BAD LUCK ISN’T BAD KARMA

“IF I DIDN’T HAVE BAD LUCK, I WOULDN’T HAVE NO LUCK AT ALL”

By Paul Schroeder

 

(Author’s note:  the title is  from a Rodney Dangerfield routine..)

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You have certainly heard it said, that in our lives’ destinies, “All IS WRITTEN”? 

According to  reputable and gifted psychics, our lives are carefully planned by our spirits, beforehand, that we assemble spirit helpers and spirit guides, in Heaven,  to accompany us, long  before we jump into another womb’s prenatal body,  for yet another lifetime.

Life,  they assure us, is a series of pre-programmed events staged with proscribed boons and travails, specifically designed to grow us spiritually closer towards God, a God who gives us myriad  incarnations, to hone and perfect us.

Earth is our ‘school’.

Even a ‘deja vu’, a moment haunting in its odd feeling, that we’ve ‘ been ‘there’, before’,   psychics say, is precisely such a specially pre-inserted moment, in our blueprint,  a small  odd- feeling- ‘bump’, in time, designed to remind us, unconsciously, that we are assessed perfectly aligned, with our  pre-planned spiritual lessons, in that moment.

How, then, is one to understand spates of bad luck, that stubbornly seem to follow one throughout?

For some of us, and that includes me, day after day, week after week, awful little and large things happen in  doses that nag at us, and seem to resist  greater meaning.

The title’s male comedian, once complained:

“I have the worst luck all of the time; I have no luck at all.

If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all!”:
I miss buses and oversleep appointments lose my wallet and keys, stub my toes,  step in dog poo and bang my head underneath cabinets.

“Just yesterday, I woke up, got dressed, and a button fell off; I  reached for a closet door and the knob came off!

I grabbed my suitcase, and the handle came off;…

I was afraid,… to go to the bathroom!…”

 

If  it’s true, that “all is written”, how does one explain annoying and troubling
‘nothing is going right’ periods, that persist?

Many gifted psychics, privately affirm that since  ,’all IS written’, awful bad luck events happen, by no  accidents; aligned with spirit, bad luck, in a continuous line, is commonly backstage- orchestrated.

Large and small bad luck occurrences will happen everywhere, all at once, in one’s life, as a spiritual “sign”, an alert that one is sadly far from one’s prearranged spiritual path.

When one has strayed too far away from one’s Heavenly, towards God,  pre-planned ‘blueprint’, self delineated in intricate fashion,  bad luck will stubbornly continue to manifest.

Then, It’s no coincidence that you lost your wallet, spilled the coffee on the computer keyboard, stepped on the cat, had a bathroom pipe leak down onto the kitchen ceiling, got a flat tire and missed the train and that was only Tuesday!

“Nothing is going right!”, life malfunctions, reveal that something else LARGER at stake, down a long hallway, and somewhere else behind our ‘curtains’, is ALSO not right.

Bad luck in series, is the tyrannical effort of Heaven, specifically,
our spirit guides and spirit helpers, who are more than  just trying to get our attention.

I can actually, at this point hear the known cynics and pernicious doubters yet again exclaim,”Your thesis, to me, personally, is just nonsense!”

What about those people who have one good luck event, after another good luck event follow them?

When one is on one’s correct preplanned blueprint’s spiritual path, ‘everything just seems to go right’?

Yes.

If we are progressing correctly, according to “plan”, then all of the little confluences and connections in our life begin to seem to work, and series of fortuitous coincidences occur like perfect magic:

We catch the bus, right on time, we meet that person we were hoping to see, we gain hope and guidance automatically, from kind strangers,  we find that misplaced thing we searched for, garner the needed finances that we sought ;

wonderful coincidences gather like flies at our mustaches.

Only when one is much too far from one’s self-set goals, does all Hell seem to break loose, everywhere and all at once, repeatedly.

Chronic and persistent ‘bad luck’ isn’t the ‘disease’ itself, but is instead an emergent ‘symptom’, of a disease.

But, can it be all that simple?

After learning this, minor constant misfortunes that never seem to end, rather than blindly depress you, will enlighten and cheer you, because it confirms that our path, is indeed a pre-planned path, and that, “Yes, Virginia, there really IS a Santa Claus,”

on ‘stage’, and ‘behind our curtains’.

Consistent negative synchronicities, are messages and bad luck events, now alert us that we are NOT up on our spiritual ‘toes’.

Ask oneself:

Am I being helpful to others or self-consumed and impish?

Am I forgiving, or nurturing grudges?

Am I consoling someone who needs consoling or am I, not wanting to ‘engage’,  avoiding them?

Am I offering charity to someone in need, or cautiously sidestepping involvement?

Am I being supportive or judgmental?

Am I being loving or impatient?

The cessation of bad luck troubles, relies and depends on one’s spiritual shift- of -perspective, a recognition that will appeal to your spirit helpers and spirit guides.

Be calm.

Listen to something emotionally releasing, like taped wholesome standup comedy; laughing can reset brain chemical imbalances from angst and is a wholesome therapy, instrumental in stopping deepening fugue, about persistent bad luck events..

Large doses of laughter can jump start and stir the cheer of one’s lagging soul .

Essentially, one must recognize those backstage  spiritual influences; a prayer for guidance and enlightenment is now tantamount.

Pray, IN THANKS to your spirit helpers and angels, who do a mostly thankless job, most often, and then, ask them for spiritual assistance.

Prayer, to be put back on the ‘right path’  will suffice, and  then all at once, as though in answer, the confluent series of ‘ bad luck’ events will suddenly abate.

Then, be sure to react with love to the situations that next present themselves, to you.

“Why me?!” is always the wrong question.

“Why NOW?” is more apt.

Bad luck in a series of repeated events means that
we have missed the inner signposts of mercy and patience and forgiveness and are indeed far from our set spiritual goals at that moment in time.

Series of bad luck incidents in our lives are NO accidents .

In school, we get the lesson, and then the test ; in spiritual life, we get the test, and then, the lesson..

The ‘spiritual tests’, come in many forms and are daily, weekly and monthly ‘pop-quizzes’ , life-involved, around key moments that internally/spiritually test for one’s :

charity, honesty, modesty, rescue, compassion, or.. sharing;

I usually recognize them, only in retrospect and then also decide that I likely, ‘failed’….

 

“Bad karma”,  emanates from spite, jealousy, anger, revenge, theft, greed and manifests in ‘unfinished spiritual lessons’ scenarios around those themes, throughout future incarnations.

THAT , is ‘bad karma’…

“All is written” may sound facile and glib, but one’s spirit helpers can and will reach from behind the curtains of Heaven and appear almost tyrannical, as they attempt to fast turn one into another direction, like adjusting a human skillet frying pan by grabbing one roughly, by the handle…..

For we are not humans having spiritual experiences, but spirits, having human experiences.

Prayer, with feelings only of gratitude, strongly helps to bring a message for the cessation of travails, until one’s head is re-screwed on, properly, to extend love, in all endeavors, to others..

“I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm”

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THE NOONDAY DEVILS : UNDERSTANDING the ANXIETY ATTACKS

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.”)

Psychics well know that along with psychic gifts,  sometimes come awful penalties.

Part of the alarming nature of the unknown is its mysterious link to the known; I awaken

each night to a lewd exhibition of the merging.

I open my eyes and turn to see the digital alarm clock, sitting on the lamp table next to

my bed and see: 12:12, and 1:11 am, 2:22 am and 3:33 am and 4:44 am.

This distresses me so badly, upon awakening, that I cannot think; a wave of panic that

SOMETHING is awakening me, with alacrity, strikes me, as the calculated odds of

awakening each night precisely at those specific times is, without question,

astronomically impossible.

The message intended seems designed to throw me off balance, to keep me wrapped in

fearful confusion; it lets me know that I am being toyed with but yields no greater

insight.

It has taught me that when I sleep I wander amongst adept monsters and psychic beastly

company.

When I experienced panic attacks(long before I suspected I was a “sensitive” and that

free-floating-panic the soul’s reaction, to ‘intrusion’ psychically) smoking pot always

made the anxiety blossom and flower worse.

Sometimes after abductions, the inter dimensional door, left open, invites the gangster

fringe element of the spirit world, worse, sometimes, demons are thrown into the

equation as spite work, for attempts at thwarting abductions.

UFO craft send down scrambled molecules of beings, transporter lights, which

reassemble in  attics, bedrooms and backyards to allow abductions to be stealthy with a

technology beyond imagination,

physical “beam-downs” of critters, from Bigfoot to reptilians to small greys, a technology-  tactic that baffled the human minds,  of Mayan , Sumerian, Aztec and Biblical peoples who  were outright wrongly ‘told’, that it was surely, “God”..

At eight o’clock in December, it began for me.

I saw a flotilla of craft, slowly come in from different directions, to assemble overhead,

round craft bottoms appearing not unlike red balloons.

They floated into a formation of sorts, overhead, until there were a dozen, and then all

bottoms’ red color turned to violet and they darted off overhead together, all in the same

direction, like fast minnows in a pond.

After that amazing sighting, poltergeist nonsense began to occur in my house .

And from then on, I looked up at the night skies only with apprehension…

Things moved within immediate eyesight, knocks on the walls and pings on light

fixtures, small fast footsteps overhead in the attic, and very strong feelings of being watched and nightmares.

Many nights, fantastic vivid nightmares of encounters with non-human beings ensued,

beings very tall, white like a refrigerator, flat like a Gumby cartoon character, and who

spoke to me with mind-to-mind-communication..

I was in severe ontological shock…

(Some of the most disguised UFOs appear as ‘airplanes’ that have false engine sounds attached to dissuade any notice, but they move in jumps and starts and reverse flight,  decoys that resemble conventional aircraft, an easy way to violate airspace’s without detection.

But abductees can sense an extreme ‘creepiness’, whenever small greys are local, nearby and soon-to-be around one..)

As my spirituality increases, it appears that I am become more of an increasing beacon, a porch light, for psychic moths and then bats, Dark Force entities.

Amazingly, NOT all of those negative energies afoot, earthbound, are human!

Some are reptilians.

One of my growing psychic sensitivities, an allergy of

sorts, is that as an early warning system, my skin burns locally with a painful ‘buzzing’,

when a negative thought entity intrudes upon my energies and starts a ‘connection.’

In such a moment, if sprayed holy water from a plant misting bottle fails to end the pain,

I seek a sometimes successful ethereal cleansing technique,  of using running

shower water to visualize a ‘wash’, of dark energy down the drain.

EMF connections are associated with the feeling of a ‘buzzing’, a pinch- painful ‘touch’ of  many predatory, stubborn,

unseen  ‘hungry’ entities.

One particular unseen inter-dimensional entity awed and baffled me when, rather than vanish, it used the

shower water’s energy to partially materialize, for a full moment or two to study me, an

energy lunch which actually resisted, and refused to be nibbled at.

It had suddenly drained energy from me, had burned my skin where connections

touched, and had buzzed me within, psychically; sudden, unprovoked sexual urges and

odd, negative ideation had surfaced.

These are two of the signature symptoms of all negative thought entities.

To my horror and disbelief, right next to me, under the shower’s waters, a creature had semi-materialized.

It had stared me right in the eye, had blinked and had looked again.

It stood under five feet upright, with catlike slit eyes, and had closely resembled a scaled

monitor lizard, in aspect and facial structure.

The reptilian had viewed me with its head tilted, cocked sideways, birdlike; it had

piercingly studied me with an alert intelligence that had radiated a proprietary curiosity.

After a few seconds, the creature had vanished.

Still under the shower’s waters, I had remained frozen, in sheer amazement and could

not believe my eyes; I had seen a creature that I had never imagined existed, similar in

construct to the raptor creatures, in Steven Spielberg’s film, “Jurassic Park”.

A youthful Draco reptilian E.T predator.

It had a proprietary and sinister demeanor and

like  cinema raptors, this short, upright standing reptile had an expression that

mirrored intense saurian intellect, a precise cross between a conscious man and a

physical reptile.

I had been horrified to glimpse a momentary semi- materialized, inquisitive, immature

reptilian ‘alien’, because it had long had a reputation in UFO literature and research, as

an inter dimensional bottom feeder, a sinister common parasite of human consciousness

and a clear overlord of all other alien entities, who often pilot UFO craft.

Their total impunity stems from their

molecular engineering,  in ‘nano-tech’,  exemplified by many of the physical

forms, created by their designed- D.N.A. molecule : a creation of breathing protein forms

of life by nanotech sequenced-storage and programming- amino-acid- building blocks.

These beings perceive such creations of life merely as, “containers”, to supplant themselves within  such varied contrived minds and bodies.(Earthfiles.com)

Post abduction, alien abductee depredation, is done through implant energy drains and

by inserting alien energy astral attachments, within the layered human psyche, towards

a goal of partial or total, eventual possession.

After initial physical human abductions, reptilian/grey possessing energies are

subsequently deposited, not unlike the lamprey parasites that they are, within the

multi layered human psyche/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..

Aliens and their predatory relationships with mankind have always been here and

hollow Earth reptilians are as native and terrestrial to our planet as are thunderstorms;

they are the game wardens of this preserve that we call, ‘Earth, and like good game

wardens, they do not let the creatures within, suspect that it is, indeed, a preserve.

Reptilians, as evidenced by the shower incident, are inter dimensional, as well as inter

galactic and

use the same dimension that ghosts and demons use to enter and exit our

reality.

The lower Earth animal forms seen as reptiles, amphibians, insects, mantids are mirrored and

echoed by the higher technological forms which have been seen aboard craft who have lent their DNA to create this preserve.

We , too, are constructs of their creative meddling.

When people ask them,” Where are you from?” Where do you come from?”, they are

often oddly  told:

“We come from within”,

as ‘alien’ energies, planted deep within the multi layered human psyche/mind.

Evil’s definition of predatory, sinister and self-justifying is more than satisfied with these

overlord reptilian entities.

Imagine a city-scape of people, all of who have juvenile saurian parasites ethereally

attached to their spinal columns.

It lends a new meaning of present horror to the concept of a silent invasion.

These bizarre reptilian beings, highly technological, dimensional and intergalactic, use us much as we ride horses.

Unlike the hesitant touch of a lost negative earthbound human spirit, this unseen

reptilian had prevailed with sharpest painful burning, a  stronger negative entity, I

surmised, and  more persistent than anything, unseen, I had previously

psychically encountered.

Worse, it now seemed stuck like chewing gum, on the bottom of my psychic ‘shoe’.

Morning and night, this persistent horrid entity feasted on my energies like an unerring,

stubborn yellow jacket wasp, fancying me like a can of cola at a picnic with the same

insect stubbornness. .

Imposed nightmares were vivid and dazzling in the extreme.

I had taken that shower out of sheer desperation, and had glimpsed something most

certainly NOT human which had radiated a brilliance of intellect.

(most commonly seen round UFOs, are for human abductions and most pilot predators within are governed by  reptilians.)

I am  sure that my reptoid microcosm experience, one of anxiety, depredation and Dark Force

energy, reflects the greater historical human macrocosm, globally, by such unseen reptilian entities…

I  learned from these encounters, that anxiety, is the soul’s natural

reaction to psychic intrusion; sudden or slowly building free floating anxiety means that

something, an entity unseen, prying and opportunistic, has just entered your energies to peek within.

That took me a long time to deduce, wrestling with horrid anxiety.

Imagine the global implications of such a therapeutic insight, an abject relief to sufferers

of anxiety attacks,  a truth, down a long hall and somewhere else.

This assertion can be tested, simply:

One who experiences anxiety, a panic attack onset, can “order it, away!”, like a fly at

one’s mustache, “in the name of God”; the anxiety will abate immediately and then re-

surge again as the entity responds initially and withdraws and then floats in again.

As its nature is usually sinister, stubborn, and predatory, anxiety levels will climb again.

Repeat the procedure, but now,

with stronger insistence and with more anger.

Anxiety will abate, for a longer time, immediately.

Again, a wave of free floating anxiety will reestablish a foothold, anew, as demonic or

grey- reptilian,  or sinister Earthbound spirits intrude, approach within your energies, again.

Panic Attacks are psychic/telepathic intrusions, astral

hitchhiking, by mean-spirited ghosts, a reptilian or a variety of demoniac energies.

Like yellow jacket wasps at a picnic can of cola, this reptilian entity was unerring,

persistent and sinister; the anxiety and wild vivid “dreams” were mere symptoms, not

the disease, itself, which was reptilian telepathic intrusion and attack.

Knowledge is power, towards attaining spiritual independence.

This budding psychic’s encounter with a juvenile reptilian, when compared to an

encounter with an earthbound ghost, was like the difference between lightning, and a

lightning bug.

(POSTSCRIPT) :

No Fish Story, This

I awoke slowly, during the night, underwater; it was an experience that seemed so real, in sensory totality, that rather than a vivid dream, it must have been yet another nighttime OBE.

 These entities seemingly specialize in astral abductions. One’s car is stopped on a lonely road and one ascends into an overhead waiting craft as one watches one’s body in the car below recede from view…

I seemed to doze and float and breathe normally while immersed under a shallow pool  ten feet deep or under a narrow inlet. 

As I floated I slowly became dimly aware that ten or fifteen gray torpedo shapes which had  hovered nearby, now swam closer to me,  nearer than twenty or more feet away.

As I struggled to partially come to my still dull senses, they approached close by with discernible curiosity and I observed that a large school of inquisitive porpoises had come very close, now, within five feet, for a much better look at a half awake me.

At the very same instant that my mind made an attempt to seize upon my predicament, at that very moment, they started, startled away, en masse, as though they were suddenly privy to my mind, and all vanished into the water’s gloom.

 

Later, upon awakening in bed, I suddenly recalled a line, a sentence that I had very often repeated in my writings;

 

“In the spiritual hours between two and six o’clock, I have stumbled across many negative thought entities, who were also nighttime bedroom intruders; as for these energies and entities, I have sadly, met predominately sharks and never the porpoises..”

This experience not only underlined their meddling psychic omnipresence but a presumption on my part that this OBE was arranged at the hands of an alien creature with a literal sense of, or a rarified sense of humor…

 BIO:

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.

““For we are fighting with people not made of flesh and blood, but against persons without bodies—evil rulers of the unseen world, those mighty satanic beings and great evil princes of darkness who rule this world, and against huge numbers of wicked spirits in high places.

Put on all God’s armor so that you will be able to stand safe.” Ephesians 6.

TELEPATHIC ALIEN ABDUCTEES

by Paul Schroeder

I force myself to not ‘look up’, anymore.

After an ensemble overhead sighting of nine

craft, I witnessed on December 1st, and after concurrent poltergeist and telepathic

disturbances and ‘nightmares’ that those ‘unseen’ critters astonishingly ‘pulled’ afterwards. .

They seemed to climb down the psychic ladder of my awe, into my house and life.

Poltergeist-like manifestations and telepathic attacks prevailed and intermittently, persist , to date.

I would hear light patter of footsteps in the attic,  while I am in bed, and soon after I

would feel strong electrical vibrations throughout my body to then see my body float out

of my body,  in an astral abduction of my spiritual essence.

For alien abduction purposes, this astral self retains all of one’s predilections and

discrimination, leaving one’s chop-meat-DNA- contrived- body,  now bereft of spirit,

behind in bed.

At first glance, seeing myself lifted away from my body, I had believed that I had died…

Out of body, I experienced conveyor- belt-like transit travels, not unlike the way ghosts

move.

(The sheer focus on sightings’ documentation of UFOs,  mere craft-vehicles, without mention of the occupant-

pilots’ tactics and motives, seems an E.T.

Jedi-mind-trick,  to make one

wonder, if there’s intelligent life, on Earth.

Craft, however, are in themselves, astonishing inventions,

as flexibly ‘intelligent’ and as

sensitive as living colloidal tissue, far from the mechanical ” points” one might discern.)

Nightmares after sightings are almost always screen memories to muddle recollection aboard craft or insertion of

core images as a vivid-recollection- trauma, to make connections to one’s mind..

Acquired insights sustain that ALL nightmares are varied degrees of telepathic

attacks , used  and delivered from a varied collection of negative-thought-entities who

strive to ‘reside’ within such “core-images”, or make ethereal connections from

us to them by imposing traumatic, or vivid imagery.

After abductions, the inter-dimensional ‘door’ left open, invites in the gangster fringe element of the spirit world which affixes ‘attachments’ to seek to ‘clamber aboard’.

Your dreamscape scenarios recalled, is the link to such and can with metaphysics, be removed, to some extent..

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..

Try to stay ‘lucid’ to interact with them in dream-scape.

The danger in studying these things, of looking up, is a jeopardy ; they can “feel” your psychic attention, focused, even from that distance,

 to climb down the ladder of your awe and your  curiosity,  from those extreme heights, right into your nighttime lap,

out ‘fishing’ for awe from anyone  who spots them, studying the skies.

(graphic: Earthfiles.com)

We are galactic psychic pawns in a telepathic-chess- game against psychic knights and bishops…

Such people who ‘notice’  these objects also  will have buried dim memory stirrings of being on-board craft, and have implants within one.

It’s NEVER an ‘accident , when one with awe and curiosity, sees craft overhead.

It’s choreographed.

To recall odd “dream” snippets that for no logical reason, linger vividly upon awakening,

play that snippet over, and over, like a tape machine until ,

what happened just before, or just after , surfaces.

How to stop, amend and blunt these kidnappings is what is truly more tantamount than resolving deeper meanings..

Spending a lifetime, recalled in snippets, with highly psychic, abducting entities, has

made my intuitive prowess mushroom.

Hazards exist and one can flirt with the beast of madness, when inter-dimensional bleed-through becomes too commonplace.

So vibrate “higher, I must needs do.

One must actively reject and vector away all  untoward thoughts of hate, mayhem, vengeance, murderous violence, malice and revenge, thoughts very often whispered, imposed and broadcast into our minds by outside,  Dark Force E.T. Entities.

Actively supplant and replace those dark thoughts with positive ones;

In so doing, one accepts more complete responsibility for one’s thoughts and actions, a contrapuntal notion to any cynic’s argument.

One who does not question the source of every negative thought one has, but who ignorantly and wrongly assumes that bizarre, odd and horrid negative thoughts, urges and behaviors are simply one’s own, is especially susceptible.

I went to a presumed psychic who turned out to be a fake, and who did a cold reading, with almost nothing apropos, from him.

  I ended up by reading him, telling him that a red haired woman (who turned out to be his mother) who was sitting next to him, was unhappy about what he was doing!

He confirmed, with a photo, that his mom, a bright auburn like Lucille Ball, had passed that year, and rattled, he agreed to refund my $300.

After abductions, the inter-dimensional door, left open, usually also invites in the gangster fringe element of the spirit world.

Like an allergy sufferer, psychics have a hyper sensitivity, to the unseen.

A cautionary tale, for sensitives, is that
watching  television, in itself, (like driving, or playing a musical instrument) puts one,

unknowingly, into a light trance  more commonly achievable by hypnosis.

Such trance ‘states’ of mind unknowingly magnify the mind’s power of a sensitive, to

receive and transmit and one’s mind
acts as a light-house beacon which can easily bring in dark spirits, who like sharks, coast in.

Sensitives need this trouble, like a submarine needs screen doors.

Are those who have a developing ‘Third-Eye’ cursed or blessed and

what if it stems from experiences with non-humans?

One technique that I use, is to internally tell myself that I wish to be “open”, and then I

relax, as I await an insight or mind’s eye picture, poised to receive, like a fat catcher behind home plate.

This worked well, and oddly also helped me, at times, to deliver an English college lesson, during a long career, when I misused this gift.

A classroom teacher’s predilection to amaze students, is always an opportunity to make

them pay more attention, as I

gesticulated World, American and English literature, to a student audience below.

I would halt the lesson, when I saw that I was boring them, by interjecting a random

‘read’ of a pupil who was markedly off day-dreaming, eyes out of the window, brain in

the hall, a pupil in a deep literature coma.

As an attention getting device or a means of embarrassment,  I would from left field give him an odd  personal detail of his private family life, a detail known only to him.

It could be as simple as mentioning that he left both a trumpet and a girlie magazine behind, on his unmade bed.

His eyes would be wide open pools of attention, for the rest of the week.

But garnering a reputation, for uncanny mind feats,  once seemed to backfire.

Just outside an English Literature classroom, I was stopped in transit in a busy college

hallway, by an unknown female college student, who grabbed my arm and blocked my

path, to class, and  said:

“Read me; I want you to read me!”

Startled and affronted, I wondered how the student grapevine knew that I would do such

things, and I became worried about my  job security if Administration also were  aware, like this rude student.

I shook my head, disapprovingly, and dismissively and told her,

“Forget it!”

But she physically half-pushed me against a wall, and I felt an almost affectionate female assault.

She insisted again.

“Read me; I want you to read me!”

I relaxed completely, annoyed, in resignation, and was suddenly flooded with the

shoreline image of a vast body of  lake water, a shore surrounded by water, and I was adrift far from shore.

This strong image was  accompanied by a vague feeling of dread stronger than my indignation.

I quickly asked her,”Why am I seeing water?”, to which she shrugged.

I asked her again.

“I’m seeing water, what does that mean, to you?”

She shrugged, again.

“I have no idea, what it means, but you perhaps do”, I prodded.

“Why, water?”

“I don’t know” , she said, again.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m on the swimming team.”

I  quickly told her,”promise me that you’ll never swim in a lake, it’s far too dangerous to

take that chance, in that you might drown,  but also promise me, now you’ll tell

 absolutely no one, about this conversation.”

She smiled and nodded, and I, late for class,  somewhat dismayed, and feeling used, hurried elsewhere,

knowing that I had been taken advantage of.

 A real problem, exists in trying to decipher precisely just what that image, or series of images, might  mean,

 a psychic muscle that all of us have, unflexed and flabby, culturally

under developed.

 Revealingly, for the many alien abductees who report such similar intuition experiences, the double edged sword of the abduction experience, cuts both ways .

Instead of elevated and angelic presences, in these spiritual experiences, predominantly untoward and impish intelligences, prevail.

Not yet able to ground myself, I often find at dusk and nighttime that I’m inundated by

unseen gate-crashers, my energies jumped upon by negative- thought- beings of many ilks, and worse,

juvenile reptilians, who like unerring persistent yellow-jacket-wasps, at a can of cola on a

picnic table, worry and buzz me with pinching and painful connections sought.

As a sensitive, I face the conundrum that hungry spirits who taunt and horrify, who

require that energy,  must at all costs be ‘ignored’,  since my energy goes where my

attention goes,  but it is as hard as walking in high heels, to force myself to focus,

elsewhere.

After a stunningly unpleasant  inter-dimensional  alien reptilian ‘encounter’, I was  aware of their unseen inter dimensional existence and diabolical brilliance.

  Afterwards, I was loathe to ‘ask’ within, again, psychically, wary and unwilling  to ‘receive’ ANY internal daydream-like images.

Reptilians’ persistent searing psychic attacks were THAT insidious.

These winged and mean-spirited creatures have uncanny psychic prowess.

Small dark greys as well,  are quite sinister, and equipped with powerful mind-control abilities.

The more I experience “seeing” shape-shifting, involving small grey aliens, during rare

moments of clarity within abductions, the more I am convinced that it’s not  shape-

shifting, but instead telepathic control of our minds.

These beings telepathy is so strong  that they can  force us to perceive/ see what they

choose, powerfully projected into our mind’s-eye.

The spiritual/paranormal aspect in alien-human interactions, prevails:

UFO observations, though non-religious by nature, DO encompass a similarity to the

“spiritual” or semi-religious  paranormal dimension, in many tangential ways.

Part of the phenomenon  involves astral abductions; one’s body is left behind in a car, or

in bed, and one’s spiritual essences are extracted, ‘vibrated’ out of one’s body..

One reports seeing one’s body receding below, as one is ascending into, an overhead craft..

One’s astral essences do maintain all of one’s personality traits and idiosyncratic fine

judgmental qualities.

This astral theft, temporarily, of our spiritual essence, is mirrored and echoed again after

abductees’ physical death when their spirits are garnered to be recycled, bypassing

Heaven , angels and spirit helpers, an abduction again, of diabolical proportions.

And there ARE strong similarities, also, between the predatory spiritual treatment of

abductees by aliens, and the too easily dismissed ancient notions of demonic possession,

because demons and aliens both, are predators, of our spirits and of  consciousness, itself.

For years, at meetings at Bud Hopkins house in New York City, we abductees, over the

years, gleaned that ‘ we are a harvest’, a  condiment in the Universe, an echo of Rod

Serling’s Twilight Zone episode, “To Serve Man”, because abductees know that UFOs

reveal a reptilian god, who fancies diets of human flesh.

This truth, that humankind has always been a spiritual, as well as a tangible harvest, is

down a long hall and somewhere else, from pedestrian UFO researchers.

(At Budd Hopkins home on the upper West side of NYC, abductees met on weekends to exchange and share and I was there when I heard many echoes of abductees describing seeing human babies being jar-bred, chopped and butchered into edible parts aboard craft, strictly for reptilian diets; small greys bathed in tubs of human endocrines and a soup of body parts(sludge) and absorbed such through their skin.

This is likely the main reason that any ‘disclosure’ may be thwarted because the truth is too horrendous, that we are ‘farmed’ precisely as we ‘farm’ animals…)

“Earth”, as we call it, is a reptilian preserve and these gamekeepers, never let the

creatures within suspect that it is, indeed, a preserve.

I have eyeball-to-eyeball seen,  in one abduction scenario, a small dark grey , arms folded and face scowling,  telepathically

control (with broadcast TERROR)  enslaved human children ( all boys about

ten years of age) who ran to fast unload loaded conveyor belts and then fast ran to then

pile retrieved goods up, in a warehouse type setting.

Slavery of children , in   that

observed microcosm , reflects a wider predatory macrocosm interaction, with mankind,

without a doubt, to my mind..

The lower animal forms seen on Earth, as reptiles, amphibians, insects, felines, are

echoed and mirrored by the higher technological alien types seen aboard craft by

abductees, aliens who lent their DNA to this preserve eons ago, and even as a reptoid craft, engineered

 our moon’s careful placement.

 Earth is a ‘created’ shining jewel of life , comparatively, among  untold countless dead

worlds and Draco reptilian E.T.s are the best of gameskeepers, who never let the creatures within, suspect that it is , indeed, a preserve.

Many inhabited worlds of sentient beings prevail as spiritual beings, dis corporate worlds and our physical “Earth” is a rarity, by  sheer comparison.

E.T.s play at  being, God.

Molecular engineering, at the hands of E.T.s, in ‘nano-tech’, is exemplified by the physical

forms created by their designed- D.N.A. molecule, a creation of breathing-heart-pumping-air-breathing  amino-protein forms.

This ‘patent’, allows them to act with Godlike impunity in gathering somatic cells as well as spiritual essences, as a harvest.

“Hard facts and empirical scientific evidence”, have, to date,

failed to reveal humankind’s continued interactions

with non-human intelligence behind our human  history, and

behind our spiritual curtains.

UFO researchers, in this field,  seek only facts and become stodgy and backwards, ill equipped

to understand an environment of an elusive alien hall of mirrors, with a quicksand floor..

Seeking only proofs, counter-intuitively inhibits, rather than illuminates this elusive subject.

The public, blind to an alien agenda, reacts with

 abject ridicule  to the reality of what alien abductees face .

We humans are contrived products of their creative animal  ‘husbandry’,

simians who knot ties and ride public conveyances,

simians who, by our nature, will not believe in anything that we have

not directly experienced, ourselves and thus

 the stench of ignorance prevails,  about UFO alien pilots’ tactics and purposes.

 Psychic and telepathic powers of abductees, an odd human precipitate, in an alien

solution,  is also one which resists “hard facts and evidences”.

(mind control dreamlike core-image-attachment delusion imposed during abductions)

“Bleed-throughs” prevail

At a recent dinner, when a friend mentioned her long deceased brother, a man’s

face slowly emerged from the right side of HER face,

 like double-vision ;  they were identical, and he was a young man.

I was shocked, that he had not moved on, but had chosen instead, to jump aboard her energies and

I stared at her, fish-eyed.

I simply said,”You and he had one face, the exact, same face.”

She said, “yes;  we  looked like identical twins.”

She put down her fork and said,

“There he goes, again, saying  things he could not possibly know,  and where does he

GET those things from ?!”

I did not explain, what I had seen, horrified that he was, in truth, fully aboard her

energies, rather than having ‘crossed over’.

After my mom’s second husband died,

having a dinner at my mom’s house, she pressed cakes and cookies into a take-home bag

for me to take home and I complained that :” I didn’t want to eat such but would , if it were in the house.”

At three in the morning, that same night,watching TV, guiltily eating my mom’s

cookies, I heard her second husband’s voice.

Stanley, aloud asked in his own nasal tonal but dis-corporate voice :

” So, you LIKE your mother’s cookies!?” with a tone disapproving and sarcastic.

I almost fell off of the chair that I was sitting on,  but now  grateful for his

‘coming through’, that death is NOT the end of

consciousness…

THIRD EYE  PRIED OPEN

I once had a woman contact me who said that she needed “help from witches, in a coven that she had left, because of harassment.”

I privately felt that she was bat nuts but didn’t tell her that, knowing nothing at that time about such things.

Several nights in a row, after some advice I gave her about discontinuing all such

endeavors, after I closed my eyes to sleep, they strongly floated in psychically, to look me

over, with curiosity: a tall thin-haired wispy woman, and a rotund short-haired woman wearing glasses.

Both perfectly fitted descriptions later supplied by the woman who had sought my assistance.
I never forgot the possible potential power of such ‘witch’ people, or  forgot  my then , dazzling

ignorance…

What can one discern?

Who actually micromanages us, and our intuitions, who walks behind our psychic curtains?

After encountering stunningly horrid reptilians, I suspect that E.T.

Dark ones, like gargoyles perched on one’s roof, can see down the ‘road’, far enough to

supply one with near- future happenings, but they are not remotely the elevated angelic souls,  or

ascended ones of LIGHT, that you’d hoped they’d be .

Inter- dimensional  demons and reptilians can and do cruise in like sharks, to cause extreme

psychic distress, panic attacks, nightmares, and poltergeist manifestations,  and living through such becomes wrestling with the beast of madness,   itself.

(The soul’s natural reaction to strong intrusion, psychically, is one of free-floating anxiety.)

 I write about my psychic ‘rabbit-hole’,

having gone so far down that hole, that I don’t have enough breadcrumbs, to find my way, back home.

 Alien abductions-acquired psychic prowess is nonetheless  a spiritual

gift, a gift- muscle to be  exercised and flexed, until Heaven, ready to use us for some higher

good, steps in to make sense of it all, for us.

Simple metaphysics, fighting fire with fire can be useful and the

more time spent visualizing a protective light, the more effective, it becomes.

“Seeing” electric-violet ‘around one’  successfully repels stronger types of demons

who cannot endure such purple visualized high frequencies, for long.

With practice, this visualized technique wins out in any short-lived pitched battle against

UFO beings, diabolically brilliant, insistent and predatory.

Abductees know fully well, that Earth is under invasion, one person at a time, and that

we are all alone, together…..

One must endeavor to stay afloat in goodness and moral ingenuity, to prevail against them, having

first won God’s assistance and Heaven’s intervention, because

we are much closer to God, than they are.

(ADDENDUM:)

Author’s Postscript:

Rather than a fear-based approach to Dark Force Entity safety and caution, I proscribe a required spiritual “shift” , one 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 alien/demonic spiritual problems, but instead an eternal spiritual 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.

God is imbued within us as a spark and within everything all around us, to be too easily discerned, and that spark has “rights”.

 Put the Bible on the same shelf, as the Tooth Fairy for

God, is real, but He has always been

down a long hall, and somewhere else..

(child aptly imitating religious pulpit body-language)

BORED OF EDUCATION : THE IDIOT BOX

 

BORED OF EDUCATION? : THE IDIOT BOX
by Paul Schroeder

Another September and with it, the culture  shock of Summer’s end and like a broken record, school beginning anew ;  outside of the tall windows of my Senior Literature class, the trees were dropping their September alphabets.

“With the power invested, in me, in this state of intoxication, I pronounce you student and book!”

Anthologies of World Literature, tomes four inches thick, were distributed by chagrined monitors.

“Do we have to bring these in every day?”

My students groaned.

I asked them pointedly, “If college IS the next step for all of you, will years of watching television make you unable to compete with students who love to read?”

“200 pages a week of reading, will be assigned, in your Freshman year, readings from an amalgam of broad spectrum required Liberal Arts courses in: English Literature, Classical Civilization, American History, Philosophy and Psychology.

They were now clearly distressed.

“Everything that you’ve endured in twelve years of education, has been just simple preparation for what you face next year, in schooling.”

“What happens if you are kicked out of college and you end up in your mother’s kitchen and she says,”What are you doing, here?”

“What are you then going to say?”

“If you’re watching television, now, instead of assigned readings, you’ll be on your couch, and watching television, for the rest of your life.”

I had to scare them into thinking.

“Has watching too much television and hating to read, already sabotaged your future?”

They looked vaguely worried.

I tried another tack.

” Can you be “dumbed down”?

They refused to accept that idea.

I asked them

what they thought could happen to a nation of people, by  government, if rather

than read, they were addicted to nightly series of reality shows and  sit-coms ?”

“If a nation is only as smart as its citizens, can a nation be destroyed by avoiding reading, by its love for watching simple plots filled with silly, banal characters?

“Like the mystery of a contagion of yawns in a room, television scenarios that ARE stupid, SEEM funny,  because they’re surrounded by synthetic, plugged-in laugh- tracks.”

They were listening and thinking.

“Those background plugged-in laughs, like the trigger of yawning when someone else yawns, makes you grin, in a sympathetic type of mind control.”

“When you go home, listen to the conversations on your favorite shows and block out the laugh track, by actively ignoring it.”

” How can minds who’ve dwelled on television for years, be able to do college work, to struggle to understand an oblique idea written in a paragraph, a dancing linear line, on a white page?”

I assured them that if they were to survive college, they must now become devout and eclectic readers.

Tonight’s assignment is to try to feel insulted,

by television’s use of
“plugged-in laughs”,  from audiences who were never there.

“A smart person evolves to resent  television’s scheming, its subliminal attempt to ‘force’ a laugh from us by using  electronically plugged in laughs”.

“A trick played on the conscious mind, makes one smile at  banal, unfunny situations , common to all sit-coms.”

None of the spoken lines, I dared them, are  funny enough to deserve such laughs.

Students in their senior year then named five situation comedies that they watched each night; I gave a homework assignment, a field experiment:

They were to watch any two favorite situation comedies, but were directed to be aware of background laughs, to ignore and remove the ‘laugh-track’, from their minds.

By being aware of the artificial  laughs, they were then to to ‘weigh’ how funny the ” lines” actually were.

By the third day of discussion about watching television and the promise of carrying fat anthologies, they had found that
television comedy that had earlier made them smile and grin, wasn’t funny at all, when viewed without that background plugged-in laugh -track.

In the coming weeks of reading World Literature, I brought in DVD  filmed copies of sit-com shows with edited out laugh tracks.

Critical awareness quickly grew, in class, of sit-coms’ forced subliminal control, a manipulation that they now resented, but one that had succeeded with them, earlier.

Now, they felt disappointed but also felt a little smarter..

I told them that “Mash”, the series, had been shown in England without the laugh track heard in America, and had succeeded, as a sitcom on its own funny merits, oddly benefiting from the lack of a laugh track.

The British knew and didn’t need to be told what was funny.

But now, how to encourage them that the dancing linear line, in reading books, was also pleasant and superior to the idiot box?

Reading was work and sitcoms were mental Valium.

I deeply knew  how  most students, in their senior year, felt about school and the reading of books, for the most part.

Having taught for thirty-five years, to motivate minds, I once stumbled across a desk -carved graffiti graphic,  succinct and apt, in its genuine emotion about school, for

within the face of a drawn tombstone, with set flowers on both sides of the gravestone, read:

R.I.P. :

“This is Dedicated

To All of Those

Who Died,

Waiting, for the bell to ring…”

GRANDMA’S RUSSIAN ADVICE

Grandma’s Advice

by Paul Schroeder

Just before my grandmother on my mother’s side died at the age of 95, I whispered a kiss in her ear and thanked her for her wisdom.​

One odd piece of advice, that she had taught me when I was a child, I had carried close to my inner ear, all of my life.

It had been an Independence Day warning, borne of a distant Russian wisdom, one that

she had whispered to me four decades ago, when I was nine or ten years old,

impressionable and the apple of her eye.

The imprecation that I got from her, the warning whispered in my small rapt ear when I

was nine or ten years old had been an odd warning that had ruled and had guided my life, and through raw angst, had come to define a larger part, of what I called my soul.

Her ‘Russian optimism’ for the world, was childhood overwhelming for me.

For her, life was always a cup of optimism, half filled ….. but, with something, that could  likely kill you.

Now, she at ninety-five was far from that woman who in giving advice could be ironic and poetical.

She had used lipstick as a rouge to color her cheeks and then decided that her whole face was of a pallor that also needed color, rubbed lipstick all over her face.

She was quite a shock when I got onto the seventh floor of the retirement home and

turned the corner and saw her sitting in a wheelchair, as though apparently waiting for me.

 

She still had her sense of humor.

She earnestly asked with a childlike innocence if I could bring her some new makeup

and some big diamond jewelry for her to wear to dress herself up, when I visited her next?

Cautiously, I had asked her, skeptically dubious ;”What type of diamond jewelry?” She had said;

“Expensive, fancy jewelry.”

She labored under the delusion that she was in a hotel in Miami, one that slouched in basic standards;

“The meals at this hotel are terrible, but what is a person to do?”

She did not ever surmise herself to be in a nursing home near the beach in Coney Island, Brooklyn.

 

A person’s senior mind can lend a type of psychic anesthesia that acts in many ways to

protect it from uncompromising and painful truths. .

Now I was an odd adult.

I wanted her to know that I loved her, how her whisper had returned years later as my gratitude.

I had loved to cherish ideas; a rare few philosophers had touched my early soul .

Dr. Seuss had barely competed with grandma.

But, he  wrote :

 

“Be who you are and say what you think, because those who matter don’t

mind, and those who mind, don’t matter!”

 

But grandma didn’t recall her similar advice or the small pleasures and agonies of our past.

 

My other odd philosopher was sitting here in her wheelchair, armed and propped with a

pillow/ alarm that would audibly alert nurses in the retirement home if she pitched

forward and left her chair’s upright fixed position.

She was different the next time I saw her, the way she used to be ;

” Hello, Paul; sharp as a matzoh and twice as crummy!”

“How come you don’t call your grandma more often? Humph!!”

“Humph;You going to wait until I’m in the cemetery and THEN you’ll visit me?”

“I’m sorry, that you’ll be sorry, but THEN it’ll be too late!”

This was the same verbatim greeting that I had gotten from her over the years over the

telephone .  I presumed that I was calloused to it all.

 

It always deeply riddled me with guilt but I never let her know, but instead I saw it

 

rather as a good sign that she was still feeling feisty.

When she successfully aimed ring-toss-Velcro-guilt in my direction, I rationalized, she

 

must be feeling much better.

I quickly tried to change the subject to refocus her mind.

” Grandma, I remember that boardwalk, we can see

 

here in Brighton Beach from a time when you were fifty years old and I was about nine

years old, on the Fourth of July fireworks and I still remember the good advice that you

 

gave me, back then.”

“What advice did I give you?”

I told her.

It had stayed with me for many years as a token of her wisdom.

 

“You brought me to you on a bench on that boardwalk, in Coney Island, on a hot 4th of

 

July afternoon, when the whole family was there suddenly hugging and kissing each other,

 

happy for once, to be all together and happy seeing the fireworks, and then you whispered it in my ear:

“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams,” You told me.

“What?”, she said, so I told her again;

“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams.”

 

“OH!”, she said,”I am VERY sorry, if I ever told you that!.”

 

“I AM very sorry.”

I reminded her, however, what an impact she’d had on me then.

“That whisper, as a recommended life philosophy, was both poetry and  true and that,

your advice, really stayed deeply with me.”

 

Taken to heart, it had allowed me to remain aloof and separate from everyone, as a type

 

of self protection,  to preserve my OWN dream.

 

She looked at me as though I were some stranger in a dream.

I said it, again;

“Don’t get too close to people, you’ll catch their dreams.”

She was thoughtful and then looked worried.

 

She looked into my eyes., her eyes now clear and sharp.

“I never told you THAT.” …

 

“You shouldn’t get too close, because…”

“Germs”, she said.

” I said that you’ll catch their GERMS.”

“I told you and your sister MANY times;

“Don’t get too close to people, ’cause you’ll catch their GERMS.” she said, again.

 

“And YOU’RE supposed to be the SMART one?!”

“Oh,” she groaned in pain.

“Take me over to the dining room; it’s still too early for the lunch, but I want to get there

anyway, early.”

That wrong belief had overshadowed every relationship in my life with an ambivalence

and a craving to just be left alone.

If one was alone, one was safe from the awful things that loving people could do to you, I

had always reasoned.

 

But, I had been running away from my own shadow.

One marriage and a dozen influenza later, I had realized her truth, too late.

 

POSTSCRIPT:

 

In school, first the lesson, then the test;

in life, first the test, then the lesson…

 

NAKED IN A PUBLIC COLLEGE

                                  Naked, in a Public College

by Paul Schroeder

I used to be in the habit of not wearing underwear, to “want my ‘boys’ to move and float freely”.

When I purchased a fine suit of clothing, and was asked by the tailor,”which side I wore it on”, I  would reply,”It moves like a flag in the wind!”

However, that fashionable quirk once caused a serious’ costume malfunction’ that backfired to  jeopardize my career and my  life.

One day, as a college faculty member who taught and lectured Comparative World Religion,  I  discovered, after the  bell had rung,  that my pants had  ripped on a nail from my chair..

I approached and peevishly asked another colleague, a sweet disposition sewing teacher, who had a sewing class next door to my classroom, if she could possibly repair it, while I waited?

She smiled and said that it would take her only a moment, to fix it.

She was a tiny and sweet old lady, with her hair done up in a white bun, whose classroom clattered with sewing machines,closely attended by an all girl population.

She had smiled and had agreed and had told me to remove my pants, and to wait inside the  men’s teacher’s bathroom, around the corner from my classroom.

  I was to surrender those pants to her monitor, outside of the bathroom door and she would retrieve them to me, repaired, “in a nonce”.

Two minutes after I had done  that, however, bells everywhere clanged loudly in a rhythmic series of ‘threes’.

As I stood there half naked,  clangs of the fire drill bell rang out, and in profound shock, I heard the muted sounds of all students lining up, en -masse to exit the building!

The silence of the building, now emptied, chilled me to the marrow; I waited, semi naked and alone, grieving, for seven long minutes and slowly,

I began to panic with the nightmarish  truth, that I had NOT that morning worn underwear!

Alone, in an empty  school, half naked,  I  felt forgotten, left behind in a third floor faculty bathroom, during a fire drill, forgotten like a package left under a theater seat,

standing around in a faculty men’s room with no pants or underwear on!

Grief and self pity weighed upon me, heavily.

Long minutes passed but

no staff entered the lounge bathroom.

and frightened about my present condition such that I could scarcely breathe,  suspiciously

aware of larger and  sinister forces of the Universe,  at work behind my ‘life’s

curtains’..

After  seven or eight minutes of  more utter silence, I marinated in  fretful agony, but now heard  the herd multitude sound of 3200 shuffling pairs of shoes, returning.

More time passed, but there still was no friendly knock at the door,  and STILL no kept promise of my repaired pants.

Half naked,  hamstrung , unable to make my way back around the corner of the hallway to the sewing room to investigate, I was  without pants AND in agony,   without  underwear!

As time progressed, I more so began to panic.

A cold chill and then a bitter warmth of

 horror  suffused throughout me.

 I could have covered my grommets with my removed shirt, but

 I had surrendered to

heart-pounding panic.

 Common sense melted, and submerged, inaccessible, to me.

There were  young college teenage girls chatting audibly everywhere, beyond the faculty

men’s bathroom door.

The nightmare of naked genital scandal paralyzed me.

I poked my head out of the bathroom door.

As a talking head,  I managed to call out to a random passing male pupil, and asked if he PLEASE, “could assist me.”

Would he “please go to the sewing room, just around the corner from the bathroom and call on the sewing  teacher to return to my rescue, with my sewn pants?!”

After  a long minute, the unknown Good Samaritan pupil returned to me.
He said  that “he’d be late to class, but that the room was dark and empty.”

“And that the program posted on the door, announced that the sewing room’s teacher was at a scheduled break, for lunch!”, he said

She had forgotten all about me; the fire drill had distracted and scattered her thoughts!

I  began to imagine what would happen to me, if after lunch, she had then punched out and left for the day!

 Fear resolved into the righteous anger of indignation, but more

plaintively,  still a talking head from a faculty restroom, I begged this unknown pupil to NOT continue on to his approaching class and that

I would give him a note to excuse his lateness,  as a service to me,  begged:

” Please, in God’s name, run down  the three floors to the basement to the teacher’s cafeteria,  and find and relay my panic stricken message to the sewing teacher!?”

I began, in enabling anger, to quietly curse that little M.I.A. sweet old sewing teacher lady, for

.

the raw cruelty of

her  broken promise had left me nightmarish naked, cruelly  exposed, within a

vengeful universe that now sought my ruin,  to crush me.

An innocuous,  mindless woman,  was now a laser focus of evil intent upon my soul .

What reactions, if I had bolted down the hallway, would my  students

have had?

 Spiritual retribution loomed  with terror and

 mind numbing shock, a jeopardy experience of a lecturer cringing, naked and

hiding in a faculty bathroom, a gruesome naked and nightmarish predicament.

Staff  laughingly later told me, that she was good natured, but she was notoriously  forgetful.

Wish I’d known that.

I  surely died a thousand private deaths, for

as I waited

my career’s professional life swam before my eyes.

What if there HAD been a REAL fire?!

After many more horrified minutes, suddenly, there she was , knocking on the teacher’s bathroom door, embarrassed but holding my returned and repaired pants up to me and

she apologized profusely , for “having forgotten all about you!”

 

She likely never recounted this horror tale to anyone, afterwards, as it likely also

vanished soon to fade into the amnesia recesses of her mind, but

I never, after that experience, left my house for any reason whatsoever, without underwear securely on.

(“I was arrested once in Germany for public nudity. I thought it was a topless beach – it was. . . . .a shipyard”

Madonna)

A CHILD’S WONDER : TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR

TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR: A CHILD’S WONDER

by Paul Schroeder

“Daddy? What’s “Twinkle, twinkle, little star”, mean?

Every night, was another question, one that was sometimes designed to delay bedtime, but every so often one of a childlike philosophical cosmology.

“So, it’s twinkle, twinkle, is it?” I asked her to recite it to me, and she did.

“How I wonder, what you are, huh?”

“Get ready for bed and I’ll tell you.”

” My child, listen, carefully, and you shall know, what very few children or even many adults, don’t know.”

“Are you under the blanket?”

“Ready?”

 Because this is something, that most people do not think about, or even know, but here’s

an answer, that you must remember.”

“Do you especially want to be really smart?”

A nod of a head, with a thumb inserted.

“We are on a ball , called a ‘planet’, one that is traveling more than 1,000 miles an hour,

as it revolves and turns , and we are also on this planet, traveling 67,000 miles an hour,

straight forward, into space, around our sun.”

“Why, daddy?”

“So that we stay stuck on the planet’s surface, like water in a pail, that you swing

overhead, water that stays in the pail, so you, like the water, don’t float up and away, into space, from your bed.”

“Children who are under their blankets and tucked in, are much too safe and too heavy

to fly away like that; are you tucked in, well?”

“You’re not really afraid that you’ll float away into space?”

A nod of the head then followed by three shakes, and a mumbled response from a thumb

in her mouth:

“I’m not scared.”

A settled scramble of pillow and blankets.

“Tell me, daddy.”

“The stars in your eyes, the ones that twinkle, overhead are, my child, an illusion, a

make-believe trick of the eye, because you’re really seeing the far dim past, the way the

Universe used to appear, many, many eons ago, light-years’ gone long ago, stars whose

lights are likely since extinguished, winked out, only now, invisible ghosts, in the

blackness of space. “

“Very many, that you see, now, are no longer there.”

“But their lights, sent out before them, yet still travel, to now reach us.”

 

“Twinkling stars above, which likely no longer exist, but, which we still see, happen as a

 

trick of the Universe, because their lights are much slower, just still reaching us, so

 

instead, we look up to see a window clear photo of the skies, the way they, the skies,

 

looked, many, big dinosaur eons ago.”

“Sleepy child?”

“Huh, daddy?”

Do you think you can remember what answer I gave to your bedtime question?”

A shake of the head, no, then fast followed, by a nod, yes.

“Always try look behind things, that you see, to get at real answers, or more real reasons,

whether it’s a dream, a broken car engine, about God from religion, or even the stars that

shine in our Universe, for illusions and wrong ideas fill our lives and we pass those

wrong ideas onto others.”

“This planet that we call Earth, is not ‘too far out in the galaxy boonies’, for space people,

aliens to visit, but is really both their own animal preserve, and a major crossroad, for

many alien beings, and we have a place in this equation.”

“Twinkle, twinkle’s poem, is also a most beautiful  question, because  curiosity and

wonder are almost everything, to a mind’s life.”

“Because grownups, mostly lose their wonder,” I said.

“Nobody really understands dreaming, or how to overcome gravity even though its

power is no more than that of a nine volt battery , or even the sequence of chemical

energy events that happen, when a simple matchstick is lit.”

 “My child, but most of all remember to always have wonder, about illusions, that might

seem real, but  only point to another more real,  different reality.”

Now, your mind will never dim, unlike a star, when you grow into a super smart citizen

of the Universe.”

“Sleep well, and get up well.”

“You, too, daddy”

“Now, like a star…LIGHTS OUT, and dream about puppies..”

Author’s note:

My own childhood family wasn’t  cuddly, warm, or closely knit, but more resembled a poorly organized tour group, one with secrets..

HOW TO SUMMON ANGELS

by Paul Schroeder

Angels are divine beings, go-betweens between human beings and God,

 another sentient creation of God, who speak only telepathically, and who are usually

depicted as splendid, most holy beings, who have varied wings.

The color and size of their wings delineate the level of their angelic status, as

the angelic realms are highly structured and have specific hierarchies; there are many

levels as well as many categories.

Angels have surely mesmerized spiritual people for millennia, who sought these beings

 

because

of their love for those with open hearts to God, beings noted for instilling a spiritual

 

sense of gratefulness to God.

However, our soul and our spirituality, is of an essence that we, as a race of beings, are

only barely aware of. Therein lies the rub.

Angels will never or will rarely attempt to interfere in your life unless they are

specifically pleaded with to do so.

Although I have discovered that, contrary to popular belief, angels will not perform overt

 

miracles directly into one’s life, they will however make suggestions and help one to

avoid potential roadblocks.

We are seemingly divine enough to ask , and divine enough, to receive.

All they ask is for us  to sense that a spark within us is eternal, and thus to recognize our spirituality.

Spirituality, isn’t about religious beliefs, but it is about having direct spiritual experiences.

 

The impersonation, masquerade of ancient aliens as, “God”, helmeted and duped the world in the Old Testament ..

God, our true spiritual father, is much too imbued within us, and within everything all around us, to be so easily discerned.

Religion, instead is the bane, creating religious multitudes of harsh judgement and excluding beliefs.

Gandhi said : ” I very much like your Christ , but do not at all like, your Christians”.

I began my own spiritual explorations as a young boy.

 

I always had a burning curiosity about what bodies existed beyond the five skeletons of my physical senses for some unknown reason.

Ghost hunting is sad to me for it does not offer direct help to a trapped, lost, wandering ghost, but a ghost is still astonishing, and self-affirming that we are more than our bodies,  for we step out of our body,  just as we step out of our car, and our clothing, and that we are not our body, any more than we are our clothing, or our car.

I have since learned that the human mind, imbued by God, is part of the quantum physics of the universe.

I never learned much about angels as a youngster but after the bliss I felt in their presence, after praying long and hard,  when in a paranormal  crisis,

 

I  assure you that if you think about these entities long enough, you will have many joyful experiences.

I was slowly amazed at the presence of joy that these unseen loving beings brought, when I was in spiritual angst and  implored them to visit me.

 

When I need to, when  I find that I am again in a spiritual struggle with an impish, untoward, persistent energy,  I  call upon ‘warrior angels of light’ and ‘rescue-beings-of- light”, to assist me in removing the dark spirit troublemaker to ‘its- rightful- place- in- the- right- colored- light-towards-its-next-perfection’.

Just like a trip throughout the world can deeply change your reality perceptions, your life will metamorphose by calling in angels.

 

Working with these beings is another rung on the ladder and an essential part of a rich and  love oriented spiritual life.

Meditation

How can one get to know angels?

Although it appears to sound really very simple, it just isn’t absolutely easy

to learn how to quiet one’s mind and  then to listen to angels who speak to one.

Amazingly,  angelic beings are merely waiting for one to give them specific permission to assist one;

if one can open one’s mind and then one’s heart to receive their astounding guidance one’s world will take on a new and exciting spiritual dimension.

Begin by spending a few minutes each day tuning in to their frequency by using

 meditation, an easy process, we wrongly make  difficult.

 

The easiest way to meditate is to focus on following your breathing in and out and to

 pay attention only to your breathing.

Your mind will normally speed away  with pedestrian thoughts; that’s precisely what one’s mind normally does.

To meditate, allow your mind to do its thing and think but re-focus your attention back to your breathing.

Imagine that you are standing at a terminal window at an airport.

Meditating is simply a process of standing on the tarmac and watching your ideas and thoughts fly by like arranged flights, while you merely stand there, watching the activity.

The mind screen of flying thoughts, may leak but staunch the flow.

If you however get on-board and find yourself lost in a thought, bring your attention back to your breathing.

You can relish the learning curve of  meditation if you avoid judging the process and focus on breathing.

After you have focused your attention on your breathing, internally ask an angel to arrive and to work with you and then in amazement you will feel their  loving presence as a glow of sudden happiness.

Although they will begin to be there as soon as you do call on them,  it may take you  quite some time to sense their presence and to then begin to receive guidance.

It is comforting to work with angelic beings,  unseen and as close as the nose on your face, and represent the goodness inherent in the Universe.

These wondrous angelic entities have always been there, just at the edges of our limited reality, waiting for us to request their presences  into our life.

Take the added time to then listen to their most  whispered ideas and to
recognize and welcome their heavenly help.

There are many religious folks who maintain that such angel summoning will only bring in demons, who are so opportunistic, that they will masquerade as angels.

Such advice is precisely like telling someone to never go swimming because sharks coast unseen nearby where you seek to swim and will devour you if you give them half a chance.

While it may be cautious advice it is not good advice because

when one goes swimming in shark infested waters, the dangers surely outweigh the benefits of swimming.

 

Demons, like sharks, are dreadful, but like sharks, rare in most waters.

“Open the angelic door and demon gangsters will stalk in, so don’t do it”, is thus poor advice.

Always remember that If you feel any remote fear, the spiritual presence is not from God

 but

if you do sense a demon the remedy is facile:

Tell God to send his Arch- angels (Raphael and Michael) to your side, and they will be there before you know it.

Talk to your angelic Helpers and

call them, ‘ your angelic Helpers’.

Pay attention to the feeling of comfort within you when they do come in contact and

you can tell they are with you when you feel that strong urge to calm yourself.

Then doubt will leave you and you will be able to communicate with them.

Once you have achieved this feeling, you are ready to talk to them and get their help.

Talk to them as you would a respected friend or family member.

Telepathy or audible language is OK.

 

They will speak to you through telepathy as an understanding, or an internal conversation in which you would swear you are talking to and carrying on a conversation with, just yourself,

asking and answering your own questions.

 

It can be quite fast,

and you might feel completely foolish, but

listen to their first answers, and try not to second guess them.

They will always be right the first time.

There is NEVER any fear attached to talking to your angelic Helpers and

the minute you feel fear, be assured that it is no longer them.

Try then to reestablish your feeling of comfort, so as to continue listening to your angelic Helpers.

 

Tell your angelic helpers what it is that you need of them, and then just wait.

If you are deeply in need, remind them how desperate you are and tell them to hurry with

 confidence and thankfulness and never be afraid.

What do panic/anxiety attacks have to do with dark-force-entities?

 

Psychic-mediums know truths medicated patients will never learn:

When is a ‘psychiatric’ problem, an actual  ‘spiritual’ problem?

Try an “experiment’ for your or a loved one’s next ‘panic/ ‘anxiety-attack’ :

Forcible, audibly order the fear/panic away, in the name of anything you hold ‘Holy’..

Why?

The fear/panic onset is a natural reaction imposed by your spirit BECAUSE of  a psychic intrusion by an unseen intruder ; if you “Order -It-Away!” (in the name of light and love) the panic attack will instantly abate, to reveal some of what I have told you.

It will again, however surface and reappear soon, as ‘anxiety’, because these entities are persistent and intrusive.

Try that ‘experiment’..

Maintaining that conversation, internally and feeling confidence in the subtle exchange is the tandem combination for success.

We truly come from the spirit realm and we also try so hard, often just to return, so we can indeed avail ourselves of heaven’s angelic power,  in an internal talking to heaven.

You surely more than deserve to feel the presence of the love and divine guidance of these creations that always surround you,

and to instead fill your life with the magic assistance and guidance of God’s angelic beings.

HOW TO RECOGNIZE AND SURVIVE A SERIAL KILLER ENCOUNTER

 

 

How to Recognize and Survive the Approach of a Serial Killer

 

by Paul Schroeder

 

 

(“There are two kinds of serial killers as far as the victim is concerned: the kind that you

 

don’t see before they pounce on you and the kind you see and don’t expect to pounce on

you.

There are many more serial killers living outside the prison walls than inside.”

 

Pat Brown)

The expression,”serial killer”, denotes the word, ‘serial’, which means, successful killer .

Ted Bundy said that he often wore his arm in a sling to perfectly trap random

compassionate women, who traveled to his car door to assist him with his theatrical

‘struggle’ with packages.

These outgoing, caring women were brutally clubbed into his trunk for later torture.

Serial murderers who instead of passion, kill in ‘cold blood’, and  do not know their

victims, beforehand, for they kill randomly, purposefully moving from town to town, city

to city, without any remote tinge of latent regret or  accumulative  feelings of guilt.

Unlike a murder of marital or  organized crime Mafia passion, there is no plan for a pre-

dug grave or a methodical bother to dismember the corpse.

They make no attempt to hide the bodies of their victims.

They  stop on a deserted road and open the hood of their car to flag down a helpful

motorist to kill them with a gun.

Back into the victim’s stolen car, in the next town,

they  lure a child into a car by asking them to help find a lost puppy or by offering them a

kitten from a box of kittens, which disarms any child, and then  stab the child to death.

Later that night, they stop at a truck stop to pick up a prostitute to then strangle her

afterwards leaving her body on the side of the road.

They remember to be most careful to use a different method of murder, each time to

confuse police efforts from various jurisdictions, from establishing an M. O. pattern

 

that links random killings into a single silhouette, the  fingerprint of a singular serial murderer.

Interstate highways lend a unique anonymous isolation to the mentality that serial

killers love and use:

Truck-stops are high risk areas, as are truckers, themselves, and especially long off-

ramps are  over represented with highway murder deaths, a study of  murder statistics show.

A big, friendly, helpful smile, or a helpful assist from a total stranger, is the last thing one

will ever see and one will never see it coming, the guise of

serial killer psychopaths .

These serial killer psychopaths travel from state to state blithely killing random people,

leaving corpses on roadsides the way that we leave cigarette butts, without a single afterthought ,

psychopaths who from childhood, have had  their consciences, all of their lives, sit in the

corner, like a well trained German Shepard .

 

 

Serial killers enter

back into this harsh world without a written ‘blueprint’, without spirit helpers and

without  protecting angels and

do again return to become serial murderers, and

 

 they  manifest the

same three  signature traits of  Dark Force Entities:

 

sinister, predatory and self justifying.

 

It is good advice that one should avoid them, sidestep them, and never attempt to tackle them head on.

But one CAN recognize and survive an encounter with such a serial killer predator, by

taking careful notes from serial murderers who have explained their ‘trade-craft’

( from Internet unknown source):

” Trust your intuition:

Do not ignore your instincts or intuition.

You have likely recognized something indefinite that spells out danger, and your mind

has not caught up with your recognition – you do not yet perceive how to dissect it

logically.

This is intuition.

If something does not feel right, then it is not right.

Never ignore such inklings; do not be embarrassed to change your mind in front of a

stranger or have fear of being rude.

It’s better to be rude than dead.

Under no circumstances get into the Car:

Once victims get into the car, few return alive and are later found dead at a secondary

crime scene.

Whether you’re helping some stranger carry a package to the car, being offered a ride, or

having someone else near your car, they can all end with you being murdered.

The presence of a baby seat or children’s toys in the vehicle – or even children

themselves- are tools that a serial killer uses to mentally disarm victims.

The Green River Killer, Gary Ridgeway, once returned to a body dump site to have sex

with the corpse of one of his victims while his son slept in the vehicle.

– Serial Killer Warning Signs of Entrapment-:

A Pretended injury/weakness:

The murderer makes a huge effort to let you know that he is physically weaker than you.

He may stumble and drop packages

“Please help me carry this to my car. Ever since my spine injury, I can hardly move.”

He may wear a cast or walk with a cane in the Ted Bundy method, to trap his victim.

Too much information:

The murderer will give you too much unnecessary, detailed information:

“My sister has a sweater just like that. She was living in California but she moved home

last year. Her boyfriend gave it to her for Christmas, but afterward they broke up …”

When such a serial murderer is telling a lie, though it sounds credible to you, he often

has little confidence in his talking-trap method and will tend to add too much detail,

more than necessary to support it.

This ruse of details makes a serial murderer seem less a stranger and appear more

familiar than he really is.

The un requested promise:

“Just one drink and then I will take you home, I swear!”, when you never asked him to

promise you anything.

Sudden unsolicited promises can be a sign of an underlying sinister agenda.

Friendly authority:

The stranger projects some kind of non threatening authority:

“I’m the security guard/ the park ranger/ a police officer.”

“You didn’t see the signs; this is closed. I’ll escort/drive you out of here.”

‘You shouldn’t be alone here; we are on the lookout for a serial killer in this

neighborhood. Get in and I’ll drive you out of here.”

No law enforcement official would tell you that there was a serial killer, for

they avoid giving outside knowledge TO  ANYONE of an ongoing case for media

avoidance purposes.

Some serial killers come tricked out with police identification and police-like vehicles.

Insist that he call a uniformed backup if you did nothing wrong but are being “arrested.”

Challenging your personality:

The killer labels you, in a critical way, hoping that you will attempt to prove them wrong,

“You’re too weak to help me lift this box into the back of my van.”

“You’re not frightened of me, are you?”

Teaming:

Often a killer will manipulate you to “team up” with him.

You and he instantly become a “we” – “I hate drinking alone, I know a great place we can

go to up the road.”

“I’m going there too, we can get there in my car.”

This attempt to bond with you is a way to quickly establish a familiarity.

Imposed obligation:

A serial killer will impose his help on you, hoping that you will feel obligated to help him back.

“Let me help you carry that to your car” will lead to “Can you give me a lift to the corner?”

You leave your home to find your tire flat.

“Let me change that flat tire for you” will be followed by “May I come inside to wash my

hands?”

But he WAS the one who punctured the tire in the first place.

Having already accepted his help, he hopes that you feel bad enough to refuse a request like that.

Once inside, you’re a murder victim.

An appeal to a feeling of being vulnerable:

“Help me find my lost puppy before it gets away too far.”

“I need to drop off this medicine to an elderly person upstairs, but I can’t legally park

here; just come and sit in my car while I run in for five minutes?”

“My little girl is missing, will you help find her?”

– Not taking,” no”, for an answer-A classic murderer’s tool.

No matter how many times you say, “That’s okay, I don’t need your help,” the stranger insists on helping you.

If you give some weak excuse or sound unsure, he will persist.

Do not be afraid to be loudly blunt and rude: “I said, NO! Go away! I do not want your

help!.”

Many are loquacious and charming, but it’s only a ‘tool’ to conceal a demonic intent:

“I’m the most cold-blooded sonofabitch you’ll ever meet,”  said Ted Bundy.

“I just liked to kill, I wanted to kill.”

The signature symptom of the psychopath is his inability to see others as worthy of

compassion.

Victims thus become dehumanized, “flattened into worthless objects in the murderer’s mind”.

John Gacy, who never showed an ounce of remorse, called his victims “worthless little

queers and punks,” while the “Yorkshire Ripper” Peter Sutcliffe declared that he was

“cleaning up the streets” of ‘ human trash’

All of these killings were managed with an initial charming smile, a smile carefully

contrived, before a lethal knife or hammer fell.

Would YOU have easily fallen, do you suppose, for one of these “tricks of the trade”?

Would you have been naturally leery enough to survive such tactics or would you be

clearly very prone to an evil stranger’s charm and closeness, to become yet another murder victim?

And many rare victims who survived later said, “But, he was so sweet!”

Sweetness, is not the same as being sweet.

Sweetness can be used as a deadly manipulative tool.

A charming smile can mask the most evil intentions.

Once one is alerted to these uniform techniques employed by many

incarcerated successful, serial murderers, one can teach one’s spouse, one’s children,

one’s colleagues and one’s easily duped friends, to be much less trusting, to raise their

fence higher, around themselves, to prevent them  from becoming  the next victims of

a murderer.

One must teach one’s loved ones  to be immediately suspect, of any close-hand

encounter with a stranger, who pretends a stance of authoritarianism, need, or one

warmly disarmingly charming,  widely used  tactics that serial killers rely on.

An approaching car, one that passes close by you, while you are out walking late, in an

abandoned hour, or in an empty place like a deserted parking lot, could  easily spell such an unplanned

death.

They are everywhere and in transit through small towns; be wary, be aware, beware.

 

One must be taught, instead, to be poised to bolt, to be alarmed by any car’s or person’s

close proximity to one, in a lonely place and moment, and to lose one’s sense of blind

trust, of one’s presumed safety with a total stranger.

The suspicious always appears “ordinary”, until suddenly, it isn’t.

Can anything be done to change and redeem such serial killers’ dark minds and souls?

Capital punishment for such murderers is spiritually counter-intuitive, because after

physical death, they linger on this plane and join together with dark others, to

accomplish yet more evil than they ever could have done, when they were alive.

 

Only God can and will “shift” them, in His own time,

but until such time,

don’t talk to strangers..

GRANDMA’S ADVICE

Grandma’s Advice

Paul Schroeder

Just before my grandmother on my mother’s side died at the age of 95, I whispered a kiss in her ear and thanked her for her wisdom.​

One odd piece of advice, that she had taught me when I was a child, I had carried close to my inner ear, all of my life.

It had been an Independence Day warning, borne of a distant Russian wisdom, one that she had whispered to me four decades ago, when I was nine or ten years old, impressionable and the apple of her eye.

The imprecation that I got from her, the warning whispered in my small rapt ear when I was nine or ten years old had been an odd warning that ruled and guided my life, and through angst, had come to define a larger part of what I called my soul.

 

Her ‘Russian optimism’ for the world, was childhood overwhelming for me.

For her, life was always a cup, half full …..but, of something, that might  kill you.

Now, She at ninety-five was far from that woman who in giving advice could be ironic and poetical.

She had used lipstick as a rouge to color her cheeks and then decided that her whole face was of a pallor that also needed color, rubbed lipstick all over her face.

She was quite a shock when I got onto the seventh floor of the retirement home and turned the corner and saw her sitting in a wheelchair, as though apparently waiting for me.

She earnestly asked with a childlike innocence if I could bring her some new makeup and some big diamond jewelry for her to wear to dress herself up, when I visited her next?

Cautiously, I had asked her, skeptically dubious ;”What type of diamond jewelry?” She had said;

“Expensive, fancy jewelry.”

She labored under the delusion that she was in a hotel in Miami, one that slouched in basic standards;

“The meals at this hotel are terrible, but what is a person to do?”

She did not ever surmise herself to be in a nursing home near the beach in Coney Island, Brooklyn.

A person’s senior mind can lend a type of psychic anesthesia that acts in many ways to protect it from uncompromising and painful truths. .

Now I was an odd adult.

I wanted her to know that I loved her, how her whisper had returned years later as my gratitude.

I had loved to cherish ideas; a rare few philosophers had touched my early soul .

Dr. Seuss competed with grandma.

He once wrote ;”Be who you are and say what you think, because those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind, don’t matter!”

My other odd philosopher was sitting here in her wheelchair, armed and propped with a pillow/ alarm that would audibly alert nurses in the retirement home if she pitched forward and left her chair’s upright fixed position.

She was different the next time I saw her, the way she used to be ;

” Hello, Paul; sharp as a matzoh and twice as crummy!”

“How come you don’t call your grandma more often? Humph!!”

“Humph;You going to wait until I’m in the cemetery and THEN you’ll visit me?”

“I’m sorry, that you’ll be sorry, but THEN it’ll be too late!”

This was the same verbatim greeting that I had gotten from her over the years over the telephone .  I presumed that I was calloused to it all.

It always deeply riddled me with guilt but I never let her know, but instead I saw it rather as a good sign that she was still feeling feisty.

When she successfully aimed ring-toss-Velcro-guilt in my direction, I rationalized, she must be feeling much better.

I quickly tried to change the subject; ” Grandma I remember that boardwalk we can see here in Brighton Beach from a time when you were fifty years old and I was about nine years old; I still remember the good advice that you gave me back then.”

“What advice did I give you?”

I told her.

It had stayed with me for many years as a token of her wisdom.

“You brought me to you on a bench on that boardwalk, in Coney Island, on a hot 4th of July afternoon, when the whole family was there suddenly hugging and kissing each other, happy for once, to be all together and happy seeing the fireworks, and then you whispered it in my ear:

“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams,” You told me.

“What?”, she said, so I told her again;

“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams.”

“Oy!”, she said,”I am VERY sorry, if I ever told you that.”

“I am very sorry.”

I reminded her what an impact she’d had on me then.

“That whisper, as a recommended life philosophy, was both poetry and  true and that, your advice, really stayed deeply with me.”

Taken to heart, it had allowed me to remain aloof and separate from everyone, as a type of self protection,  to preserve my OWN dream.”She looked at me as though I were some stranger in a dream.I said it, again;”Don’t get too close to people, you’ll catch their dreams.”

She was thoughtful and then looked worried.

She looked into my eyes.

“I never told you that.” …

“You shouldn’t get too close, because…”

“Germs”, she said.

“Oy, I said that you’ll catch their GERMS.”

“I told you and your sister MANY times;

“Don’t get too close to people, ’cause you’ll catch their GERMS.” she said, again.

“That advice, I ALWAYS told you.”

“And YOU’RE supposed to be the smart one?!”

“Oy,” she groaned in pain.

” Take me over to the dining room; it’s still too early for the lunch, but I want to get there anyway, early.”

That wrong belief had overshadowed every relationship in my life with an ambivalence and a craving to just be left alone.

If one was alone, one was safe from what people could do to you, I had always reasoned.

But, I had been running from my own shadow..

Two marriages and a dozen influenzae later, I had realized her truth too late.