Tuesday, October 4, 2011

So many public figures,

So many public figures, even tangential and minor ones, are disappearing from the media spotlight, and being replaced by doubles, that I am feeling a little nervous about my mental health. In short, I keep asking myself, "am I so tuned in to the media (because my own life in my immediate reality is so circumscribed), that I am losing a truly critical perspective?" After spending a lot of time analyzing Obama's cabinet appearance from yesterday, I feel somewhat reassured in my assessment. Yes, the doubles are getting really good, and wearing expert makeup, but I still think I am right in my assessment. In the Obama double case, the subtle difference is that the actor no longer tries to act "presidential"--a role that I honestly thought he played with greater sincerity than the original "Manchurlian reprobate". Rather than creating his acting performance primarily on the presidential role, the double references and mimics Obama directly--that is, he now acts like Obama acting like the president, rather than directly performing as if he were the president himself. Get it? While it is a sad commentary that this country elected such a fraud as Obama, the latest nuance of this double is really convincing, and like Hillary's double, I can see myself spending a lot of time, trying to discern who it is I really see, except that I really won't.

Right now, it seems to me that, broadly speaking, the patriots of this country, and indeed the world, are able to effectively manage and contain the crises and damage caused by the evil powers who have run roughshod and waxed fat for the past few decades, so I am not so focused on what is going politically. Besides, it is clear to me that increasingly, my efficacy is being shifted to the astral realm, where I engage directly in battle with evil elements. How does this happen? While I remain socially isolated and cannot interdimensionally travel in my conscious state, I can sleep, and it seems that nearly every night, in my dream state, I am transported to the interdimensional realm, and am often pressed into service by the aliens and their human allies, who are fighting the forces of darkness. I don't mind too much, because in my view, that is how I demonstrate my love for the world and my fellow human beings.

However, there are drawbacks to this setup. I was nearly killed over the weekend. Really. Because I cannot consciously control my interdimensional travel, I nearly was unable to escape capture by a invading group of "bad guys" who overran the installation in which I was astrally present. There were a couple of people with me, a man and a woman, who were responsible for protecting me--remember, I need a "shepherd" to guide me, since I cannot astrally travel of my own volition. I don't know what happened to the woman, but I think the man died. What I saw in my dream, was that he literally disappeared, after going through the emergency exit door. I couldn't go through (or maybe I did), but in any case, I somehow teleported to some place completely different, and THAT is what saved me. Now, I suspect that no one knows how I did that trick (and surely I don't consciously know myself), but I think a lot of people would like to know. I am just glad to be alive. If you remember "The Matrix", Morpheus told Neo, "if your brain dies (unplugged), then your body dies in the matrix. I think that is what happened to the man who was protecting me. I think it was Fred Bell who disappeared after going through that door. Now, I don't mind dying, and Dr. Bell has passed over to a better and holier place, but I would at least like to prepare myself mentally for possible death before a battle. The saying goes, "there are no atheists in foxholes", and I would appreciate the opportunity to make my peace with God, before a battle, just in case. Anyway, the "forces of light" may have made an adjustment to prevent such a disaster. I am thinking that the cramp in my leg that woke me up a couple of nights ago, was deliberately placed there, to "sting" me with pain, so that I would wake up, if battle conditions should deteriorate. It woke me up all right. It still hurts.

What really bothers me however, is not fighting battles of which I am not consciously aware, (for I am a natural warrior, I think), but the constant drugging that continues to afflict me. Today, I am on some kind of drug that has me, once again, dragging to get through life. Actually, I have been dragging for the quite a while now; today it is just so exacerbated that I am barely functional. I have been writing this post for over a couple or three hours now--I just cannot sustain any kind of concentration.

I am thinking that the drugs are courtesy of the latest alien faction to lay claim to me. You see, after surviving the firefight and teleporting to some unknown place, I was "rescued" by a couple of aliens, after a big white cat sniffed me out. I was hiding, and I think that once again I was offered the choice to be male (and associate with the Black psychic community), or female (and be the avatar for this group of aliens, which are positive cousins to the Amon-Ra cult--that is they worship or venerate the feminine, historically Isis).

I am in a quandary, because unconsciously I cannot choose to be male, but consciously I hate being in a female body and suffering the drag and low energy that, for me, accompanies the female state, and especially the goddamned effects of the estrogen--including uncontrolled weigh gain--WHICH I CANNOT STAND. If I were a real woman, I would have access to the interior power center and the high energy levels that naturally born women do have, but I never will. Tell that to the aliens who rescued me. I am not sure who they were. I remember that I asked them, "Who ARE you people", and they were miffed to be called, "people", so I can assume they were aliens, and chauvinistically proud ones at them. I don't hold their chauvinism against them--were I to come from another planet, I would have ambivalent feelings about human beings too. However, whoever these two "beings" were, they must be allied with the faction of "dog" Sirians, for once again, the dogs have quit barking at me, and they also are have been force feeding huge quantities of estrogen. I can tell--not only by my low energy, but also by the bodily subcutaneous fat and fluid, and the smoothness of my skin--all of which drives me crazy.

I even dreamed that I were pregnant. I don't know if I am just being given the hormones that pregnant women naturally produce, or if I really am pregnant. If so, with what? I don't think any of my eggs were involved, because the reptiles and Nazis reamed me of every last one. I can only assume that it is some kind of alien hybrid material that only I, with my genetic makeup, can carry, because certainly I am not in good physical shape to carry any pregnancy. I wonder if it is some kind of cetacean life. I know it is not human, because I have no sense of relationship with any incipient living being inside of me, at all, and I am sensitive enough, that I think that I would know. However, even if I am pregnant, I do not believe that the embryonic life is some kind of monster. I would never consent to that. So, I have to have faith that such a violation of my inner bodily integrity has to be for a good and holy purpose. I just don't know how long I can carry a pregnancy. I am so miserable in my body already, and my back and ab muscles already are weak and locked in spasm.

So, I am trapped in this mutilated body for God knows how long (please tell me they have the technology to take this thing out of me within a couple of months). I tell myself just to focus on little things, but when I am so low energy, and drugged on top of that, it is difficult, especially when I am so miserable in this body. I no longer even complain about it, as clearly there is nothing I can do but endure it.

I am quite certain that I am not a woman. Last night, I watched the baseball playoffs, and was so excited to finally see a game with real men competing, instead of engaging in some kind of outdoors, Ice Capades choreography with the script written and the winner picked. When I see anyone play with all their heart, it pulls my heart into the fray too, and when that happen, I start to dialogue with the players in my head. Now, I sure hope that all these psychics and aliens in my head, constantly scanning every brain fart I have, do not think for one minute that I believe that I am in real dialogue with the characters or players as presented on TV. It is just active imagination, something I learned to do as a child, not only to cope with the loneliness, but also to teach me how to interact in social situations. If you want it to stop, then get me out of this enforced isolation, but I know that won't happen. The aliens who claim possession of me now, want to see me as a female, and will not accept my free choice to choose otherwise. The Black psychics need to be certain of my commitment to completely embrace the vision they have of me, which includes a radical transformation of self-identity to Black man, before accepting me, and while I consciously choose that, unconsciously I do not. I can only hope there is some good reason for my continued suffering (maybe, if I am pregnant--I have to do this thing for the universe; certainly I won't ever become pregnant in a male body--HIP HIP HURRAY! YEAHHHHHHHH).

In any case, there is nothing I can do in my situation, but exercise vigilance and patience. I have to continue to be vigilant that the KaBalists do not whip a fast and nasty trick out of the hat of possibilities, so I will continue to read. I have to stay patient and hope that God's will be done, and someday, I will feel happy about who I am and the body I inhabit, instead of the miserable slug body I am in now.

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