Created because I found out something....

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.

the Farm

I was telling a friend the other day about one of the entires in this blog, and how it definitely is doing what it's meant to do. It doesn't matter if I have no readers. It does matter if I can figure things out. And it was quite the revelation the other day, realizing the "hunters" of my childhood dreams may not have been that. I mean, how many hunters wear military uniforms?

Of course as a child I didn't know those were military uniforms, it's just that hunting was something I could relate to. They carried guns, they carried pouches, they rode in the back of a truck... and my father would hunt and fish and bring home natural game for us to eat. It made perfect sense. It was always dark when I saw these guys, so it may still be that they were hunters and maybe I was watching things through the eyes of their dogs. So even now it makes sense, but I recognize the clothes when my husband puts one on. He's currently in a special training unit, so he doesn't always wear the standard uniform you'll see in the news report. In fact he more often than not just wears straight "greens" - especially when working the training field.

There are some differences, of course, but there it is. For real or not. 

I've also seen these greens recently, while in an  underground base while wandering in places I shouldn't be.

There is something else I just remembered thanks to writing this entry.

After that incident with the "burglar" in my room, my family moved from where we were to a place more in the country. It was right outside of a hunting club. There were a lot of woods - boy do I miss them! And so my dreams changed from meeting the hunters by being taken to them to meeting them at the hunting club by walking down the road to them.

But also I dreamed there were other things in those woods, and one of them was a big mansion that I had went to. I'm not sure how I got there, but I knew I'd time traveled to do it. It was bright day light and the path leading up to it was how you see many old English mansion; lined with perfectly manicured trees and well-graveled. I went up to the house but didn't go inside. And these days I think maybe it was just a big house for someone who was rich, but as a kid I took it to be a mansion. Light-colored brick; I can remember that much about it.

And then I went again another night, but it had burned down. There was nothing left.

While awake I'd also explore those woods. Sure, we kids knew it was a hunting club. We also knew the land was in dispute for some reason and that not many people went back there anymore. My older brother and cousins went all over the place out there. I mostly followed the pig trails, not really understanding my danger despite my frequent nightmares about getting mauled by wild boars (which eventually faded into more gruesome nightmares).

While exploring in the woods alone, one of the first times I dared to do it, I came across the house of my dreams. I could still see the tree-lined path. I walked up it and found what was left of the house, but there wasn't much there anymore Just some trash and a few bricks. It had been gone a long, long time.

My older brother told me that there were time travel ley lines in those woods, and for most of my life I believed it. Now I wonder just what it was.

Because there was at least one other incident that I'll never forget. We kids had went deep into the woods into the swampy section and found a tiny island in the water. We were building a fort there. Well, the others were much older and forgot about it rather quickly. But I was still very young and kept my interest. One day I decided to go to the Fort and work on it by myself. So I went.

While on the island a little boy showed up. He was very fair-haired and maybe a year or two older than me, but keep in mind we were both under ten. I can't remember how he introduced himself, but we were immediate friends and spent a long time playing together. At one point he asked if I lived nearby. I said yes and told him where. He then said he lived just over the ridge and that he would show me so I could visit whenever I wanted.

We climbed up over a small hill by the island and I looked down into this flatland, almost like a prairie. There was a farmhouse there, those farm fences with the x across them, and cows. The house was white. There was no road or anything, just the house, grass, cows, and off to the left a big barn. I can't remember the color of the barn, just the house. And that there weren't that many cows.

We played on the island a bit longer and then he had to go home. So I went home.

I tried to find the island again, to play with the boy again, the next day. But I couldn't find it. I tromped around in those woods lost for hours. I tried to find it again several times after that, but I never found our island again. And it's like the time I did play with him never happened, just the parts I described. I know we did some sort of kid roleplay the way kids do: things you take for granted so that all you remember is moving around young saplings and each other's faces, smiles. But that's it.

And the area where I lived was Florida. There was no place anywhere near my home that looked remotely like what the boy had shown me.

I never forgot him, though. Nor that day. I've often wondered if he tried to find me to play again as well.

dream, milab

I'd slept all night, but today while trying to stay up and get work done I was hit with it: I had to sleep whether I liked it or not. And I couldn't focus on anything; kept wandering around the apartment. So I finally gave in. I dreamed of the compound. I wake up remembering it as if I'd always remembered it, but the dream was the first time I'd become aware I knew of it. There was a map of America, and there was a guy there. They're going to build over the compound. And I said to him that there was the compound. I pointed to the map and it zoomed in kind of like how Google Earth does and I showed him the overhang that masked the underground entrance. I panned the image around and I pointed to an area that used to be open dirt and I told him, See you can see where there used to be open space to park stuff. While I was doing that I was trying to figure out why the place looked so different from what I expected. And where the old shed had come from that was where a parking lot used to be. Another thing is the map was backward. The eastern seaboard was on the western side of the map... or ... something like that. I remember when I looked at the island peninsula of the spot I was remembering another map of the place, a place that showed a grid of rooms underground. They're laid out like graph paper.

milab, section 5

Tell me, what is Section 5? Not in a sci-fi sense, but that other sense: the one where people blame HARRP for everything and insist every UFO is extra-terrestrial in origin. That sense which means common sense was thrown out the window and the point to the quest - to use scientific reason - has been replaced with religious propaganda. I'm not sure what set it off, but last night was a night thinking of you my old master. I don't think of you often, and when I do it's as if I'm surrounded by your scent. It hangs inside my nasal cavity and my face with an orange color, almost palpable but completely unreal. I get jumpy, and as I try to sleep I find myself constantly watching the bedroom door in the dark afraid you'll walk through it. Conflicting emotions collide with me: the one side eager to go back to that pit and work for a while, and the other wholly terrified of you. But I'm truly not sure why I'm afraid, because the associated memories are mere impressions I write about during the day. I become fearful just thinking of the memory of the memories: these things that have made others cry. But master, I am told I must love you and bow my knee to you in a red fit of loyalty. It's an urge, it's a program, but my waking mind knows this is fabricated. It's not like giving birth, where the time to push is natural and happens without thought. This is an outside will: it has color, feeling, weight, and it's set subliminally to make you think it's instinct. Well, instinct has no flavor. So the memories play on my boredom, and the intelligent part of me reminds, "You lost interest when I lost my youth." That was longer ago than many people think. Therein do I spent my war-induced night alone. I struggle to admit it somedays, as if I'm never supposed to. Maybe it's a lie, but its a lie I've struggled with for almost forty years - before I knew the source of the scent. I almost fall asleep but wake up every hour, thinking you are in the room. I cannot rest when you are nearby. It's not safe. While the other part of me is afraid to rest lest she miss anything. Master, my master, there are those who said you were cruel. I never found you to be that way. You may call it acclimation if you wish, but this is just how you were. I could smell how the others were to you in your mind: this is your culture. We only blame things we do not understand nor agree with. If everyone decided your way was acceptable, the mood would change. O master, I'm thankful to you as well for allowing me to be close, to learn, to go where others never could. While they stank in cages I roamed free and brought them their supper. Their hay. Because you favored me for whatever reason. Or maybe I was just lucky. There is my loyalty - a loyalty born of a black princess, but it was there all along. I cannot remember if ever I ran from you. It seems to me I was sent somewhere else for the next phase, and all thoughts of rebellion are for the books I write and never reality. I want to remember you better, wondering if these implanted thoughts would change. Or would she change the implanted thoughts. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream where I rode with others in little railcart that were familiar to me until we reached the hospital complex, where my handler was waiting. He took me to the side with some others where we tested new inventions that are about to come out. The invention I tested was a special pair of glasses. He listened when I complained to him on what I was doing, because I'm more accustomed to creating the stuff not testing it like some half-useful cow. He placated me by saying okay, and then called me his gem. I was special, I was amazing, I was his gem and the most important person on the team. I asked him why, because I didn't Work there. He said, "Welcome to Section 5." The amusing thing is through the entire dream I knew I was going to work, but because I work in comics I thought that's what I was going to handle. What a conflict inside of me when it turned out to be engineering. I knew it. I handled it. But I was still disappointed.

MILAB, Fort Polk

Well there was something going on at the building but I can't remember what it was. I talked to a person - a woman. I think my new handler now that we're at Fort Polk is a female, and to be honest I think I like her. She talks to me like a real person, and although I know this tactic from being with counselors etc for my son she's at least personable. She seems more set on observing my behavior than anything; watching the culmination of the experiment I expect. She's shorter than me, but yes. Last night it was her again in my "dream" - and I knew it was a dream so maybe dream it was. And I can't remember what was going on at the building, but I do recall my voice was the kind of voice I have when I'm directing things around the house or a gather. I decided I had to go somewhere, or maybe I wanted to talk a walk. So I left the concrete building and walked down the dirty road. The trees around me were pine, and set like a tree farm. Considering this area here is almost all tree farm, if it was a real dream I can see it being influenced by that. But anyway, the road turned to the left and there was a bump up as if going over a railroad track to a cemetery. It was well kept but tiny and rather weird there in the middle of the trees. About seven to ten young boys were there, climbing trees and doing excited boy things. I don't think they saw it as a cemetery. There was a man there observing them. I said something to him because I knew he was in charge of them, and he gave me a reason for their behavior. They ran off to my right down another road that was there. I followed. At the end of that road was a ten foot high chain link fence and signs that read, "Authorized personnel only." There was a gate house by the fence, all closed up. I went up to it while the boys ran inside and I chose not to disobey the sign so turned around. The woman had said something to me once by then but can't remember. She only came into my field of notice if she needed to. As I walked back the guard house was to my right side, and then I noticed that by the guard house was one of the little helicopters. It was an older model, painted all black and disabled the way the military does to exhibit something. It probably could seat 2 or 3 people. I looked up at it's underbelly only because I was noticing it was there. The usual wish I have to learn to fly one wasn't there. I recognized the model but only in a "I've seen this" sort of way. I noticed the helicopter had a very bumper sticker, and I found that odd so I read it. I can't remember what it said although I read it to myself several times. I remember thinking, "Oh, well it's another of those propaganda slogans" but it was funny to me anyway. The thing about the bumper sticker is that it wasn't standard sized. It was a very long bumper sticker to fit the long sentence. As if someone didn't understand bumper stickers have a standard size. I woke up in bed with no one there, and I freaked. It was because my husband was taking Stardrops to school but even though part of me knew that, I still was kind of weirded out. I know I also had a dream within a dream at one point, but can't remember that either aside from it being a repeating dream that I seem to have had in many other dreams: a bird that comes at me to attack me, and me having to squish its head to get it to leave me alone with my boot. To be precise, this last time: my army boot.

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

training exercise

It wasn't much of a training exercise, and the images are jumbled and vague. I know it was happening in a wide grassy area with a ravine nearby, kind of like the area in Garden of the Gods or something. There was a dark-haired person I was talking to there, but I can't remember what we were talking about. Nothing important, I suspect, as we stood in the crevice away from the grass. And at some point there was a young woman wearing solid fatigues, very old-fashioned but the cloth was new, in a hat that I spoke briefly with. I was told she was a "P-- Corporal". Principle Corporal maybe. Can only guess. Then I was on the grass, walking to somewhere. I looked up and ahead of me a little to my right. There was a guy there, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He had a toy rifle; I think it was a nerf gun or some plastic craptastic thing. He pointed at me. Inside of me the information that he was Vietnam (or some country like that) filtered into my head. He was shooting. I knew he was shooting. But there was no sound, no movement from his body, nothing. Just the knoweldge he was firing a volley of automatic rounds at me. Suddenly out of nowhere four people came and stood in front of me. They were all women. One of the ones in the middle was the Corporal, whose name was Alexander or Alexia or something. She wasn't wearing her hat anymore. I can still remember her face and the cut of her short blonde hair. She told me to stay down as she stepped up, and I did. She was taking most of the "bullets" and fell to the ground while the others just stood there. Then the others stepped away and the guy was still firing, or perhaps he had left. I crawled up behind the corporal as she slumped and braced her back with my body as I wrapped my arms around her. "Hang in there," I said. "Steady now, don't fall." And while I held her I couldn't understand this scenario. It made no sense to me. Her body wasn't jerking from the bullet impacts. There was no ricochet, no sound, no blood. And then she was on the ground, dead somehow, and I got up and her body was gone. Someone said that her disappearance meant she "was a goner" but it might have been my mind making the puns that I do. I cried bitterly over my "savior". I was already depressed when I went to bed. I mean, come on. So I wanted to walk away from the... field?... and be alone. I knew there were trees on the edge, I would sit there and be by myself. I started to walk and suddenly I was surrounded on either side by two women. One wore a white lab coat. They asked me where I was going and were working to distract me and keep me there, and I knew it. I know that at one point the subject of free time came up and I complained bitterly to them. "I don't know how you people find the time to do things for yourself," I said. "I don't even have the time to find anymore." The one in the lab coat smiled knowingly. I noted that to myself. And then.. I was looking at my feet as they were around me. I noticed that one's hair was somehow at her feet and funny looking, brown and in tiny braids. More like twine used on packages, really. I was thinking, "What weird fucking hair." I finally said, "Look. I just want to be alone for a while." I was getting exasperated at them. And they said/did something. Suddenly I was in a bunker, or rather. I was assuming it was a bunker while at the same time knowing I was in a little trailer. There were two beds in there, and I was lying on one of them in "stand by mode". The other bed was on the other side of the small box and I knew there was a young man on it. I was nekked, the way I was when I went to sleep, and wearing my large blue bathrobe. I automatically adjusted it to cover my breasts. The lad, who turned out to be my young male handler, said, "Good. I want to see breasts, but not *yours*." His emotion of disgust hit me, too. But I was on standby mode and only able to register things. Then he came over to me - he was in dress greens - and adjusted the bottom of my robe to cover other parts of me. I thought to myself, "I guess I wasn't covered good enough." I know that at some point after the Corporal died, I was back at the crevice only it was now filled with water. There was a strong current int he water that tried to sweep two girls away - one I was told was my daughter but was too old and too blond. So my "daughter" ran on the water to get back on shore. And said to me, "Look! I'm walking on water!!" When I woke up the first thing I considered was that knowing smile. It says to me, "You have more free time than you think you do." Another testimony to their ignorance. No. I don't. As for that young handler: he really has NO business handling. It's like a man who despises horses taking care of an entire stable. He needs to be placed elsewhere. As a matter of responsibility.

milab, dream

I was somewhere for a 4th of the July celebration. Somewhere the sun would never set, because it was night yet it was light out. And I knew it wasn't 4th of July, being as it's February, but I was going along with it. It was a small dock like area with a large creek going out into the water like in Florida. There were little bleachers there and a white gravel parking area of some kind. I can't remember all that happened. I just remember that i got into Barry's truck to leave, and I was on my cell phone talking to someone. I don't know who. Choshu, my husband, or Silverkat. And the people in the little boats (they were like Dixie boats, the kinds used in the old days down south) lit fircrackers all over the boats. I remember looking at how pretty they were and then I noticed the people weren't on the boat anymore. They were on the bleachers. And then suddenly, as if it were in the Bermuda Triangle, the boat went plunk! Straight down into the water. "OMIGOD THEY SUNK THE BOAT!" I told the person I was talking to. I kept going over and over it like a person does when they're dumbfounded. They just sunk the boat! Just like that! For a celebration! I was shocked at what I had seen! Then Barry got into the truck on the driver's side and handed me a purple flyer. I could read what the flyer said, but I don't remember it now. He said to me that in the summer this magazine the flyer was for was starting up and he wanted my work in it. There was a date on the upper right hand corner. And the theme of the magazine seemed to be horror or something like that out of my field. I wasn't sure of putting my work in it. Then we started to drive away.

Small Signs of Inconsequence

Tonight, fake nails are of note. While laying in bed with a stupid tummy ache, I started to put two and two together the way I do. And I thought: well I have to tell someone. That way when I'm dead no one can say I kept it to myself. And it's a fluff matter. It's small. It's inconsequential. An ICAR researcher just blew me off the other day over it. And yet. There it is, not as silly and small as it sounds. I... never do my nails. This is important to note. It isn't that I don't like trying to be pretty. They get in my way. So I keep them reasonably short, and sometimes I'll paint them, and overall they're clean unless I'm handling an archeology dig in the field which I'll never get to do again. But last week the "urge" came through. You know the one: the one where it's a command and handling it is going to supersede all of your thoughts, and all you'll do is talk about it. So for the past several days, everyone I know has had to deal with me talking constantly about fake nails. Because I had to do my nails in a hurry. So I chose French pearl medium length ones, put them one and made sure they looked like real nails, and proceeded to clean house for the special company that was coming to pick me up. (I ended up only cleaning around point of entry, my bedroom, and doing some laundry.) During this time I tried to figure out why on earth I had to worry about my nails in this way. I'd been told to clean up before, but this was a little extreme. I half-joked: Oh. I must be going to handle another ambassadorial meeting. Hooray! This means I'll be getting to go back into outerspace for a bit! And the some Saturday, Sunday, yesterday and today the fatigue hit full force: complete with not really remembering the day and sleeping a lot. And of course, not getting ANY work done. Monday morning, the nails began to come off. I'd only had them on for 4 days, but they were affixed to last more than a week. But they didn't. I remember wondering if I'd been gone for more than a few hours on my last pickup because of how the nails appeared to fall off early. Then I took them off, decided I liked wearing fake nails but wanted shorter ones that were stylish, and here I am with good looking hands. I find out today that over the weekend (Superbowl weekend and a fine time to distract people with football fluff) ALL of the U.S. Ambassadors were called back home to the states for a closed meeting. Funny coincidence. So UFO people should pay attention to fake nails!

MILAB

I was in the mountain range where I taught the army how to fly my jump ship. It was me, Choshu, my husband, and my children... and some female teens I didn't know. I looked up into the clear blue sky, and there was an airplane there. It flew closer, and I realized it was a UFO. It got very close. "Choshu, get your camera!" I yelled. But Choshu's camera suddenly wouldn't work. It was white and the parts were round, like something from a movie or a brandnew kitchen appliance. It hovered and turned and took off after a moment. Another UFO came. This one was orange with white trim. I said outloud, "Land! I want to fly your ship!" He landed to my excited surprise, and out stepped a guy in a pale grey-blue mandarin collar uniform. It looked very official. He asked, "What did you say? I thought you said -" and he said an alien sentence that sounded oddly like what I had said. I did not understand the sentence. No, I said, "Land. I want to fly your ship." "Oh," well he said. He was a White man with pale blond-red hair in a crew cut. His uniform had bars on the left breast. They were odd looking: like a square rectangle made of that metal that is neither gold nor silver. My son came out of nowhere and climbed into the ship as if it always belonged there. "Get down!" I said. "That isn't yours!" "Did you know the ship hyper drives were based on the blood capillary systems?" the man asked me. When he spoke I was infused with images of blood running through veins, as if I were watching a NOVA episode of something. "Which ones?" I asked. We had walked to the back of the ship. He flipped something like a trunk so I could see the drive, but I was too busy politely looking at his face as we spoke. "All thirty," he replied. I wondered to myself if he was insane. There were more than thirty animals in the world. I walked away to rejoin my group. He followed behind, and he kept looking at my hair. 'What are you doing?" I asked. "I'm looking for blue streaks," he said. "I know it's you." Crap, he's looking for me I thought. I also thought, well. I haven't dyed my hair blue in years. Keep looking, pal. But that isn't how the game is supposed to go, and I knew that. So after a moment of internal debate I decided to run away. I knew it was pointless. He'd find me with the sensors in his ship, but I ran. I came to a place where household items and other things were piled high. There was a square in the middle of the piles as if a room had been carved out of the things. I hid under something there and woke up. I told this dream to a friend, who did some quick research. So it is today I learned that "The International Society of Blood Transfusion (ISBT) currently recognises 30 major blood group systems (including the ABO and Rh systems)." Go figure.

dream, MILAB

Damn, this dream wasn't as good as it was supposed to feel and there's no one to share it with. One person is in bootcamp and the other two are stuck up their boyfriends' asses. -_- I knew (even though nothing around me looked like it) that this happened after the next fall of mankind. Mankind had been divided into two factions: my side and the other side. That's what I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. I lived on the island where there were other people, working cellphones, and other amenities that suggested my knowledge was in error. But I took such things for granted. Even though if you went beyond a certain zone in this world I was in, the cellphones and other such things would not work. There was an entire regiment of men who had come from another time, but they were all criminals. I remember stepping into someone else's head and going to them. They were sitting in rows, forced to sit that way, as they were guarded by giant robot looking men. Maybe men in suits of armor. Who can say. I asked to speak to the leader. The leader was a midget. I told them that I wanted to come to some sort of agreement with them that if they served I could get them more freedoms, but I had not spoken with the leader yet. I was only seeing what they could do at this stage and was making no promises. But... for some reason this was cut short and I can't remember how or why. I was no one higher up in this scenario, but I did have a team. I cannot remember who led the team or if I led the team or even if we had got together accidentally. We had a mission. We stole something of value, but now I cannot remember what it was. Or how we got it. I have vague impressions of a boat and that the item of value was of historical importance somehow. And it was not hard to steal it, either, because no one was expecting us to go for it. We just walked right in and got it, wherever it was. After we had the item, we went to the main place. I cannot tell you much about it. It's all vague, because it feels like this dream went on for a very very long time - not for days but certainly for 12 hours at least. The sun was up when we stole the artifact and the skies were very blue. I cannot tell you the time of day when we went to the building, because obviously we were in a building. We were ushered into a large room; I and the head of another team. I was starting to come out of it, I guess you could say, at this point. I was suddenly noticing that things weren't right even though I had taken everything for granted before. The others who came in with me sat down to wait, but I wondered if I could run out the door and escape. I started to stand up to see, but I heard the door lock. We were inside awaiting our audience with the big man whose name nor title I did not know. There was a little girl there who also was waiting. Maybe she was 6 or 7. You could tell she was going to be a dainty person, so she might even have been 8. She was a beautiful child. Her hair was long, like mine, but she was White so it was blond. There were curls around her face that were almost white, which only gave her an angelic appeal. Her skin was very pale and had a slight pink tinge to it. I cannot tell you the color of her eyes, but the shape of her face was heart shaped with a little button-like nose. She fainted suddenly, and a woman in a lab coat caught her. She was carried out of the large room we waiting in and laid down on, of all things, a bunch of boxes and equipment as if she were an after thought and would be collected later. The woman, who I vaguely thought was the child's mother even though she was dark and they looked nothing like each other, put an ear bud from an MP3 player into the child's ear and then turned to walk away. I stepped just beyond the door and asked in English and Sign Language, "Is she okay?"' The woman nodded and mumbled yes and shooed me back into the room. I can't remember much of the next part. There were two girls there and I can't remember if this was next or the end, but apparently they both had recently gotten married. The leader hugged them both and called them his married babies, so I'm guessing that was at the end of the dream because the leader had not arrived yet. So when people started coming to receive the leader, I noticed that they had thrown on jackets and hats over their regular clothes. I became worried because all I had was a plain black hat with no decoration, and I was the only one with that. The woman was at the door again so I asked her, "We have to wear red and blue for this, don't we?" I was worried. Centuries ago we wore red and blue with black if we were high ranking officers for the Adonai in the old empire. I was afraid I was standing in this situation again, and I did not want to be there. The woman did not answer. She went back out the door. Then everyone else came, and I have a vague sense that something else happened. But I'm not sure what. The leader arrived, wearing a business suit and a red and blue military-looking jacket. I remember the red trim. He was somewhere near his fifties with grey hair and a potbelly. He walked into the room and stood by the giant window in the large room. There were steps in the room; like a rise in the middle of the room. Everyone else lined up on it and stood with their hands clasped behind their backs like we used to do centuries ago. Because I was no longer with the groove of this dream scenario, I watched everyone and imitated them. I also looked at their arms because there was a part of me making sure they were doing it right. I knew how to do it, so did not worry about that part. When I found my place and stood, the leader took a few steps. This made everyone else change positions. They started walking in a circle around him going clockwise. I followed, wondering what in the hell, as the leader said, "I created this room to be like it used to be, but also so that if you were to die in here the last words you would see were those written on the wall." But there were no words on any wall, but I did not say anything. Something knew that I had to be utterly and completely quiet and not slip up here. But after making a full circle around the leader, I realized that everyone else was doing it because they didn't know where to stop. I knew that someone had to stop and look like they knew what they were doing, so I did. I stood with my back to the wall that had the door and clicked my heels together, standing at attention. Everyone else followed suit, so that we made a circle around the leader. But I can't remember what happened next. There was something, also, about making a bed for the girl child. People were coming into the room and pouring bubble gum on the floor, and she was going to sleep on that I thought. It was a colorful little area they were making, like what you see in nurseries today. But now that I'm awake I'm wondering if it weren't packing peanuts and not bubblegum for some reason. And for some odd reason the leader was sitting on the bubblegum to talk to us and we were sitting cross-legged around him. I wish I could remember. I didn't wake up until after noon even though I went to bed early.

dream, MILAB

I had a dream the other night that I was writing something on my computer. It was a letter to someone else but I used a racial slur - except that I spelled the racial slur wrong. The important part here is that throughout the dream I was filled with feelings. I had to let go of the slurs, I told myself, because that was why I had not attained avatarhood yet. -_- I know the point behind the dream, but damn if I want to shave my head and tattoo myself with a giant blue arrow. A department with the Council on High came forward to me 2 nights ago just as I had barely laid my head on the pillow. They didn't even wait for proper protocols, and the snot-nosed young ladies (about 18 years old and blond, was the leader... wearing red) plead that I reconsider the most recent firing of their department head. I had decided that person would be fired here in the waking world because, well, I am sick and tired of glory hounds and people who can't swallow that lump of fear or get over themselves long enough to get anything done. I told the little petitioners, when I realized why I was being annoyed in my waking waiting-to-go-to-sleep state, that the woman had my phone number. She had ways to show me she was serious. It had been months. If she could prove me otherwise, I'd reconsider. They went away without another word.... but I still had trouble falling asleep. Grrrr. When I finally fell asleep, I went places. Maybe physically like some abductee. Who can say. I was boarding the underground train and I had 2 male guards. I mistook them for Mike and Redwood. I was lucid enough to remember my daily life. I turned to the Mike guard and said, "I have to go to work now." Very brightly, because announcing it just seemed like the thing to do. "I beg your pardon?" the guy said. "I have to go to work now," I repeated, and then boarded the train car. I remember the sides of the train were grey, and inside the car was dark. I must have come home early, because later I was having a legitimate dream. I can't recall much of it. Something about a smoky grey cat.

dream, MILAB

Can't shake it. It happened... a week ago? Two weeks? It was recent.

 I was aboard the ship - IT WAS A HUMAN VESSAL AND I WAS WORKING WITH OTHERS WHO SPOKE AMERICAN ENGLISH. But we were not military... but not science... what we were? I can't recall.

 The explosion: I and a team of others were walking down one of the outer halls of the craft. I honestly don't know if it was a mothership or spacestation. It was big enough, whatever it was, that there were windows all down the hall so you could look out into space. I was aware of the view but took it for granted. And besides, I was busy.

 As we walked, I was flanked on both sides and we discussed some sort of project. To be precise, I was giving them instructions or feedback or something. We wore white jumpsuits. I have always felt omg, ew, if I had been aware I would have insisted on something more flattering. I'm too fat to carry off that look.

 There was an explosion behind us, and so I turned. It was such a big explosion, the craft even trembled a little. (Takes a lot to make a craft tremble because of the compensation devices in place.) I was concerned and was going to go back to see what was going on.

 Immediately the others started pushing me. "You have to go!" they shouted as they pushed me. "Go! Go go go! Go now! You have to go!"

 I was pushed into a tiny capsule, like an escape hatch, even though I didn't want to. When the door shut on me, the memory ends. I woke up that day honestly wondering how I got home and where I had landed.

dream, MILAB

Mmmm... I was visiting with two members of the bowl (Council on High) last night, to see if they deserved to die. Or maybe it was a dream; I can't tell. It had a Fishbowl feel to it, and although I know that there are times people just... grrr... that was what I was doing. I was hanging around them like their best bud in order to see if they deserved to die. I hung around a woman first. She was probably a bit older than me. Blonde. She was very friendly, but I had it in my mind that if I Judged her deserving it would be me that would kill her. I can't remember anything about our conversation except that it was mostly small talk and nothing I personally would consider important. But she had been quite a nuisance and hold back or something like that. Before I went to the second person, I stopped by the dark-haired woman who had their files. I opened first the woman's file and glanced over it. Then I opened the second file. That is where my memory of this ends.