Remote Viewing Defense Against Reptilian Aliens, Overlords of Human-Abducting Aliens

Remote Viewing Defense Against Reptilian Aliens, Overlords of Human-Abducting Aliens

 By  Paul Schroeder

 

 

(THE GOSPEL OF ST. MARK 4:22/23 reads…….22 For whatever is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is meant to be brought out into the open. 23 If anyone has ears to hear, let them hear.”)

 

I used to firmly believe that we as predators, were at the very top of the food chain.

Then, others like me, who also claimed to be abductees, some of who I met through Budd Hopkins and his weekend house get- together many years ago, told me horror stories about some abductions.

They had seen on-board craft, a Moth-man alien race, an ‘in-charge’ being who radiated demonic rage and hatred.

This satanic, diabolical alien being was overlord of many alien races who abduct humans and who pilot UFOS.

Muscular, winged, sentient, highly technological, upright standing to seven feet tall, monitor lizards governed large craft; reptilians who looked upon us as we fancied veal violated our World’s airspace every night…

(graphic: Earthfiles.com)

These abductees had even gleaned what reptoids regular diets consisted of..

Just as bad or even worse there was a spiritual/supernatural element, an ethereal placement of young reptilians along human abductees spinal chords for aural feasting; they trespass inter-dimensionally as well and tamper with our energies that extend there.

When these inter-dimensional cloaked unseen creatures violate and intrude within our aural/psychic energies, free-floating waves of anxiety blossom, the human soul’s natural reaction to intrusion; ask any psychic medium.

That explained why so many abductees had such horrid panic attacks and spinal issues, juvenile reptilian spinal attachments tamper with astral energies and cause somatic injuries..

ETs specialize in delivering telepathic vivid imagery into the mind’s ‘eye’.

Nightmares may be screen memories to muddle recollection aboard craft or insertion of core images as trauma, to make connections to your mind.

My acquired insights sustain that ALL nightmares are varied degrees of telepathic attacks used by and delivered from a varied collection of negative-thought-entities who strive to ‘reside’ within such “core-images”, and at least, make ethereal connections from us to them by imposing traumatic, horrid imagery.

Post-abductions “nightmares” especially fall within this realm.

It is not insightful, to analyze such imagery nor is it wise to assume that it’s innocuous.

One must attempt to not retain such imagery, but to sever and slash at it’s recollection, using tools of metaphysics, from swords to blow-torches, visualized removing connections.

Source helps those, who help themselves..

Imagine a whole city-scape,  with most people walking around with an affixed juvenile reptilian attached upside-down to their spines, and all with implanted forgotten nighttime images; it lends a new meaning to a silent invasion.

 

It was a chilling story I was to hear repeatedly echoed.

Not unlike demonic activity, reptoids impose nightmares.

You may know my acquired ‘take’ on nightmares: they are imposed for attachment-energy-residence , to actually “dwell’, within the layered human psyche’s core image-nightmare scenario.

Astral snakes and other astral wildlife, including greys seeking ‘sanctuary’, are found dwelling ‘behind’ such imagery, startlingly revealed, under hypnosis or when metaphysics use of swords or blow torches to sever “connection” ‘cords is employed,  and strongly visualized….

 

 When one is within grey and reptilian attentive and manipulative reach and grasp,  all vivid “dreams” must be suddenly suspect, ridden with controlled images and vivid delusions.

 

 

When one is later temporarily ‘freed’ from their omnipresent proprietary meddling, one’s foggy and half-remembered normal other “dreams” settle back in.

 

To what extent will Darkness delude those seeking “LIGHT”?

Channeling encourages the Dark Side to delude and obscure and thus most “channelers” spout verbose gobbledygook, filled with platitudes and fortune-cookie-like prophesy.

 

However, deceit can be exponentially dramatic:

I was fooled by a “Christ-Light-figure” experience that radiated bless, and I believed that I had a celestial and divine experience only to later learn, from psychic mediums, that reptilian alien dark ones had released a quantum of my OWN within- spiritual bliss, to fool me, in those moments, for it did, indeed, completely fool me.

The masquerade of a “figure of LIGHT” deceit, by the Dark Side can be both sublime and a degeneracy, an apex of deceit and diabolical brilliance.

Thus, many are fooled by such ‘figures of light’, because they forget to realize, that Lucifer, means:

“Light-Bearer”.

 

Astral dimensions, not unlike this physical created one, reptilian crib-like  constructs of astral worlds entrap human spirits, deterred from “Heaven”,  brutal, crude and unsettling ‘stage-sets’ wherein human spirits reside and unknowingly await transfers into other physical bodies to continue the E.T. cycle of ethereal ‘milking’ of energy and somatic tissues.

 

 If one is an evolving searchlight for divinity, one can perhaps attempt an equanimity, if one presses the issue .

 

“Aliens” have long been on and involved with this planet, eons BEFORE mankind showed up in  altered simian form,  and cruel tactics required tampering with our DNA to create us, a naked ape crop to harvest, a simian race who knots neckties and who rides public conveyances.


After a lifetime of abductions and research I have gotten this hard fact from abductees who have actually had their questions answered by their abductors.

It re-framed correctly, at least to my mind, what the ulterior motive, purpose was behind many alien/mankind interaction/visitations.

We are a physical (and spiritual crop) to be harvested, as we do with lower Earth animal forms..

The basic religious Biblical insistence that “sacrificial blood be spilled onto all four corners of the altar” is more a reptilian portal demonic summoning technique, far removed from anything remotely, “Holy”..

This  and the designed ‘Ark-of-the-Covenant’ powers to destroy is an initial entrance to understanding the beings involved in God- masquerading..

And I was angered to think how blind UFO sky-watchers and media, focus solely and simply on craft,  as though some alien-Jedi-mind-trick was imposed, and nobody focused on the intent of alien occupants, within.

It puts one in mind of a Twilight Zone episode called,”To Serve Man”, which neatly summed up man’s importance in the galaxy as a mere condiment.

(Director of CIA, Admiral R.H. Hillenkoetter: “It is time for the truth to be brought out in open Congressional hearings. Behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, citizens are led to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense. To hide the facts, the Air Force has silenced its personnel.” p. 58, quoted from New York Times, February 28, 1960, p. L30)

But Budd Hopkins’ abductees meetings ascertained that older abductees should not worry as our flesh is become too tough, old and tainted with drugs, chemicals and age ; only our very young become simian veal, for reptilian palates.

It makes one want to change, to make an apparent moral decision and assume a vegetarian diet and not ever atavistically revert;

but we too have mouths intended by evolution, equipped with meat tearing incisors…..

Who Could Ever Imagine Such Creatures ?

My abduction recalls were of different entities, also  masters of illusions, ones who tested me in mind-imposed scenarios, of moral dilemmas and survival values choices.

They calibrated souls and assessed minds with  uncanny, telepathic images projected onto the mind’s visual screen (i.e. the optic lobe).

They were tall, white like a refrigerator, flat like a Gumby cartoon character and often,  politely spoke mind to mind.

Years later, I saw a three foot tall juvenile reptilian entity,  during a shower, under the spray,  close up.

I saw it  partially appear and then slowly vanish, like an elf, and it cocked its head at me sideways, birdlike.

I was at once both horrified and in awe, frighteningly aware of their parasitic, bottom-feeder UFO- creature reputation, gleaned from other abductees.

The adults were winged Mothmen, cat-like eyes, scaled and ceiling tall, all quite demonically possessed, and I wanted nothing, whatsoever, to  imagine about them.

It was surmised by some in the UFO field, at Budd Hopkin’s  abductee-house-meetings that Earth may well be a reptilian preserve matrix of time and illusion, a human-playpen-physical anomaly preserve, when compared to multiple reptilian created synthetic, astral worlds, elegantly designed to ‘house’ trapped human souls.

 

 

I have seen such astral prison realms during astral abductions and OBEs and it is not dissimilar to this ‘reality’, which if you pay strict attention,  also sometimes ‘pixilates’..

I  had stupidly (and recklessly) tried an energy experiment with my mind to control a UFO by remote viewing, a mind flexing field exercise to satisfy profound irritation for the copious nosebleeds, and nightmares sustained after abductions from devices inserted into my sinuses and mentally implanted ‘screen-memories’.

By virtue of the unexpected result, the semi- transparent appearance of a saurian monstrously tall reptilian in the center of my living room who radiated a loathsome palpable rage and hatred, shortly after I tried using this psychic technique, I determined that I would never alone try this mental exercise tool again,

However, a skilled ensemble TEAM, might, by contrast, bring this warrior marvelous results.

The unused power of our minds is part of the raw quantum physics of the universe> That energy potential has latent power, both miraculous and awesome, to be seen in this power flexing exercise.

The fact that it brought almost immediate retaliation against me underlines its potential efficacy.

Will You Attempt To Be as Foolhardy as I?

With  eyes closed, I did visualize an alien craft, a disc-shaped or cigar-shaped large UFO, and ‘saw’ it perched, then flying above our planet high within our skies, many miles overhead.

I visualized all quadrants of a very large craft, filled with overlord reptilians and subservient greys, all busy at machinery.

I studied the tiers and levels of it in full detail for a full half minute.

 

Then, I visualized that a force from my mind sharply hit the ship and jarred the craft violently, tossed into another section of space, like a football, end over end.

Clearly, I saw it hurled across a short distance in space, at a tilted pitched angle and visualized all entities on-board now suddenly very startled and frightened.

Imagination, is a word that should be eliminated from our language.

I augmented this visualization and used a quick head tilt to accentuate the strong mental suggestion of the craft’s jump.

I  totally forgot about this experimental exercise within an  hour.

But then between me on the couch and my television set, a creature from a nightmare appeared and changed my life.
There are moments that define one’s life, moments that one says, ‘this was before that’, ‘this was after that’.

A Mothman-like reptilian, a winged scaled saurian being, ceiling-high, semi- materialized.

Without moving I was suddenly warmed; hatred surrounded me with menace as though I were near a hot radiator.

Its cat-like eyes radiated a palpable loathing and rage, which awed me rather than frightened me as I had lost my senses to surprise.

It was winged, ceiling-high and scaled, with webbing between brown claws.

It vanished after less than five seconds .

Later, days and weeks later in my life, that saurian vendetta surely and without question manifested a series of horrid and painful accidents which seemed later to underline the smoldering, tangible hatred and rage that it had radiated towards me.

In retrospect, those agonies and sudden misfortunes were not worth the risk of what was after all a very foolhardy experiment.

But I couldn’t help but wonder how merely one single human mind could be such a powerful weapon/tool, to control alien craft, that do indeed respond to powerful telepathic messages.

And I later also couldn’t help but wonder what more a highly skilled group of focused minds, an orchestra of minds in unison, might also be able to accomplish.

We are not, as mindless and as helpless against these vile creatures and their miracle machines, as everyone has thought …

 

Editor’s Note:

Illustrations of reptilian aliens courtesy of

Linda Moulton Howe’s

http://www.Earthfiles.com 

(with permission)

Advertisements

Alien Abductions: Hypnosis and Amnesia

alien_abductiona

Alien Abductions:

Hypnosis and Amnesia

 
By Paul Schroeder
(Copyright 2017, Paul Schroeder – All Rights Reserved)
<Edited by Robert D. Morningstar>

 

  • Giordano Bruno- February 1600 (burned at the stake by Church Bishops for teachings against the Roman Catholic Church) :

  • “Innumerable suns exist! Innumerable earths circle around their suns, no worse and no less inhabited than this globe of ours.

    For no reasonable mind can assume that heavenly bodies that may be far more magnificent than ours would not bear upon them creatures similar or even superior to those upon our human Earth.”

 

The following account is based on an actual encounter:

 

Dr. Paul Schroeder and his wife, Susan were boating on North Conway Lake in New Hampshire, near the North Conway mines, on May 13, 2008.

They paddled into a deep hidden canyon, entering between huge boulders which formed a narrow gateway.

It was a place that they had been to before,  to make love in the wild flowers, in a vast hidden field.

Both pulled the boat up onto the narrow beach shadowed by overhanging willows and had a cold lunch of chicken and white wine.

It was a pristine landscape to wander in and dream.

Soon they felt the air vibrate strongly like an explosion’s aftershock.       A wave blast of air and temperature.

“What in God’s name was that?” Susan asked.

Her husband answered:

“Likely, it’s a shock-wave from a dynamite explosion, miles behind us, at the North Conway mine.  But there was no sound, and we’re miles and miles, too far from the mine.”

She added, “You must remember, that mine’s long been closed!”

He thought for a moment, “You’re damned right.”

He climbed the boulder behind him and said:

“It came from just outside this  hidden cove, but I should be able to figure out what happened, if I can see out over the lake, from up there.”

He pointed.

“You’ll probably fall and kill yourself,” his wife warned.

After hard climbing, he reached the top boulder which was split and he could look out through a sharp cleft within the rock.

Two large, shiny, round craft floated on the water just beyond the narrow entrance to the cove.

He didn’t stop to look twice.

What he had seen was so unbelievable that he scrambled down to get his wife.  His astonished aspect, a slack jaw and wide eyes, was all the convincing that she needed.

Both climbed up to the well-hidden vantage point to get a better perspective.

Both metallic craft were fifty to sixty feet wide, twenty feet thick at the center and fifteen feet thick at the rim.

Round, black-edged ports covered the rim at a distance of every four feet.

On the top sides, hatch covers were open, and moving slowly around its surface were spindly creatures, who moved in unison, like robots.

On both ships, over their heads from a central position, was a slowly rotating hoop-shaped object.

When the hoop reached a point directly opposite the husband and wife, it stopped.

So did all of the creatures … Ominously for the couple, the creatures stared toward the couple’s hiding place and remained motionless.

The husband, with a frantic whisper pulled at his wife’s dress:

“Jesus, Lord, get down!”

And both of them did, but they were sure that the creatures had spotted them.

They remained hidden, staring round-eyed at each other, and then noticed a quick movement;  a deer below, had come to the water’s edge, to drink.

They were sure that the strange creatures were instead watching the deer and they slowly rose for another good look.

The hoop was rotating once more, operated by a creature, standing below it, who wore a small, scarlet head covering.

All were small and wore close-fitting dark suits and blue helmets.

One creature placed a shiny green hose in the water, drawing in water and at the same time discharging something from another hose.

Again the hoop stopped and all the figures froze … They stared toward the couple on the rock.

Husband and wife ducked and counted to thirty before they inched up for yet another look.

Two hours later, dazed and confused, missing time, the couple ambled back into their boat and headed for home.

They were both grim faced and neither spoke for the whole trip back, and the further they traveled from the lake, the more their amnesia of the incident grew.

They traveled home, bereft of memories.

A week passed during which each night’s “dreams”  held disturbed and bizarre scenarios.

One night, as his son slept, he stole gently into the bedroom where his child was sleeping, and removed three books, by J.M.Barrie.

He had awakened in a sweat from a nightmare and the stars had been bright against the blackness of the night sky..

Rather than awe, dread had descended to encompass him.

He now felt strongly protective and oddly repulsed by the notion of  Peter Pan, a never-aging figure, who comes down from the sky and floats children out of their bedroom, at night, accompanied by a little ball of light, Tinkerbell.

AFTERWORD:

“The overall patterns in these cases are so remarkably consistent, often down to  even tiny details, that people reporting these experiences often sound so inherently credible that the phenomenon simply cannot be dismissed.”

Alien technology, recovered from downed discs and other craft, has already inspired Skunkworks to give us the abilities, of aliens, by  recreating and reverse engineering:

  • lasers,

  • fiber optics,

  • nuclear power,

  • cold fusion anti gravity,

  • microwaves,

  • stealth technology,

  • nanotechnology

  • microchips,

    specialized surgical tools,

    cloning-genetic engineering

  • and most recently, the scramble to deduce ‘smart skins’ of craft, which, chameleon-like, alter shape and color according to background environments.

    All of these magical technologies, from E.T., successfully studied, reverse engineered and imitated.

    We have a lot to be thankful for because of Klaatu, –“The Day the Earth Stood Still”– though he is the diametric opposite of the charming, handsome, gracious, elevated spirit in alien form, in that film .

    He, in reptilian, mantid form- and in grey form- instead see us, in much the same perfunctory way, that we see chickens: a harvestable livestock crop.  And one does not ever remotely, seriously consider equanimity, with chickens.

  • ETs specialize in telepathically delivering vivid dream-scape imagery.
  • Nightmares may be screen memories to muddle recollection aboard craft or insertion of core images as trauma, to make connections to your mind.
  • My acquired insights sustain that ALL nightmares are varied degrees of telepathic attacks used by and delivered from a varied collection of negative-thought-entities who strive to ‘reside’ within such “core-images”, and at least, make ethereal connections from us to them by imposing traumatic, horrid imagery.Post-abductions “nightmares” especially fall within this realm.

    It is not insightful, to analyze such imagery nor is it wise to assume that it’s innocuous.

    One must attempt to not retain such imagery, but to sever and slash at it’s recollection, using tools of metaphysics, from swords to blow-torches, visualized removing connections.

    Source helps those, who help themselves..

  • EPILOGUE:

  • Director of CIA, Admiral Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter:

  • “It is time for the truth to be brought out in open Congressional hearings. Behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, citizens are led to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense.  To hide the facts, the Air Force has silenced its personnel.”

  • pg. 58, quoted from New York Times, February 28, 1960, p. 30 

Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for Paul, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL he saw aliens float him out of his body, in his bed, at night. Then, he knew that they were interested in an essence he never suspected that he had; a soul.

Our spiritual powers that interest and addict inter-dimensionals are the very powers that can be used to thwart further attacks.

They infect auras with attachments to themselves and ride the reincarnation roller coaster with people, to avoid the death that they fear and to steal the spiritual recycling that we have.

These joyriding grays can be sinister, discorporate alien souls ,stuck to your energies, who bring a new meaning to the concept of a silent invasion.

MILITARY COMBAT MEMORY OF MY FATHER


COMBAT AND MILITARY MEMORY OF MY FATHER : I COULD HAVE TOLD HIM THAT I LOVED HIM

Combat and Military Memory of my Father: I Could Have Told Him That I Loved Him
by Paul Schroeder
My father parachuted into Germany and was captured that same week; he and his Screaming Eagles company buddies were holed up in a farmhouse armed with machine guns when a Tiger Tank rolled up to it and put its muzzle into a window and fired.
He recalled his ferocious gnawing hunger and told me that at the prisoner of war camp at night, when he slept, mice would creep into his buttoned shirt vest pocket to steal the few crumbs of bread he had hidden there before he could awaken and slap his pocket.
He weighed eighty-eight pounds when he was liberated.
At another time, on a work detail outside and beyond the barbed wire fence, he saw a skeletal group of Jews, literally walking skeletons, and in abject pity he threw a piece of his bread over a fence to them, which they all frantically scrambled for.
The supervising German sergeant of those doomed Jews saw him do this and walked over to him and put a Luger into my father’s mouth and pulled the trigger.
The gun misfired.
Twice.
His mind and lifelong emotional mental state were never the same after that incident, and for the rest of his life he remained tortured, an unhappy and mostly unpleasant man.
He would, many years later, angrily retrieve moldy bread and brown wilted lettuce from the trash, raging about ,’wasted food’, and we all learned that for our peace of mind, food garbage had to be thrown into the incinerator, long before he came home, from work.
He told me that he witnessed the killings of women who had assisted anti-Nazi resistance fighters, women who were hung from piano wires in a slow strangulation that delighted and entertained the German Waffen S.S.
But he seemed calm telling me that it took some over an hour to die, in this fashion, from this form of German murder, for the the slimmest, most lightweight women who were hanged, struggled longer against their nooses.
The prisoner of war camp’s confinement had chafed his soul.
Even long after the war he could escape the inglorious restraints and confinements of marriage and work , to seek the open ocean to fish for striped bass and bluefish.
He loved fishing more than anything or anyone, in his life, and ached for fishing, to be free and alone on a landscape of waves, with only gulls for company.
He spent all of his spare time, nights and weekends, alone on the open Atlantic ocean, a peaceful landscape of land escape, far from dangerous and murderous distant coastlines.
When he thought that I was old enough to be of assistance to him, he brought me into his escapist world of fishing solitude, and far out on the waters of the Atlantic, far from any constricting shore, told me his memories, of a horrific war. .
When I was young, eight, nine and ten years of age, my father woke me every Friday night at 2:00 A.M. and by three fifteen A.M. we were out in the waters of Long Island, in his boat, fishing for striped bass and bluefish until the sun came up and fish stopped feeding and taking lures.
We watched the gulls; wherever they were raucous and feeding, we caught many large fish, as schools were underneath, forcing the bait to the surface, which attracted the birds. It was a foolproof technique.
After the sun came up, we sat and jigged the bottom for fluke and flounders, languid bottom feeders, while we sat under the shade of the Marine Parkway Bridge.
Bereft of the engine’s roar and the slap of the waves against a speeding hull, we sat, and he would speak to me of the horrors he had seen.
Every weekend of my youth was spent this way, catching large fish.
I was agog and seasick for days afterwards.
The pitched sickness of the waves, the sharp sour stink of fish, the stench of gasoline from the engine, the foul pungent odor of the, ‘piss-can’ and his poignant recollections of the horrors that he had seen during the war, combined to make me deathly ill, each time that we fished together..
I envisioned deep trenches in the furrows of the waves, filled with sobbing, and doomed families of Jews, as German Waffen S.S. driven bulldozers, pushed tons of soil atop them, to bury them, alive.
Once, after listening to such tales, told in his low, monotone voice, I eventually noticed that each time I netted and landed a fish into the boat, the water would swirl and splash a few seconds afterwards, and I asked my father the cause of this bizarre occurrence.
He blithely told me, casting a lure from the boat, that the fish’s mate would break the water, seeking his lost mate, following after, in a futile search.
In that moment, with the boat at my feet filled with flopping fish, jaws gaping in airy suffocation, the horrors in his stories resurfaced:
dead children in the streets, who resembled dolls, their jaws and eyes open,
skeletal Jews with pleading eyes,
children murdered before their parents’ eyes,
of a Waffen S.S. who used his machine pistol to separate a close knit family, and of their wails of separation, which years later, would ring in my father’s head.
I suddenly realized, in horror, that each swirl and splash of water, after I had pulled one fish into the boat, was a mate and thus a broken heart, that fish were individuals, with feelings, and not just mere products!
The horror of fish, dead and dying at my feet, of loved ones’ final, forceful separation, in a frozen moment, broke my young heart, and I found and resolved, that I could no longer bear to catch, or to ever again, eat fish.
Recalling these memories is not a freeing and therapeutic catharsis, instead I feel a sad nostalgia, a morbid whimsy .
As a writer, it is difficult to capture the strained, forced familiarity of families’ troubled interactions, governed by fruits of traumas, into words.
I have carefully locked the vault door against the worst recollections, the horrors of living with him; he had absorbed the repeated brutality of his experiences.
Throughout life, he radiated the same heavy-handed violence to those all around him, using fists, where a word, instead, might suffice.
Those recollections, if unlocked behind my mind’s protective vault doors, would make these experiences, herein, pale, by comparison.
When I can hazard to open those vault doors, doors made of three feet of steel, therapeutic and freeing might then ensue.
Debriefing combat troops, is still nonexistent; one arrives fresh from combat to San Diego Airport or Kennedy International Airport.
The injuries that our most recent troops have sustained in Iraq and Afghanistan, unseen and unmeasured injuries, are deep and painful scars on their souls;
many, after drug and alcohol addiction fails to assuage their grief, take their own lives, in suicides suffering from combat angst beyond words.
I recall General Patton coming under criticism for slapping the face of and calling a coward, a young soldier, in a field hospital, who was trembling, with severe shell shock.
Even the military fails to understand what happens to America’s young men who have been taught all of their lives,”Thou shalt not kill”, after they are trained to be killing machines and then aptly fill the job description for a tour of duty.
Americans must unite to reluctantly resolve to fight a broader world war with ISIS, for though America does NOT want war, WAR wants America.
America, is NOT at war, for America is busy shopping in malls; our military, however, IS at war.
Their souls are forever tainted, degraded and crippled by official legal murders.
How is one to understand?
Rather than wrongly judging that my father wallowed in these memories, he instead was surely drowning, within a deeper struggle, far removed from self pity.
Though he never once told me, within the recollections of the circle of my life, that he loved me, I found that I instead should have told him then, and often, that I loved him .
EPILOGUE:
Just before he died, at eighty-four, after a lifetime of no contact with him, I visited him at the Saint Albans Veterans Hospital Facility.
How I learned that he was there, is a paranormal story beyond belief, but one reserved for another time.
Even after a stroke and a heart attack, confined to a wheelchair, his bristling aggression and smoldering anger had still radiated.
He had angrily cursed God, when I did mention God, to him; he had repeatedly cursed God, saying that there was no God and as proof, offered me what he had seen, of the long ago mass murders of Jewish infants and children, by Ukrainians and Nazi Waffen S.S. troops.
He had repeated that because of raw evil allowed to run rampant, he was thus an atheist, one who didn’t believe a single word about God and then, he had openly cursed God, again.
I had chided him by saying that although God WAS all loving, that even God, might get annoyed, to be cursed so.
As for wholesale murder of innocents I reminded him:
‘Church taught hatred of Jews, as murderers of Jesus Christ, fueled the Holocaust, the Inquisition, pogroms, ghettos, and rabid antisemitism and NOBODY hates the Church, more than Jews, nobody…’
Slowly, I had realized a more positive note, an element of rescue,  a spiritual coup de’ grace:
I had been driven by unseen forces, after twenty-five years of no contact,  to bring along to his bedside, a spiritual message to deliver to him.
I said that he was wrong; that the proof of God only seemed so invisible because it was too merged within our consciousness and within everything all around us, to be too easily detected.
I had told him that I had, over years of learning, away from him, become psychic enough to glean more:
that we are NOT people, having spiritual/ paranormal experiences, but are  undying spirits, within a DNA nanotech-contrived housing, instead, having human experiences.
That we ‘step out of’ our bodies at death, as we do our cars and our clothing, in physical life.
And we are no more our bodies, I had said, than we are our clothing, or our vehicles.
I had assured him that I had learned that our consciousness actually reincarnated often, to learn spiritual lessons, that God gives us many lifetimes to refine our souls and to learn lessons that we set out for ourselves.
With some pride, I had reminded him that his lifetime’s recollections of horrid war experiences, revealed a braver and nobler inner spirit, than most, to have chosen such harsh and horrid lessons.
He quietly listened, with no vague inkling of acceptance.
A week later, preparing to visit him, again, I got a phone call from the hospital that he had passed in the night from a second and final heart attack.
Some months later, while I was playing my bass guitar, (playing music, much like sleep, or hypnotic television watching seems to suppress my left brain’s blocking aspect, and paranormal experiences occur) in my living room, his face suddenly loomed into my mind’s eye and I suddenly felt his closeness.
Instead of an accompanying sad heaviness, his energy radiated a youthful joyous presence.
Stunned, I psychically acknowledged him, with love, but also with great worry; I cautiously admonished him for hazarding to linger so on this plane, and asked him to quickly jump into the Light.
His accompanying joy, a mixture of freedom from worry, from bed-worn immobility, from war-time sadness, with an element of love and thanks, thrilled me.
Perhaps, I had I had been sought to deliver that message, to him, in much needed time.