Tag Archives: targeted individuals

Pleiadian Starseed?

I’ve never used that phrase before, but I’m feeling more confident that it fits. (I welcome your responses.)

I just watched a few videos on Gaia TV, interviews with Sebastian Martin that inspired me to write my memories of my connections to the Pleiades, in context with other important aspects of my spiritual life on planet Earth. While my life experience has been quite different from what he describes, it seems they both fit into a coherent overall design.

In November 1999, I had a sudden and shocking remembrance of leaving my home in the Pleiades. I felt like a young adult, only very well educated, going on a mission with fellow Pleiadeans, watching the star cluster recede from a rear window, wondering what it would be like to be gone for a very long time. I experienced no Earthly emotions.

We joined a convention of other races in space concerned about things happening on Earth, also concerned because one faction thought the Earth should be destroyed to protect the larger cosmos, while we were in a group agreeing we couldn’t decide whether or how to intervene at all until we had more information.

A group of us volunteered to incarnate here to gather that info. And, while we’re here, if we thought Earth was worth saving, we’d try to introduce positive ideas into the social consciousness.

I did not know what I was getting into when I agreed to be born into the heart of mind control. The first time I was tortured, about one day old, I left my body, looked down briefly at the room, then shot up over the clouds to call out to my colleagues, whom I assumed had witnessed my experience because it was so intense and we were still very psychically connected. I assumed they would agree with me that we should all leave, because we had agreed to stay together or leave together, and this was far worse than any of us had expected Earth life would be.

But my colleagues said the families they were born into were worth staying for, and they assured me they believed that was true for most of the planet’s inhabitants.

I was momentarily stunned at their majority opinion, but our colleagues who did not incarnate were also psychically connected and agreed to provide me extra support, which I accepted, though with grave trepidation.

For some years, I left my body a lot to visit with colleagues on other dimensions, until one day they told me I needed to slow down the frequency. They somehow closed the portal I had been using, and I got used to simply waiting for them to open it again. I sometimes tried to will it to open, but never could.

I was always extremely happy when the portal appeared above me in bed, then I would suddenly plop back into bed, with no memories of what had occurred, but with deep gratitude, confidence and assurance that everything was going to be okay, and I knew I was cared for.

One day, when I was still fairly young, I landed back in bed with a new feeling of huge disappointment. They had told me I had to be patient for an even longer time now, but they would be watching and helping me always, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to them for a very long time. And it would even be best if I would forget about them in my Earthly personality. And eventually I did.

Through the rest of my childhood and into my 30s, I had no particular beliefs about the other realms. In my 30s, I met environmentalist pagans and was invited to their ceremonies in the forest, but I tip-toed away, not sure what I believed.

Years later, I found myself saying that if something we call Spirit existed, It would let me know. And soon I had a healing involving trees talking to me, encouraging me to hug one of them, and then an incredible frequency of energy pouring down through me that I described as feeling as though I’d had a radio inside me tuned to static all my life, and suddenly, with the cascade of energy, the static had been turned off. I would never be the same again.

When my son got cancer (later healed), and I realized I had to divorce my abusive second husband (whom I did not know then was my mind control handler), I had a nervous breakdown (highly recommended), and had my first realizations that I had been sexually abused as a child.

The next year I realized I was a “multiple personality,” and moved out to the desert to build a small strawbale home off grid. There, I began to have years of experiences others called shamanic perception.

All those previous years of wondering if something called Spirit existed, I had refused to read “spiritual” books. I did not want anyone else’s ideas to frame my experiences and possibly distort them. And I was flatly disinterested in the subject of aliens.

One weekend, I joined environmentalist friends camping in the desert, where one man insisted I look at the Pleiades through his binoculars. I was talking to someone else and didn’t want to look at little sparkly things in the sky. He insisted further, and with much irritation, I looked.

To my absolute astonishment I was shocked to feel powerful sensations of home and longing that made me want to cry. I couldn’t hold back and blurted out that I thought I was from there, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth in embarrassment. I had been programmed by our culture to make fun of people who believed in things like this. I continued confused and silent about the experience for years.

As Y2K approached, I became concerned that I wanted to be a more careful documentarian about my strange experiences, so I decided to change my journaling style into something closer to a science journal.

Instead of bemoaning my distressing situation of being a victim of sexual abuse, divorced from abusive men, alone and confused, with weird things continuously happening that seemed too much for one person’s life, I decided to simply document precisely what I had experienced, separate from what I assumed it meant, and separate from my emotions. Sometimes I would write about unusual experiences with animals. And I would write about this new category of spiritual events, where the 3-D world would suddenly be shot through with the revelation of other dimensions and beings – and aliens and spaceships.

Today I have three large boxes of journals, which I’ve summarized into a database with over 1,100 lines describing events that do not fit in “normal life” as described by most people.

One day, I finally went to the library and brought home the maximum number of books allowed, all about aliens and the supernatural, and finally began to read what others have experienced.

Powerful experiences came upon me unbidden in the coming years, with spirit animals, natural animals, angels, Jesus, Isis, orbs, UFOs, angels, demons, “aliens,” and people I assume were government agents. It seemed too much to share with anyone.

It would be years before I recognized I probably had this ability to perceive and interact with other dimensions because I had become familiar with other realms by regularly leaving my body during childhood abuse.

One morning I woke with a surgical incision on my neck that seemed to have been done with technology beyond anything I thought humans had, and it reminded me of a scene in Star Wars when Luke Skywalker was beautifully healed in a machine. I took a photograph of the scar, unfortunately lost. Five years later a nurse practitioner noticed my faint scar, and asked when I’d had my thyroid surgery.

Eight years after realizing I was a multiple personality (high functioning, nothing dramatic), I would realize I was also a mind control subject.

It shook my world, and I wrestled every day with my life purpose, wondering whether it would be better to not be alive, so as not to be an asset to those government people abusing other people like me.

By happenstance, I reconnected with an environmentalist-pagan acquaintance, who came to live with me, and help me believe I had a purpose in staying alive.

When we were deciding whether or not he would come live with me, multiple signs delighted us, including us waking throughout the night in our camp and me repeatedly seeing the Pleiades over his head as we moved and the stars moved.

Over the years, I came to realize this man, as much as he had helped me and I had helped him, was continuously distracting me from my spiritual and meditative life, so I wondered whether he was yet another handler, and I asked him to leave, and he did.

He had also impacted my spending, I was in debt, and it suddenly seemed someone was actively sabotaging my efforts to find local work. Besides that, I was feeling like a sitting duck for alien and government harassment, so I sold my home and fled (as if I could escape them).

The alien beings I had experienced in that home had included small grays coming through my window;a tall one who immobilized me in my bed; ones I don’t remember seeing but who took me up in a beam and moved me through portals; others I also didn’t see but who took me and my partner up into a huge triangle ship, returning us amnesic for what had happened: and one Draco who immobilized me then made me unconscious with some tool put to the back of my head.

I had also been stopped on the highway, lost two hours of time, and had something implanted in my vagina. Once, with two guests visiting my partner and I, we witnessed a UFO shot down fairly nearby and later listened to the reconnaissance mission as it passed by on the highway and back. (My home was not too distant from Fort Huachuca, a major Air Force intelligence base. Later I would have two friends from different social circles each tell me their shocking experiences with Dracos at that base – both of them unbelievers until their experiences, like me.)

I had no context for understanding these experiences, and was afraid to tell anyone. As a child, after I had complained about my nighttime treatment, I had been continuously called a liar by my mother, so I was always careful to tell the precise truth and now was afraid to tell a truth that no one would believe.

However, when I read Whitley Strieber’s book Secret School, about being in some sort of training on another dimension and I kept finding myself going into altered states while reading, I decided to write him. After a year he wrote me back with an odd and emotional account about having intended to contact me immediately, but some sort of mind control seemed to be stopping him. Soon after, I was interviewed by him and Jim Marrs (but I asked them both not to air our interviews as I felt too embarrassed by my disclosures).

I had met and worked with a European shaman and esteemed consciousness researcher, Ralph Metzner, who encouraged me to write a book about my experiences, and offered to write the Foreword, so I did, and he did. (My book was well praised, but has been “shadow banned” on Amazon, and all the reviews of my book have disappeared. A video about my book went viral briefly, then the numbers began running backward, and it too seems to now be also shadow banned.

A local Native shaman I had never met, but seemed to have heard about me, visited me with his wife and offered himself as a teacher by way of a gift of a white eagle tail feather. But my mind control seemed to freeze me so that I could not say a word, and he and his wife eventually drove away. I was left with the conviction I still hold that I missed an opportunity of a lifetime.

After I sold my home and had money, I would attend consciousness conferences for years and be surprised to have Native people approach me and tell me things I had been wondering for years and needed to know. I eventually became aware that many Native tribes claim to have come from the Pleiades.

In one event a group of Native women seemed delighted to see some other-dimensional beings traveling with me over my head as I made my way down a wide, crowded hallway.

In my mundane life, I occasionally experienced a Native woman from another dimension drop into me (or emerge from me?) and simply experience my life on that land I had a short while, and I understood this was their former land for harvesting acorns each year, and they just wanted to experience it again.

At one consciousness conference, I seemed to have been also recognized by people involved in mind control. They never initiated contact, but when we passed in a hallway, they stared briefly, looked away nervously, and I could psychically hear their mental wrestling with how to act as if they didn’t know and hadn’t recognized me.

In September 2009, I had a vision of a translucent egg-shaped ship approaching Earth, just letting me know it was nearby and wanting me to know that. Soon, a number of other women around the world were sharing their psychic vision of a massive UFO that would come to Earth and everyone would see it for three whole days, and I wondered if we had shared the same vision, but I did not have the convictions they had, so I kept quiet, thinking this coincidence was probably not meaningful. Either I was only getting part of the message, or they were assuming too much, or it was purely a coincidence, as nothing like that happened. So I held this vision in a place of wonder ever since.

Soon, it seems someone wanted to punish me for my book and video, as I seemed to have been put on a list for a variety of punishments in the form of government experiments, especially in frequency weapons. I experienced buzzing, tones that woke me up, tones that put me to sleep, tones that heralded an audiovisual experience beamed into my head, movies played in my head, movies played upside down, movies played double time, and movies played one on top of another, all short, no more than 10 seconds long – all of which I knew were induced and not generated by me.

Sometimes I woke up with taser burns, biopsy scoop marks, strange bruises, joints out of place, and eventually an inoculation with Lyme Disease – an event from which I came back to consciousness earlier than the doctors expected, and I heard one man tell another that whatever they were doing to me would kill me slowly. This latter memory was only triggered when I stood up and felt the rough memory of the inoculation in my body.

I soon became disabled, for many days at a time, quit my job, took early Social Security, sold yet another home, and moved into an old RV for five years, camping in Nature.

As a nomad, I realized I was still being targeted with various experiments and harassments wherever I went.

Nevertheless, living in Nature, on Social Security, I had time to think about my life, and remember the positive parts about it, including the mystery of why I should accept that I might be from the Pleiades – as crazy as that sounds.

My mind control had included suggestions to never believe anything good about myself, and to never try to attract attention, so it was a huge struggle to believe these experiences had any reality to them.

Coming here to do good and relay information to others – I could believe that, but I didn’t want to talk overtly about it.

Having spontaneous healing and channeling flow through – I was grateful for, but again didn’t want to talk about it, as it felt like spiritual bragging.

Having been healed myself when in despair and not expecting help – again, I was always astounded and extremely grateful, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

Some of my experiences I’ve never known for sure whether they were from my helpers or my controllers – experiences like downloads that forced me to stagger to the nearest chair to sit and feel information flow into a part of my brain that “I” could not access but only wonder about, dreams about spaceships, beams of healing energy, and the emergence of an inner warrior who can immediately and easily dismiss an evil spirit that jumped out to threaten me.

None of these things did I seek. Possibly because of mind control, I wanted only to be normal, not to be associated with extraordinary things.

Because my mind control and punishments for publishing have included being socially sabotaged, isolated, and lied about for decades by family and handler-husbands and members of the control network, I’ve been very uncertain about how I’m supposed to accomplish anything.

Because “my angels,” as I call them (Pleiadian colleagues?), keep healing me, I believe there must be something I’m still supposed to accomplish here, but I do not understand how to accomplish anything, given my isolated situation.

Currently, I have defined my strange life online on a few sites: my professional/activist website; my book website; my mind control website; and my Garden Healing Church website, which I just sat down one day and wrote in its entirety as if channeled, and haven’t done much with ever since.

I have tried over the years to keep my mind control stuff and my spiritual stuff separate from the rest of me. Fearful, I assume, of driving away the few “normal” friends and acquaintances I have.

I did finally put links between my sites a few years ago, but I never tell anyone in my “normal” group of friends and acquaintances anything about what I post on the other sites.

Why? Having been isolated and sabotaged and discredited, it’s very hard to be vulnerable with information other people don’t want to believe.

Also, my efforts to communicate so often result in government punishment.

Also, I hesitate to state anything with certainty when we live in such an environment of lies. I don’t want to tell others anything wrong.

Finally, these experiences are multidimensional, and our language is wholly insufficient to describe it well, and the concepts have been culturally mocked and tied to silly cartoons.

But I’ve been encouraged by a recent spiritual healing to feel that it’s time.

(The videos I watched were part of Gaia TV’s Cosmic Disclosure: Pleiadian Agenda with Josh Golembeske.)

JeanEisenhower.com

RattlesnakeFire.com

ParadigmSalon.net

GardenHealingChurch.org

I was born into Mind Control
Parents:
Mother – Mormon (highest demographic in CIA)
Father – Hollywood child actor, some unspoken trauma; also Navy, like rest of US Military, notorious for experimenting on recruits; see CASU 32, another unspoken trauma
Paternal Grandfather Freemason, 33rd degree
Maternal Grandmother – widowed during Great Depression, then “rescued” and controlled by powerful businessmen when my mother was a child

First home: UC Davis student housing with my parents – Human Ecology Project (CIA Mind Control front) began there when I lived on campus

Left alone in my room for years, taught not to bother my mother (only memories of her are of occasionally talking to the side or back of her head, always feeling neglected), I was given an unending stream of puzzles, crafts, and eventually books, so that I became very focused on projects and highly skilled, but at the loss of fundamental social understanding.

(Coincidentally, these are characteristics of autism, as well as the explicitly stated goals of the creator gods as described in the Sumerian history of humanity on Earth, from which I theorize our CIA is still trying to craft humans to meet those expectations of mental focus and minimal social distractions, and in the process have created this generation of “people on the spectrum.”)

Age 4, I said something (I believe, about not liking what was done to me at night) that made my mother hysterically angry and physically abusive, and she begin her constant habit (all my life ever after) of calling me delusional, which my siblings heard all their lives, which my abusive husbands copied to cover for their abuse, and which my children eventually picked up and naturally believed.

As a mind control subject, I was taught absolute obedience. I also learned to leave my body to avoid pain and abuse, resulting in dissociation and multiple personalities (thankfully not extreme because they were carefully crafted by CIA controllers, and in some cases crafted by myself to be unnoticed by the controllers).

Leaving my body without my controllers, I became familiar with other realms and my helping angels. Talk about this resulted in more accusations of being “crazy,” so I learned to not talk about it, eventually not think about it, and finally forget about it for decades.

Having been taught strict obedience and given little opportunity to exert myself against pressure from others, I was unable to resist the manipulations to join a secret society (a college sorority, through which, I believe, the controllers intended to “handle” me after I left my parents’ control). Even though I felt repelled by and distrustful of them, I was unable to express my contrary decision until I was away from them for the summer – but had already gone through the initiation – too late.

(Incidentally, during the initiation, I went into an altered state and have never remembered the initiation, except for one second when it seems my true self came to consciousness, saw what was in front of me for no more than one second, was horrified, then “left.”)

Before committing to the initiation, we all had been warned that joining then quitting would be “very, very, very, very, very, very, very bad,” yet I could not tell them to their faces that I didn’t like them. I also could not believe they would do anything to hurt us, so I decided to join and then quit when I was gone for the summer, and I did.

I know now that I didn’t understand the nature of the power structures of our world, and that the network of secret societies is absolutely ruthless.

I’ve experienced a lifetime of inner arguments I thought were with myself, but which I realize now were actually arguments between myself and my programming.

I have a lot of secrets

I have a lot of secrets
I can’t tell
because the rulers
threaten me
and tell everyone I’m crazy.

Like all mystics and
strange ones of the world,
I experience life in
a few more dimensions
than most “First World”
Earthlings
who’ve been trained
this is all there is.

Many of us came to Earth
from elsewhere,
to investigate
and help, if possible.

Some of us, like myself,
were captured
by the rulers
we came to watch

Because your rulers
don’t want us here.
But we’re here.
And we’re helped by
our kin
in other dimensions.

In larger numbers than you know.
So take heart.

Because your Earth
is being turned into
an artificial/natural hybrid life
experiment –
which seems to them
a reasonable way
to grow the human resource.

To rule your life by algorithm
may soon become
your only means
of existence –
in a human-robot,
hybrid form,
controlled to someone else’s
thoughts of perfection
and highest utility.

What to do?

Enjoy the entertainment
along the way?

Remember your
multi-dimensional self
and your otherworld Help.

The Truman Show

“My life has been like The Truman Show, only directed by David Lynch,” I wrote in my memoir.

https://youtu.be/OGFGqVD_dSM?si=UgS4jF8JnzHzULMI

So I enjoyed this review of The Truman Show – though the writer seems not to recognize the obvious (to me) parallels to the way MKUltra mind control subjects are treated. Or maybe he does, and he’s being subtle.

This tragicomedy hero’s journey is not a dark futuristic fiction. This is the dark reality for government mind control subjects right now.

To my surprise, this video mentions the “Truman Show Delusion,“ a “delusional diagnosis” in which people are convinced they are “stars of an imaginary reality show.” I suggest they are subjects of a real reality secret government program.

I suspect these diagnosed people are mind control subjects who’ve begun to figure out their reality, and then accidentally told a doctor in the mind control network, all ready to gaslight them and discourage them from trusting their intuition. 

One of the themes of the movie is how Truman has been in love with a woman he was prohibited from being with, and was instead set up with a different woman and encouraged to marry her, which he did. “Even when it comes to love, he didn’t have a choice, and his entire life’s been forced down this narrow path.” Oh God, I so relate.

I know I have been manipulated into relationships with men who later turned out to be my handlers. I’d look back and see all the signs I’d had, all the evidence, remember my mental resistance, and then all the arguments I’d heard in my head, argued with, then finally accepted about staying with that man. Afterward I also recognized the strange circumstances that had brought us together.

Once I had walked into a bar, saw the man who would become my second husband, saw his bright smile, returned it, pointed at him and made a face as of to say, “just like we agreed,” and he nodded.

For years afterward, I would recall that “second time we met” and ask him, “When was the first time we met?” He seemed to know but always denied it and quickly changed the subject and the final time expressed irritation at me for asking again.

I felt so much anxiety in those relationships, like something was off, nothing was normal, but I couldn’t understand what it was because I’d never experienced normal.

I began therapy, and began the very long journey of remembering. And grieving.

The entire movie, the narrator says, people wear 1950s clothes, a decade associated with “a more wholesome time in America.” Yes, and it’s also the decade that MKUltra technology expanded its practice across the US and Canada to 80 or more institutions, military and educational. I was born onto one in 1952: Student Housing on the campus of UCDavis.

Truman‘s crisis and breakthrough happened rather quickly when Truman was around 30 years old. My crisis simmered through my 30s, then went critical when I was 41.

I just turned 73 this week, and I’m still waiting for my freedom.

Truman’s story, the narrator says, is, “basically being a slave that was born into servitude.”

Totally relate.

….

Didn’t mean to go on so long. Writing these words makes me think I should feel more furious.

But I go numb instead. And try to be philosophical instead of emotional. Anything else feels like more could erupt than I could release without hurting myself. So I keep quiet and still.

Seeing Truman’s success in the ending makes wonder if I’m supposed to fight harder. I’ve tried to. I feel I was born to. And I have amazing spiritual help that comes to my aid so often, it seems wrong to not keep trying, even at my age.

But I have fought – and have been beaten back, most recently by Lyme disease, a remote controlled highway crash, people sabotaging my vehicles and home, a mystery illness that takes me to the edge of death where I feel the reality of skin cells breaking down on their way to soup turning into soil in the earth. I think my helpers on other realms are asking me if this is really what I want. I think so, but I’m not sure. And slowly they help me heal.

Truman‘s lifelong fear of water was “set up,” the writer opines. In other words, a psy op, a psychological operation to help his controllers for the rest of his life keep him on the island.

They set me up too. Someone seemed to have set the goal for me to be a sexual performer, so even though I was very modest, I was repeatedly cast as a stripper, a prostitute, and even a sexual spy – when I only wanted to be a dancer.

When I entered puberty, my mother refused to buy me a bra, and one day she removed all my very nice clothes and replaced them with clothes apparently from the Salvation Army. I suddenly had only three skirts I’d never seen before, all seemingly from the 40s (this was the 60s). And three blouses, all dingy white and sheer.

For three days, I went to school hunched over, in shame. On the third day, I walked alone from the lunch cafeteria toward our classerooms when I was grabbed over my eyes from behind and dragged backward in a circle, flinging my arms out to try to regain my balance, then pulling my arms back in to hide my chest, causing repeated bursts of laughter from, it seemed, about 20 classmates.

Then I was dropped in the dirt. I wonder today how many in that school and my high school, maybe the entire town are involved in some way in the mind control program. Would be convenient.

At home, my mother was ready to take me to go shopping. To my surprise, she bought me two stylish dresses at a department store teen section. Back at home she shaved my very hairy legs, plucked my unibrow into two, and let me begin to use a little makeup. All in one day.

Sounds to me like some psychiatrist had a theory he wanted to test: See if he could make me fear being anything but beautiful. (Curse him.) In the coming year, my mother would spend a great deal of time helping me build a beautiful wardrobe with matching shoes and purses, and encouraging me in makeup and hairstyling.

Then I would discover dance, the easiest means to an altered state of consciousness, and I would be in love with dance ever after. To dance in the high school plays, I had to sing well enough to make the varsity choir, so I took lessons. We also had to audition and accept whatever parts we were cast for. My final play after high school I was cast as a stripper. The next year in two other situations I would be cast as a prostitute and then Mata Hari, the infamous sexual spy during World War I. I chose none of these, resisted every one, then went along, doing as I was told.

Before another year was up I ran away from home and college and the secret society I had been persuaded to “check out” after resisting vehemently for months.

I understand now they were meant to be my controllers for the rest of my life. I didn’t know that then, but I sensed it, as if my parents were turning their control over to them.

The whole thing was giving me the creeps, a lot like Truman, and I ran away, quit, broke whatever solemn vows I’d made in that ceremony for which I am entirely amnesic, except for one second when “I” opened my eyes then hid back inside, unknowing. Which mind control alter was out for that I don’t know.

I crashed through one of my walls in the sense that I finally knew there was reality to what I’d always felt but the people around me had always denied, calling me “delusional.” Regardless of their lifelong denial and betrayal, I finally knew and had the proof. But nothing that anyone else would ever be able to see and then agree with.

And Truman was also alone, in a liminal, unfamiliar world with no one there to witness what he sees. But he’s supposedly free?

I don’t feel free yet. And I wonder now how Truman could ever escape fully from the lifelong imprinting he received from the corporation that literally owns him.

I’m still waiting.

And waiting to meet another mind control subject who knows they’re a mind control subject. In my world, I am all alone, just as They planned, and continue to control. I’m the only one I know like me.

Of course, nearly everyone but the most isolated primitive tribes on the planet is somewhat mind controlled, taught to avoid certain subjects, deride and laugh at other subjects, fixate on things, ignore other things.

“But some of us got special treatment.” (As I narrated in my 3-minute video about my memoir, Rattlesnake Fire: a memoir of extra dimensional experience.)

Watching this discussion of the show was very affirming. It’s good to know some recognize our plight.

It’s comforting. Little else is comforting in this world of organized deceit.

Context for my “You hoo” story

Before you jump to the conclusion that I’m simply paranoid, having read my earlier post, please check out my super-succinct list here – of some of the stuff I’ve documented over these years – physical injuries, electronic weirdness, and the “Satanic” stuff that I generally don’t name, so I don’t know why I did this time.

IMG_1725

Injuries I’ve suffered while amnesic or mysteriously:
– nighttime burn on back of neck (photographed)
– electronic bruising beam 2 1/4″ diameter (witnessed by nurse, photographed two weeks later)
– donut bruises (4, photographed)
– Taser burns (3, photographed)
– lacerations in vagina (3, one photographed)
– apparent surgery on thyroid (scar noted by nurse practitioner)
– back surgery, plates on vertebrae (x-rays not in my possession but seen by me)
– unknown holes appearing on spine (2 or more, photographed)
– bacterial and fungal diseases (Morgellon’s) intentionally inoculated into me (disease extensively photographed, event caused 75 minutes amnesia, disability, documented on Thanksgiving day 2014)
– biopsy scoop marks (photographed)
– implants
– on scapula (two, activating constantly, one shown to doctor, tunnel left when one was removed),
– near heart (music in stethoscope reported by terrified Naturopath),
– in g-spot, creating scar tissue or other pain, lasting 18 months; activated once years later; puncture photographed)
– alongside clitoral shaft (documented in journal),
– in ears (2 or more, photographed),
– in teeth, (7, photographed),
– up nostril (2, one photographed),
– left foot near ankle (scar visible, presumed used in first account below)

Electronic events I’ve experienced:
– 4” diameter round vibrating spot turned on my ankle, moving up lower leg about 1” per second, about 6”; after moving, turned on foot again, moving upward again few inches; after moving to bed, approximately 12” round vibrating spot turned on my head, making me unconscious. The next morning, my ears were ringing and always have since, though sometimes to lesser degree.
– many times felt disabled for days, then felt woken up with huge relief that a switch had been flipped – at 10 pm – waking me when exhausted by the shock of normalcy.
– hear a tone, wake on some hour, can’t sleep, sit up to read, hear a tone, notice the time on the hour, fall asleep sitting up.
– black and white movies play short clips in my head, which I ignore, resisting entrainment; once, movie played double speed, once two movies played on top of each other.
– on highway Volkswagen lights go out, I sit immobilized, unable to move even though I want to walk to the gas station, unable to even turn in my seat, estimated 30 minutes, wake out of trance one hour and fifteen minutes later with amnesia. Next day, blood clot blown out of nose, implant discovered in g-spot.
– Painfully loud sound in ears sent me running (under command?) for a relaxation recording, which had disappeared, leaving only a recording I’d been afraid to use, but I used it and experienced oddities and an hour and a half of missing time.
– Chords that wake me or put me to sleep
– Fugue states with feelings of intensity, then unable to remember what I experienced, once immobilized on my step with one foot stretched out for ten minutes (estimate); many fugue states while just sitting
– Sudden need to do something within a few minutes or seconds as if under command, my body responds even when my mind isn’t convinced, once almost falling out the door as I “had to” get out immediately as a helicopter flew low overhead; three times “needing” to get in bed with my pillow, spine, and covers all arranged by a particular time on the hour or half-hour, rushing to accomplish it

Satanic seeming stuff:
– Gloria’s incantation during supposedly “therapeutic” hypnosis, her lying about the time, my discovering her lie on my recording (she didn’t know I was making, which horrified her when I told her), “wrapping me up, every finger and toe,” and my lungs and heart, was disabled for weeks afterward (March 2017)
– Camp group with Masonic emblem, disability for two days after Full Moon (April 2017)
– Other days of disability after Full Moon or New Moon, with amnesia (in journal)
– Hippy Community with Satanic newcomers, extensive disability, painful to walk, weird trance state on Full Moon, dread, left, circled by others, howling crowd in distance later (June 2018)
– New Moon sabotage of my truck, involving computer, seven weeks before its one-year anniversary, with “Yoo hoo” signaling (August 2017)
– New Moon events visiting two people I didn’t want to see, but feeling compelled, leaving impulsively, horrible feelings with both, horrible damage to my rig, mysterious electronic door lock problem between two visits, wonder: truck sabotage by computer a signal for what’s to come?, woman calls “Yoo hoo” (recalling the other woman), realize it’s 7 weeks from the one-year anniversary (April 2020)

…And this is just what I remembered in a few minutes. I’ll expand this, I hope, using my database summarizing my journals.

I’ve chosen not to act emotionally about this, though I once did. Instead I just keep gathering data, and drawing conclusions when I must.  And I keep writing.

Thanks for reading.

“Yoo hoo!” – Satanists threatening my Life?

“Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!” shouldn’t be threatening, but check out this chart, and if you want, read the story below.

Screen Shot 2020-04-26 at 3.49.48 PM.png

truck crash cropped

Three and a half years ago, seven weeks before (I believe) my truck was remote controlled to crash on the highway, it was the Solar Eclipse / New Moon, when a strange woman interrupted my meditations, hollering up the mountain to me, “Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!” 

I ignored her until I saw a man carry heavy equipment toward my truck and disappear behind a bush next to it where I couldn’t see him.

I yelled at him, “Get away from my truck!” at which point the woman began calling out that they were going to town and wanted to know if I needed anything. I repeated my demand, but it accomplished nothing. I thought of running down there, and could have easily, but oddly (except for a mind control subject), I felt immobilized and afraid to confront them more closely.

Six weeks later, my truck and trailer made an “impossible” fish-tail movement on flat highway, then made the same impossible movement again the next time I took the rig out one week later (week seven), and I made a mental note to take it to repair- even though everything had just been checked and maintenanced

Half an hour later, it made the same movement, this time down a hill. I’d experienced mild fish-tailing a couple times on steep hills and knew how to easily pull out of them, but this was not a serious hill and none of the conditions should have caused that.

Quickly, my truck and trailer were overwhelmed by extreme fish-tailing which flipped them, destroying them both, leaving me with a concussion, severe whiplash, homeless, with all my possessions in a mess. It was one year (minus one day) since I’d purchased my rig.

When I awoke in my truck, hanging sideways in the restraint, a trucker came to help, and later another trucker came. Oddly, they both used exactly the same language with me, and I assumed they’d both attended the same class on how to respond to highway accidents.

However, I also watched them both “interfere” with the crash scene, spraying fire retardant under my truck, which it didn’t need, while “checking” the wheels and axles.  I now think was a cover for removing the remote device that flipped my rig.  They’d also parked their trucks so that no one could drive by them and see my rig.  (Later, I came to wonder if one of the truckers had also directed my crash by remote control.)

Recovery (physical, mental and financial) has been slow, and I don’t think about the event much, but today I am because of the “Yoo hoo” woman who visited yesterday.

I’d never realized I’d crashed just a day away from my rig’s one-year anniversary until last night.  But I had been aware of the seven-week span between the “Yoo hoo” woman and strange man at my truck and the truck-and-trailer’s crashing.

And now, the “Yoo hoo” woman yesterday made me realize I just passed the seven-week mark before my one-year anniversary of purchasing my current rig.  Should I be counting down the next seven weeks until their next harassment?

As I’ve taken care of the annual maintenance this spring, I couldn’t help but wonder now and then whether my Targeters were planning on taking my home away from me again, now that I’ve perfectly maintained it.  But I brushed the idea aside – until the “Yoo hoo” woman visited.

To add to the freakishness of this whole thing, she mentioned her son living in Hawaii (I have a son who lives there), and she was wearing her hair exactly like mine at the moment – in a ponytail with an extra band at the bottom!  Makes me accept they have cameras to watch us TI’s in our rigs.

Sitting down with paper and pen, I charted out the details roiling in my brain and found all these New Moons and sevens and anniversaries are not random, but perfectly orderly.  And so I created the chart above.

I hate to admit I believe I’ve been harassed by Satanists a fair amount all my life. I was born under a Full Moon, not just in the 24-hour period, but within 8 minutes of perfection (2/1000ths of a degree). I was also born on 7-7-52 – which adds up, of course, to 7-7-7, which I’m told Satanists love, along with the fact that my birth date was Monday (Moon day), in the middle of Moon Child, as well as the Full Moon.

My mother’s church that I attended as a child was supposedly respectable, but I believe many churches have Satanic infiltrators. And these last few years on the road, I’ve found myself occasionally traumatically disabled for extended periods of time, and I realize a day or two later it had begun on the Full or New Moon when I’d met unpleasant strangers – with Satanic iconography I’d ignored!

Since I’ve been a nomad, the weirdness has had lots of variety, as I assume my peripatetic wanderings cause the Targeters to have to act on the fly and use whatever secret network is available on short notice, and so I experience a little less harassment, of a varied sort, but including “games” by Satanists.

My new rig’s anniversary will be June 7 this year.  Seven weeks from the events of frozen truck door locks to the “Yoo hoo” woman (April 21-25) will be June 2-6, and the Full Moon will be June 5th.  So I’ll be on guard from June 2-7.

I’m posting this in hopes it’ll blow Their cover, expose their Satanic games-playing and save my life (and rig).

If anything should happen to me six or seven weeks from now, especially if it involves my truck and camper, I hope everyone will recognize a crime has been committed.

You can bet I will be parked and go NOWHERE that week. And I’ll be praying for protection, and welcome you to pray along with me and for me. (Put it in your calendars!?)  Thanks.

I believe these are spiritual warfare lessons I’ve been failing, and I pray to learn my lesson now and keep myself safe.

Crazy times we live in….  Reminds me:

“And demons will be let loose on the Earth in those days.”

#

Morgellon’s, Fungus, and Cancer

Research has led me to one site that links Morgellon’s to, not only strange, colorful fibers, but also a fungus-like growth called “biofilm,” with plastic properties, which covers the skin.  It is extremely strong, does not look like skin, and I cannot remove it.

One writer called it part of a “cyborgian” evolution the Controllers of the Planet are technologically enforcing on us, with some of their former subjects now being used as first test subjects for this.  Crazy, huh?

I was trying to remove the film with dermabrasives, enzymes, baking soda, and vinegar; nothing works.  It’s like I have plastic all over me.

Photo on 3-9-20 at 6.02 PM.jpg

Biofilm? – covers my face and seems to be beginning to “shine” all over me, reflecting light when photographing, as if my skin were plastic).

It doesn’t show to the naked eye, and seems to be a matrix for other things growing through it.

Fungus on the skin leads to cancer – according to another author – and some of cancer images I found online look like some of the thousands of weird things I’ve photographed on me, like these little red raspberries, which the site identified as a “fast-growing” cancer, and which I’ve photographed about six times on my scalp.  Hmmmm.  [A glitch in cyborg design to kill their product?]

Photo on 1-27-20 at 8.59 AM.jpg

I’ve spent lots of money on supplements and herbs and organized it all into a daily routine.  I’ve always kept sugar to a tiny fraction of the standard American diet, but – it’s weird – I’ve been craving it.  I recall I’d read long ago that microorganisms can actually convince our brains that we need something like sugar, and so I’ve been struggling with that – so yesterday I emptied most of the sugar out of the camper and gave it away.

I’m scrubbing (as much as I have energy for) and sunning (when the weather’s good and I’m feeling well), and praying (when I “can”), but I am not certain I’m getting better.

I can’t get help from the medical establishment because doctors don’t want to talk about this “controversial” disease.  Why?  Well, history says doctors have often been involved in top-secret experiments, and they certainly act like it now.

Each one who learns I have a digital microscope and can record my photos and watch my progress has seemed a little perturbed, as if now they know they can’t bullshit me in the usual way.  No one yet, MD or ND, has acted normal, except for the one who honestly said, “This stuff scares me.  I need to refer you out.”  So.

Yesterday the News announced that hospitals across the nation are now short-staffed and their space overwhelmed, and so all other medical care will be compromised – and for example they mentioned people with chronic diseases – like cancer.

Is this whole thing designed to execute Kissinger’s prophetic statement about our world needing a 95% die-off?

So they invented something to mostly kill the old and infirm.  Strategically, that would make sense and be a good start.  Better than war.  Plague.

I’m over sixty, so Kissinger would have me die.  No doctor will give me a blood test to begin any internal treatment.  So, I’m wondering if I’m supposed to go soon.

Screen Shot 2020-04-05 at 9.05.40 PM.pngI’m in the pristine, pure desert though!  Only have to spend a couple hours in town, one trip each week, to empty my tanks, shower, get water, buy groceries, maybe visit the library, then back to the desert to relax and watch the birds.

And scrub, prepare good food, take my medicines, rub stuff on me, enjoy camp mates from a distance, enjoy solitude, and wonder if I’m really supposed to try to heal this biofilm and fibers and spirochetes.

(So daunting!  They’re elated to syphilis! – shades of the syphilis experiment they did for a decade on the Black men of Tuskeegee – the experiment for which the government was shamed into finally admitting and paying settlements.  At it again, this time with activists.)

And keep on trying to heal myself as a mind control subject too?  Sheesh.

YeshivaOr (that was just one alter talking) heal myself through prayer?  Ask Jesus to heal me?  (I have been.)

Maybe this is when I’ll be pushed to such absolute lows that I’ll trigger some strength or knowing and transform myself into something new, spiritual, and healed – ?

Seems like a pretty big order for an old lady, which I’m really beginning to feel these days, grunting and huffing sometimes just to move around.

Feels like, if Kissinger wants 95% to die, I can’t think of much of a reason to say it shouldn’t be me.  Ya know?

But I’ll definitely ask that friends and family keep me out of the hospitals!  Away from doctors!  But let my friends with healing talents come sit with me, help me deal with pain.

The deadly part of this disease is the spirochetes.  (That’s why I’ve been so focused on getting a blood test.)  They invade the brain, nervous system, and heart.  I hope the heart is attacked first.

But if it’s my brain, we’ll have other issues, and I pray for everyone’s kindness, and again to be kept away from doctors or anyone who could be pretending to help but really be another targeter.

That’s why, for awhile, I was thinking the coronavirus might be a faster way to go.  But I’m not chasing it – and I no longer believe it’s actually a virus causing the problem. And I don’t believe I’ll live or die according to what I do; I believe my controllers will decide.

Further, I am not philosophically persuaded that I understand everything in this multi-dimensional world well enough to make that sort of radical decision, to die or not.  When my angels or family and friends over there make themselves known to me and call me over, then maybe.

Till then, I’ll sit in the beautiful desert or forest, greet the trees and flowers and birds each day, and move when the weather persuades me.

My YouTube channel has videos of my Morgellon’s at:

https://youtu.be/TsfzsdnczsA

 

Ear Canal Implants Update

Hi Everyone,

Sorry I’ve been unable (mind controlled?) to get on the Internet and do simple things like post.  But I’m back and I’m going to try to be more consistent.

Screen Shot 2019-05-10 at 6.37.08 AM.pngI’ve been doing better at my , ParadigmSalonVideo on YouTube, and have a lot of stunning information – like video inside my ears, showing that I’ve been illegally implanted with easily-seen, crazy technology that looks like it may be able to receive and transmit sound (am I a walking spy microphone everywhere I go?) and maybe even control me – I’ve certainly felt it done a few times, though I’ve never known exactly how.

At first I was thrilled to have such excellent evidence of the symptoms I’ve been describing for years.  And I worried the controllers would remove them before I could document them well and learn who owns the frequencies at which they operate.

To my surprise, it seems they upgraded my implants, probably during the night of May 5-6, because they look different than in the first video (second above).  They seem to have incorporated some implants under the skin, creating a structure that blocks half the canal and squeezes the existing elements together; or maybe they were replaced – as the rubber cup that contains it all seems to have changed from clear to yellowish.

It’s shocking to me that they would be so brazen as to upgrade their work even while I’m watching, video recording, and posting it online for all the world to see – IF it’s actually being seen and not hidden by the controllers.  It seems to imply that either 1) my suspicion, which I hope is wrong, is actually true, or 2) there’s something so big coming down in the world that my story will never rise to anyone’s attention.

Other ideas?

Anyone know a doctor or attorney who wants to weigh in on this?

 

Excellent video on organized stalking / targeted individuals

www.youtube.com/watch