Dugway — a place far away but in Utah – Is it all True Series #421

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This week will be a brief post. Here are a few more photos from our Dugway trip from last year and earlier this year.

I do believe that there are more energy beings coming to the planet.
Utah is definitely different than New Mexico. The Plasma Photon vehicles seem to be attracted to this area. The years we were in NM, I didn’t notice them and they didn’t come out in photographs that Michael or I took.

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There is also something else … I saw what appeared to be like a 10 foot wave of energy that gently came towards me, washing over me. I felt it a few weeks ago and noticed that things started changing, blocks opened up and stagnant energy around me not only started to flow, it became a raging river flooding my senses.

Be on the lookout for changes because they are coming in all shapes and sizes, personal, public, natural and man-made.

 

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Raven, Rainbow's Animal Totem Is it all True Series # 404


Years ago around 2009, I was able to do a photo-shoot with wolves at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, New Mexico. Pretty much, I would have to say, there was one wolf in particular who in actuality, picked me as a friend from the moment I met him.

Raven, a pure black-phased timber wolf, came into my life a year earlier at the State Fairgrounds in Albuquerque. Leyton Cougar who is the director of the sanctuary was lecturing about wolves and Raven happened to be behind him in a circular enclosure. I walked up to get a better look at Raven and he jumped up and tried to give me a lick. Leyton said Raven chose me as a friend and from that moment on I felt an instant bond with a most magnificent animal.

I became friends with Leyton as time passed; eventually both Raven and Leyton came over to my home to visit. Raven loved to see what I was cooking up in the kitchen. I quickly found out anything left on the counter was fair game as far as Raven was concerned. A stick of butter was the first casualty of Raven’s appetite. After that, there were pieces of chicken found around the house, not eaten because Raven tried to bury them in the carpet but to no avail. The house smelt like chicken for quite awhile after Raven left.

Months later, I asked Leyton if he would allow me to do a photo-shoot for my dance portfolio with Raven. Luck shined on me that day because Leyton said yes. I have wonderful photos of the memorable photo-shoot day. Even though Raven has now gone to the happy hunting ground, I will always remember him as my animal totem, my friend and connection to what’s really important, being in the present and enjoying the unexpected day’s adventures.
Years ago around 2009, I was able to do a photo-shoot with wolves at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, New Mexico. Pretty much, I would have to say, there was one wolf in particular who in actuality, picked me as a friend from the moment I met him.

Raven, a pure black-phased timber wolf, came into my life a year earlier at the State Fairgrounds in Albuquerque. Leyton Cougar who is the director of the sanctuary was lecturing about wolves and Raven happened to be behind him in a circular enclosure. I walked up to get a better look at Raven and he jumped up and tried to give me a lick. Leyton said Raven chose me as a friend and from that moment on I felt an instant bond with a most magnificent animal.

I became friends with Leyton as time passed; eventually both Raven and Leyton came over to my home to visit. Raven loved to see what I was cooking up in the kitchen. I quickly found out anything left on the counter was fair game as far as Raven was concerned. A stick of butter was the first casualty of Raven’s appetite. After that, there were pieces of chicken found around the house, not eaten because Raven tried to bury them in the carpet but to no avail. The house smelt like chicken for quite awhile after Raven left.

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Months later, I asked Leyton if he would allow me to do a photo-shoot for my dance portfolio with Raven. Luck shined on me that day because Leyton said yes. I have wonderful photos of the memorable photo-shoot day. Even though Raven has now gone to the happy hunting ground, I will always remember him as my animal totem, my friend and connection to what’s really important, being in the present and enjoying the unexpected day’s adventures.

I also had photos taken with another wolf named Forest on the same day, who is now the Ambassador for the sanctuary, taking over the position from Raven. The gift of their companionship that day will always stay with me.
Think of your Animal Totem and the connection you have with them and mother earth. It’s the best way to feel one with nature and the earth.

I also had photos taken with another wolf named Forest on the same day, who is now the Ambassador for the sanctuary, taking over the position from Raven. The gift of their companionship that day will always stay with me.
Think of your Animal Totem and the connection you have with them and mother earth. It’s the best way to feel one with nature and the earth.

By RAINBOW

Photography by Michael L. Miller
mlmiller@9point.com

http://www.wildspiritwolfsanctuary.org

Who are the "Others?"- Is it all True Series #403

Michael and I were talking a couple of days ago about something that all experiencers, abductees, researchers and family members go through and that is trying to figure out who the “others” are. I was talking to him about who I thought they were but more importantly I mentioned that if you look carefully enough, you can get glimpses of who the “others” are by looking between the lines of documented and recorded testimony of the very people affected by them.

The “others” are vague and blurry but only because they don’t have the courage to show themselves directly in front of those they target. The “others” can have large hands especially to a child leading to the conclusion that those large hands belong to a full grown adult. The hands can also be very different from a humans; delicate, long and cold making the experiencer feel they are part of something unworldly, fictional yet real. The “others” have a smell to them, a kind of calling card that alarms the senses first, rousing the mind to full alert. There’s electricity in the air just before they arrive, you can smell either wires burning or a pungent odor of dampness combined with an electrical charge that fills the lungs making every breath unnatural and forced.

Humans masquerading in uniforms and boots, speaking in codes along with the clinking of metal are a human designed and operated form of the “others”. Compassion with this group, can be nonexistent or a brutal retaliation.

The “others” are known as bright lights in the sky, windows or bedrooms with telepathic messages that dull the senses enough so that a levitated body flows with ease. The memories become hidden messages forgotten by a manipulated mind. The “others” are nightmares and dreaded sunsets that seem to overwhelm agitated nerves.

The “others” smile with a cold reassurance that all will be okay, yet deep down within the soul the truth speaks differently. The “others” can be pure energy like a plasma photon vehicle or spheres that are shaped like orbs or shooting stars. They can go through thoughts and fears without so much a glance.

The “others” can be dark windowless eyes that are like an endless hallway into a dark void, empty and hostile. These eyes seem to capture the mind and cage it in frightening images of consequences.

And yes, the “others” can be smiling faces with genuine intentions that help us become better humans. It really just comes down to which of the “others” we encounter throughout our lives.

So tell us, what are the “others” to you?

Triggers and the Aftereffects– Is it all True Series #402

Out of the blue, triggers can sneak up on anybody. These are a few of my accounts where images and words literally debilitated my state of mind. One of the more alarming experiences that I can remember, happened around 2012.

My daughter asked me if I wanted to see a really good movie called, “Life of Pi”. I said sure and she went ahead and rented it for the evening. After dinner, we sat down and started watching the movie. After about 20 minutes or more into the movie, something snapped in me and I immediately jumped up and yelled at my daughter, “How dare you get this movie! You knew exactly what you were doing!”

I stomped off and my daughter was at a loss for words. She came into my bedroom and asked me what was wrong and I told her the movie was very upsetting for me and that I didn’t want to watch it. She was upset at me for yelling at her and I was just basically a frazzled mess. She left my bedroom and I tried to get some work done on my computer but to no avail.

That evening I cried for what seemed like hours and eventually fell asleep. The next morning, I felt like a freight train had run over me and my head felt like it was ten times larger than normal. My daughter felt responsible but I told her it had nothing to do with her; I apologized for my behavior and tried to make light of what happened. But I was depressed and totally out of it for a couple of weeks afterwards. To this day, I can’t even see images of that movie.

Another incident happened just recently with Michael. We were watching Utopia, a British TV series that was about mind control and vaccines. It was really good up until I saw a young infant around 1 or a little older with a bunny rabbit in front of him. I sensed what was going to happen and jumped up from my seat and went upstairs. After a bit I came back down and asked Michael if the bunny rabbit was harmed and he said yes. I told him, I couldn’t watch the show anymore because it reminded me of my childhood when I went to a Catholic school. A few of the adults used rabbits and kittens to get their point across that we should not tell our parents what they were doing with us. The military was connected and I think they were the ones scaring us but I have no proof.

My meltdowns seem to happen with animals either killing each other or getting hurt themselves.

This is one area that I may never find the answers to because I don’t think I have it in me to see what the memories are about. I think there are deeper areas here that I haven’t even touched. Some things I guess are just better left alone.

Giants Among Us — is it all True Series #401

In Utah there are place where Red- Headed ones are buried — unbeknown to me I was a few hundred feet from them as I was looking for Rock and Fossils. Here is a cool video about these Giants of Utah , for more info about my personal Utah Giant related experience — go to truthseekerhighway.com post titled “Dots Connected – sometimes it happens”

Proud of article posting

Just a quick not to all of you paranormal fans. Check out, Paranormal Underground magazine. My article, “The Collective Reality with Night Terrors and Scary Movies,” is in the February, 2017 issue as the guest editorial piece.

You will get the best in articles, information and insight besides finding out where the action is happening outside your neck of the woods.

Paranormal Underground is a digital magazine but they also print out hard-copies. So check out their website at:

http://www.paranormalunderground.net

I highly recommend subscribing to this fabulous magazine!

Thanks,

Rainbow

The Haunted Age of Memories and Voices Part 2 – Is it all true Series #400

Here are my thoughts on what I believe the two aspects of hearing voices are about.

“A haunted voice is just memories replaying through the doorways of the mind. There are no locks on the doors so walking through a residual thought is just like playing the reruns of a personal existence, whether it be your own or someone else’s.”

“The intelligent voice plays upon the secretive inclinations of the emotional state along with original thoughts, owned by each person. The intelligent voice takes words out of context and confuses the intent of sentences with alien concepts not original to the person in question.”

The difference between the haunted voice and that which is placed within the mind, is the intelligence behind it. A weak echo can’t answer anyone back but an intelligent voice can play havoc with the mind. Understanding these two concepts was vital in me healing from the fear of worrying about schizophrenia or mental illness. Our minds are more powerful than any one is willing to admit, especially those that prey on real or invented diagnosis to make a buck.

Let’s look at what really happens when an intelligent voice occurs.

One day I was sitting at my desk getting ready to write some choreography text for students. All of a sudden out of the blue and literally in my head, I heard a man and woman converse over what they were going to say to me. I think they forgot somehow that the switch was turned ON and I could hear everything they were saying to each other. I looked at my speakers and thought, “Are they on”? I checked and they weren’t. I looked at my computer to see if I was on the internet without knowing it but I wasn’t. I had actually just sat down to work and hadn’t been on the computer for hours. But the really weird thing was, they were in my head, not outside of me. It was like I had speakers in my head.

It was the one and only time I can remember this kind of thing happening and I laughed outloud, telling them that I didn’t have time for their BS and that I had work to do. Even though I could still hear them, (and yes, they heard me because I heard them become baffled as to the fact that I could hear them,) I focused on what I love to do which is create choreography and their voices literally became whispers and finally within about 10 minutes, they were gone. All that I had in my mind was my creative thoughts. I learned that day that focusing on something else was a great way to dispel the voices. They can’t compete with how our brains function to our own commands. I also rerouted my attention to right and left brain choreography because I work with both sides of the body continuously so creating moves, counting out combinations and steps, outmatched their voices. It didn’t occur to me to be afraid, I was more annoyed at the fact they invaded my body and mind which to me was a total violation of privacy.

Intelligent voice

Spirits, Entities, Unknown Beings or Cryptids talk to me but when they speak, they speak more so at me even though it’s in my head. Sometimes I have heard them in the room with me but most of the time, they will speak directly to my mind. This kind of intelligent voice can feel strange at first but it can be blocked which makes it less invasive. I think as an Empath, the green light is always on for chance communication. We are like a beacon, open day or night, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Since I’ve learned to live with this from childhood, I don’t mind asking if communication can happen another day if I don’t want to engage in a conversation at that moment. Also, I’ll block what I don’t want to deal with especially if it’s someone or something I feel is dangerous. Believe me when I say, sometimes with what’s literally out there, I want to be able to block undesirable company .

Adding to the intelligent voice phenomenon, it’s important to know that sometimes entities or deities will wonder within the mind to see what lies hidden, what is feared and what as mortals is our Achilles heel. It’s important to know that whatever information they find is only as important as we make it.

The Voice of Self

There is one aspect to being human that I think is amazing, a true gift that we have at our fingertips which is the knowledge of the innerself. We have thousands upon thousands of years at our fingertips and all we have to do is listen to our gut, our God Connection. A majority of our lives is like living in the dark ages because we live without ever knowing we have this inner source of wealth and knowledge. Mass media, entertainment, politics, and I must include religion here, all want to mediate for us, only allowing a minute amount of information out, literally a drop at a time. We are already created with the ability to access whatever we need, we only need to believe in this and know that our questions are already answered many times over if only we listen to our inner voice, hearing the whisper of the Universe and Gods infinite wisdom.

Rainbow

The Haunted Age of Memories and Voices – Is it all True Series #399

Part 1.
A while back I talked to my oldest sister about our upbringing growing up in a conservative household. We both realized that there were some things about our childhood that we had never talked about. I guess this is common in many families for various reasons. Scary things can be hidden and placed on the back burner of life especially when youth and independence is pushing itself past the doors of authority. We wanted to leave Albuquerque as soon as we could but it never occurred to us until our later years to look at why this was so.

Our recollections of the Catholic elementary school we went to with our middle sister are basically the same; lost time, blocked memories, fear and a constant anxiety on a daily basis. My memories of the halls of this particular school seem to fade into an elongated tunnel that usually gets darker each step I take. It appears that my memory confuses the underground tunnels of the local military base with the school because at this time I was bused out on a weekly basis. The memories blur together sometimes and pulling them apart is like pulling apart superglue.

We have realized that the Catholic school we went to hid unmentionables from our parents and one such memory comes to mind. I can remember being in the principal’s office with my mother. My mother scolded the principal for lacking in the ability to hire good teachers because as a little first grader I was not doing well, basically I couldn’t read. The principal told my mother that I was retarded (yes, really) and that it wasn’t their fault I couldn’t read. Little did my mother know that much more was going on and there was a reason why I couldn’t read.
As my mother talked in a very high pitched tone, the principal was looking me square in the eyes, cold as ever reminding me to keep my mouth shut. After all, the very parent they threatened me they would hurt if I talked, was my mother. Eyes cast down, I knew I was just like the trapped animals they hurt to remind me to be quiet. Even though my parents felt they kept us safe, they didn’t understand how underhanded and malevolent the principal was and the people who took me out of school at various times to the underground bases. It seems to be part of the program to keep the surface of perceived expectations infallible for parents so that the modus operandi can continue without fail.

Memories of blue busses and mountain entrances along with the anxious chatter of several children talking all at once, has stayed with me all these years. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all implanted memory or if it really did happen. As an adult, I have found some areas of Albuquerque have a dark and haunted energy to them. My memories have guided me to these areas and thanks to my visual recollections; they corroborate specific locations to profound and surprising detail. Maybe I am the one more haunted than the locations, how can it be any different.

Physical implications with living in a young experiencers bubble can come in all manifestations. There’s was nothing more embarrassing than the moments I wet my pants because my body would react out of fear from some unseen memory or monster. It could be at any time or place, on weekends or family outings. Instinctively, I remembered the locations of interactions or abductions and my body just reacted from those memories. I felt ashamed and remember to this day, at certain places, kids around me, laughing at me and my sisters walking me to the bathroom. I grew up baffled as to why certain locations would scare me so but I realized that Albuquerque was only culpable because I lived there .

As a child, if I woke up with strange looking pink fluid coming out of my private parts and on my underwear, I would throw them away, too embarrassed to even show my mom. As an adult the few times I have awoke with the pink fluid coming out of me, I instinctively hid it from anyone, again too embarrassed to say anything. To this day, I still don’t talk about it much.

The déjà-vu replays itself over and over again whenever I go back home to visit. Looking at each memory, it’s no wonder as an adult I replay the emotions over and over again. I have come to the conclusion that emotions heal at a different pace than that of the mind or body. Perhaps one day, when they are all on the same page I’ll go back home and the moment will be just that, a moment in time with nothing connected to it.

Religious Visions of an Elusive Elucidation- Is it all true Series #398

Slowly, I wake up some mornings, feeling groggy, almost as if I never went to sleep. Where did I go in my dreams and why this time, can’t I remember anything? It’s either a slice of bursting detailed memories surging into my morning rouse or forgetful bits and pieces of blurry images and shadows that disappear before my eyes slowly open. Did I fail the task of bringing the images with me … again? I often wonder why my body aches with a knowing recollection yet my mind is a blank, confused mess.

Years ago when I was at the tender age of impressions and influence, two worlds that enveloped my perception of reality, seemed to collide in the dark and ambiguous night. Night is the cover of secrets, the unmitigated silence of whispering truths. The truth we all seek comes out at night, revealing its secrets in the shadows, yet it disguises itself before day break, fading into the sun’s luminous glow. Visions and dreams of the night before, merge into daily activities that seem to be of no consequence. It feels as if the encumbering night’s efforts are lost without hope and eventually forgotten by day’s end.

Religion plays a huge part in dream analogies because the faithful find it easier to follow indoctrinated assessments or answers already in-place, called tenet interpretations. Does the experiencer become a fantasist or a casualty of long ago foes fighting and playing out the legendary testaments between realms? Looking back as a child, I always felt that placing such impressions upon me was a particularly cruel and callous to a point, ultimately making my dream-state, a hellish nightmare. As the survivor of childhood visions and dreams, it often times felt as if Heaven and Hell were so preoccupied within their contentious clashes, that they developed into insensitive adversaries to the very souls for which they both wager such a high price for.

Even now, I occasionally find myself in the middle of warring adversaries, colliding into my dreams, giving me visions of an unbreakable and timeless rivalry. Unmistakably, I’m the link that binds them together as all souls are with unmitigated resilience and unintentional fortitude.

To remember or not to remember, which is worse?

We want to know what we can’t remember, and yet, there is a part of us that resists the truth, closing the door to elucidating memories that would unlock the all encompassing abysmal dread of the verity of knowing. Once we understand the signs, meanings and messages of dreams, we can no longer pretend that normalcy in real life can carry on. There’s always a responsibility to knowing the truth.

What can the truth be to a child experiencing religious visions or dreams? My memories from those unremitting and diverse shadows, swirling with hued colors in and out of my vision, resulted in me always feeling like I was spiraling out of control. I would spin like a top and the pit of my stomach would tighten up in knots, hands and legs flailing in the wind. The speed of my downfall would be lightning fast but the images below me always stayed distorted, small and the same. Something would catch me and then another image vague, barely visible with a finger-painting smudge and blurry outline, would explode into my subconscious, grabbing at me, manipulating my senses lifeless and inert. Within seconds, my slumber would be awakened by the sounds of wings fluttering and thrashing upon an imperceptible semblance of a humanoid image, bringing me back from my desolate and extreme despondency. The smell and closeness of fluttering wings would flood my senses with an aphrodisiac kind of ethereal delight. It was as if the air surging into my lungs allowed me to breathe in the essence of heavenly fragrances and scents from whence all things began, the timeless, archaic and rapturous breath of God.

These days, I routinely wake up with my heart pounding, confused at first as to where I am. Vague recollections emerge flickering here and there out of my drowsy slumber. Each time, these dreams or memories never manifest into complete and detailed recollections. My mind’s eye is a blank canvas, yet my aches and pains seemingly steadfast and resolute, appear to be my only reprove of my arduous tribulations. Sometimes the images or memories place themselves within my emotions, reminding my tangled mind that something did take place. This is all that I am left with. It never feels like enough. I imagine it to be like waking up at the end of a movie. The plot always seems to elude me so the ending makes no sense.

So why as a child did I scream out if the visions were symbolic of religious images that comforted me during the day? Interestingly enough, these religious images played a huge part into my already paranoid phobias because they secretly came to life in the quiet of my room but only when I was alone, waiting with an angst-ridden dread laying in bed. Why were the religious icons scarier than the all consuming night? Can it be that the malevolent darkness likes to play upon the very images that represent the envisaged sanctity of the faithful?

How do religious dreams impact our daily lives? I have always felt unworthy, perhaps hoping that through my vigilant belief that what I was a part of, would become the immeasurable and intrinsic elucidation of a remedial existence, connecting it to my own. If I am more faithful, with more conviction in my devotion, would the images unfold within my mind’s eye so that I could paint the vivid memories that have eluded me for so many years?

As a child and young adult, I felt as if my soul was stretched, molded and hung out to dry countless times only to be placed back into my body by mornings onset. My body became foreign at curtain moments, showing on my face most of all. As I looked in the mirror, my image would scare me at times because I didn’t look like me and I thought I was possessed. Sometimes the pain of a child isn’t felt in the body but more so in a place that becomes a sanctuary of inviolability, known as the resting place for the soul. When the soul unites with the body, it flies unwavering with the power of Heaven’s tempest winds, awakening the heart and mind. I am told this blessed place is inside the body but my experience has been, it is just outside the third eye, our beacon of illumination.

The religious visions and dreams stayed within my youthful naiveté because the impact was so relentless and incessant. Because of this, the observer, I call my empathic mind, to this day, impulsively complicates my desire for the truth. It manipulates the adult in me, requesting I hide away the slightest prospect of recovered images, preferring the convenience of self deception. Maybe I don’t want to remember the archaic discrepancies of the interminable light and dark encounters. It is obvious, that the blurry memories are smudged by my own fingerprint.

Today I am constantly reminded of the enmity between both sides. Such hazy images make me feel like a leaf caught between the convergent and divergent front lines of timeless antediluvian adversaries. In the end, what I do know is with each vision and dream; what element of life I am living in, is minuscule in comparison to the broad and limitless horizons of the immeasurable infinitude.

I often wonder why my flesh and blood has become my Achilles heel. If only my heart could open and unfold wings, then perhaps the contention of the diabolical beings could glimpse that my soul is more to the likeness of God than my body. My Seraphic mentors know this but they carry a heavy burden of responsibility by defending my flesh and blood image.

Obviously, my religious visions are derelict of elucidation for many reasons. Those immortals that wish to vanquish my place within the scheme of things only add to the long standing spiritual quandary. I do know that as I rouse in the morning light, those antiquated beings of a perpetual existence need not worry about me being a mere mortal here on earth. At day’s end, I am just the progeny of the Divine Source figuring out my place in the scheme of things just like everybody else. As the dreams and visions continue, hopefully one day soon, I’ll have the courage to remember what has been constantly elusive. It is my hope to one day; paint the archaic images in their perspective roles, fighting the eternal fight, recounting my excursions with my biblical mentors and their convoluted foes of antiquity

By Rainbow