have always stood foremost in my mind, like a beacon summoning me into my future.

My older brother and I were talking on the phone today, and the subject of these things and how we used to look forward to our roles in the future came up. He complained that someone had tampered with the plan. Things had fallen behind, some things had been changed. And our roles had been diminished.

But I look at this ever bright memory in my mind and how things are happening today and I'm just not sure. We expected one thing out of fate, the cosmic plan, and our lives without really understanding what we were being "told". So we interpreted things according to our juvenile fantasies. But I look at how things are happening, at where I stand today, and where others stand, and I think things are happening just as we expected them to be... from the government oppression to starvation in the streets. They're all things I wanted desperately to avoid, tried frantically to find a way off planet to avoid them by, and am now watching at the age I was told they would happen. My feelings about leaders and acts of Congress are the same now as they were at the age of 10 - I just understand why I felt the way I do now. So that watching history unfold around me has given myself a deeper understanding of myself and my memories more than anything.

And that bright memory which I got to relive quite literally in 1997 still calls me home... the thing that has changed for me is I no longer want to go "home" in order to escape this mess. I want to go home - there - because it's a place I can do something about things.

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Another episode as I chronicle my journey into MKultra and the various weird things in my life.

This time: black princess programming, a monologue about villain lairs, and (in part two) tips on how to know if the researcher/counselor you are considering is a good one.

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Well, my camera was stolen but I still have things on my hard drive to process and get out.

This is where I took an old rant from last February and cut it up. It's complete with caustic comments, angsty stances regarding getting people fired from the Council on High, news updates involving recent visions, a speech from John F. Kennedy, and macro scenes from my front yard. I was pretty mad at a lot of UFO type people that week due to stumbling across some bigoted jerks, so I was just kind of shooting off at the mouth. This is actually only part of the rant footage. I still have more to work on here to get off my hard drive.

I try to use only work and music I find from open source avenues - so if it was marked as open source, I pretty much thought it was alright. As a result, all of my Jaded in Jax files are open to use under the fair rights act as well as for your own derivative works. Not that anything I do is good enough for that.

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There isn't very much by the way of profound in this vlog. I just took a moment to put together a quickie for the sake of making sure my vlog had something fresh and certain events with the Fishbowl (the Council of NIne... the Intergalactic Federation... whatever you wanna call it) were recorded... because I like having stuff recorded. I do mention George Kevassalis, but only because it's part of what happened. Sorry I'm not as... eeeh.... number-saavy as some folks.

No really. I care. I swear I care. I know it doesn't show on my impassive and uncaring face, but I care! I do!!

I even blipped out most of the swear words this time. =^-^=

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Ever wonder about what you're here to do on this Earth? Just what is your role? What are all our roles? Okay, yeah, I'm not claiming to have the answers. A wise man is a man who never claims to be wise,. =^-^= But I do give a clue on how to find the answers within yourself in this particular vlog. As well, Choshu discusses her role with the Council on High (Intergalactic Federation or Council of Light or whatever it's being called this month) while we see some nifty footage of the Buddha Temple in Tampa, Florida.

 

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