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..

Imagine a whole cityscape with most people walking around with an affixed juvenile reptilian attached upside-down to their spines; 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 know my ‘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…

 

 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.

 

Their constructs of astral worlds to entrap human spirits, deterred from “Heaven”, are brutal 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..

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)

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ALIEN ABDUCTION TELEPATHIC MIND-CONTROL

ALIEN MIND CONTROL DURING ABDUCTIONS

By Paul Schroeder

(Copyright 2018, Paul Schroeder – All Rights Reserved)
<Edited by Robert D. Morningstar>
*******
Picture
(Author’s note:
I am “he” 
And this recollection is genuine.
However, I chose the pronoun, “he”, and the nouns,”The Father” and “the priest”,to make this vividly recalled abduction, more easily acceptable to the uninitiated reader.)
Image result for gifs of psychiatrist in hypnosis session
Relaxation techniques, slowly bought him to an altered state; under hypnosis, a series of subconscious motor reflexes, a twitch of a different finger cemented a conversation with the body, not the mind.
 
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 The thumb, indicated “Yes”, the middle finger, “No”, the pinky, “I (can’t) won’t answer”.

 This technique would confront repressed fear, avoidance, or directives to forget, and allow direct conversation with the unconscious.

By hypnotic suggestion, the body would answer, meaningfully, even if one fell asleep.

This technique sought to bypass speech, itself, should impasses present themselves.
Image result for gifs of psychiatrist in hypnosis session

Doctor : “Let’s begin; can we talk about his bad dreams?”

Priest: (film shows quick flash of thumb;) “Yes”…

 

Doctor: “Go back to the day the two puppets floated outside the window, and, below consciousness, recall what happened, that afternoon.

 

Show me that you begin by moving the “yes” finger, and the end of that recall by moving the “no” finger.”

Priest: (film shows “yes” and “no” twitches)

Mindblown Hypnosis GIF - Mindblown Hypnosis Hair GIFs
Doctor: “Good; started and ended. Is there any unconscious, additional information, the father has not remembered concerning that afternoon?”

Priest: (finger twitches quickly with the “yes” thumb movement)

Doctor: “What happened?

 See it remotely, as if you’re in a projector booth, watching yourself, on a screen; what happened?”

Priest: (increasing stress) “I don’t want to answer digit”, pinky, signal.

Doctor: “No? You don’t want to tell me? Fine, can you talk to me orally, tell me what you’re feeling?”

Priest: (more negative finger) Movements with agonized breath.

Doctor: “You refer to this as October, 2017.

 Whatever happened was long ago.
 You’re safe and in control; are you reluctant to talk about it because it’s too upsetting?”

alien_abductiona

Priest: Film records positive finger movement

Doctor: “Freeze the scene and see part in full frame; like a snapshot?

 Is it okay?”

Priest: Film shows a “yes” twitch.

Hypnosis Clock GIF - Hypnosis Clock ClockWatching GIFs

Doctor: “A still slide projected on a faraway screen; you’re up in the projection booth watching the father in the theater.”

ABDUCTION | Original

Priest: “As I was looking through the window, the eyes looked back.

 Staring back.

 The eyes are not normal.”

Doctor: “Look closer; what else do you notice?”

Priest: “The face doesn’t have any teeth, it’s not a normal face. It’s gone, now.”

Doctor: “Feel the relief that the face is gone. Now I have a question for your unconscious to answer by finger movement.

Has any harm been done to the father during the faces’ presence?”

Priest: (records a quick “no” answer)

Doctor: “Now what happened, later, that night, when you felt, sensed something by your bed?

Was there anything done to the father, physically during that time?”

Priest: Head is shaking “no” and the finger movement is saying “yes”, softly; “They took my clothes”, sadly “They took my priestly vestments”.

Doctor: “Who did?”

 

Priest: Very agitated, legs twitching, shoulders twitching. His head shook on a negative reaction.

Doctor: “Is the “no” for then, or now? You keep shaking your head “no”.

 

Priest: “For now”.

Doctor: “You don’t want to talk about it?”

Priest: “No”.

Doctor: “Do you want to remember it when you come out of trance?”

Priest: “No”.

Doctor: “Do you want to remember it some other day?”

Priest: “No”.

Doctor: “Below consciousness, I want to ask your hand some questions. ”

“Hand, in the course of that encounter, did the father leave the house?”

Priest: Thumb, positive finger response, “yes”.

Doctor: “Was he removed from the house?”

 

Priest: (another “yes” response)

Doctor: “Would it be all right for him to remember the things that happened?”

 

Priest: (an animated “no” response)

Doctor: “Without him reliving the experiences, would it be all right for him to remember what he saw?”

Priest: The little finger jumps repeatedly with “I don’t want to answer” response.

 

(Slowly, aloud) “I want to see what happened.”

Doctor: “Repeat that, please, say it again”.

Priest: “I want to see what happened”.

 

Doctor: “To avoid reliving; you do not have to relive the experience, speak of the priest as “He”, it is not you, but a picture”.

ABDUCTION RECOLLECTION:
‘He’ is flying high over a lush green tree landscape, over rolling tree lined hills and though he knows that it must be night, within the tractor light-beam, under a moving craft,  the fields and countryside below are lit up as though it were day, but he knows it’s night, because he is told that he is dreaming.
 He is flying, floating above a tree landscape.
For a few brief seconds, until he is drawn into the craft, he sees the green granular nature of the trees below, and feels the  visual exhilaration of flying, but rather than fear, he is filled with a combined sense of peace and joyous happiness.
He marvels at the texture and color of his neighborhood, and his movement above it.
Going Over A Waterfall GIF - Waterfall Nature Forest GIFs
He is dreaming, but he is awake.
The smaller craft lands near a much larger ship, hiding in plain sight, in a field.
A long ramp extends from and to the ship.
He is told by a small, dark, grey alien, always just out of sight, that he is to wait on line, for a tour of a country estate.
People stand on the ramp and slowly move forward
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He is numb and is  surreal vividly dreaming,  but he feels that he is awake.
He  moves forward, people in front of him and in back of him,   on a narrow path surrounded by a false screen memory of a flat, uni–dimensional static scene,  a photograph of an English garden.
It is hot and humid with the rank smell of soil.
https://78.media.tumblr.com/9e3323c9a5424d20415b1f92bb3d679a/tumblr_n4b53629g21txbxgxo1_500.gif
People clutch what looks like brochures and move slowly in a single line, towards the country estate, bored, and only mildly interested.
He approaches the door of the large alien craft.
A ticket taker sits at the entrance way, on a stool behind a lectern, observing the entering crowd, a doorway official seen as a slim teenager.
He thinks it odd, that such a young caretaker should seemingly be in charge, and as he lifts his eyes to meet the teen’s gaze,  the young boy turns into a kindly old man.
“It’s mind control, not shape-shifting”, he is told, by a sonorous tour-guide’s voice, in answer to his unasked thought.
Image result for tumblr gifs of shape shifting aliens
Everyone is awake and dreaming.
Inside is a waiting room, dirty, dull and round, a white room with no adornments and a black floor.
He awakens, dreaming and feels that the room is in flight.
It is a dream within a dream.
Going Over A Waterfall GIF - Waterfall Nature Forest GIFs
Awake again, briefly, he is dreaming while standing upright, walking in his sleep, climbing  a steep metal stairway ladder path-bridge, that leads to a very large room at the top of the stairs.
Someone in front of him dreams, and wakes up dreaming.
He looks to his right, as he climbs, to see  an enormous domed -curved window which makes up the staircase’s whole upper wall of the alien craft, and as he climbs, feeling very numb, he pauses, and stops the line of mass abducted people.
He looks out of the window and sees the Earth and the Moon, opposite each other, hanging in the blackness of space.
  He places his arms on the curved railing where the staircase meets the bottom of the window and cups his chin in his hands, to understand the raw beauty of what he sees:
Outside is blackness…
The Earth, in the far right portion of the glass window, hangs suspended in a black nothingness, a planet swimming in blue-white haze, with a large red area, perhaps, the desert of North Africa, or the Arabian peninsula.
A Time-Lapse of Earth taken by Elektro-L, The Russian Weather Satellite that Operates in Geostationary Orbit. (io9)Silver and bright, the Moon, far to the left portion of the glass, also hangs suspended in a black nothingness..

Far away, violet splashes of nebulae, and points of red pinpoint starlight, intersperse with millions of white stars.
Chin in his hands, he leans over and says in a wistful, admiring tone,
“These people who live at THIS estate have some view; what a view!”
The small, dark, grey alien tour guide became startled and all at once,  the window’s 3-D space scene, becomes  a painted uni-dimensional flat portrait,  of an English garden landscape.
Chin in hands, still looking out of the window, but now at the expanse of poster-like green lawn, of a garden landscape, he dully repeats,
“They DO have a nice view!”
The tour guide, startled to hear him repeat this praise, seemingly unaware that the scene of the garden had already worked to distract him,  knee-jerk- reflex -overreacted; he is slammed with a mind control jolt.
lsd aliens GIF
The alien creature tightens and magnifies its short psychic leash of control to throw him into a vivid emotional ecstasy, and he feels compelled to look down at his feet, and away from the window’s view.
The simple metallic ladder- path underfoot, transforms into carved inlaid wood one, delicately patterned and dazzlingly ornate, an inlaid ebony and maple wood design, cryptic and deeply beautiful in motif and complexity.
He is forced to kneel to examine it, his eyes now fully away from the stars, Earth and moon, seen outside the enormous, curved window .
Powerful awe, love, and wood -admiration, a godlike reverence of wood, flashes through his mind at the mirage of the intricate wood designed staircase, suspended in air.
Opulent stenciled ornament on grand staircase in a elegant Victorian-Era townhouse in Pittsburgh.
Complex, gorgeous and lushly constructed, a staircase in multicolored woods,  forces a religious awe, which courses through his brain to thrill him, a tsunami of reverent awe, for the dazzling wood patterns,  the unknown artist-architect, overwhelms and distracts him, a gifted  psychic tug attempt to get him to forget what he has seen outside of the craft’s window.
The sleeping line of climbing people is now fully stopped by his fawning and repeated examinations, of the simple metal staircase, as he repeatedly retraces his steps to examine it, in a rapture.
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The tour guide, just out of sight, presumes that the delusion is strong enough to have worked and he hears a resonant, deep, paternal, impatient voice, now within his head, “Just keep going; it will be there, for you to see, when you get back.”
“But, things change so quickly, in dreams”,  he thinks, “and this gorgeous wood stairway, will likely not be there, when I return.”
He lingers, enthralled.
Opulent stenciled ornament on grand staircase in a elegant Victorian-Era townhouse in Pittsburgh.
The alien ‘ guide’,  who tethers him and all the others, within a snug cocoon of illusions, had deftly made a simple, metal staircase, the un-rightful recipient of that stolen awe, of the magnificent scene he had viewed outside the craft’s window of red and white stars and the dazzling orbs of Earth and moon, floating in blackness..
But when he awakens, he DOES remember the staircase and  his monumental awe of the spectacular space scene, outside the curved window, of the alien craft:
“Astounding creatures, uncanny, psychic, mind-bending, short- leash-controls…”
He  dully thinks, when he awakens exhausted, with a dull headache and a copious nose bleed, more tired getting up, than he had been, going to bed.
 And ‘dreams’, in a gnawing realization, could no longer ever again, be trusted  to merely be only.. ‘dreams’…
BIO:
Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for me, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL I saw aliens float me out of my body, in my bed, at night.
Then, I knew that they were more interested in an essence, that I never suspected I had: a Soul.
I surmised an awful harsh truth :that this may well be a reptilian preserve matrix of time and illusion, a human-playpen-physical anomaly,  compared to multiple reptilian created synthetic, astral worlds, elegantly designed to ‘house’ trapped human souls.
I have seen such astral prison realms and it is not dissimilar to this ‘reality’, which if you pay strict attention,  also sometimes ‘pixilates’..
I tried ‘resistance .
What I would do, is repeat : ” I will NOT participate in these experiences!”, all day long, every few minutes, in hopes that it would seep down into my unconscious to be released whenever I was “taken”, again, in sleep.
And it must have worked , because presumably shortly after its ‘release’, rage and sinister viciousness hit me like a tsunami to awaken me..

If you apply affable acumen, to this abduction entities realm, you might try to peer behind your ‘curtains’ for more answers, because work-horse small greys will oddly answer ANY query, you might pose to them, either in dream-scape or in real life consciousness, answers with alacrity, when one is in their nightly-bedroom-intruder cross-hairs..

If, for example, you ask: ” Who was I in my last lifetime?”, you will get a memorable vivid roller-coaster ride dream-scape answer, but one that might also be a deception; one must remain skeptical of such tampering entities,

entities who radiate omniscience, and proprietary demeanor.

I was psychically throttled in the womb, with my own queries, questions about their purposes and overall intent, cut off from asking, before I could frame the rehearsed queries.

And I sensed an air of strong anxiety from them, that such things, NOT be ‘discussed’..
I have always surmised that they wouldn’t be so very secretive, if they were up to anything remotely ‘good’..

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*******
Postscript
Rather than a fear-based approach to Dark Force Entity safety and caution, I prescribe a required spiritual “shift”  towards the equally unseen goodness of the spirit world, and away from fear.
Unlearning fear is a step-by-step acceptance and assertion, of one’s spiritual ‘Self’, a distance far and away from fearful  defenses mustered by one’s material physical self.
One’s longitudinal approach to any self-defense must be a spiritual one, and not a physical one.
For defenses to flare, one must  recognize that one is not a person having troubled spiritual problems, but instead an eternal soul having troubling human experiences.
From the stance of self-recognition as an eternal spirit, one can then insist on “one’s own space’ as spiritual fruition.
Avoid  church-based or organized religions and put the Bible on the same shelf as “The Tooth Fairy,” for God is real, but He’s to be found down a long hall, and somewhere else.

A TAPPING … by Paul Schroeder

A tapping, delicately, on my back.

I am sitting up on a table, feeling gentle taps on my back, watching a series of images, myriad tables receding into infinity, like two mirrors facing each other.

Farmers milking cows; on each table, a person sits up and is examined by a small, slim, white, intent, fragile, large eyed creature.

Their fingers probe lightly, gently, purposely, like playing a piano.

They are milking Chakras or Kundalini nerve centers, seven along each person’s spine.

Their touches stimulate hidden DNA sequences as well as retrieve and store data and information along the length of the spinal chord, along a library of nerves.

A tapping, delicately, on my back.

 

Like ants milking aphids they spend careful time and effort, gently, delicately, fingering each spine in a long sequence of tables, like marionettes playing human harpsichords.

These manipulations of spinal nerves initiate secret, as yet unbidden DNA sequences, which dangerously age and disease and trouble the somatic body and mind of an abductee.

(After an incident my finger and toe nails had to be trimmed twice every day; early sequences causes acceleration of aging and growth of certain cells.)

There are horrible psychic and emotional results from activation of these spinal sequences too quickly, as well.

Inter dimensional leaking occurs and one senses other unworldly creatures and flirts with the beast of madness, itself.

 

 

Are we being programmed?

What is subtly being programmed, stored and retrieved In our spinal chords?

We are Manchurian candidates of stellar proportions.

Inter dimensional bleeding through into our dimension? Pranks predominate. Objects disappear to return days later in strange places, and there’s always a powerful sense of being watched by large eyes.

On a Tuesday afternoon in late June, I entered the back of the house, passed by enormous four foot wide, four foot tall flower pots, each weighing as much as a man, containing ten foot tall Canna plants, looking tropical in nature and in full bloom.

I opened the back door and entered the vestibule into the kitchen; I could not take another step.

Glancing backwards, over my shoulder, I saw that both enormous pots had been turned over.

 

The wide elephant, ear-like leaves and tall orange-red flower tops now bloomed sideways, sprawled to the ground, in a fraction of a second.

I became suddenly aware of a very untoward realization.

I would likely need entity removal and aura cleaning and protection, as in addition to this poltergeist nonsense, I was besieged with elements of telepathic attack: nightly evil nightmares, a sense of pervading anxiety and a confluence of accidents and surgeries.

And all these experiences AFTER my sightings of UFOs and recalling some abductions.

Presence of mind is our greatest weapon, the ridicule factor, is their best

 

defense.

 

Who, in one’s ‘right mind’ can one even discuss these things with?

Paper, is indeed, much more patient, than people.

Why did things get worse?

In deep despair and confusion, (the plants overturned, overwhelmed me with poltergeist shock that was so sudden and so profound), I stopped and prayed aloud for a spiritual sign.

Asks for a sign from God

“God, if there is a spirit world and it is real, and I can ask for protection, send me a sign: God, send me a white bird, up close and personal, in my face, on my window, as a sign.”

 

I put my whole heart and soul and angst into this prayer and minutes later, busy else where, I forgot it, as it promptly receded into the recesses of my mind.

The next day, on route to work, following the same path I always drive, I made a right turn, and high over the street of cars, I saw a cloud of some one hundred gulls, hovering, wheeling, circling overhead, as if attracted by garbage or a dumpster, although none was in evidence.

As I glanced up at the raucous flock, one white gull swerved to within an inch of my windshield, glossed passed and made eye contact with me.

It lasted maybe two seconds.

 

(Illustration by Matthew Whiting.)

Preoccupied with driving and having totally forgotten my fervent spiritual request from the night before, I drove on, momentarily startled, but dully unaware of it’s significance.

After a strenuous day at work I returned home, lit a prayer candle and began to voice again my special request for a sign when I remembered the morning gull.

I HAD asked for a white bird on my window, up close and personal.

Had I been given that sign the very next morning?

I decided to be skeptical but not cynical.

 

What would be a critical test?

I decided that If I saw any gulls in the area anywhere while in transit on the way to work for the next two weeks, I would know that it was a coincidence or a quirk of fate, not a sign that I asked for.

Repeatedly, in my minds-eye, I was haunted with an odd afterimage, a close up of the birds black beadlike eye.

Why was the black eye of that bird, which whizzed passed so fast, so fixed in my mind?

For two weeks, each day, I scanned the horizon and landscape for a sign of gulls hovering, as I believed a flock so large would certainly reappear somewhere.

I never saw one bird.

 

I decided that I had been given a wonderful sign and it has given me the courage and the confidence to feel protected in this fight against the unseen harassing entities.

Postscript:

Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for Paul, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL Paul saw aliens float him out of his body, in his bed, at night.

Then, he knew that they were interested in an essence that he never suspected that he had, a nonphysical 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 human beings, as a sanctuary, to avoid the death that they fear and to steal the spiritual recycling that we have.

Souls are garnered, detoured from our natural spiritual evolution in Heaven.

These joyriding grays can be sinister, dis-corporate alien souls, stuck to our energies, who bring a new meaning to the concept of a silent invasion.

GHOST RESCUE

GHOST RESCUE

By Paul Schroeder
 
(Copyright 2016, Paul Schroeder – All Rights Reserved)
<Edited by Robert D. Morningstar>
*******
Sometimes, after abductions, the inter-dimensional door, left open, invites in the “gangster fringe” element of the spirit world.
I have heard astonishing things most unverifiable about Heaven, from ribald odd psychic mediums:
Too heavy smokers retain visibly black lungs, the vain- cosmetic- surgery- addicted, sport disfigured countenances, those too rich, ornate and gaudy, appear homely and threadbare.
According to some psychics, there is an inverse relationship between our aspects, after death, in transition, in an astral world, that mirrors and reflect our damages, foolishness and wrong values, from one’s  life most recently departed.
Who could foresee or imagine such instant spiritually blatant karma-ricochets ?
To skeptics or to the religiously programmed, I assert that the theory that consciousness ends with physical death, has never been proved, to me.
If one examines diverse spiritual phenomena: demonic possession, OBEs, NDEs, hauntings, poltergeists, reincarnation memories through regressive hypnosis, just to mention a few, the undeniable evidence of a spiritual reality looms as obvious as a trout in the milk.
We should all be born with lunch boxes for our stay here, in this school, is short, compared to the eternal spark of God within us that endures.
We step out of our body when we physically die , just as we do step out of our cars and our clothing, and we are no more our bodies than we are our cars or clothing.
Psychics and mediums well know this.
Our spirits, if not stolen by demons or reptilian aliens, or stuck, Earthbound,  move on to one of the very many varied realms of Heaven.

Spirits in beginning transition,  vulnerable to being stolen by reptilian aliens to be recycled, or garnered by demons who collect souls like children do marbles, will often  linger to stay close to us.
Since only our ‘clothing’, or our body’s external shell is buried,
visiting a cemetery is moot, because the loving spirits of our dead  travel with us there, and return from there, with us.
But, Earthbound sinister dark souls, and inhuman diabolical spirits, will persist within cemeteries.
Pregnant mothers are restricted from attending cemeteries by many religions, to offer protection to the unborn, from  opportunistic sinister spirits.
Certain minerals in stones, such as ferrous, jasper, tourmaline and quartz,  carried by some sensitives, can assist, and
can act as a deterrent.
I have also gleaned that The “LIGHT”, into which we enter, to ‘cross over’, at physical death, is not outward and external, but emanates from WITHIN us, at death, a detail overlooked and  unrecognized .
But, what about trapped ghosts?
 In our natural spirit state we are ghosts:
fogs of electromagnetic energy , with memory and a sense of identity.
Ghost-hunters need a glimmer  that spirits who they document,  SHOULD BE rescued; this lack of moral recognition, risks  “depraved indifference”, a  moral crime.
Circus or rodeo’s audiences applause,  watching  abused animals hard- beaten- perform postures unnatural to their natures , is  similarly a ‘depraved indifference’.
Circus and rodeo  lovers, like ghost-  hunters, return to their cars to  leave a chunk of their spiritual evolution, behind..
We get a sure ride to Earth, from Heaven, at birth, but no guarantees for a safe return trip home.
When my psychic prowess began to sputter on, I initially was aware of so many ghosts afoot everywhere, that it made me doubt Heaven’s very existence.
Some human spirits  trapped on this plane, oddly become somewhat animalistic,
Earthbound and lost.
1957 - Year of the Cock <br /> Computer Generated Phot... <br /> Manimals <br /> 1993 <br />
1946 - Year... <br /> Computer Ge... <br /> Manimals <br /> 1993 <br />
Trapped human spirits are ‘provoked’ by ghost-hunters to elicit evidences, and are  seen as sport, like an animal abused at a rodeo or circuses.
With ghosts, it’s the chrysalis that never emerges, the cocoon frozen and dead,  a human spirit lost in anguish between life and death,
God’s promise gone unkept,
the return dream to Heaven, deferred..
How and when did I learn that an unseen world exists all around us?
Picture - A Buddhist and Hindu temple Wat Rong Khun in Chiang Rai, Thailand  Also known as the White Temple  It was designed by Chalermchai Kositpipat. Fotosearch - Search Stock Photography, Photos, Prints, Images, and Photo Clipart
It blossomed
The feeling of unseen human hands and their undeniable touches on my arms, back and shoulders, with concurrent accompanying psychic disturbances  increased.
At restaurants, often a warm, heavy hand resides on my shoulder, for a moment, with no one observable, behind me, friendly but unsettling encounters.
I  feel symptoms of a dark one, a lost soul/ ghost, who jumps on me, and an energy connection is felt, in that my skin burns and buzzes where I am  touched and connection are made..
Sometimes that awareness crashes crystal clear:
Medusa HeadI recently had a very “odd in- your- face” encounter with a“Shadow Person.”

Sitting at my computer, writing long into the wee hours, the screen’s glow the only illumination in the room, I slowly became aware of a gradual peripheral movement alongside my right cheek, that moved forward into view, to emerge directly facing me.

A black silhouette of a face, illuminated by the neon glow of the computer screen, a side view of a profile of a slim young man, emerged which then quickly turned, to face me straight on.
A full second before I loudly exclaimed and shouted, an involuntary reaction, I could see a slim, thin human face darker than the room’s darkness, fully facing me.
As I have purposefully unlearned fear, the shout was instinctive and only awe surfaced.
But it was a “Shadow Person” up close and intimate.
At one time, in order to block these experiences, knowing that some medications did change brain chemistry to the extent,  to simply put one beyond the reach of such creatures, I tried antihistamines and did indeed manage to stop it all, temporarily.
 I had read that on the Internet and just wanting to feel normal, again, tried it on myself.
I don’t know how it works but it works … temporarily.
But, one can’t live on Benedryll.
Other medications have specifically been developed for people who are troubled by ‘seeing things’, ‘hearing things’ and ‘feeling things’ and these were
pharmacological designed because modern medicine makes no differentiation, no distinctions between spiritual dysfunctions and psychological dysfunctions.
A modern clinician  unversed in such spiritual truths, perceives a child patient who experiences these phenomena as more psychotic than  psychic, certainly not ever a young ‘sensitive’, who has not yet learned how, but must, to  close his energies, to such entities…
I was told by others early on that what I was going through was a blessing.   I did not accept that at the time.
  It has been a tough learning experience for both me and the unseen world.
I once advised a spirit whose hand rested heavily on my right shoulder -I could feel the weight and span of fingers- to “cross over to the other side”-  meaning that other dimension that we all come from and go to, ‘Heaven’.
  After just a few seconds, it obliged my request, by crossing over to my left side, and  good naturedly resting its hand, THERE, on my shoulder..
I deduced that rather than having a rarefied sense of humor,  it likely had no idea whatsoever, what I was referring to…
Another major problem for psychic sensitives, is that of all the spiritual energies, unseen, out there, many are NOT human; some are reptilian alien.
When a demon or juvenile reptilian cruises in, for what turns out to be an extended visit, an onset of the most awful nightmares, unlike any one can imagine, vivid and terrifying, ensue.
Such brilliant diabolical entities refuse rescue and delight in tormenting humans; nothing else except unholy ones could do such violence to mere dreams.
Scary blood with an evil halloween vampire character splattered and dripping on a white background as a spooky symbol of danger and fear as paranormal fantasy icon  Stock Photo - 21743139
During such sieges, in spiritual crises, I have had to neatly discard any classic pedestrian Freudian or Jungian explanations as misguided and moot, and instead  to seek metaphysical approaches that do, after a fashion, work.
In self defense,  with heightened empathy for an energy who jumps upon me, I counsel with love and compassion, as one would a lost traveler or lost child.  It could well be you, or me, so lost.
I used to dismiss an unseen touch as though it were a fly at my mustache, or treat it with the disgust or shock that a ghost often elicits.
Then I tried to openly complain to the spirit, that phantoms DO-  fill -the- air – around us, and that although we all come from God, one way or another, some of us  fight  hard,  to return to God.
I relay this to the unseen intelligence touching me, with a lack of fear and with  pathos, as much sympathy as I can muster.
All the while, I am fully aware that it could likely be psychically dangerous, as deeply disturbed as it had been, in its body.
If it ever HAD a body..
If it’s “sticky”, and persistent , I surround myself in a three-feet-around-me violet cloud of love, to dissuade it, in a fashion..
The worst, most predatory and harmful negative energies ‘out there’, for a sensitive to sense, are juvenile reptilians and small dark grey aliens.
They come on like gang-busters,  insistently stubborn and ‘hungry’ for my energies.
When such  painful burning touches apprise me that connections between my energies and dark energies are continuing,  a spritz of incensed holy water mixed with tea tree and camphor essential oils from a plant misting bottle clears the attachment feeling and the onset of mild psychic attack.
I tell spirits who touch me more gently, them that it’s sad and  ironic that God has sent them to me for help,  for I myself, spiritually, am  so often  helplessly lost.
I  tell them that touching people for energy, stealing energy from people,  traps them here, between worlds, where they are subject to bullying or worse, theft, by astral – fierce-predators, afoot.
I ask them to reach higher into their own dimension,  to  ask for angelic help as I do the same, in mine.
 I remind them that since they didn’t die when they left their body, that they cannot  die, and insist that they not steal human energy; humans look  like bright porch lights to them.
Some do not listen, because they still feel so, ‘alive’, though not in their physical body.
The retort I have more than once heard in my skull was:
“How do I know, that YOU’RE not dead!?”
Some, however, do listen.
I ask   rescue beings of light to work to bring  a neighbor, a lover, a child, a former pet, a parent, a friend, a schoolmate, ANYONE, SOMEONE whom they can trust, to bring them over, to the Other Side.
I try not to surround them in a white light , for negative-thought-beings can feast on white light, which is why they go initially quiescent, only to come on, again, later,  like gang-busters.
Visualized purple light, used for self-defense, can also  ‘wash off and cleanse’ the external blackness surrounding a dark spirit, who is half- willing to be rescued.
Such a ‘wash’ of purple light onto such  creatures couched in blackness, always soon reveals a tiny, faint pearl- like light within the dark one,  my proof to it, of God’s creation of it.
Then, ONLY THEN,  bereft of its outer shell of darkness,  and meanness will I send it into a tower of white light, which contains the hidden full color spectrum with gradations of each color  a different dimension of (earned) Heaven.
Some dark spirits can only freely go into red light, or orange light, to find their rightful place, towards their next perfection; all varied colored spiritual destinations, not unlike a rainbow, are contained  hidden within white light.
However, this cleansing and rescue is best and more safely done within a circle of minds, with a psychic-medium also in attendance.
  Creative metaphysics, towards rescues, using just one human mind can be dangerous  as some entities/energies out there, are quite amazingly nasty, brilliant and diabolical.
Self-defense evolved into a changed outlook:
I pray FOR them, instead of for my relief FROM them.
It raises their vibrations and moves them out of the darkness and is appreciated by them and by others, and is considered,”service to the other side’.
I also try to goad them into the finer purpose, of helping me:
I ask them to leave as ‘ Earthbound’ spirits,  travel to the Christ light, and RETURN to me, as cleansed spirits to assist me in others’ rescue.

What usually appeals to  ‘holdouts’,  is  reminding them that nobody  has spoken to them, or  paid any attention to them, for a  long time, except for me.
 With a more humane stance, rarely do they attack with projected telepathic/psychic attacks, in nightmares, or sinister poltergeist machinations .
I have bought some peace and I have done some service to the Other Side.
Ghost-hunters are the front line in this real endeavor, the rescue of ghosts, for in spiritually rescuing others, they can spiritually rescue themselves.

AN ALTERNATIVE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE : A SPIRITUAL MESSAGE

AN ALTERNATIVE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE : A SPIRITUAL MESSAGE

by Paul Schroeder

A spiritual message, in a time of need, illuminated a larger life path:
“The Spell of the Yukon”
               By Robert W. Service
“I wanted the gold, and I sought it;
   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;
   I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it—
   Came out with a fortune last fall,—
Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,
   And somehow the gold isn’t all…”
I rarely ever worked overtime, or sought spare part- time jobs to make more money, seeking blue skies above to doing work indoors, and I relished my poorer beer pockets without ever developing or resenting the absence of a richer champagne taste.
Those ambitious lads of my childhood who entered finance, medicine or law,  worked 24-7 towards a salaried lifestyle that flew them first class, overseas to luncheon meetings and purchased them mansions in the  glass sky towers of Manhattan.
Effete, they would confess,”Those who say that money can’t buy you everything, don’t know where to shop!”
I  became a college instructor teacher who received a meager pittance, but though  I relished my bankers’ hours’ 9 to 3  job, I deeply longed for the respite of work, each academic year, within a ten week vacation, over the summer.
During academic semesters I recklessly ate up all of my sick days and personal days, taking escapes in the sun at the beach, and landscaped land escapes in three and four day weekends, at mountain lakes’ sites to hike in virgin woods alone.
Others in Higher Education had instead garnered many days, ‘in their bank’, saved up jealously, to trade for cash, losing one day for every two saved, upon retirement.
To me, counter intuitively, non providentially, time away to think was worth more, as an escape valve,  than half of some obscure future money.
Work was onerous and exacting, and freedom was a hiking-in-the-woods- relief, from fluorescent overhead lights, and the grinding grading of incessant exams and papers.
For release,  the best part of my chosen vocation, I lectured and pontificated, teaching American and English Literature, in a large lecture hall,  chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes, during class instructions, throughout, to self medicate.
I am presently retired, thirty-five years in teaching, and have a modest lovely home and property, and as for wanderlust, I  have long found that armchair travel is the cheapest kind of travel, content to read brochures, than take inoculations, to explore the world.
Money aversion- ennui got worse as I grew older.
 I soon preferred the sidelines of copious earnings, a spent man, seeking  to relax and to write.
Why was I, so different, to care little for “success”, measured in hard work towards riches?
I wasn’t remotely money excited,  as a child, dimly knowing on a subliminal level that God didn’t place us here, on Earth,  on a special mission,  to make money.
A spiritual message experience, I received, as a teenager, a homeless runaway at seventeen, running from a divorced household of violence and police- being -called -by- the -neighbors,
became a core influence for my slant on monied life, a purposeful one of just getting by, instead of working hard towards earning luxuries.
It was Christmas time in New York City and I was seventeen years old, homeless penniless,  and wandering.
I had exited  the Museum of Natural History on Central Park West, where I had feasted for hours, on museum eye -candy, but my stomach  had rumbled with hunger.
And now back on the street, I found that it had been and was now, snowing heavily.
I wondered worriedly where I would sleep, that night.
 A local movie manager,  a friend, Paul Gary, said that I could, when in Brooklyn, sleep in a little used old loft room in his movie theatre, the Loews Oriental, in Bath Beach, Brooklyn, in a dusty, haunted costume property room.
I was the inhabiting spirit.
The smell of freshly roasted chestnuts,  sold to passerbys from a kiosk wagon, near to the museum’s stone steps, in a blizzard of snow, wafted my way and roused me.
I had no money in my pockets; I salivated at the  sweet nutty perfume.
 Chestnuts were a seasonal treat I had  enjoyed, at this very museum’s site, when I had a bountiful existence within my cantankerous parents’ marriage’s deep pockets’ circle of influence.
I would ask my parents,  they’d  fish for loose change and I would relish the sweet flavor of fire roasted hot chestnuts, now a new symbol of want and the faded memory of childhood .
I was alone upon the streets of Manhattan, hungry and had no money.
The  snow covered shoulders and face of the man who stood behind the kiosk wagon, were wrapped in steam; he was small and dark, wearing mittens with holes for the fingers.
The snow fell heavily in sheets that made a city of asphalt shock look gentler.
I  came close enough to  inhale the dark aroma of roasted chestnuts,  a childhood memory token, an olfactory solace for my pangs of hunger.
 I  noticed that on one side of his kiosk wagon hung a large piece of grey cardboard with a blue magic marker message upon it, his philosophy of the moment, but on an unconscious level, one  for the rest of my adult life.
A raised consciousness was sparked.
It read:
“I really don’t like making money;
I don’t want to conquer the world,
and I don’t wish to ever be rich;
I don’t even want to set the world, on fire;
 I just want to keep my nuts warm.”
A spiritual message, in a time of need, illuminated a larger life path.

IN THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES, CAMOUFLAGE PREVAILS

IN THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES, CAMOUFLAGE PREVAILS

 by Paul Schroeder

“Sex is not the answer.
Sex is the question.
The answer, is ‘YES’!”
(Woody Allen)

Since sex is less than five or ten percent of a marriage, those who marry just for sex, find imposing reasons later on in the relationship, to not confine sex, within the parameters of their marriage, but remain as faithful, as their options and opportunities.

 

After all, man DOES need woman for the artistry and complexity of friendship, for filial fun, cute socializing, profound partnering, and deep soul intimacy, but they may not ALL BE with the SAME woman.

Women wander sexually, as well, as statistics reveal, that every other wife strays to another’s arms, for love making.

 

I often thought that women had it better than men and that if I were a woman, without any love, I’d be down at the docks,  no underwear, waiting for the fleet to come in, with my skirt pulled over my head.

More and more women today, say aloud, that they “don’t need any man, anymore, even for sex, but that they DO need men , sometimes, but then, ONLY, to lift and move, heavy things around…

 

There surely HAS to be some more dignified way of expressing desire and passionate love for another human being, because the human body is a sad marvel, with its waste disposal plant, immediately adjoining its amusement park area.

Sex, is forever something that parents are loathe to discuss with their children; when I was a child of seven, they mentioned the fearful danger of sex, saying, “not to play around with sex, because it was,”playing with fire.”

At seven years old, I recall thinking,

“Well, I HAVE a hose…

But one who marries, just for sex, is buying a 747 jet, just for the little bag of peanuts.

Surely, there’s other ways to get peanuts, if that’s all that you really want.

 

Yes, men are more shallow than one would imagine, and will as soon marry for sumptuous breasts, than for love, an idea so repulsive and childish, that it takes much head shaking, to comprehend,  because spiritual
love is appreciating, sharing, empathy and giving, quite bereft of the pangs of lust.
Yet, for all men’s fascination with women’s breasts, should men themselves,  overweight  develop breasts, they  do chafe ingloriously, upset about those unmanly acquisitions.
                                                 

Men are more juvenile in primitive sexual drives and emotional makeup, and women are indeed, far better human beings, providential, sensitive, charitable, strong and beautiful.

 

This DNA primate difference can be demonstrated.

 

At a very young age, place a group of five-year-old girls, in a room together, and they will sit, talk and relate to each other with civil chatter, sharing, and often with surprising wisdom.
 But, place a group of five-year-old boys in a room together,  and soon they will roll all over the floor, like shaved gorillas, lost in individual and mutual combative power fantasies.

Our lingering social notion  that men are more important, more apt and more likely to be leaders, is still a hard social prejudice to quell.

Equality, in mutual passion, is easier to demonstrate:

When a cop on the beat encounters a young couple making love in the tall grass, in a park, he does NOT tap their shoes with his nightstick to angrily demand,

” All right, now, WHO’S in charge, here ?!”

Progress will turn HIStory, into HERstory.

 

Women remain naive and not the least bit aware of men’s glandular functioning concepts towards all women.

 

At a party or wedding,

men view a woman’s public, licentious exaggerated undulations in dance as her being naked,  and sexual fantasies unfurl

deep within men’s psyches.

 

Dance becomes sex in visualized fantasies of private encounters with these licentious, and actively lithe women on the dance floor.

For women,  few rarely grasp that their public dancing, is clearly nothing but public, overt, symbolic sex.

Most cultures associate ” beauty”, with a simple more precise symmetry, of the face, where perfection is a mirror image of both sides of the face.

 

Perhaps this makeup makes it still a man’s world, because it’s much easier, in society, to BE a man:

Each solitary, individual feature on your face always stays its birth shade and original color.

 

Methinks, that If men wore makeup, most would be disconcertingly prettier than many women.

 

If a man chooses, he might, perhaps, consider a cosmetic shave, but ONLY to some parts of his face and neck.

You can always wear shorts despite how awful your legs do look.

 

Your last name, regardless of marital -legal battles, stays put.

 

People do not ever stare at your breasts and your nipples when you’re happily chatting with them.

 

You are genetically and socially blind to any but the biggest wrinkles in your clothing.

Calorie intake and belly size are never a crucial consideration.

 

You always have the consummate and total freedom of choice about the growing of a mustache.

 

You don’t have to remove all of your clothes just to pee.

 

You can wake up just as attractive as you were when you went to bed, rather than have your beauty somehow deteriorate, during the night.

 

You can more easily, socially, defend your space, with knee-jerk displays of violence.

Woman, as the pretty sex, is a relatively new idea:

 

Pirates who wore the perfumes, jewelry, silks and frills echoed this olden concept of male beauty; a classical nude in statue, was almost ALWAYS male, historically, in ancient Greece and Rome.
This classic maleness model of beauty oddly reversed itself in the eighteenth century and women became the “pretty sex”, instead.

Throughout the animal world, whether it flies or swims, the male is STILL the colorful sex, the female, the drab one.

 

But since the eighteenth century, sexual and cultural reversals have oddly persisted in human affairs, and women instead have become the pretty sex.

But “pretty” means, slim and skinny, as fashion dictates.

 

Today, women who carry a few extra pounds, live longer than the men, who mention it…

Straight men, do not adorn themselves towards being highly polished- exceptions exist for politicians, actors, sports-stars, head gangsters, and police detectives, for within these men, narcissism, a sinful sense of entitlement, and monumental ego all loom.

 

In those egomaniac ‘types’ , highly-polished, self-preening is always accompanied by bullying others.
But the question remains, for the sake of guile and deceit: how curried and airbrushed is too curried and airbrushed?
The first thing I look at, when I see a polished, curried woman, is her eyebrows; if they’re natural, it’s a blast of honest sexuality that curls my toes.
If they’ve been removed and severe Groucho-Klingon brows, of crayola, at odd sharp angles, or worse,  tattooed on, I experience an anxious ‘turn off’, a social warning of duplicity, and all of my ‘antenna’ are up, and waving..
Women with long lustrous hair have always been sought as mates, because hair grows slowly and vividly reflects one’s general health, so mating was preferred with shiny, long-haired lasses, who were lax with lasciviousness …
But the rub, is that many women who look like floss, patina and veneer, are mostly shallow types who a man has to pay, for an intelligent conversation, because
 they have long cared ONLY about their outsides, and not ever about, their ‘insides’.

‘Beauty’ television commercials and ‘beauty’ magazine ads feature graphics of highly curried women, extolling Western society’s virtues of vacuous, narcissistic women, who gaze back at us, made over into a man’s surreal vision of what ‘beauty’ should look like..

 

In Maine, at a lobster restaurant, I went to the register to pay and behind the counter, opening the register, was a tall, strikingly handsome, buxom woman, in a formal ballgown who sported a large handlebar mustache.

 

Her startling visage has stayed with me, for many years, resplendent and role indigestible..
It’s a cultural facade and mirage of the sadly discarded true value of beauty, which always comes from within.
 A man in our culture says,”You’re beautiful”, before he says, “I love you”, and thus a woman is wrongly taught , that if beauty fades, then love must also fade.
Again, most cultures associate ” beauty”, with a simple more precise symmetry, of the face, where perfection is a mirror image of both sides of the face.
Poorly informed, desperately seeking love, she runs scared to the beauty parlor, nail salon, hair stylist, cosmetic facial and breast implant surgeons, willing to suffer to maintain an airbrushed, curried, artificial “beauty” , so that “love” will not also vanish.

Men perpetrate this hoax until they themselves believe it.

 

In truth, a woman is as sexy in bed as that woman was interesting, before bed, and interesting, after bed.

(“No man ever reached up a woman’s skirt, looking for her library card”)

Joan Rivers

 

But, for many non-self-respecting men, it’s all  just  about  a woman’s exterior patina, and veneer towards sex.

 

Men admit that they LOVE women who look hot and who act hot;  homespun, often unwilling women, by comparison, are like radiators, men have to keep touching, to see if the heat’s coming up.

Yes, men are more shallow than one would imagine, more vain than women and more duplicitous in satisfying their overwhelming hormonal drives.

Women thus feel that loss of beauty means loss of love, and then rush off to plastic surgeons, for tits and ass augmentation, nose jobs and liposuction, mascara and eyeliner alert, to avoid NOT being a love object..

REAL beauty emanates ONLY from within, something not taught in our culture, where women spend very much time on their outsides and little or no time spent, on their ‘insides’…

 

Women at an early age learn what dizzying effects their bodies have on men, and men’s sex drive,  and use THAT against them ; women culturally have been taught guile and deceit from a tender age, to ‘trap a man’, by using their physical, sexual allure:

 

They shave armpits,

 

shave legs and mustaches,

 

dye their hair,

 

use eye-liner,

 

mascara and false eyelashes,

face makeup,

 

(“Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy”)

 

 foundation-makeup,

 

earrings,

 

tints of rouge blush,

 

sport uplift brassieres,

 

apply perfumes,

 

apply lipstick,

go for Botox or plastic surgery to erase facial wrinkles,

 

 install Hershey-kiss silicone fake breasts,

 

wear high heels,

 

designer fingernails,

 

contact lenses,

 

  paint fingers and toes.
They put on things, to make them look bigger, and things that make them look smaller, but

then, they meet a man,

and  they want, …

“HONESTY!!”

Man, refuses to accept that makeup glamour fools the eye and deludes the heart, until he first awakens after the wedding, to see his bride without any makeup, and in shock thinks, “WHO is THAT?!”

Can such preoccupation with sexual camouflage avoid extra-marital diversion , and allow longevity and truthfulness towards a meaningful marriage?

 

Many couples who have lasted together forever, don’t have to work hard,  to get along  in marriage’.

 

When George Burns and Gracie Allen were asked how they remained so in love after sixty years, he said:

 

‘Marriage is a business.
When you work too hard to make the business of marriage work, you get tired, and when you’re tired , you get annoyed, and when you’re annoyed,  arguments start, and when arguments start…then, you’re OUT of business’ .

I remember once being stopped and asked at Disneyland by a graying and aged couple, to “photograph them”, for it was none other than their “fiftieth anniversary”.

 

I saw the way he held her hand and how they hugged and kissed as I struggled to find and frame the picture.

I wondered what wisdom and marital advice they might share, for too many, marriages end sadly in divorce.

 

These too many short-term marriages, for too many men, seemed to me,  just like a tornado:

 

in the beginning, there’s a lot of sucking and blowing , and later on … you lose the house.

 

Whatever happened to the romantic woman and to the romantic man who said that they could not live without each other?

 

He went East, and she went West… and they both lived.

My wife went over to speak with his wife to comment on how sweet they looked together, but when

I returned the camera as he made his way  over to me,  I asked him the $500,000 lulu question:

 

“What’s the secret to being married, so successfully, for so long?”

 

He looked confidential and wise and peeked to see if his wife was engaged in conversation before he spoke:

 

“You gotta cheat”, he whispered.

Men are like linoleum floors. Lay ’em right and you can walk all over them for thirty years. ~ Betsy Salkind

ALIEN-ABDUCTION MIND-CONTROL


Alien Mind Scan

ALIEN MIND CONTROL DURING ABDUCTIONS

By Paul Schroeder

(Copyright 2014, Paul Schroeder – All Rights Reserved)
<Edited by Robert D. Morniingstar>
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Picture
Author’s note:
I am “he”
And this recollection is genuine.
However, I chose the pronoun, “he”, to make this vividly recalled abduction, more easily acceptable to the uninitiated reader.
With mind-control in place, and all questions vectored off before they can be spoken aloud, communication from alien-to-person prevails, with no equanimity possible  towards “conversation”..
ABDUCTION RECOLLECTION:
He is flying high over a lush green tree landscape, over rolling tree lined hills and though he knows that it must be night, within the tractor light-beam, under a moving craft,  the fields and countryside below are lit up as though it were day, but he knows it’s night, because he is told that he is dreaming.

 He is flying, floating above a tree landscape.
For a few brief seconds, until he is drawn into the craft, he sees the green granular nature of the trees below, and feels the  visual exhilaration of flying, but rather than fear, he is filled with a combined sense of peace and joyous happiness.

He marvels at the texture and color of his neighborhood, and his movement above it.

Going Over A Waterfall GIF - Waterfall Nature Forest GIFs

He is dreaming, but he is awake.The smaller craft lands near a much larger ship, hiding in plain sight, in a field.

A long ramp extends from and to the ship.

 

He is told by a small, dark, grey alien, always just out of sight, that he is to wait on line, for a tour of a country estate.

People stand on the ramp and slowly move forward

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He is numb and is  surreal vividly dreaming,  but he feels that he is awake.He  moves forward, people in front of him and in back of him,   on a narrow path surrounded by a false screen memory of a flat, unidimensional static scene,  a photograph of an English garden.

It is hot and humid with the rank smell of soil.

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People clutch what looks like brochures and move slowly in a single line, towards the country estate, bored, and only mildly interested.

He approaches the door of the large alien craft.

A ticket taker sits at the entrance way, on a stool behind a lectern, observing the entering crowd, a doorway official seen as a slim teenager.

He thinks it odd, that such a young caretaker should seemingly be in charge, and as he lifts his eyes to meet the teen’s gaze,  the young boy turns into a kindly old man.

“It’s mind control, not shape-shifting”, he is told, by a sonorous tour-guide’s voice, in answer to his unasked thought.

Image result for tumblr gifs of shape shifting aliens

Everyone is awake and dreaming.

Inside is a waiting room, dirty, dull and round, a white room with no adornments and a black floor.


He awakens, dreaming and feels that the room is in flight.

It is a dream within a dream.

Going Over A Waterfall GIF - Waterfall Nature Forest GIFs

Awake again, briefly, he is dreaming while standing upright, walking in his sleep, climbing  a steep metal stairway ladder path-bridge, that leads to a very large room at the top of the stairs.

Someone in front of him dreams, and wakes up dreaming.

He looks to his right, as he climbs, to see  an enormous domed -curved window which makes up the staircase’s whole upper wall of the alien craft, and as he climbs, feeling very numb, he pauses, and stops the line of mass abducted people.

He looks out of the window and sees the Earth and the Moon, opposite each other, hanging in the blackness of space.   He places his arms on the curved railing where the staircase meets the bottom of the window and cups his chin in his hands, to understand the raw beauty of what he sees:

Outside is blackness…

 

The Earth, in the far right portion of the glass window, hangs suspended in a black nothingness, a planet swimming in blue-white haze, with a large red area, perhaps, the desert of North Africa, or the Arabian peninsula.
A Time-Lapse of Earth taken by Elektro-L, The Russian Weather Satellite that Operates in Geostationary Orbit. (io9)Silver and bright, the Moon, far to the left portion of the glass, also hangs suspended in a black nothingness..

Far away, violet splashes of nebulae, and points of red pinpoint starlight, intersperse with millions of white stars.

Chin in his hands, he leans over and says in a wistful, admiring tone,

“These people who live at THIS estate have some view; what a view!”

The small, dark, grey alien tour guide became startled and all at once,  the window’s 3-D space scene, becomes  a painted uni-dimensional flat portrait,  of an English garden landscape.Chin in hands, still looking out of the window, but now at the expanse of poster-like green lawn, of a garden landscape, he dully repeats,

“They DO have a nice view!”

The tour guide, startled to hear him repeat this praise, seemingly unaware that the scene of the garden had already worked to distract him,  knee-jerk- reflex -overreacted; he is slammed with a mind control jolt.

lsd aliens GIF

The alien creature tightens and magnifies its short psychic leash of control to throw him into a vivid emotional ecstasy, and he feels compelled to look down at his feet, and away from the window’s view.

 

The simple metallic ladder- path underfoot, transforms into carved inlaid wood one, delicately patterned and dazzlingly ornate, an inlaid ebony and maple wood design, cryptic and deeply beautiful in motif and complexity.
He is forced to kneel to examine it, his eyes now fully away from the stars, Earth and moon, seen outside the enormous, curved window .
Powerful awe, love, and wood -admiration, a godlike reverence of wood, flashes through his mind at the mirage of the intricate wood designed staircase, suspended in air.
Opulent stenciled ornament on grand staircase in a elegant Victorian-Era townhouse in Pittsburgh.
Complex, gorgeous and lushly constructed, a staircase in multicolored woods,  forces an almost religious awe, which courses through his brain,  to thrill him, a tsunami of reverent awe for the dazzling wood patterns, and for the unknown artist-architect, overwhelms and distracts him, a gifted attempt to get him to forget what he has seen outside of the craft’s window.
The sleeping line of climbing people is now fully stopped by his fawning and repeated examinations, of the simple metal staircase, as he repeatedly retraces his steps to examine it, in a rapture.
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The tour guide, just out of sight, presumes that the delusion is strong enough to have worked and he hears a resonant, deep, paternal, impatient voice, now within his head, “Just keep going; it will be there, for you to see, when you get back.”

“But, things change so quickly, in dreams”,  he thinks, “and this gorgeous wood stairway, will likely not be there, when I return.”

He lingers, enthralled.

Opulent stenciled ornament on grand staircase in a elegant Victorian-Era townhouse in Pittsburgh.
The alien ‘ guide’,  who tethers him and all the others, within a snug cocoon of illusions, had deftly made a simple, metal staircase, the un-rightful recipient of that stolen awe, of the magnificent scene viewed outside the craft’s window.
But when he awakens, he DOES remember the staircase and  his monumental awe of the spectacular space scene, outside the curved window, of the alien craft;
“Astounding creatures, uncanny, psychic, mind-bending, short- leash-controls…”
He  dully thinks, when he awakens exhausted, with a dull headache and a copious nose bleed, more tired getting up, than he had been, going to bed.
 And ‘dreams’, in a gnawing realization, could no longer ever again, be trusted  to merely be, .. ‘dreams’…
BIO:
Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for me, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL I saw aliens float me out of my body, in my bed, at night.
Then, I knew that they were more interested in an essence, that I never suspected I had:: a Soul.
http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/alienfilm/images/6/65/Alien-real.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130620214917
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Postscript
Rather than a fear-based approach to Dark Force Entity safety and caution, I prescribe a required spiritual “shift”  towards the equally unseen goodness of the spirit world, and away from fear.
Unlearning fear is a step-by-step acceptance and assertion, of one’s spiritual ‘Self’, a distance far and away from fearful  defenses mustered by one’s material physical self.
One’s longitudinal approach to any self-defense must be a spiritual one, and not a physical one.
For defenses to flare, one must  recognize that one is not a person having troubled spiritual problems, but instead an eternal soul having troubling human experiences.
From the stance of self-recognition as an eternal spirit, one can then insist on “one’s own space’ as spiritual fruition.

Avoid  church-based or organized religions and put the Bible on the same shelf as “The Tooth Fairy,” forGod is real, but He’s to be found down a long hall, and somewhere else.