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.
I am,
Just One Light
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