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alien mind control during abductions
(part 1) I am on line, on a "tour"; I am waiting on line inside something large and hot-house humid moving forward slowly into a large carrier ship.
Just moments before, it seemed, I was flying high above the trees, arms outward to catch the wind, flying, captured in a warm safe beam of light under a small craft, over lush green tree landscape, over rolling tree lined hills.
I know, somehow, that it is nighttime but the fields and countryside below are illuminated, lit up as though it were ten in the morning, but I know it's night because I am told that I am dreaming.
For a few more brief seconds I see the green granular nature of the trees below and a visual exhilaration of flying combined with a sense of peace and happiness. I marvel at the texture and color and my movement above it.
I am dreaming but I am awake.
I am told by a tour guide, a warm deep resonant voice, always just out of sight, that I am to wait on line for a tour of the insides of a country estate. I am numb and dreaming. But I sense and see oddly, the vision of one who is somehow awake, but paralyzed, one who guesses that he is awake.
Now, I am moving forward with people in a straight line in front and in back of me and all are adults.
We are on a narrow path surrounded by flat scenarios of English gardens. It is hot and humid with the rank smell of soil. People clutch in their fists what might be brochures and move slowly forward in a single line towards the large doorway country estate.
I feel terribly bored but I am told to pretend out of kindness to be mildly interested. In my numbness, I pretend.
A ticket taker sits on the left at the entrance way on a stool behind a pulpit-lectern carefully observing the entering throng, not taking any tickets.
On closer examination, I meet his eyes; He is a slim teenager . I think that his denim coveralls look ill suited and that both he and his attire seem out of place at the entrance of such an austere tourist attraction and as though he could read my mind and as though he could shape shift, within one second, he turns into a kindly old man. Even more puzzled, I proceed into the ship.
Everyone is awake but dreaming.
(part 2) Inside, I see a waiting room, a dull white room with no adornments and a black floor. Within, in constant movement, are a dozen or so middle aged people, now all freshly sorted as only men.
They pace and look around nervously. Some speak aloud but not to each other, as though each one was wrapped in a separate dream.They make brief low voiced non-sequiturs to no one in particular and some look very worried.
In the room men move towards an empty buffet table strangely bereft of food or drink and carefully carry nothing and then return to a place in the room.
A man who is unhappy, a short, slight, balding man with a pinched face walks directly up to my unhappy face and peers intensely up at me from the paper cup he is holding in hand and makes furtive eye contact.
I stare back remembering his face for many months afterwards. He wanders away muttering to himself.
I, too, am unhappy; I appear to be at some corporate party, in a company that I surely don't work for; not only do I not know anyone, but worse, the host seems to have invited me to a buffet without food or drink; that must be why I am angry.
The tour guide, who always remains out of view, now tells me that it is indeed a cocktail party.
I am suddenly overwhelmed with all of the cumulative uncomfortable corporate uneasiness in each face and I turn away as this feeling repels me from the room.
Looking for a door or exit I begin to think; "I'd like to find the hosts of this party and give them a piece of my mind; no food no drink! What kind of party is this? "
But just as I start off to look for the host with that thought in mind, a psychic leash is pulled and applied; I am frozen in place, viscerally slapped with an emotional wave of terror and remorse. I am washed with a sudden realization that it would not be a good idea to insult a most lethal and evil host.
But my mind reasons and grapples with this realization even though it is wrapped in alien imposed delusions and tied to a psychic leash of telepathy.
In the midst of this delusion, I ask myself why would such a question scare me so? Why would I fear insulting a likely fearsome host, especially since I have no clear idea at all whom the host might be?
With a mixed feeling of confusion as well as one of having averted jeopardy, I quickly dismiss the idea.
I go back into the party. Everyone stares at my nakedness.
I blink and look again. All the men hold and drink from invisible cups and are half dressed. Each man is in an unhappy jittery dream. Why am I here? I am quickly overwhelmed with a feeling of not belonging in that room.
Although somewhere a tour guide is watching, I succeed in sneaking out into another nearby empty and smaller room. Another feeling creeps over me, overtaking me.
I am overwhelmed with joy; a feeling of being free and wild, a child ego-state blossoms within me and I giggle with mischievous glee as the feeling overcomes me.
I drop to the black floor and crawl, darting under a table whose tablecloth drops to a few inches above the floor. I am quickly underneath. I am giggling because I am hiding and no one knows. Again I am suddenly gripped with a joyful childishness that forces my eyes and mouth into contorted joy.
I can hear voices of the people talking in the room but now I feel safe and hidden; the table is draped on all sides by a white table cloth.
Sudden footsteps resound! My life and mirth seem threatened; someone is about to pull the tablecloth up and find me. The tips of black shoes intrude under the cloth's edge.
I shrink and withdraw, teeth bared animal like, reverting atavistically. I begin to growl, deep in my throat, all senses electrified and like a wild animal I launch myself forward, snarling.
It is a dream within a dream.
(part 3) A bright light and I am dreaming but I know that I am awake. I am not awake but I am moving, climbing up a steep stairway ladder path-bridge within a very large room, still in single file line with people in a guided tour, dreaming awake.
The tour guide, always just out of view, tells me to keep climbing up a ladder towards a small room at the top of the stairs.
Someone in front of me dreams, wakes up dreaming. I hold the banister of the metal staircase to look to my right as I climb upwards and I see an enormous domed -curved window which makes up the whole side wall next to the metal staircase that I am slowly climbing;I am feeling very numb.
I pause and as I do so I stop the line of climbing people. I place my arms on the metallic curved railing where the staircase meets the bottom of the window.
I cup my chin on my hands as I pause to look outside of that large curved window and although I try to understand what I see, I am so numbed that what I do see, despite its being dazzling, does not affect me emotionally.
Outside is blackness. The Earth floats large and bluish-white in the left corner of the glass and the moon, smaller and more vivid in its craters of pure whiteness, floats in the right corner of the glass window. We are in the blackness of space, between both .
The Earth is a circle of blue white haze except for a large clear reddish area which I dimly recognize as the desert of North Africa or perhaps the Arabian peninsula.
Far away in space above and beyond both round images, bright red- violet splashes of circular nebulae and hundreds of points of red stars intersperse with millions of white stars. It is a dazzling three dimensional view.
Chin in hands,feeling very numb, I lean over and say in a sad, wistful, admiring tone, "These people who live at this estate have some view; wow, what a view!"
The tour guide, always just out of view, is now startled and quickly the scene on and outside the window quickly changes to that of a flat one dimensional green English garden landscape.
Chin in hands, still looking out of the window I repeat again but this time looking at and reacting to the flat garden landscape, "They DO have a nice view!"
The tour guide is startled to hear me repeat the same phrase. Clearly out of touch with the fact that the scene of the garden has already worked to distract me, there was a knee-jerk over reaction in mind control.
I was thrown into a vivid emotional ecstasy.
The metal ladder path transformed into a delicately patterned dazzlingly ornate, inlaid wood design, cryptic and steeped in both beauty and complexity.
In awe, I was forced to kneel and examine it and I turned fully away from the window.
I felt a powerful feeling of awe, love, admiration and godlike reverence quickly flash through me and then it began to overwhelm me.
I felt an awe beyond reverence and worship as, now on my knees, on the wood-inlay staircase suspended in air, I began to examine the lushly constructed multi-colored fractals in wood. A thrill of wonder was tingling through my body giving me goose pimples.
The gorgeous staircase intricately embroidered with lush wood patterns struck in me a powerful, spiritual, heartfelt adoration and love for both the wood pattern construction and the unknown artist. I became so absorbed in the staircase that I forgot for a moment what I had seen outside the window.
The sleeping line of climbing people was stopped by my awe and fawning and repeated examination of the simple metal staircase. In my delusion, in the imposed hallucination, I repeatedly retraced my steps to further examine its stunning detail
The tour guide, always just out of sight, now presumed that it was enough.
A paternal, parental impatient voice said in my head, "just keep going; it will be there for you to see when you get back."
But things change in dreams, I told myself. I did not trust that it would be there again for me when I returned as I knew that I was dreaming. I lingered ,enthralled.
The guide, in a classic mind control tactic, had psychically tried to distract me by making the metal staircase unrightful recipient of my awe instead of the scene that I had viewed outside of the craft's window so that I would not understand or remember, but when I awoke I did remember.
I recall later thinking that they have uncanny, mind-bending control over people's minds;I dully recall that as a thought.
(part 4) I awoke exhausted with a dull headache and a nose bleed, more tired getting up than I had been, going to bed.
I opened the door, slowly and peeked down the hall; there was no one in evidence. I threw on my striped, tattered bathrobe, full of holes, and barefoot, stole out into the hallway, leaving my door barely ajar. I went to the stairwell, chose the second floor and peeked up and down the hallway from my vantage point behind a hinge of the stairway door.
It was five fifteen a.m. I bolted quickly down the hall and turning quickly in reverse in three swift movements picked up first, from one doormat, a bottle of fresh milk, from a second a small bag of bakery delivered fresh rolls and finally a scooped up morning paper under my arm, from a third.
My heart pounding, lest I be detected, I ran up, breathless, to the fourth floor, my stolen breakfast in hand and locked the door.
I heard, in my head, a voice and a buzz.
It was a slight ring in my left ear, that odd inner ear ringing tone that one hears sometimes for no apparent reason. Concentrate on it and it gets louder; pay no attention and it dissipates. But the ringing in my ear got louder and I shook my head to stop it.
It was, I thought, clanging loudly enough for the neighbors to hear it coming from my head. I wildly moved my head to stop it. It grew louder. The sound moved deeper into my head and melted into a humming vibration. The whole left side of my head was humming.
I heard a voice which began quietly, but I couldn't understand anything, not a single word. I began to pray silently to St. Michael, as I stood there alone with a voice grinding out sounds in my head. My heart pounded and my jaw fell slightly open as the stolen groceries fell from my grasp to the floor. I held my hands to my ears, supported my head and tried not to scream and run.
I thought that people in insane asylums who heard voices could be like me or me like them.
(part 5) I was climbing to the small room at the top of the ladder and I was dreaming awake.
The high school basketball game was in the last quarter; the crowd's howl and the tattoo of the drums from the drill team seemed miles away. I and she had left the game and now sat on the sweet smelling lawn of the school, in the night, listening to the sounds of the game behind us.
I was cloaked in blackness, dreaming a recalled memory. She was in my arms; soft, dark, long brown hair brushed my face.
Almond shaped coquettish liquid dark eyes looked deeply into mine. I returned her gaze with a passionate, loving sensuality. She held my hand and it was cool and slender.
A mysterious and provocative incense coursed through my blood and made me dizzy with desire for her. I moaned and leaned closer.
She pressed her slim body close to mine and I lowered my eyes closing my lids, flushed with lust.
She suddenly stiffened and withdrew, and I sensed a wave of disgust and disdain from her wash over me. I was crushed and puzzled; why had the sweetness of the dream soured?
She withdrew backwards into the blackness. The girl in my dream stared at me; in her hands was a funnel-shaped cup, attached to a tube receptacle. She had taken seed from me?!
I was disappointed that she had taken seed from me and said; "Is that all; Is that all that you want?"She stared at me in wonder, as though I could actually see and understand.
Before the darkness came and swallowed me I realized that her coldness was the coldness of one running an experiment, caring more about the outcome then the methods used.
(part 6) Even though I was dreaming I knew that I was awake and I struggled with a feeling if hopelessness in the dawning realization of my experience.
Cold, unblinking large black eyes recorded my psychic and anatomical responses; they were registering my emotional responses, categorizing, summarizing, analyzing, and judging me.
The alien administered a progressive personality assessment, a standard psychological measurement exam which had more subtle discernment and calibration of the soul than any earthbound measurement.
The creature stared directly into my eyes and induced a delusional thought system, a gauntlet of nightmares, a funhouse of terrors. A series of three-dimensional scenarios in crystal clear virtual reality was projected into my mind.
My reactions, my nuances of feelings to the projected visions were carefully registered and recorded. The aliens seemed to be screening for asocial psychopaths and for people of moral goodness.
The first scenario placed me just outside of a small room with white walls and a red, bloody, gory floor.
In the center of the room, backs to the viewer were two butchers, their white coats splashed with blood. They moved meat cleavers and were busily chopping three month old infants into butcher cuts.
Many uncut dead infants several months old, staring into space with unseeing open eyes were stacked in tall piles of carcasses.
I was urged to enter the room but my mind rebelled in horror and fear and I refused. I was emotionally overwhelmed; the horror of the chopped infants saddening me, tightened my stomach and filled me deeply with fear. I trembled in terror. I thought; "Who in God's name could bring himself to do such an evil thing?"
I am thrust into another scene;I am in a rubble-strewn street with burnt shells of vehicles, some of which are upside down,it is a close view of cataclysm all surrounded by a distant city vignette of war and destruction.
Shells of damaged and fragmented buildings are all around which are precariously perched.
In the background smoke and flame issues all around.
At my feet, injured and partly buried in the rubble, is a frail old woman with a kerchief covering her head. She weakly gestures for help.
In pity I kneel beside her, but a sound from above of shifting rocks from a collapsing building brings my eyes to the building above me which noisily begins to weaken and shift.
A fear of death, of being crushed overcomes me and in torn agony I run from the scene leaving her behind.
I am stricken with grief and guilt over the decision, but I also feel grateful for having escaped unscathed.
All of this is carefully registered and recorded. Again, I am thrust into another nightmare scene, the small dark creature staring fixedly into my eyes.
I hear the repeated cracking sound of a whip on flesh overlaid with screaming pleas for mercy. It is just around the corner.
Shrieks and howls in loud, deep agony accompany a loud satanic laughter.
Fear crawls down my arms and legs. I am psychically prodded to look within. A naked muscular young man with black hair is writhing in pain chained by his arms and legs to a wall-mounted wooden cross. Nearby and laughing is a creature both real and unimaginable .
A mythical creature holding a whip roars in delight; a seven foot, brightly red -colored Devil, a hellish monster replete with long tail, demonically laughs in loud stentorian fashion as he delivers the whip repeatedly, snapping it onto the screaming man's back with loud cracks
.The man screams and pleads for mercy in fervent agony, in between each blow of the whip; blood and skin tissue noisily splatter the walls at each stroke.
My mind shrank back in mortal terror, disgust and raw horror.
Next, another nightmare scenario materializes and reveals a thick-bodied, squat Corsican gangster type who sits at a table playing solitaire with a deck of cards.
With a growl rich and deep with menace he warns me; I am threatened with my life as the gravel voiced gangster picks up a small hand gun and flatly tells me, without looking at me, that he is going to kill me. Helpless but wary I nod in silent placation and tacit acceptance.
The gangster who never takes his eyes away from his cards in front of him places the gun at the far end of the table closest to me.
Again this mobster and professional killer assures me in that same deep gravelly voice that no matter what I do he will definitely murder me.
I am urged to go for the gun to defend myself and to avert my own murder.
In response to the psychic suggestion to make a sudden grab for the gun, my mind's eye measures the distance between the gangster's hand and the gun and my own relative distance from the gun; I decide that it is most surely a trap and that I would be shot before I get to the gun.
I resist the suggestion and my thoughts and feelings towards a survival response are recorded.
The next scenario floats into mind. I am in a funhouse hall of nightmares
A beautiful woman, a Hollywood femme fatale type with short skirt, long white gloves, almond coquettish eyes, very long legs and dark hair, poignantly tells me that she is in real and impending danger and needs me to go with her to help her.
I awaken more now, and patently refuse, smelling danger, seeing through the disguise.
She promises me her body if I can go with her to help her. I abjectly refuse, again.
Now, she pauses and looks surprised and seems to not know what to say or do next. The delusion is wearing thin and I begin to stare hard at this participant.
The alien introduces a promissory image of her long limbs lasciviously intertwined with mine. I still refuse this time alerted and seeing a ruse.
The next psychic measurement is for honesty and guilt; I am left in a room with money piled high on a table. I am urged to fill my suit pockets and I do. After I do this, I am made to feel the slow burn of shame.
At the end of the exam, bereft of strength, disheartened, deeply depressed, I sat in the spacecraft drained and exhausted.
At this point the alien applied an artistic touch to the delusion. It gave closure and diverted my mind, but it also mercifully alleviated my soul's suffering.
Each main character from each scenario filed in one by one with knowing smiles and sat at a table in front of me. Awakened, I was slowly becoming angry at being so fooled; My God, I was at the center of a "Mission Impossible" scenario!
With a dawning realization that these people were simply players, conspiring to fool me, two things happened;a surprise at the complexity of the 'dream', and an awe at the enormity of the staging, all by seeming strangers.
This new revelation replaced the angst and confusion that this series of visions had provoked.
It also underlined the alien's total duplicity; when the alien saw my slow smile and lightening of spirit he brought me out of the delusion and back into blackness.
When my alarm rang, I swung my feet onto the floor.
"Dreadful dream," I thought, "My God, what a dreadful dream; someone was butchering babies; horrible dream."
Submitted By: Paul Schroeder |
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