Showing posts with label remote viewing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remote viewing. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Monday, April 1, 2013
Mongolia
This happened about a month ago.
I don't remember much of everything else that was going on because my consciousness was going in and out of focus. I'd dream I was going somewhere, then I'd be talking to people and not dreaming while still in the dream state. There was a group of people I was traveling with on the dream side. I remember a truck, that one was a blonde, and that we were tourists... and archaeologists. Or maybe just had an interest in archaeology.
But as is the way of things, "they" slapped a map on a table down in front of me - and the dream state went away. Came the type of focus I've heard others describe, where if you try to look at or pay attention to something outside of the intended field of scope things get blurry and your mind is herded by this narrow view back to where they want you. And I, when shown a map, will focus very keenly and it will become my entire universe. I'll be aware its just a map, but the hypnotized dream state side will fill in data, colors, and even moving pictures.
Coming out and in the waking world now, I never remember being told why I'm being shown a map. In the dreamstate, though, I know exactly what's needed of me. I'll pick out regions, spots, and places. I'll listen to the debriefings, or I'll say "so and so is located here" and point.
This time it was a debriefing. The map was in front of me, and it was a topography map I recall wide awake. I'm sure of it because the bumps and ridges of valleys and rivers were very plain to see. I would have been able to feel them if I'd been inclined to touch the map - I was inclined to put my hands at my sides and pay attention like a good little soldier instead I'm afraid.
It was a hilly country, with many minor valleys. I remember thinking how odd it was, this country, that it had two rivers along it's northern and southern borders. They were strange rivers because they didn't bend and twist the way rivers did.
I was told that there was a major archaeology expedition in the country's south, in a place called the Vou Valley to the southeast off the middle. The word "Vou" was pronounced so that the o and the u made a single sound.
When the discovery had been made, the country's government made people move out of their home for miles and miles. There weren't a lot of people living in that region anyway: just a few scattered homes and maybe a village or two. The discovery was called "The Monkey" and I got the impression that it was a tomb or treasure cache of some sort.
After the debriefing was over, I returned to the dream state in which I dreamed I and a small group of tourists walked a very narrow mountain crack path to get to the discovery. It was so narrow we had to wiggle single file.
The next day I was talking to a friend about it, and I got curious as to what I had been shown. I tried finding the valley first, but couldn't find anything. I knew the country was in the east, so I looked up China, Tibet... and then on a whim looked up Mongolia.
I had to laugh when I found a map. Those rivers weren't rivers at all. They were the border lines for the eastern half of the country. Which would place the discovery on the edge of the Gobi Desert.
Of course I haven't found any information on any discoveries there to date. It's hard to get archaeology information out of that side of the world, what with their closed information borders, communist policies and all.
The map is an open domain piece taken from the CIA World Factbook.
I don't remember much of everything else that was going on because my consciousness was going in and out of focus. I'd dream I was going somewhere, then I'd be talking to people and not dreaming while still in the dream state. There was a group of people I was traveling with on the dream side. I remember a truck, that one was a blonde, and that we were tourists... and archaeologists. Or maybe just had an interest in archaeology.
But as is the way of things, "they" slapped a map on a table down in front of me - and the dream state went away. Came the type of focus I've heard others describe, where if you try to look at or pay attention to something outside of the intended field of scope things get blurry and your mind is herded by this narrow view back to where they want you. And I, when shown a map, will focus very keenly and it will become my entire universe. I'll be aware its just a map, but the hypnotized dream state side will fill in data, colors, and even moving pictures.
Coming out and in the waking world now, I never remember being told why I'm being shown a map. In the dreamstate, though, I know exactly what's needed of me. I'll pick out regions, spots, and places. I'll listen to the debriefings, or I'll say "so and so is located here" and point.
This time it was a debriefing. The map was in front of me, and it was a topography map I recall wide awake. I'm sure of it because the bumps and ridges of valleys and rivers were very plain to see. I would have been able to feel them if I'd been inclined to touch the map - I was inclined to put my hands at my sides and pay attention like a good little soldier instead I'm afraid.
It was a hilly country, with many minor valleys. I remember thinking how odd it was, this country, that it had two rivers along it's northern and southern borders. They were strange rivers because they didn't bend and twist the way rivers did.
I was told that there was a major archaeology expedition in the country's south, in a place called the Vou Valley to the southeast off the middle. The word "Vou" was pronounced so that the o and the u made a single sound.
When the discovery had been made, the country's government made people move out of their home for miles and miles. There weren't a lot of people living in that region anyway: just a few scattered homes and maybe a village or two. The discovery was called "The Monkey" and I got the impression that it was a tomb or treasure cache of some sort.
After the debriefing was over, I returned to the dream state in which I dreamed I and a small group of tourists walked a very narrow mountain crack path to get to the discovery. It was so narrow we had to wiggle single file.
The next day I was talking to a friend about it, and I got curious as to what I had been shown. I tried finding the valley first, but couldn't find anything. I knew the country was in the east, so I looked up China, Tibet... and then on a whim looked up Mongolia.
I had to laugh when I found a map. Those rivers weren't rivers at all. They were the border lines for the eastern half of the country. Which would place the discovery on the edge of the Gobi Desert.
Of course I haven't found any information on any discoveries there to date. It's hard to get archaeology information out of that side of the world, what with their closed information borders, communist policies and all.
The map is an open domain piece taken from the CIA World Factbook.
Monday, November 26, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Eagles
The best lessons on how to do stuff comes from play and
experience. So.
Dad raised both me and my older brother with the basic skills. The first thing I ever learned to do was predict future children using a pencil, needle and thread. Years later we graduated to the psychic card game; you know the one, where you guess shapes? Only we used aces. I always failed miserably at it while my brother was excellent. Never had the umph, I suppose. At least once Dad would project at me and I'd receive and get them right, but never could "go out" and hear and read. Was rather frustrating.
Then we kids did as kids in a magical environ will do: took to it on our own. Each of my siblings and myself are seven years apart. So when my brother was 16 we turned serious: tried to build a inter-dimensional portal using our energy alone, that sort of thing. It was my job to find folks at school who were possible "others" and bring them home. Then “Matt” "lead" the group, which also bothered me. I mean there I was doing all the grunt work, then it came time for him to do the fun stuff with energy work and I'd get to do a little. And then I had to go to bed or, in later years, I was purposefully excluded. Bothered the crap out of me.
The groups used to do things like pick on local energy entities and stuff. Thought we were demon hunting: thank you Hollywood. Group after group was formed, usually by me with “Matt” taking over. The last one with “Matt” was a real disaster. We'd brought in our cousins on that one, and the oldest was already spiteful by the time I was five. Apparently my older brother was doing some illegal things when I wasn't around.
Magical kids act like eaglets, too. The oldest will push the littlest out of that nest to die. In my case when I finally caught my stride and started to figure out what I could do, my brother took steps to stop it. He "sealed" me he said; claimed I was too powerful. Well, what this means in modern terms is he rewired me. Never could get past it. It's like... having your ethereal spine broken permanently. It was horrible too, like being wrapped in chains and stuck in a glass jar. Sometimes I'm still there, but meh. That's another story for another day.
My little brother... never got training and went schizophrenic nuts. Part of that is also my brother's fault: he did a lot of bad things to my little brother. They're bad things my mother still denies. Part of it is my fault: I was a very violent and angry older sister. Too jealous for my own good. And the rest is simply because no one would help him when he could have been helped, and now it's too late.
So there I was, 15 and someone no one ever listened to. Mom fell off the porch and hurt her back? Go get help I said to my little brother. Got ignored. My little brother's gifts were the kind that, traditionally, would have gotten him apprenticed to a shaman. You gotta help him start practicing and focus I said to my father. Got ignored. There were bright lights and nightmares. Got ignored.
So when I noticed the phones were tapped I didn't say anything for a while. I'd pick up the phone and listen to how the wires were tapped; listened to two guys negotiate bringing something over, realizing they were being listened to, saying shit and hung up. One time they crossed and I accidentally got a neighbor on the phone: girl from up the street. Then there would be clicks and I guess they got their shit straight.
Then the black vehicle started parking at the edge of the yard to watch us. Now by then I'd already had a life of nightmares involving being chased by things, the feds, turning into a werewolf, whatever. (All separate stories.) And there's this car watching us like in some FBI movie. And it would *only* come watch when it was just me at home.
One day I decided I was gonna get them so I barreled off the front porch and started to run for the car. It peeled away like crazy. After that it parked a house farther away or on the other side. But it still came around.
I told my parents and they didn't believe me.
Soon after I came home from school and went to the bus, which had become my older brother's bedroom. (The rest of us were in a slightly bigger trailer by then.) He wasn't there, so I asked my mother. She was all incredulous that I didn't know he'd been arrested a couple of days ago. (Well, duh. They also never tell me anything.)
Seems the spiteful cousin had turned in my brother. So for the next few years we had to deal with that stigma. It was not fun, being blamed for things you never did by an entire town. Maybe my brother did them, but the rest of us had no idea.
A couple of weeks into the trials my spiteful cousin wrote the newspaper a letter about how we were Satan worshipers.
That was also not fun.
By that point in time I had a book I'd written, because I'd felt it was what I was supposed to do. It covered a lot of past life material, a DNA family tree, how to do things, the works. My brother, too, had another persona. All stories for another day.
I burned that book in the back yard because my senses said it was wise.
And then I buried myself into my own head and went mundane for a while, which meant I stopped writing as much and read a lot of books.
There were a couple of times I "reawakened" but had to rebury for one reason or another. And then I started dating Mr. Wrong.
Mr. Wrong... was a demon, and I mean this literally. That’s what he fancied himself as, being a he was a member of the Otherkin the same as I. (The Otherkin consider themselves apart from humanity for one reason or another. The majority do this because they feel they are an elf or some other myth that matches how they feel inside. I was very devout to the subcommunity at the time, not knowing as much as I do now. These days I’d tell you point blank they’re probably all abductees or associated with that problem in some way. Their stories almost all match the UFO side – but because Otherkin use words like fairy and unicorn, people don’t take them seriously. When they should be on some level besides “these folks are practicing escapism.”)
Dad raised both me and my older brother with the basic skills. The first thing I ever learned to do was predict future children using a pencil, needle and thread. Years later we graduated to the psychic card game; you know the one, where you guess shapes? Only we used aces. I always failed miserably at it while my brother was excellent. Never had the umph, I suppose. At least once Dad would project at me and I'd receive and get them right, but never could "go out" and hear and read. Was rather frustrating.
Then we kids did as kids in a magical environ will do: took to it on our own. Each of my siblings and myself are seven years apart. So when my brother was 16 we turned serious: tried to build a inter-dimensional portal using our energy alone, that sort of thing. It was my job to find folks at school who were possible "others" and bring them home. Then “Matt” "lead" the group, which also bothered me. I mean there I was doing all the grunt work, then it came time for him to do the fun stuff with energy work and I'd get to do a little. And then I had to go to bed or, in later years, I was purposefully excluded. Bothered the crap out of me.
The groups used to do things like pick on local energy entities and stuff. Thought we were demon hunting: thank you Hollywood. Group after group was formed, usually by me with “Matt” taking over. The last one with “Matt” was a real disaster. We'd brought in our cousins on that one, and the oldest was already spiteful by the time I was five. Apparently my older brother was doing some illegal things when I wasn't around.
Magical kids act like eaglets, too. The oldest will push the littlest out of that nest to die. In my case when I finally caught my stride and started to figure out what I could do, my brother took steps to stop it. He "sealed" me he said; claimed I was too powerful. Well, what this means in modern terms is he rewired me. Never could get past it. It's like... having your ethereal spine broken permanently. It was horrible too, like being wrapped in chains and stuck in a glass jar. Sometimes I'm still there, but meh. That's another story for another day.
My little brother... never got training and went schizophrenic nuts. Part of that is also my brother's fault: he did a lot of bad things to my little brother. They're bad things my mother still denies. Part of it is my fault: I was a very violent and angry older sister. Too jealous for my own good. And the rest is simply because no one would help him when he could have been helped, and now it's too late.
So there I was, 15 and someone no one ever listened to. Mom fell off the porch and hurt her back? Go get help I said to my little brother. Got ignored. My little brother's gifts were the kind that, traditionally, would have gotten him apprenticed to a shaman. You gotta help him start practicing and focus I said to my father. Got ignored. There were bright lights and nightmares. Got ignored.
So when I noticed the phones were tapped I didn't say anything for a while. I'd pick up the phone and listen to how the wires were tapped; listened to two guys negotiate bringing something over, realizing they were being listened to, saying shit and hung up. One time they crossed and I accidentally got a neighbor on the phone: girl from up the street. Then there would be clicks and I guess they got their shit straight.
Then the black vehicle started parking at the edge of the yard to watch us. Now by then I'd already had a life of nightmares involving being chased by things, the feds, turning into a werewolf, whatever. (All separate stories.) And there's this car watching us like in some FBI movie. And it would *only* come watch when it was just me at home.
One day I decided I was gonna get them so I barreled off the front porch and started to run for the car. It peeled away like crazy. After that it parked a house farther away or on the other side. But it still came around.
I told my parents and they didn't believe me.
Soon after I came home from school and went to the bus, which had become my older brother's bedroom. (The rest of us were in a slightly bigger trailer by then.) He wasn't there, so I asked my mother. She was all incredulous that I didn't know he'd been arrested a couple of days ago. (Well, duh. They also never tell me anything.)
Seems the spiteful cousin had turned in my brother. So for the next few years we had to deal with that stigma. It was not fun, being blamed for things you never did by an entire town. Maybe my brother did them, but the rest of us had no idea.
A couple of weeks into the trials my spiteful cousin wrote the newspaper a letter about how we were Satan worshipers.
That was also not fun.
By that point in time I had a book I'd written, because I'd felt it was what I was supposed to do. It covered a lot of past life material, a DNA family tree, how to do things, the works. My brother, too, had another persona. All stories for another day.
I burned that book in the back yard because my senses said it was wise.
And then I buried myself into my own head and went mundane for a while, which meant I stopped writing as much and read a lot of books.
There were a couple of times I "reawakened" but had to rebury for one reason or another. And then I started dating Mr. Wrong.
Mr. Wrong... was a demon, and I mean this literally. That’s what he fancied himself as, being a he was a member of the Otherkin the same as I. (The Otherkin consider themselves apart from humanity for one reason or another. The majority do this because they feel they are an elf or some other myth that matches how they feel inside. I was very devout to the subcommunity at the time, not knowing as much as I do now. These days I’d tell you point blank they’re probably all abductees or associated with that problem in some way. Their stories almost all match the UFO side – but because Otherkin use words like fairy and unicorn, people don’t take them seriously. When they should be on some level besides “these folks are practicing escapism.”)
Mr. Wrong didn't mean to, but he's the one that woke
up things fully. He was on the internet with me, and we were experimenting with
seeing one another. During the course of the fun I decided to start looking at
other things. I found myself getting smaller and smaller until I was whirling
past protons and neutrons and finally got to the center. I was so small light
couldn't filter things in color. I told Wrong what I was seeing. He said he
didn't believe me, but the next day he sent me photo shots of the first
photographs taken at that level. He said they were from only a couple of weeks
ago. They were exactly as I'd described. I'd simply gotten that tiny.
From there it just got to be a deliciously wicked game that I used to pick on the Council On High. (Lotsa stories there, explanation on them will hopefully come later.) And it was like I just knew all the tricks of the trade. I knew you could time travel already, touch things, manipulate, how many it would take to change the past, how to hack certain environments, you name it. I just knew as if I'd always known. And we did them all.
I helped Mr. Wrong, too. I got him a place to live with my credit. He found a job he never would let me know about - but I can tell you he wrote information gathering programs and worked in DC. He got his legs back and suddenly I was a nuisance, you know? I'd exercise, and he'd do things to stop me. I was just starting out on being an independent artist; he'd sit beside me and tell me to just give up and stop trying. But when he threw me away, I kept going.
From there it just got to be a deliciously wicked game that I used to pick on the Council On High. (Lotsa stories there, explanation on them will hopefully come later.) And it was like I just knew all the tricks of the trade. I knew you could time travel already, touch things, manipulate, how many it would take to change the past, how to hack certain environments, you name it. I just knew as if I'd always known. And we did them all.
I helped Mr. Wrong, too. I got him a place to live with my credit. He found a job he never would let me know about - but I can tell you he wrote information gathering programs and worked in DC. He got his legs back and suddenly I was a nuisance, you know? I'd exercise, and he'd do things to stop me. I was just starting out on being an independent artist; he'd sit beside me and tell me to just give up and stop trying. But when he threw me away, I kept going.
Oh I had to heal as we all do - when I left him he had me so
fucked up in the head I genuinely wasn't sure what sex I was anymore. Nobody
I've ever spoken with has understood just how bad treatment that really was.
The ones who knew him are always "but you are the one who raged, who
ranted, he was always so quiet and perfect. He was a nice guy."
He was a fucking psychopath... and is the reason why I don't trust "professional" help. Nothing like going to a professional with the guy hoping she'll see how he's hurting you only for her to side with him and feed him horrible things to say about me. I have a temper, that made me evil. My passionate nature ensures I will always be the bad guy. Interestingly, that's how I remember my past lives as well. So.
So when I finally stood back up again I walked faster. Even past a nervous breakdown, being called the bad guy at least two more times in large dramatic affairs of doom and destruction, remembering my "eternal mate", and all sorts of sordid drama. It was like my spinal cord was repaired, sorta, and now that I had this stolen piece of myself back again I could only be held down for the time it took a person to heal emotionally. Then I'd bounce back up again. I never could do that before: before I'd go down and never get back up again because so much of me was already missing. I made other friends and taught them. And so forth and so on. Until today.
Funny thing about it all: I used to rely heavily on card reading. I had a pack that belonged to my grandmother. They were regular cards that she and I played games with for years. My best senses came from those cards. My mother went on one of her God trips and they simply disappeared. I know what happened to them - one of two things. My mother also jealously kept anything related to my grandmother away from me. Still does to this day. If it's mine and mom finds out it's attached to Gramma, she finds a way to get it from me and hide it.
After those cards disappeared I've tried reading with other cards but it never was the same. With Gramma's cards I could predict things to the minute. There was one time my South American boyfriend, Danny, had moved to Maryland. I just sat at the table for days reading over and over again, and they kept telling me over and over again he was coming to get me. When he came to the door with his mother (she was a sweetheart) I had a bag packed by the door ready to go.
He came to the door like he was going to surprise me. You should have seen his face when I smiled that he was there and said "HI!" because I'd been expecting him. So he announced he had come to spirit me away... and I said, "I know. I'm all ready!" and picked up my bag. Hehehehe.
But when the remote viewing came back and the other skills that don't require a tool as much, the card reading died even more. It's like I traded one for the other. Even so I can only do these things under certain conditions. I don't walk. I limp.
And another thing? My spelling has went all to hell.
He was a fucking psychopath... and is the reason why I don't trust "professional" help. Nothing like going to a professional with the guy hoping she'll see how he's hurting you only for her to side with him and feed him horrible things to say about me. I have a temper, that made me evil. My passionate nature ensures I will always be the bad guy. Interestingly, that's how I remember my past lives as well. So.
So when I finally stood back up again I walked faster. Even past a nervous breakdown, being called the bad guy at least two more times in large dramatic affairs of doom and destruction, remembering my "eternal mate", and all sorts of sordid drama. It was like my spinal cord was repaired, sorta, and now that I had this stolen piece of myself back again I could only be held down for the time it took a person to heal emotionally. Then I'd bounce back up again. I never could do that before: before I'd go down and never get back up again because so much of me was already missing. I made other friends and taught them. And so forth and so on. Until today.
Funny thing about it all: I used to rely heavily on card reading. I had a pack that belonged to my grandmother. They were regular cards that she and I played games with for years. My best senses came from those cards. My mother went on one of her God trips and they simply disappeared. I know what happened to them - one of two things. My mother also jealously kept anything related to my grandmother away from me. Still does to this day. If it's mine and mom finds out it's attached to Gramma, she finds a way to get it from me and hide it.
After those cards disappeared I've tried reading with other cards but it never was the same. With Gramma's cards I could predict things to the minute. There was one time my South American boyfriend, Danny, had moved to Maryland. I just sat at the table for days reading over and over again, and they kept telling me over and over again he was coming to get me. When he came to the door with his mother (she was a sweetheart) I had a bag packed by the door ready to go.
He came to the door like he was going to surprise me. You should have seen his face when I smiled that he was there and said "HI!" because I'd been expecting him. So he announced he had come to spirit me away... and I said, "I know. I'm all ready!" and picked up my bag. Hehehehe.
But when the remote viewing came back and the other skills that don't require a tool as much, the card reading died even more. It's like I traded one for the other. Even so I can only do these things under certain conditions. I don't walk. I limp.
And another thing? My spelling has went all to hell.
Sometimes I wish I could talk about these things to my
husband in depth. To be honest I don't think he completely believes me. There's
been a time or two he has slipped up and made a comment that sounded like he
was only tolerating his wife's weirdness because that's what you do. He saw a
UFO once when he was in Afghanistan, and there have been times he's waken up
tired with the bruises and wotnot. But when I bring something up - like the
specter I saw in the house the other night - he just listens and has to fight
to find a sentence to respond with. I can't turn to him with too much. He has
no desire to follow.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Jaded (from) Jacksonville 18
Just my philosophy on finding your soul mate - what with Valentine's Day
coming and all. -and an old channeled Fishbowl report. If I had more
time to do things, it would not be an old Fishbowl report because it
would be on the 'net by now. But. It's an old Fishbowl report. This is
all old footage from 2009, and it might stay that way until 1. I catch
up and 2. my stolen camera is replaced somehow. Being as insurance
companies are all thieves, I suspect that's not happening anytime soon.
=^-^=
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.
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.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Jaded in Jacksonville 12
Okay so in this blog I talk a few minutes about one of the departments
with the Council on High. Then I talk about Lyrian (and Intergalactic
history) while making references to Narnia. Because I'm clever like
that.
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