151: An Unsettling Discovery (Part Two)

The one thing that has propelled me forward through all of this has been my insatiable need to know the truth, to understand this new reality in which I have to live. (I just couldn’t turn over in bed. I had to get up and answer that damn telephone!) Yet, when I asked my ETs, they responded by telling me in a series of “dreams” that I couldn’t handle the truth, that it would be too fearful for me. {Post 51} My little experiment with the dental floss was only meant to provide a reliable indicator of Majestic’s nighttime intrusions into my apartment. I hadn’t expected that it would reveal the “scary truth” that I had been seeking to know all these years.

The shock of finding out that I’m under Majestic’s mind control, and can be made to dance to their tune anytime they want, was almost too much for me to bear. I still go cold and numb whenever I really stop to think about it. I remember years ago when I first saw the movie “Conspiracy Theory,” I had a visceral reaction to the scenes where, tied to a chair, Mel Gipson undergoes mental conditioning and programming. Now I know why.

I still haven’t come to terms with this, mainly because I haven’t wanted yet to explore this new nightmarish element to my life in the rabbit hole. Part of me would like very much to forget about it, to just not go there, but then there is the other half of me that always needs to know. Now that I understand the nature of my boogie man, perhaps I can face him. I might renew my efforts to explore some of the hidden memories I have through hypnosis.

A memory fragment was loosened from my subconscious mind, though, by the jolt of what I discovered. About three days afterwards, I woke up to see someone standing over me. I was turned on my side, so I couldn’t see his face. He was young and thin with a short haircut, and wore a white, long sleeved shirt, rolled up to the elbows. At first I was barely awake and thought I might be dreaming. As I continued to look at him, I thought to myself that this dream looked awfully real. A couple of more seconds went by and I began to get concerned. It looked TOO real. Just as I was about to leap out of bed, the image rapidly broke apart into tiny pieces and dissipated into thin air, looking much like an Alka-Seltzer tablet dissolving in water.

I might give Dr. Pollack a call . . . or I might not. I haven’t decided yet. I want to know, but I’m still scared of what my subconscious mind may reveal. If I’m able to confirm what I suspect, that I’m a victim of CIA mind control, then I’m going to have to learn to live with that reality. I don’t know if I want to.

Yet I have this burning need to know inside of me, of just how deep the rabbit hole goes?

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