The Ambassador, the Little Girl with Gills and the Nurse Alien-Is it all True Series # 386

Alien Nurse

A mysterious summons can go beyond the extraordinary to such a degree that it can make Alice in Wonderland look like a kiddy park excursion. Waking up in a world underwater is about as terrifying as it can get for me but in this instance it was a sparkling metropolis in a humungous dome under the ocean that was beyond enchanting, more awe inspiring in beauty.

I was in a large waiting room of sorts, waiting for my turn to meet the Ambassador from this amazing place, I found myself in. She was a species of human but not from this planet. I found her to be similar to some of the Star Trek aliens that were on various episodes. She had her sister with her and they both looked very similar. They both had long, sandy blonde hair that was pulled back away from their faces. Their foreheads had two ridges along the front that protruded out around from their hairline and eyebrows. Other then this, they looked just as human as you or I.

My memory lapses a bit at this point because I know I talked with the Ambassador but I can’t recall what we talked about. I more remember sitting on a chair next to a man that seemed to be half way sitting on me because he was pretty big in size. I tried to move to let him know he was sitting on me and fortunately for me, he decided to get up and walk away. A little girl walked up to me who seemed very familiar to me. She had golden blonde hair and was around the age of 5 or 6. She had on a sparkly dress that had little golden threads running through it everywhere. She wanted to sit on my lap so I welcomed her up.

As I was asking her how she was doing, a female voice to my left told me to lift up her dress so I could see the sides of her torso. I thought this was an odd request but the little girl told me it was okay. I lifted the skirt part of her dress and saw gills on the side where her rib-cage was. The gills were on both sides so I knew immediately that she could breathe under water. I knew she was a hybrid, part human and part something else. I don’t want to say mermaid but perhaps that was part of what she was. I was told she could breathe in oxygen through her gills underwater. Her timetable for staying underwater without coming up to breath air was around 2 hours. I had the impression they were training her and probably as she got older, she would be able to stay under water for many hours if not days.

I looked up and saw an alien nurse maid standing in front of me. She was talking telepathically to me in my mind. It was at this very moment that she told me to, take her in and remember her face.

The little girl was the daughter of the Ambassador and for some strange reason I knew I was related to them. I always felt the alien nurse maid would come back and tell me more but to this date I have no memory of her ever visiting me again.

The Ambassador and her sister sat up from their chairs, walking towards a doorway and their entourage followed them, including the alien nurse maid and the little girl. As the little girl walked away from me, she turned and waved at me, smiling goodbye. A military woman in uniform came and got me and as I started to walk with her, I saw the Ambassadors entourage leaving in limos. (That’s right, limos under the ocean!)

A group of men from her entourage saw me and a few came over to flirt with me. One of the men wanted me to go with him in his car and I started to laugh at him. At this point the woman who was my military escort said, “Oh, no we don’t.” She then grabbed my arm and took me up some stairs. As the door closed to the room at the top of the stairs, my adventure under the sea ended.

Introducing, the Reptilian … Amaden– Is it all True Series # 383

REPTILIAN

Here is the first of a series of drawings that I am sharing with all of you. Please note that if you wish to use this drawing, ask for my permission first.

This drawing is of a reptilian named Amaden. He came to my attention the first of the year and tried to keep some of the other contacts away from me. I didn’t understand why I hadn’t heard from Loekey or Debryon in quite awhile. This particular visitor decided he wanted all my attention but I wasn’t necessarily cooperating with him. I didn’t know what the problem was but I also wasn’t open to a new contact from anyone. Loekey and Debryon felt like a handful. I have also had another being come to me but I will tell you all more about him in due time.

Understand that I am open to these beings but that does not mean I let them take over my life or allow them to control any aspect of my psyche. This drawing is my interpretation of what Amaden looks like with artistic privilege thrown in. He is actually red through out his body but I put multiple colors in to help give him more definition when copied in black and white.

This will be the first in a series of 7 drawings I have done of each being. Comments are welcome or if anyone has seen something similar, please let me know.

Growing up with the Men in Black — Is it all True Series #381

MeninBlack

Somehow, this has become quite the quandary to write about. I thought this would be easier then other topics in the past but in the back of my mind, the blurry memories, concealed and guarded by the child within, won’t budge, basically revealing meager flashbacks. Loyalty is perhaps the problem here or the understood dialogue of suppressed fears along with stern consequences. One thing I do remember is that sometimes I was a willing pupil and other times I was about as feral as an undomesticated barn cat, hissing with claws out.

I remember three different types of these so called, “men in black.” Why this is so, is really the million dollar question. All three seem to serve a purpose that has nothing to do with the other. I often wonder if they convene with each other. I think not.

Sunglasses have always been important to me since I was a very young child. I liked the feeling of hiding behind them, the obscure and apprehensive thoughts reflected in my eyes, hidden behind blackness. It’s a comforting habit that has never left me. The blacker the lens, the more I like them. As crazy as it sounds I have often thought this is why the men in black wear sunglasses. One group hides their dark objectives, while another hides the fact that they invoke fear as a reminder of consequences. The last group seems to have a more obscure purpose in mind. To me, they are the “real” men in black because their frequency or vibe is not familiar or comfortable to be around. In some ways I always preferred them to the other two who I call the imitators.

Sometimes what a child doesn’t understand is easier to handle then the familiar and nightmarish routine of brutality. The reality of iniquity can be the breaking point that shatters the conscious mind into fragments of a once balanced and unbroken psyche. When a child enters the equation, the end results are usually surreal because reality acquires an off-kilter sentiment that makes daily living seem like a divergent existence. There’s a reason for this contradictory life and I think its creation is by varying family dynamics, the kind that stipulate, children should be seen but not heard.

The most memorable and startling experience as a kid, that demonstrates this ideology was when I was ten or eleven years old. One ordinary day, walking home from school, I encountered the infamous black car many people talk about seeing. In some ways I feel lucky to have this memory. Weird I know, but for some reason I don’t think what I saw was the typical black car most people see when they experience the “real” men in black.

Walking halfway through my neighborhood, I started to feel very anxious. I felt them before they came up on me and I knew “they” had an unusual agenda that day. The car was quiet beyond belief so the only way I knew they pulled up beside me, was by the horrendous feeling in my gut. The car itself was interesting to say the least. It had a very long hood that extended out in front of it, three feet beyond a regular car’s hood. It was black with what seemed like silver detailing around the windows, front of the hood, tires and the back end of the car. Funny, I almost thought that they created an authentic cartoon car because it was so out of proportion. One long front door came swinging open almost blocking my path. It was pitch black inside, almost like a vacuum of some sort that reminded me of total darkness, void of space and time. A voice that sounded humanoid and male called out to me and told me to get into the car. I felt the presence of three people in the car even though I couldn’t see them.

Now mind you, this happened in broad daylight around 1974 or 1975. A few cars drove by but the strange thing was, nobody seemed to notice or look at the odd looking car. I remember I had a premonition that very morning that something was up because I really didn’t want to go to school that day. My instincts were right on the money and I knew that I was in big trouble. In some ways I wasn’t necessarily afraid of the three beings in the car, I was completely terrified of their intentions. They weren’t the regular men in black that I had remembered seeing in my past, their intentions seemed to be more ominous by nature. I vaguely remember seeing a long arm stretched out towards me and that’s when I ran for my life, literally. I was so flustered when I ran through the front doors of my parent’s house, that my Mom had to calm me down as I was talking a mile a minute, gasping for breath.

I remember her looking at me, and at that exact moment, knowing she didn’t believe me. It was a sinking feeling because I knew I was ultimately and completely on my own. Fortunately, the car didn’t return again but that didn’t matter. I was already traumatized not so much because “they” came around but more so because I was involved in a world that my parents didn’t know existed. If you think about it, it was the perfect scenario for “them” to hide in plain sight. No one would know the better and as far as my parents go, they never did.

Survival wasn’t just an instinct it was a necessity that unfortunately resulted in me becoming a paranoid and frightened kid through out my elementary and middle school years. I developed a really bad habit of jumping behind bushes, basically any bush within reach if I heard a car coming down the road. It’s kind of funny, to this day; I have to stop myself from wanting to jump behind bushes if I hear a car coming towards me. There have been a few times, the bushes won!

At age 5 or 6, I remember being in a cave with two “original” men in black trying to coax me to jump over a large campfire. I knew my limitations, especially my short little legs and said, “No,” matter of factly.

They walked over to me and said, “Good job.”

Knowing our limitations is just as important as reaching for our immeasurability’s. Not all the lessons I learned from the “original” men in black were scary or painful. To a certain extent, I always knew that they were testing my ability as a human child. The end results were never made clear but that didn’t matter in the long run because not knowing their agenda as a kid was a comfort in itself.

A memory I have that pops up in the back of my mind from time to time is one of the clearest I have of underground tunnels and facilities. I can see clearly in my minds eye, a dirt tunnel that had a circular glass atrium at the entrance with people walking around it in military fatigues and ordinary work clothes. I was 7 or 8 at the time and I remember that no matter how fast I ran towards the entrance, two men in black suits always caught up with me and carried me back to wherever I had come from. I was terrified of one specific room or was it one specific person? I can’t remember but it was one or the other. I remember being a problem child but I also remember that it took just one look or a few specific words from whoever was terrorizing me in order to get me to calm myself down.

I remember there where offices on either side of what eventually turned into a hallway from the main entrance. The men in black suits had a definite military link and I think in some ways they just changed clothes according to their orders of the day while the original men in black disregarded anything but their own agenda.

Another memory that I have is interesting because it’s one of the few that I have of being tied up. My wrists and ankles were tied to a large chair that reminded me of ole “Sparky” the electrocution chair used in many prisons. It was a bit odd because I felt like I was a very small child in size. My feet didn’t reach the floor and I couldn’t sit all the way back. It felt like a chair for someone who was either 9 or 10 feet tall. I looked at my wrists and saw that there were brown leather straps tied around them and I could feel the straps on my ankles but I couldn’t look down because of how I was tied. There was a presence to my back left and two men in black leaning up against a wall by a door in front of me. They seemed more disheveled in appearance, and I knew instinctively they weren’t military or the original men in black but government shills. They had their sunglasses on but it seemed nonsensical to me that they would think I wouldn’t know who they were. It’s all in the vibration that people and beings put out. As I stated in another article, if a persons soul is in charge, they know immediately who is who.

The voice to my back left told me to place my right palm onto a long silver needle that was about a foot long. I looked down at my right wrist and saw that the brown leather strap was untied. None the less, I adamantly said, “No!”
The voice told me more forcefully again to place my palm over the needle and I said, “No. You can’t make me.”

The two government men in black started to laugh at me and I immediately lunged towards them because I wanted to beat the crap out of them. I instinctively didn’t like them from the get go and they knew it. They laughed harder as I fought the leather straps. I knew I had one hand free and as I was focusing on untying my left wrist, all of a sudden, my right hand started to move on its own volition. I was stunned and horrified that I had no control over my own hand. Whoever was behind me, moved my hand either with telepathy or some other kind of skill over the needle. I tried and tried to stop my hand but to no avail. Just as my right palm went down on the large needle, I yelled, “No!” I felt the needle prick my palm and as I tried to resist, I slowly blacked out.

As you can see, the different types of men in black make the difference in experiences and outcomes. All three have their place in history by infamous legends of truths and half truths. What I find interesting is that history has all three feign ignorance of their iniquitous positions. With the three groups working out their agenda’s, figuring out who, what where and why is futile.

If I thought my childhood memories were an illusion or some misplaced memories that weren’t mine at all, I wouldn’t be writing about this. I realized that my life was out of the ordinary, even at a young age. In my late twenties, I guess I ignored the childhood memories because I was trying to live a life that everybody else seemed to be able to live more easily than me. Roadblocks of the mind can be really hard to take down later in life. Chipping away at my obstructed fears was as futile as understanding, why me.

The last experience I can say I have had with men in black was when I was 28, coming back from Egypt. I had an emotional and crazy trip back with a few blunders that could have been detrimental in me never coming home to the States again. I will leave this story for another time since it basically could be a book of epic proportions.

My flight arrived in Paris and I was exhausted and twitterpated beyond belief as I got off the plane and started walking on the tarmac leading into the airport. Two men in black with the typical sunglasses came out of nowhere, standing to my right side. One of them reached for me and told me that I needed to come with him. They weren’t the “real” men in black but government men with American accents. I looked at them and basically went zero to sixty within the blink of an eye. With my expletive answer along with my loud outburst, I walked away from them never looking back. They didn’t go after me and looking back at my demeanor, I really don’t blame them.

In the end, I don’t see, men in black as terrifying monsters. Mysterious agendas can turn men or anyone else into monstrous beasts that make the average persons mind cower in fear. Maybe just maybe the mind holds on to such fears because the truth is, people want to be apart of conspiracies or in the middle of preventing some catastrophic demise of humanity. Syfy lives because in our minds there is truth in the unfathomable high strangeness of the unknown.

The old saying, knowledge is power, speaks volumes here. If we were told what our part of the agenda was, maybe life would be a lot easier. But then if “they” told us, life as we know it would never be the same.

Rainbow

More-Dark Witches, Shapeshifters and Skinwalkers — Pt. 3 — Is it all True Series #377

Leyla Prayer

Part 3
Was this a skinwalker we were looking at or was it a shapeshifter? The question is the missing link of questions because it is so hard to distinguish between the two. All I know is that we made it to Phil’s truck and by the time he backed out of the dirt driveway, this huge dog was gone. We counted our blessings and a sigh of relief came over us as we began our descent towards the Valdez valley. By the time we got to the entrance of our camp, we were talking about what our next move should be. That’s when the unthinkable happened, the big, black dog was standing by the entrance to my teepee and I realized that this was a serious breach, one that I had to confront head on because this was my home.

Phil wanted me to stay in the truck but I had horses, chickens, goats and geese that were my babies and I wasn’t going to let this large beast attack any of them. Without thinking and purely on instinct, I jumped out of the truck before it stopped and ran towards the big black dog. I threw rocks and sticks, yelling at him that he was not welcome. He just stood there, surrounded by my geese who were in attack mode themselves. I walked about ten feet towards the large black dog and made it clear I would hurt him. He just stood there, staring at me so I immediately went into action; I ran at him and hurled a rock at his head. He jumped out of the rocks way and started to run back the way he came with me running after him. I looked like a mad woman but I didn’t care. I made it clear he was never to come back!

After I had calmed down, I realized that I had missed something. He obviously didn’t hurt any of the animals; he was trying to get my attention because he wanted to convey a message to me, one that I didn’t get because I was too busy being the defender of my animals. I think in his own way, he was telling me he needed help and I was too dense and twitterpated at the time to see it. I always regretted chasing him away after that. I did drive by the house, a few weeks later, looking for him but I never saw him again after that. I heard through the grapevine that the dark witch moved away and had the house up for sale shortly after our encounter. I was happy she was gone but I felt I let a lot of animals down by not doing something more for them. Did I encounter a dark witch or shapeshifter and was the big, black dog a skinwalker or was he just an animal that was a trapped soul? He was too intelligent just to be a big dog but then I have had one in a million dogs that were wise old souls. You be the judge here.

The skinwalker is obviously the most intrusive symbol in cult history. It has always been a mysterious and confusing figure in folklore or movies because the interpretation or definition regarding a skinwalker always seems a bit muddy. My view is that a dark witch is behind the scenes in some form or fashion, controlling a compromised or deceived, soul. Once the dark witch gains the upper hand, they can place their captive in the forefront of hostilities, hence creating the skinwalker. I don’t think the skinwalker is out by him or herself scaring the crap out of people. I think they are directed and controlled by a menacing force that uses them for personal vendettas and feuds. They have a contract that binds them through misfortune, misdeed or sacrifice. It’s a distinctive and detailed record kept in the bowels of the dark and decrepit shadows that waits for the ill-fated signature in blood, so that it can eternally envelop a soul and control it.

Here in lies the human quandary; it’s the undeniable appeal for power and conquest. Most of the people attracted to the dark realm, would rather be in control then be controlled. I doubt there are many who would by personal choice, choose to be subservient to someone else. If this is the case there is usually some coercion by some reticent malevolent ego, hidden from the mainstream populace. The shadows can keep secrets hidden ceaselessly and the unquestionable desires can hold their breath, waiting for those unsuspecting victims of circumstances.

The skinwalker is in some ways symbolic of their own delusional respite. It’s in their nature to think that some day they can walk away from their circumstances by self effacing and acquiescing to another’s will. The darkness doesn’t come without consequences, so once a person plays with fire, they become apart of the fervor that intensifies its malevolence.

I think that there are trapped souls like the birds and large black dog that are prisoners of black magic. I think there are dark witches who have their own agenda and vendettas, thus becoming physically twisted, distorted and perverted. They become what they put out and it eventually shows in their appearance. Shapeshifters can be either dark or light in intention and with the added gift of being a Medicine Man or Woman; they can heal people and speak with nature in her language, one that she shares intimately with them. If darkness is apart of the equation then, the shadows speak louder and the night sky cloaks ominous deeds. This does not mean that nature speaks to a dark witch who can shapeshift; the dark witch can project two images, one that is the illusion of intention, and the other which is their true objective. The skinwalker is the inevitable consequence of ill-fated circumstances, the dark and depraved outcome based on someone else’s nemesis or foes. It’s not so much that I don’t think that a skinwalker can’t be a skinwalker because they want to be or intend to be, it’s that their insanity comes from the constant push and pull of obscure sentiments and commands. They just don’t seem to do what they do by conviction alone.

Native American families who generationally have both the dark and the light counterparts understand that peace comes from the grey area in the middle. It’s not the most conventional place to be but one that at least both sides can exist on. With this being said, I have come to understand that if I seek out a dark witch, shapeshifter or skinwalker, they will willingly accept my invitation. I understand they are out there, and because of my Medicine path, I respect the dark but I am where the light resides by choice. Since the light and dark aspects of humans and nature are on opposite sides of the same coin, I have made sure I know both sides and respect my boundaries. It comes down to this, in order to appreciate the light, we must understand the dark.

“A Native American elder once described his own inner struggles in this manner: Inside of me there are two dogs. One of the dogs is mean and evil. The other dog is good. The mean dog fights the good dog all the time. When asked which dog wins, he reflected for a moment and replied, the one I feed the most.”

George Bernard Shaw