When I started this blog two weeks ago, I really had no idea where it was headed. Thinking about the Mission Statement helped: To Stop The Cabal. But what would it take?
I began thinking about how we learn, and what it would take for us to learn the truth about our lives, which is very different that what we’ve been told. There are whistleblowers and conspiracy theorists galore. We don’t need more of either. What we need is one of our own, someone we already trust, to share with us what’s true. What we need is someone with nothing personal to gain from our belief in their story.
You don’t know me. I am nameless and faceless and for now I’ll remain that way. I have come out because our world is at stake. The information I have to share, if it is heeded, could save it. I have to earn your trust.
Shared videos and articles from other Illuminati children and whistleblowers should help show that their methods touch most of society. It may not convince you that it touches you.
I would like to show you that it does. I am a writer by trade, and “The pen is mightier than the sword.” (Edward Bulwer-Lytton 1839) From here on out I will gradually share with you what is really going on here, with my own pen. I will start in my small home town and we’ll end up with a galactic viewpoint. I will not hide my intent – I want you to hear me and believe me. I want you so convinced in the truth of my words that you’ll take action to halt what is going on, and to remove them from every place they have a grip. This is the only way to stop them.
Our world has a population of seven billion. We are the vast majority. With our numbers and our knowledge we can put an end to the criminal activity that surrounds us. It will take bravery, like the women going on television in Great Britain next week to expose the pedophile Jimmy Savile. It will take tenacity, like David Icke. It will take a willingness to be unpopular. It will take guts.
I am fortunate in that I have a mate who supports me 100%. Yet even he is having a tough time reading every post on this blog or watching each video until the end. He remembers going through it with me the first time. We are so very connected that much of what I relived in flashbacks, he witnessed and felt right along with me. The horrific nature of their actions is nothing when compared to their ultimate goal.
I become sort of robotic when I speak of it. I sort of remove myself emotionally. It is a coping mechanism. When I posted these last 30 times, I shared very little of myself. I held back, fearing the worst. Your comments are all read and very much appreciated. For now I won’t be responding directly. I instead will address what I need to in later posts so you will know I’ve heard you. You have been loving and supportive and it is that fact that keeps this going.
So I’ll begin with something that happened when I first began to remember at about the age of thirty. I saw a strange scene I couldn’t make sense of and hardly believed. I was in therapy at the time. I had begun therapy with an African American woman because of flashbacks. I am Caucasian. One of the first things I had her do was put me through a battery of psychological tests to prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy. These flashbacks were beyond belief and I HAD NO REFERENCE POINT TO MAKE SENSE OF THEM. I was in graduate school at the time, and a single mother.
I’m not crazy and I have the test scores to prove it. However as my flashbacks painted a ghoulish picture of what had been my childhood, my therapist gracefully asked me to stop seeing her. She was afraid for her life and I had to agree with her. Not necessarily because she was my therapist, but because she was also black. She suggested I find someone who specialized in Ritual Abuse. I did.
The scene I remembered, and my partner witnessed as I did, was of me age 4 or 5, dressed in a cape and dress, carrying a basket, as Little Red Riding Hood in the woods. It was dark and I sensed lots of people in the darkness. There was a scene set up, candles and “trees” around a large wooden slab/table. There was a wolf, or rather, a man in a wolf costume. He eventually raped me on that table. It was loud and I don’t know why. Maybe those watching from the darkness were chanting. I can’t say for sure.
As I re-lived that scene as a 30 year old woman, my mate remembered something he’d heard a few years prior. A musician, he was in a bar between sets and standing within earshot of a couple of suits. These guys were talking about the “meeting” the next day. One of them said “Are we going to play the Red Riding Hood game?” The other one said “Oh yeah.” They were both excited and my partner thought it was such an odd reference that it stuck in his head. Now he knows what they meant.
I thought I was crazy when I re-lived that scene. I believe that is the whole point. I had recurring nightmares as a little girl about a big hairy “gorilla” coming after me. My mother did not find them alarming. The atrocities fit right into our cultural story, and even when we look right at them, we don’t see.
For all I know, this scene took place in the town hall. It was a big room. I was 4 years old. As I began to remember, my partner and I travelled back to the town. There were buildings I “knew” I had been in, yet had no conscious memory of entering. There were times I took him to homes and in some cases right to the driveways of places I did not recall, yet I “knew”. I had to look up the address at the library to figure out who had lived there thirty years ago.
This splitting is purposeful. It is part of a Master Plan, so horrific you have no facility to incorporate it into a life of bills and weeds and school and kids and groceries and soccer and work and friends and fun and love. David Icke’s image of sheep being herded someplace is quite accurate. We will all choose to follow the path of least resistance. The other path holds no rewards. Right now you can read about my story and shake your head in disbelief and then move on to something else more fun and uplifting before you get depressed or it touches your life in any concrete way. They know this.
I am not asking you to get depressed. I am asking you to wake up, and remain that way in the face of every news report or bank charge or government policy. Keep your eyes wide open.
Thank you for following this far. I will continue. Please share.
Just One Light