Upon my return to San Francisco, I became friends with an ex-marine who descended from an Illuminati bloodline that practiced ritualized human sacrifice. Eventually Chris’s apartment would become the central focus of what was clearly intelligence agency harassment. This situation culminated in a visit by the infamous men in black, and later, a black helicopter that hovered 30 feet outside my window. Shortly after this series of events, I found a number of scars on my leg in an area where I know I have had no type of injury. The scars were perfectly circular and located on the fleshy part of my calf. I now know that this occurrence is highly typical of military/alien abductions, right down to the size, defined shape and location of the scars. It is also typical for abductees to have zero recollection of the origins of the scar. I am often shocked by how often my own story overlaps with those of MILABS and alien abductees, usually before I have even experienced the situations that they are describing.
Like many MILABS, I have always been haunted by vividly detailed, elaborate images of the end times. One night I was sharing my tent with a tweeker in Golden Gate park. We smoked a few blunts and I was immediately struck by a panic attack and left the tent with my dog to wander through the trees. I envisioned the limbs and branches transforming into snakes as they began to crawl over my skin. As this horrific imagery subsided, I saw a towering tidal wave ripping through the park while massive trees floated by me. Of course, these visions could be dismissed as the subjective hallucinations of a drug experience, but really, most people don’t hallucinate like that on weed! More likely, I think that the drug tore holes in my etheric body and allowed other, less savory realities to penetrate into my consciousness. In this exact location, I had also gotten into a very draining argument with Chris that resulted in some type of entity harassment. As the fight reached a height of unpleasant Jerry Springer style drama, we both saw what looked like a wave rippling through the space above our heads. I know without a doubt that we both saw this thing, because we both began screaming at precisely the same instant.
During the months following all the weirdness that had occurred with my marine friend, I moved into a crack hotel in the Mission district. This stretch of time was to be my introduction into the disorienting and unbelievably complex world of disinformation. My next door neighbor was a computer genius who had salvaged and repaired a wall of functioning computer equipment from dumpsters around the neighborhood. Soon after he helped me to establish an internet connection, I was constantly on conspiracy websites learning about mind control experiments and their surrounding phenomenon. One particular forum I frequented was run by a new age couple that was deeply involved in the production of orgone technology, which they believed could disable international surveillance networks. I was ready to try anything. This next series of events would soon teach me that being open-minded does have its drawbacks. After a few months of e-mail correspondence, the couple offered to come and visit me since they were already traveling down the West coast to visit a friend in Los Angeles. But since they didn’t tell me the approximate time of their arrival, I was out when they eventually showed up at the locked and barred gates of my hotel. Instead, they were greeted by the horde of crackheads, junkies and drunks that habitually gathered in the doorway and sidewalk area.
The new age couple fled in horror and the next day, I checked the forum only to see that they were calling me an agent and an MKid (shorthand for subject of military brainwashing). I was confused and upset to see that what was basically a misunderstanding had so quickly transformed into a ridiculous internet slander campaign. Their friend in Los Angeles is well known in conspiracy circles as an Illuminati oracle, which means that he was utilized for prophecy, channeling and remote viewing by occult agencies. He once even claimed to have witnessed Lawrence Rockefeller disembowel a child during an occult ritual on the summer solstice. Within a few weeks of the new age couples’ botched visit, the oracle began posting remotely viewed information about me on his blog. I was most alarmed when he wrote about how I spent ten hours a day on the computer and had a black garbage bag full of orgone pieces underneath my sink. This was true, but how did he know it? Since no one used my computer but myself, and I hadn’t told anyone about my participation in that particular forum, there is absolutely no way that someone I know could have been involved. The only time anyone was ever in my room was when I was right there with them, otherwise the door was locked. The other crazy thing is that he either lied or got the information wrong, by saying that I had the orgone delivered to me and then threw it away, when actually what had happened is that I had painstakingly made it by myself and distributed it in a grid fashion as laid out in the new age guy’s instructions. Clearly, the self-described oracle had used his Illuminati remote viewing skills to look into my room without my permission. And then he went on to invent stuff about me that wasn’t even true just to justify his character attack! The message I took out of this experience is not to trust someone just because they have magical powers and other people like them. I also find this information to be relevant because of the way in which it demonstrates how spin and counterspin can make finding the true story such an incredibly difficult and time-consuming endeavor.
As far as the whole orgone thing goes, I really don’t know what to think about it. The most I ever saw my orgone pieces do was grow a crystal in a glass of water when I put them on top of the fridge. This particular result was in accordance with an experiment recommended by the Los Angeles oracle. Is the orgone phenomenon merely a way to funnel activist minded individuals’ energies into spinning their wheel? This possibility is probably the most likely to be accurate, in my opinion. But maybe it actually creates some kind of negatively oriented vortex that allows entities and other problematic situations to enter into the person who is in its vicinity. I certainly don’t know the answer to that question. The new age couple has mentioned how, on several different occasions, they experienced missing time episodes while distributing orgone throughout the state of Florida. This occurrence definitely strikes me as a sign of something sketchy, since missing time episodes are usually cited as being one of the telltale indicators of behavior modification programs.
It may be useful to examine the history of how the technology was used in its infancy. Wilhelm Reich was most famous for his use of cloudbusters, an orgone technology that is supposed to be able to bring rain to geographical areas plagued by drought. The only problem with Reich’s cloudbusters was that he couldn’t get the rain to stop! Eventually Reich disassembled his entire laboratory after it was surrounded by massive black stormclouds and hovering UFOs, indicating an interdimensional effect in addition to the obvious weather modification effects. Additionally, a few years ago there was an article in Nexus magazine about how the Egyptian pharaohs made use of a primitive battery that involved a copper tube and quartz crystals. The ingredients of the battery were nearly identical to the technology manufactured by the new age couple. When one takes into account the claim by Fritz Springmeier that Egyptian occult rituals are the basis of mind control techniques employed by the legion of powerful secret societies, the connection between Egyptian magic and the orgone sciences begins to be somewhat problematic. Many people believe that orgone technologies later became the prototype for the weather modification used at the HAARP facility in Alaska. There is undoubtable certainty in the fact that the US government never would have burned all of Reich’s writings if there wasn’t some kind of information that they would have preferred to keep hidden.
The new age couple claimed that their updated version of orgone possessed all of the beneficial interdimensional aspects of Reich’s technology but without any of the negative effects. Given their missing time episodes, I find this claim to be highly questionable. My best guess is that orgone technologies are similar to implanted microchips, which may actually have miraculous healing abilities in addition to their more destructive qualities. One example of this dichotomy is the cochlear implant, which can actually give deaf people the ability to hear. A number of researchers believe that the microchip will not be marketed en mass until a series of wars, plagues and catastrophes have weakened the morale of the public. Then the miracle cures of electromagnetic implants will be publicized in all the major media outlets. Of course, the potential dangers of the microchip outweigh any benefits as long as the present occult secret societies are in charge of global governance. Perhaps orgone technologies have a similar dynamic of both highly beneficial as well as destructive qualities.
But the orgone drama was only the beginning of all the weirdness that went down while I was living in the crack hotel. One afternoon, I stopped by a neighborhood coffee shop in order to grab a cup of tea and jot down a few notes in my journal. When I opened up the notebook, I saw a pattern of glowing blue lines flowing across the page. I traced the lines methodically while in a state that seemed to be a mild hypnotic trance. After the task was completed, I sat back to see that I had drawn a fairly complex image. The picture was of a girl on an operating table surrounded by gray aliens. Connected to the aliens were a series of cords that flowed directly into the girl’s chakras. In the background was a demonic figure and other grays feeding out of massive tanks through their cords. At the time, I was aware of the stories of grays feeding out of tanks, but not the idea of chakra cords. A short while later I came across a post entitled “alien chakra cords” on a popular conspiracy website. The post seemed to be an exact description of my drawing. The author gave an account of how he had witnessed aliens feeding off of human prana through etheric cords connected to the chakras. Apparently, many abductees have described seeing the energy cords while dreaming or in an altered state. One researcher has described a facility for harvesting kundalini that is located in an alternate realm. The facility appeared to be built like an oil refinery and staffed by simple beings whose consciousness did not extend outside of their world. The harvested kundalini was then funneled to entities much further up the hierarchy of being. So what was the true origin of my strange drawing? Since I am basically working from a place of having only bits and pieces of information that are incomplete at best, it is impossible to answer that question conclusively. But it is a definite possibility that the drawing is, instead of an actual experience, a screen memory intended to cover up the deeper aspects of my programming. I really don’t know.
Around this time, I met a man named Jason, who immediately attached himself to me, supposedly because he had important information to convey. He believed this information to have come from a council of beings he had encountered in the dream world. After an epic speed binge, Jason had gone to pass out in his tent beneath the freeway. Immediately he found himself on top of a massive rock formation and surrounded by a circle of intelligent animal-human hybrids, all of who took a humanoid shape. Some of the beings had faces like dogs, others horses, frogs and lizards. Several of them had faces that shifted back and forth between man and woman as they spoke. The hybrid creatures described themselves as originating in advanced civilizations far less hierarchical and destructive than our own. They said that the earth was a battlefield between different races of beings, some negatively directed and others more positive. The purpose of the council was to determine the fate of the west coast and its impending destruction by earthquake. There was an intense argument between beings who wanted to intervene and stop the course of the coming cataclysm, and others on the opposite side who believed that humans were a parasite on the earth and should be left to perish in the rubble. Members of the latter group maintained connections with occult political organizations that advanced agendas of eugenics and zero population growth. Several individuals spoke to Jason directly and told him about how corrupt San Francisco had become, and how its degeneracy influenced the apathetic attitudes of several of the more benign council members. Members within the occult societies had gained access to advanced magical techniques that allowed them to control the spirits of animals. The magician could send these spirits across the tops of buildings throughout the city until they found a person whose aura was sufficiently weakened. The animals spirit would then enter into the person’s home, take control of their spirit and influence the individual’s behavior in the waking world.
Members of the council said that the sex industry was overflowing with scores of these possessed individuals. After the dream ended, Jason awoke soaked with urine only to find that several days had passed. Over the next few months, he continued to camp in the same location beneath the freeway in the China Basin neighborhood. At night, he often heard screams coming from somewhere outside his tent. One morning he was awakened by the highway patrol, who told him to be careful because a serial killer had been depositing the bodies of murdered prostitutes in that spot. At the same time, I had been hearing screams outside my tent in one of the most remote areas of Golden Gate Park. The screams sounded identical each night, almost as if they were a recording. Homeless people then began telling me stories of finding the mutilated bodies of prostitutes scattered in trash cans throughout the city. Also, I had never told Jason about hearing the screams, so I wonder what caused both of us to hear it at the same time.
That summer I met Lucy, a girl who seemed to be curiously focused on me, for reasons I would not understand until a much later point in time. I had first met her while chatting with people in the park, and then we began running into each other in different spots across the city. We eventually exchanged phone numbers before I left to hop freight trains across Canada and hitch down the East coast with my dog. Over the next three months, she left me several messages that I didn’t respond to. On the return trip, I meandered across the south until finally stopping to visit friends at a remote, off-the-grid trailer park in Northern New Mexico. It wasn’t more than a few weeks before the freezing temperatures and lack of food or running water drove me to abandon my sleeping bag and flee to what I thought was a temporary stay in an Albuquerque motel room.
There I received a voice mail message informing me that there was a personal matter that I needed to attend to within a matter of several days. The trip between New Mexico and California was hellish. My mode of travel was still hitchhiking, but since I didn’t have time to retrieve my sleeping bag, I was unable to stop and rest for the might. My imminent deadline also meant that I was placed in the position of having to accept rides from people I normally would have turned down. One of these rides was an aggressive Mexican guy who ended up trying to force sex on me while I was sleeping. Luckily I was able to push him off me quickly before my dog woke up and caused a much bigger problem. He responded with feigned, manipulative sadness and threw me out of the truck in the middle of nowhere at about 3 o’clock in the morning. Amazingly, this incident was the only time anyone has ever tried something like that, despite my having accepted rides from hundreds, if not thousands, of drivers.
I made the trip in 48 hours and on the day of my arrival received another voice mail from Lucy. She was hoping we could get together, and if I needed a place to stay, there was an empty apartment in the Mission. How did Lucy know that I needed a place to stay since the last time we saw each other I had a place of my own? The empty apartment was actually the property of her Indian mafia connected sugar daddy landlord, and the site of a number of deaths by drug overdose. I wasn’t there long before we became intimately involved in a way that seemed unusually charged and intense. The whole situation felt wrong from the very beginning. Lucy was drunk or high pretty much 24/7 and often in blackouts while we were together. Although the chemistry between us was explosive, we had nothing to talk about and our values were nearly opposite. Sometimes, while we were having sex, a wind would be whistling through the apartment even though all the doors and windows were closed.
Lucy came from a dysfunctional family where her dad was a heroin dealer and her mom had been transformed into a zombie by a Jesus cult. Lucy told me stories about her dad disciplining the children with swords from his extensive weapons collection. After her parents got divorced, Lucy’s mom started dating a CIA agent. Even though she didn’t describe the family as abusive, they definitely seemed that way to me, and so I tried to be sympathetic when she seemed to be completely incapable of expressing any kind of affection. It didn’t take long for there to be serious conflict between us. Lucy hated homeless people and never hesitated to express her superiority over them. This attitude seemed to extend to nearly any person who was in a position of vulnerability or disadvantage. To her, emotion was a weakness analogous to a physical handicap. Since my opinions on these ideas are different to say the least, it became readily apparent that things were not going to work out. One of the problems I was having was that she didn’t like me when I was nice to her. Lucy had a strong preference for cold and predatory as the way of doing things, and so I attempted to emulate that way of being in order to be accommodating. Although she was definitely more responsive to that, the consequence for me was that I didn’t like myself when I was around her. Both of us tried to break off the relationship at various points, but it took on an unhealthy, addictive quality that was hard to get away from.
One afternoon, Lucy said she needed to talk to me about something important. She showed me a melted candle that had been used during a ritual intended to summon me to San Francisco towards the end of my cross-country trip. Three days later I had arrived. Then Lucy showed me a notebook that was filled with writings about me. And I mean every single page, with no other topics covered even in brief. The notebook should have been my final clue to leave, but when I didn’t, her psychosis revealed itself in full.
One thing that was interesting about Lucy was her magnetic charisma. She was always living with various men rent free and manipulating drinks, drugs, expensive dinners and vacations without ever laying down a dime. She was also unusually psychic and could spot someone’s weaknesses in order to bend them to her will. Despite these con artist tendencies, Lucy believed herself to be far better than a prostitute, since she was living in the lap of luxury instead of an alleyway. So it wasn’t surprising that she was able to manipulate another woman into performing séances to find out personal details about me. I asked her to stop, since it was becoming obvious that the occult phenomenon circulating between us was problematic on many different levels. Lucy ignored my request. I began to wonder if the attempted rape I had experienced on my way to the city was a synchronistic precursor to the sadomasochistic nature of our relationship. Around this time, I got a job as a dominatrix across the Bay. Lucy became morbidly fascinated with the fantasies I was performing at work, and soon began to demand dark, scripted scenarios instead of normal sex. The dysfunctional nature of the relationship became unbearably obvious at this point, and so I began to pull away.
Shortly after this happened, I began receiving dozens of hang up phone call late at night. Some of them had sounds of beeps and clicks in the background, almost as if the calls had been placed by a machine. I had been receiving the calls for years by this point, far before I had ever met Lucy, although they did increase in frequency at the time when we broke off contact. It got to the point where I had to turn the phone off just to get some peace at night. Recently, I have read numerous accounts of other people who have experienced the same sounds in combination with persistent phone harassment. The experience has been called gangstalking, and is very often lined with individuals who are pursuing covert “black budget” military projects. Is it possible that a computer could be
placing the annoying phone calls to any individuals who intelligence agencies have placed on a “problem list”?
My friends dismissed the calls as having all come from Lucy. And the thing is, a lot of them did. Sometimes I would be absorbed in a project and ignore a series of nonstop phone calls. Eventually, after about 20 minutes of nonstop ringing, the phone would be irritating enough that I would answer and hear Lucy on the line. She even admitted to hanging up the phone when she heard the sound of my roommate’s voice. But even that stalkeresque behavior did not provide a complete explanation for the unique nature of the situation.
Although I have provided a full account of the following incident in another article, it is worth recounting here for context. One afternoon I was browsing in an Oakland record store and spotted a CD by Michelle Shocked. This moment imprinted itself strongly in my consciousness because of memories I have of listening to the record at my mom’s house many years previously. Since I hadn’t heard, seen, or even thought of Michelle Shocked in about a decade, seeing the CD created a déjà vu moment. That night, I got home to an answering machine message of an older man who stated “Hi, this is Michelle Shocked, I’m looking for some ladies.” The phrase “I’m looking for some ladies” is another long story, but suffice it to say that it is not a random one in my life.
While all this was going on, I discovered a website that is probably the strangest that I have ever come across. The site’s author details a curious phenomenon dubbed the “love bite”, where individuals from elite families frequently connected to the military and/or intelligence communities are drawn into obsessive, romances with one another. These relationships are frequently surrounded by paranormal circumstances such as instances of telepathy and remote viewing. Common characteristics of “love bite” individuals include metaphysical abilities, red or blonde hair (sometimes but not always), above average IQ, cult involvement, visions of the apocalypse and symptoms of military/occult tampering such as missing time episodes. There were so many parallels with my own life that it was absolutely mind boggling. But of course you can’t just go talking to people about these types of things so instead I began keeping meticulous notes in order to document my thoughts and memories on the subject.
So far three separate people I’ve been involved with have close connections to the intelligence community. Just about all of the people I am close to have high ranking military in their family and usually cult involvement as well. Since I haven’t met any of these individuals in either a military, intelligence or cult related context, it stands to reason that there must be an underlying pattern connecting these varying individuals. Since so many of these people have also descended from elite bloodlines that are associated with occult activity, it is also plausible that they could have inherited some of the more negative paranormal entities from their family. Eve Lorgen, author of the Love Bite, believes that some of these pair bondings are actually arranged by aliens or occult entities who seek to secure a consistent supply of human prana.
According to her, bloodlines with noticeable metaphysical attributes have been cultivated in a similar way to how a farmer will breed rare varieties of heirloom vegetables. So basically, many of the Illuminati descendents who believe themselves to be the spawn of angels are actually a commodity in the global human energy farm. There is another side to this too, where metaphysical abilities can be used selflessly and for the purpose of creating tight knit communities outside of the framework of the control structure. In this case the "love bite" can be seen as a way of joining one's destiny to another spirit whose values most closely match your own. However, many people have explored the territory of karmic relationships and the benefits they entail, so it is also worth delving into the other side of the coin, even if it is not quite so pleasant.
Many people interviewed for the Love Bite report having a major “love bite” seemingly delivered to them as they awaken to the origins of their programming.
Could the “love bite” be the reason that I was pursued by a pseudo stalker at the exact same time I was investigating a ritual human sacrifice ring? The synchronicity definitely seems a little strange because the organization I was researching was intimately connected to Bohemian Grove, which is inundated with intelligence agencies and the most elite strata of our military. The thing is, I absolutely don’t believe that Lucy was even minutely aware of what was going on which, if I am correct in my assumption, only leaves the possibility of her manipulation by someone or something else. Sometimes the world of the cryptocracy becomes so strange that I have to take a step back and seriously consider if I’m going insane. But each time I do this, a series of very palpable memories surges to the front of my consciousness and I am forced to reconsider. Given that at the tender age of 18, my friends and I casually and cluelessly summoned an entity powerful enough to grasp one of us in a chokehold, I can only imagine what types of beings might be summoned in the rituals of highly trained occultists who have been practicing their craft for generations on end.
Ultimately, the drama with Lucy was useful primarily because it provided a crash course in personal and spiritual discernment. For the most part, I am now much more careful about who I invite into my life! Also, her belief in the whole “create your own reality” paradigm has given me cause to consider exactly what these ideas mean and where they came from. As I became aware of my programming, I began to pay close attention to my dreams, since many other people in my same situation had pointed out that dreams are a very fertile area for implanting subconscious thought processes. I noticed for the first time a recurring pattern of elaborate apocalyptic scenarios. Here is the first dream that I wrote down immediately upon awakening:
Beneath Disneyland is a sprawling metallic complex. There are narrow hallways, rusted corridors and steel trap doors and in a separate section is the prison where they house the animals. I was lost in the maintenance wing wandering in between the areas where revelers worship polyester animals, separated from them and trapped in the labyrinth. When I came upon an open space I scurried against the wall like a rat looking for an escape from a heavy boot. The metal walls are contaminated by a dense black energy that smells of disease and horrific abuses. Tiny windows at eye level show me from memories of time spent outside that I am walking through a bridge over water. On the shore of the beach are swimmers wearing bathing suits decorated with Goofy holding a wide umbrella over a female dog wearing a bikini and laying on a bright towel. Am I watching television?
Across the bridge and around the corner the doors get closer together. These are the doorways to cells, like closets really, and in the psychiatric prison the guards will be more numerous and armed with tasers. There is more walking room to accommodate them and so I hurry down a back route towards the open meeting space, where prisoners have formed a small group in an abandoned upper wing outside of the eyeshot of the guards. In hushed whispers people tell each other stories of the outside world. Poisonous gases and chemical waste have rendered the atmosphere unlivable, even with an all weather protection suit custom made in a laboratory. The oceans are boiling and capable of melting skin, so anything that can live there is better left alone. Chris is there in the meeting area and has found a way to grow an edible lichen that stretches in brilliant green hues across the endless yards of steel. In an office on a lower floor I spot an old friend making business calls. Maybe he can help us to get food and supplies. I catch his eye and he looks away, speaking into a receiver. Within seconds an alarm is ringing at top volume in all the hallways surrounding us and the footsteps of heavy boots are coming closer.
And then I am on the beach with a doctor who is examining me and searching through my brain in search of impurities. She is an anthropologist wearing glasses and looking very official. We are on a special trip because I have regained my privileges. She teaches me how to build a sandcastle and I imitate her motions as if underwater. At another time we are in her office and I find a photo album full of pictures of the other patients. The photos are all of girls on the cusp of puberty. In one shot I recognize the face of Susan and then do a double take when I realize it is not Susan but a copy of her, almost like a genetic mistake who is not quite a complete representation of the way I remember her to be. The pages of my doctor’s photo album are filled with faux Susan
and I wonder how she created them.
In another dream, I was walking in an extremely wealthy hillside area that had been sealed off from the public. This area was crowded with expensive mansions all the way up to the peak of the hill, where the largest house of all was a place that contained occult rituals that were conducted by respected industrialists. As I approached the massive building, I became afraid because that evening was an important pagan holiday and there was a feeling that many powerful entities were lingering in its vicinity. As the
sunrise spread across the valley, my vantage point from the bushes outside the house of the occultists revealed vast plains occupied by chained workers. And then I was in the fields as a supervisor strolled up and down the rows checking identification. I had managed to steal an ID from somewhere and was planning on using it to blend in and later to make an escape from the fields.
A different dream involved a sprawling factory that was staffed by the Chinese military. Here they had confined dissidents in individual rooms, much like the structure of a psychiatric ward or one of the torture facilities run by Homeland Security. The guards were specifically trained in the science of sexual torture, the results of which had saturated the air with a dense, heavy presence that was terrifying to behold. Although my body was confined in one of these rooms, my spirit flew down the halls and out a window, only to see an electrified fence and helicopters flying overhead. Unable to leave, I realized that my spirit was chained to the facility.
On another night, I was trapped inside the US embassy of a Middle Eastern country. The endless holy war situation had escalated to the point where American citizens were truly in a precarious situation. All travel in and out of the country had been suspended on the orders of the government, meaning that we were basically hostages of a foreign military. Somehow I was miraculously able to escape by flirting with one of the guards at the embassy. Wandering around the city was dangerous because if anyone saw me I could have been kidnapped and tortured. I was headed for a black market trading zone where it was rumored that elite, well-connected Americans were still tolerated. There I found a wealthy businesswoman who had been in business with Arab politicians. She was concerned for her safety because several of her business partners had turned against her, meaning that she would no longer be tolerated by the ruling establishment. Since the woman still had access to large sums of money, she was able to secure us both coveted positions on a private jet headed for Europe.
On another occasion, I found myself illegally squatting in the top floor of an abandoned skyscraper. An earthquake was rattling the ceiling and sending dust clouds and pieces of particle board raining down on top of me. I grabbed my shoes, a bag and a blanket and took off running down the seemingly endless flights of stairs. Fractures shot across the ceiling and the whole building shook. Implicit within the dream was a sense that this earthquake was only the latest in a long series of ecological and political catastrophes. I finally made it outside, only to see that the military was herding people into sectioned off areas, ostensibly for the purpose of feeding them. I made my way down a narrow back alley and followed similar out of the way back routes until eventually finding my way out of the city. The countryside was full of armed groups of men ransacking people’s houses for food and other valuables. Finally I found a home that had been all but been stripped bare from floor to ceiling. Here I found an out of the way room and spread out my blanket to rest.
Another non-end-times related dream is relevant because it contains entities that are common among alien abductees and occultists. Here I was in a house that could form into a physical state the fears of its inhabitants. The building was actually more like a massive factory with dozens of rooms, a maze like structure and again the same grimy black substance that clung to the walls floor and ceiling. I opened the door to one of the rooms and found an identical replica of my house inside of it. Upon entering, I was attacked by animals that changed between kittens and rats while I attempted to swat them off of me. Finally I was forced to hurt the things, which is just about the worst thing imaginable to me because I am an animal lover. The central hall held Thunderdome styled fight clubs, where the warehoused criminals would fight to the death in front of a cheering crowd. The loser was thrown down an elevator shaft. That evening I had been assigned to fight a woman whose psychotic boyfriend would murder me no matter what happened. I had been given a tip that police were trying to shut down the building. Somehow I had found a way to communicate with them and was able to help them to get the entire building shut down. For once the police were actually the good guys! And then I watched from outside as a construction crew disassembled the labyrinth within the building’s walls in rapid motion. I was watching time sped up. As the walls were each successively removed in turn, the crew became smaller until eventually packing up and leaving the building in apparent desolation. And then I saw the most sickening thing. Rising from the depths of the elevator shaft were enormous black hooded beings, entities without faces and an overwhelmingly unpleasant atmosphere about them. These were not the spirits of the fighters, but instead the powerful, ancient beings who had guided the course of events within the building. I have noticed that some of the entities I have encountered in the ether are weak, barely-there beings who seem almost as if they would quickly dissolve without human sustenance. My impression of the hooded beings was not like this. I felt that they were demigods of sorts who had been feeding on humanity for so long that they had gained an independent existence.
The sickening impression of the dream was with me for weeks afterwards. I was morbidly curious if others had seen them, and so decided to do a google search for “black hooded entities”. One of the stories I found was a guy who had encountered them during a near death experience. After being hit by a car on the freeway, he lost consciousness and found himself in front of an enormous firepit. Surrounding it were dozens of hooded beings standing in a circle. Half of them wore white robes and the other half were the black robed creatures that I had seen in my dream. The girl who was driving the car was there and she was begging for another chance at life from these beings. They turned her down, with the implication that she had made many mistakes in life and was destined for a very negative place. The man who had been hit later awoke to 3D and discovered that the driver had in fact passed away. Another of these accounts described these beings as presiding over a child sacrifice in a factory type building where there were rows of cages stacked along the walls. Inside the cages were dazed and traumatized children.
A lot of these dreams have a sort of “choose your own adventure” quality to them, where it seems that the decisions you make in the dreamworld effect what happens in the real world. Greydove told me about a vivid dream where she was running away from fleets of alien ships that had covered the sky. In another dream, she was encased in a clear glass cylinder, while other people were stacked in similar compartments all around her. When she tried to move she was given an injection and then woke up from the dream. Here it seems that she actually removed herself from the dream world by refusing to participate in the doctors’ simulated reality. This imagery reminded me of drawings I used to do as a child. One drawing in particular, done around the age of eight or nine, depicted a factory with naked people stacked in rows along shelves. It would be nearly ten years before I found identical descriptions of underground genetic laboratories while browsing the web. I suspect that these worlds are in a sense intertwined and overlapping, where events in one will bleed over into the other, and vice versa. In every one of these dreams, I have had the ability to shift the course of events in a favorable direction, even if the entities within them try to convince me otherwise. This pattern suggests to me that lucid dreaming may be the key to deprogramming subconscious programs. One of the most important occult concepts I’ve read about is the idea that in order to cast a spell on another, you have to gain their permission, even if that permission is gained through subconscious trickery. So if you don’t give them your permission, the spell is broken. It’s really that simple.