November 29, 2010:  Waking with strange “Taser” mark on my forearm

Saturday morning, I woke for the first and only time in my life to find myself lying in cold, wet sheets.  I had completely lost control of my bladder, and felt as though I’d been lying there cold for hours.  I felt terrible and had a hard time rolling out of bed.

The phrase “as if hit by a truck” came to mind.   I thought, “Flu?” but it seemed different and far worse than that – even frightening in some soul-sense, which I could not understand.

All day I kept thinking, “I want to vomit, but not from my stomach.”  It seemed that “my soul wanted to vomit,” for what reason I couldn’t fathom.

I struggled to take care of a few priorities, but didn’t shower that day, and since I was wearing long underwear, I never saw my arm.

I also kept thinking I should go in my room and cry, but it made me afraid and I avoided that.

I’d been happy the previous days and had no reason then for feeling bad; I have no alcohol or other debilitating habits; and I did not become physically ill after this.

The next morning when I undressed to shower, I discovered a strange mark on my arm, which seemed surprisingly like a Taser burn – it was a darkened oval with two small red dots perfectly spaced inside.

In the shower, a bit of skin slid off, leaving a perfect equilateral triangle of exposed bloody under-skin covering where one of the dots had been.  Immediately afterward, I took the photo above.  I assume the triangle (so shaped for what reason I don’t know) is a third-degree burn from one of the Taser prongs.

Later that day, I attended an “Eden Energy workshop” (a healing practice, using simple physical motions), hoping it would calm me down, but I felt unable to break through my extreme anxiety, couldn’t wait to leave, and felt guilty for having brought my anxiety into their space.

At home, I sat to write in my journal.  As soon as the words “I think something was done to me in the night” were on the page, all my sickness disappeared, as though my subconscious was now satisfied, but my profound anxiety only turned to deep sadness and fear.

I was very busy finishing up a semester teaching English at the university, so I didn’t take another photo until Thursday, December 2.

Interestingly, the oval could then be faintly seen.  It was slightly darker than the surrounding skin, and the skin appeared crisp.  I also saw a large triangle in the design, but am not sure how much of that is my natural pigmentation.

On Sunday, one week after the discovery, and 8 days after the presumed Tasering, the oval suddenly became perfectly clear as a pink area of new skin.

Monday (nine days after the event), I took a close-up, which shows the slowly-healing triangle surrounded by an oval of scar tissue.  The dot may be a freckle or possibly part of the wound.

In January 2011, five weeks and two days after the event, the skin has obviously been scarred, with the discoloration appearing as two, almost-overlapping spots.

On New Year’s Eve, 2010, I came home after having been gone for 3 1/2 hours to discover hot water in my kitchen faucet – telling me that someone had been in my home very recently. (Two mornings later, I finally looked to see footsteps, appearing days old, in the snow heading back behind my house – a very hazardous route, up a hill cut, not one taken by anyone by choice.)

The hot water discovery triggered a memory of a few days earlier when I’d found something else moved in my home: a garden sprayer had been moved from a shelf by the door to the space between the back door and screen door – very strange.

I didn’t do it.  So, who was in the house, and why would they do that?  Just to let me know they’d been there, for the purpose of frightening me?

February 8, 2011:  Waking with “Scoop Marks” on my finger

I woke up in the morning with two holes in the skin of my right index finger, just below the knuckle.

They were fairly deep, but didn’t hurt, just itched a bit.

I have a very low tolerance for pain and could never have ignored it if I’d done it by accident. (I can’t ignore a rough fingernail.)

I also realized I had discomfort alongside my clitoral shaft – about one inch high inside – where I had no idea anything could go!

I felt as if someone had pushed some tool up inside me, and wondered what would be the purpose of an implant up there?  Research?  Control?

I try hard not to put negative spins on things, but this blew my mind.

I wanted it out, but who could I ask?  No one would believe me.

Besides, I’ve heard they’ve developed implants of bio-identical materials, so they can’t even be seen by X-ray or MRI.

I’d just had a friend suggest I purchase portable door locks for all my doors, and I’d done that and put them on my doors for the first time two nights earlier.

I checked them and discovered that the front door lock was broken.

I’d had a feeling it was useless when I’d spent the money.  Now I knew.

I no longer lock my doors thinking I’m keeping anybody out.

Instead, I leave little tricks for them, blessings, messages to come over to This Side, to help bring the ugly system down from within.  I cast a blessing upon everyone who enters the house while I’m gone.

July 9, 2010:  Waking with bruise beside my eye

I woke to find this purple bruise next to my eye. It didn’t hurt, was just surprising to have no memory of anything that would have caused such a discoloration.

February ?, 201o:  Painful, perfect-circle bruise left while wide awake

I was sitting on the sofa, talking to a friend on the phone when suddenly I yelled – loudly.

I’d been hit with a terrific pain in my leg that made me think I had a “charlie horse,” though I’ve had vey few.  I grabbed my leg to fend off the next spasm, but there was none.

It was, instead, exquisitely tender to the touch, and my heart raced at having been hurt so badly, so swiftly, and so mysteriously.

I held my hand over the spot on my leg and exclaimed to my friend a little about what had happened.

It was wintertime, and I was bundled in clothes to save money, and I continued with my phone conversation, hand over my wound, sending it healing thoughts.

I never though to look at it – I suspect because I have been programmed to ignore anomalies.

I was aware there was an entire conspiracy group devoted to the lore on secret laser weapons, but I’d never read anything about them.  Still, I thought I might have been shot by one of their beams.

It seemed sorta meaningless, so I decided it was someone’s experiment, and my name had been chosen randomly.  “Yep!  She received it.”  “Over and out.”

People have suggested that I was bit by a spider or a rattlesnake.  [Sheesh – and that was either a friend, or a disinfo agent standing in for him.]  I was dressed, and indoors.  And the bruise didn’t look like anything caused by either of those.  There was never anything like a sting mark or bite.

I assume that, because I’ve been mind controlled to not pay attention to things, I never looked at the back of my calf for a couple of weeks!

(Actually, I’m not sure how much time went by.  It could have been a week or three.  If I don’t write things down, I can only make guesses.)

When I finally did look, I felt certain that it had been a beam of some sort, because the bruise was a perfect circle, 2 1/4 inches in diameter.  Strangely (except when you remember the power of mind control), I didn’t take a photograph, just walked around for days pondering the apparent truth that I’d been hit by a beam.  It blew my mind.  Again.

A week or so later, I showed a friend the bruise beginning to fade, and she pointed out that the muscle tissue seemed to be sunken a bit beneath the C-shaped bruise.  “Necrotized,” she said.

I went home and finally took a photograph.  I’m guessing it was about three weeks after the blast.

End of January 2010, I had a bizarre experience of altered consciousness while driving on Highway 90 in the mountains between Lordsburg and home, at night.  I don’t have any photos, but I sure told a few friends about this afterward.

While climbing toward the Continental Divide, I suddenly felt very different – like my hair standing on end or entering another dimension.

I had seen something like a star streak across the sky earlier in the evening during a very intense rain storm.  I’d noticed that it went very fast, didn’t seem to be falling like a meteor, and was probably brighter than any natural object in the sky that night – especially to be seen during a rain storm.

I’d thought, A UFO? then tried to talk myself out of it.

I used to think they’d be fun to see, but a strong sense of aversion was making me begin to panic.

Then I saw a red light in the foothills where I’d never seen one before, and I tried to remember the shape of the hills I couldn’t see in the darkness and whether I thought a rancher truck would be where I was seeing this.

I scolded myself for thinking it might be a UFO – which I was approaching.  The light seemed off to the side, but in winding hills at night, who knew?

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that “something’s going to happen.”  The air all around me seemed different, buzzing slightly.

“Damn… damn…,” I thought, not wanting to experience another story no one wants to hear… but I felt it coming.

Then I tried to get practical.  I determined to remain conscious and as calm as I could be, and to know the time and milepost numbers at all times.

Suddenly I was surrounded by a strange fog that had no texture, no waves of denser fog and lighter fog – just solid, homogenous fog, with no motion.

I could only see a half a highway center line at a time, so I had slowed down extremely.

Suddenly, the truck’s engine didn’t match the view I saw out my windshield.  Something was either too fast or too slow.  Something was very weird about reality.

I began to check my perceptions frantically, repeatedly: the gearshift is in second, the engine sounds like the truck is racing, the time is [whatever – I don’t remember, despite my intensions], the milepost number is [ditto]….

Things were weird.  Things were not making sense.  I am going to remember!  I am going to remember!

Next thing I knew, I was watching the Continental Divide sign on the side of the road approach – I knew it was the Continental Divide sign, and I knew it would prove to me that something very weird was happening – Yes, there it was, coming up from below.  The top of the range was below me.

Oh shit.  How could this be?  Quietly inside, I felt like screaming.

I drove home, focused on nothing but this:   to note the time and know whether or not I’d had “missing time.”  [Strangely, I didn’t look at the clock on the dash, which indicates further that I was not properly functioning mentally.]

At home, I stood staring at the kitchen clock with bemusement, thinking, Huh….  Everything’s normal…., and then went to bed.

The next day, I couldn’t remember what time I’d seen on the clock and didn’t know why I’d concluded that anything was normal – when the Continental Divide sign had been below me.

May 2011, I woke to find a large bruise on my left hip with no explanation.  One of many, many events like that.

Childhood?  Later?  When?

I don’t know when this was done, but I discovered it when a photographer boyfriend agreed to photograph my insides, so I could discover what was the source of the discomfort I sometimes feel.

F*kers.  

Put a positive spin on that.

Okay, here’s my positive spin, the best I can do:  Let’s bring this out in the open.  

We need to stop this.  

And this:  Waking up to the reality of things we do not acknowledge can only be good, more aware, more able to perceive reality and survive.