WARNING: Graphic Violence against Children Detailed Below!
NOTE: I’m a Survivor and NOT a Victim! I Refuse to be “their” Victim!
In this post, I’m going to once again get very graphic and explicit about waking up to being a military abductee and all the fixings and trimmings. I’ve been having unusual symptoms since around 2005. I started having panic attacks in my sleep and fits of rage out of the blue. I will detail this more in a later post.
In October of this year, 2011, I had a dream and unfortunately it was not Martin Luther King’s type of dream. It took me a few days to realize the dream was a memory and I had watched the whole thing on a screen! In the dream I was on a military base. I believe it was in Georgia. I can’t confirm, but I’ve driven through Georgia before and the energy was the same. I was standing next to a building above ground and next to me was a guy I’ve know for about ten years and respect. He was my guide in this drama. All of a sudden about twenty young boys started to run up the sidewalk towards this building I was looking at. I cannot retrieve what the children came out of, but I think it was some type of military vehicle. My peripheral vision was blocked to the general direction the children and gunmen came from.
As the children ran towards the facility, I noticed they were all in Spider Man pajamas or costumes. Their feet were covered with the costume but not their heads and faces. One of the children, the youngest was in a green costume, but I’m not sure which super hero he was supposed to be. The children were all Caucasian and were about six to eight years old. The child in the green pajamas was a toddler, not even four years old I suspected. All of the children had guns in their hands and they could discharge some type of round pellet. The guns had the allusion they were real, but they did not shoot ordinance.
It was my impression the children were being corral-ed into this building for some type of party or event. They were instructed to proceed up the walkway and enter the door. When they arrived at the door, it was locked. As a group they all turned in unison to inquire about the locked door.
As the children turned around, automatic machine guns open fired on all of the children simultaneously. In the dream, my heart sank. The shock, the horror, the sheer dishonor to God was appalling; I could hardly stand up. The rounds began to pierce the small bodies of the children. They began to fall like dominoes. Tissue, blood etc. was spattering all over the wall of the facility behind them. I saw a portion of one the little boys arm get blown off and another was hit in the chest, abdomen and throat. His arterial blood hit the wall of the building. I remember seeing this in the emergency room when I was eighteen years old. The E.R. staff started a “central line” on an elderly woman with congestive heart failure. The arterial blood spray of the child was exactly the same. The next scene took me days to recover from. The little boy in the green pajamas was slumped over dead into the arms of one of the other boys. The boy holding the dead toddler looked up and with a fraction of his remaining life force and breath, smiled and gently waved goodbye to the people shooting him or somebody standing next to them. He then laid his little head down and was gone. I realized at that moment, before he died, he must have been in severe shock and didn’t even realize how bad the situation or his injuries were. I thought to myself, what an angel. He was lying there, blood draining out of him with a dead toddler in his arms and in that last moment, he had enough peace to wave goodbye. That moment will probably haunt me forever.
I looked over my shoulder to the guy standing next to me. I know him in my life as a former marine reservist who served in either Iraq or Afghanistan. I started fuming and cussing! Rage was mine! To paraphrase, I demanded to know what the fuck was happening. I said how the fuck can you just desecrate these children. I screamed and screamed. My guide informed me, that “We just follow orders.” “We don’t ask questions, we just follow orders.” I began to rage even more and asked how can you fucking follow orders? He repeated again, “We just follow orders!” “We don’t ask questions!” He said, “You’ll eventually understand!” I finally said, O.K., so you followed orders, but I want fucking answers as to why they were shot! I want some fucking answers! I had vengeance on my mind! I did not know the names of these beautiful young boys, but all I know is they were like sons to me. I may never know the full reality of their relationship to me or even if there was one?
The guide informed me the children were part a secret government program. He said their program was different than any of the others before it. He said these children would be trained and eventually imbedded with soldiers in the future. He notified me the program they were in was terminated and that was why they were being shot. Again, I argued as to why it had to end in this matter and he stated, once again, “They just follow orders.”
Next, I was taken to another building that was a cafeteria. It was a very sterile cafeteria and it had a military vibe to it. The people in the cafeteria appeared to be in trances or programmed in some way. They ate and only ate. Nobody talked or looked around; they were only focused on eating. The cafeteria was all in white. The counters, floors etc and uniforms the people wore were white.
A man in white clothing approached me and the guide. This man looked into my eyes and said, “You just need to get over it!” This comment was in reference to the children being killed. It was at this point, I saw RED! I totally lost it and punched the guy about four times in the head before I struck him in the gut and did a roundhouse kick to his leg. The man dropped to one knee and then was back up in three seconds. This guy was tough!
After the fight, another man, similar in body composition to a Navy Seal, with huge legs, arms and neck stepped into the area. He told my guide we should leave for now. He said this isn’t the right time and we’d do this later. Before we turned to leave the cafeteria, I grabbed a plant and tossed it as hard as I could. The plant and pot shattered on a table where people were eating. The people, the programmed people, did not even bat an eye! They were eating the food off the table with potting soil etc. I couldn’t believe it! The guide walked me out and I woke up.
I dedicate this posting to Duncan and Miranda. I put this dream on my YouTube channel. I was not going to use their names as tags etc. My inner “voice” demanded I use them as a reference. I argued with myself and said they don’t know me. They have enough going on in their lives without me interrupting. My internal voice told me once again to mention them and I did.
A few weeks later, more info had starting coming out. I decided to email Duncan and Miranda. I was extremely nervous, but my internal voice once again told me this was the right thing to do. I thought they would ignore me, just blow me off. I got a response from them and it made all the difference. I knew by this time, what I was experiencing was real. It was time to wake up. Oh, the process is miserable, but it must be done.