The Cassandra Syndrome
Colin R Brookfield
2. About the Author
3. Part One: Dissertation
4. Part Two: The Divine Paradigm
End of Time
Out of Body Experience
Symbolic Dreams – with interpretation
Two Slot Experiment
5. Part Three: Personal and Paranormal Experiences
Personal Satanic and Angelic experiences
Personal wartime experiences
6. By the same Author
7. Other information
All poems are taken from my other books.
Sketch illustrations by Colin R Brookfield
World authorities on Psychopathy:
Professor Robert D Hare
H Cleckley MD
The content of my book has been separated into three seemingly disparate issues which in truth, are all quite intimately related to form this collection.
The first section is a compilation of associated essays, written at different times over the years. It begins in the hope that light, might reach those dark forbidden recesses of the human mind and open doors long locked and bolted.
The second section is a modern day reality journey of my personal experiences into the prophetic dream, it is a phenomenon that reconnects with the lost angelic guidance’s of our pristine forebears. This hallowed gift did not leave mankind quietly; it had been eradicated wilfully throughout time by the ongoing coercive pressures of predatory leaderships in their efforts to achieve control over the many. (Authorities on predatory psychopaths, ref. Robert Hare & H.M. Cleckley.) This ancient separation was mankind’s most tragic, of all losses, for in its place came Homo sapiens fall from grace and its journey into synthetic man.
Thirdly, I shall be reuniting us with stunning realities of ‘Supra Ordinate’ significance that are now mostly lost to our species. Yet, for reasons not easily understood, these realities are still manifesting their phenomena objectively here and there into our synthetic lives, realities, which we then disparage. Perhaps we should look a little closer at our manufactured selves as expressed in this verse:-
There’s an abstract jigsaw puzzle
within the minds of most mankind,
with pieces forced together,
So this fallacious picture
of what’s purported to be real
is the heritage of every child;
the truth from it to steal.
Too few will reach their closing days
that flung the picture to the ground
then placed with care, each piece together
where they should rightfully be found.
About the Author
Colin's life has been a balancing act between many occupations. Born in 1932 he left school at fourteen. He was put to the building trade and in later life ran his own business for several decades.
He ran away to sea at sixteen and sailed around the world with the P&O ship SS Corfu until he was eighteen when he was called up to do his National Service in the army. He became a Physical Training Instructor (PTI) and whilst stationed in Germany, went on to become the individual fencing champion of BAOR (British Army of the Rhine).
After leaving the army he was eventually drawn into local functions with his acrobatic speciality act, which in turn led to an agent and paid appearances. Vocal training followed and for many years, he sang locally as a solo tenor, later to be accompanied by his wife Anne on the piano.
Years later, he and his wife Anne emigrated to Australia and travelled 28,000 miles around the continent before settling on the Gold Coast. They returned to England after five years where Colin resumed business in London. Anne worked in the music industry of EMI Records and later with British Airways, until her retirement.
He has always been intensely interested in human nature and, his lifelong ambition has been to express his observations and solutions as to the anomalies of mankind. This came to fruition with his first book, “Step into the Rainbow”, which was mainly done in the form of verse but, with subsequent books, he went into the subject more fully.
His previous three books, (The Summerhouse Journals Trilogy) The Summerhouse, Summerhouse Timeshift and Summerhouse Stepping Stones, were a break from reality but, had aspects open to question. He has acquired several patents (one presently being developed in China). His inventive interests and other hobbies included sub-aqua, water skiing, surfboard riding and hang gliding.
Anne was classically trained on the piano and, both she and Colin used to be members of oratorio choral and musical societies in Australia, London, Dorset and later, in Cyprus.
In 2007 they moved with their two Siamese cats, Sable, Sapphire and Amber, their black domestic, to Paphos in Cyprus. Sadly, all the cats passed on during their seven years on the island.
They have both always been animal lovers and later rescued five cats in Cyprus, bringing four back to the United Kingdom in 2014. One of the five (a Siamese) sadly died before the journey home was made. One of the remaining four was an injured tabby and she flew back with the three others. On arrival, she had to undergo surgery to remove her right leg but, is thriving - as are all of them in the English countryside with green grass - something none of them had seen before.
As I write, the focus of my concerns, remain upon the general negative themes that run through our species; they are universal patterns and causes that run through our history in an unresolved automated fashion. We need look no further, to find the arch enemies of humanity which undermine our higher qualities.
Plant the truth - reap the storm
Both the Holocaust and a visit to the Somme in France set me on a course to expose the negative elements in human psychology that factor into history’s never-ending atrocities. This is to enter a minefield of spurious sacrosanct, which puts inquiry into conflict with people’s comfort zones and therefore, have always been carefully skirted around but, through that avoidance, have ensured that yesterday’s nightmare issues are still with us today. With this in mind, I have endeavoured not to make that same mistake, but in doing so, put something satanic under threat, as I shall reveal with other matters as we go along.
The World to Which We Repair
Touch not our thoughts or our ideas
nor clutter your paradigm into our ears.
The shutters are up to stifle the flow
and keep out the voice that disturbs status quo.
We have our worlds to which we repair;
try bringing the real world to us if you dare.
Looking back in time two hundred years,
they had some strange uncivilised ideas,
but they looked back and did the same;
each generation plays this game.
When our todays, are yesteryears
twill be the time our turn appears
thus, a common and recurring theme
that time and change does not redeem.
This natural affinity for curious premises
turns cause into folly and effect into nemesis.
These events are symptomatic
of a penchant for delusion,
where cause and effect is deemed
an unwarranted intrusion.
Man’s psychology is littered
with these cloisters of futility
whose antecedence claim the future
as a pawn for its utility.
You can fool most of the people all of the time
but only a few, for some of the time.
It would be much easier and certainly more popular, if I were to write about those clever, generous or courageous people, whose exploits so often grace the screens of our television. However, my exposures do not concern themselves with the goodness within us, rather, that we should be a great deal better. Plato (300 BCE) was doing exactly that, alerting mankind to its dangerous habit of avoiding important issues (our blind side) that disturb its comfort zone preferences. Furthermore, it is the knowledge of such traits that allows leadership to manipulate public perceptions, in directions most favourable to itself.
The ‘Wiki’ information leaks and other major whistle blowing events have already given us a glimpse behind the sullied facades of world leadership but this is only scratching the surface.
The results of research on such problems were addressed by British psychologists in the ‘New Scientist’ periodical and were repeated in the British national papers in August 2004. These publications went on to describe a social aberration in the following terms:
“There are psychopaths at work in our society and that they tend to thrive in high powered professions such as politics, the media, law and business, where they can dominate others as part of getting the job done. Psychologists estimate, about one percent of Britons fall into this category”. This amounts to approximately 670,000 that are in circulation, a phenomenon from which we can extrapolate to the rest of the world.
Professor Robert Hare of the University of British Columbia and one of the world’s leading authorities on psychopaths said:
“Psychopaths are social predators and like all predators they are looking for feeding grounds, wherever you get power, prestige and money you will find them.”
The narrow view of science, informs us, there is a biological basis for the urge towards domination and violence, for which there are markers. For instance, the MAOA gene helps to regulate serotonin; too much in-utero, de-sensitises the calming effects of serotonin in later life, e.g. the Warrior gene is made active, as it is also where limbic system malfunction is present.
In recent years, one of these oppressive influences confronted my wife and me. We had boarded a tram in the suburbs of Prague in the Czech Republic (formerly part of the USSR), when two brusque young men in black leather jackets boarded to check the tram tickets and soon found a victim. She was a frail tourist whose new ticket although paid for, had not been dated. The men bullied the terrified lady for more money so violently, that I intervened on her behalf. I was quite astounded at what had then been set in motion. Every Czech national on the tram quickly placed their upper bodies flat to their knees and their heads to the walls. I was extremely angry at this fearful subservience to bullying and more so, because this exposure was obviously just a microcosm of the underlying fear within the wider population and of course, in many others across the world.
History’s repeating patterns
The above disclosures are merely a limited display of such abuses and an overview of worldwide patterns in leadership abuse. It plays out everywhere like a perverse pyramidical board game, designed in such a way as to ensure preferable achievability to that of its murkiest board piece, in its scramble for top position through other vying-board elements of the pyramid layout. Then the similarly disposed but lesser pieces on the pyramid arrangement, scrabble for their achievable levels down through the framework, until finally bottomed out to its layers of protective cohort components. Such are the perverse tribal patterns that have fuelled oppression and the world’s killing-fields endlessly through time.
Hubris covert, sometimes not,
diverse in type and needs,
endemic to its species
on which it mainly feeds
Covets creatures, things or both,
incomplete when it’s alone
For monarchs without subjects
sit upon a futile throne.
Self apotheosis has
both large and lesser kinds
though congruence with ability
elects the niche it finds.
Insinuation is its stratagem
when it feigns respectability;
the ingenuously blind oblige
their part in culpability.
Getting closer to home
When bringing all of this (need to control) down to base level, its psychology is simply the fraternal manifestations of the primary street gang mentality, functioning beneath the guise of their official capacity. These are personalities whose debased mission in life – whilst getting the job done – is to impose dominance, fear and usability upon the vulnerable from within a secure power base. (Psychopath traits being expressed.)
Sadly, though not unexpected, we saw the same official fraternal brutality at work on the streets of the United Kingdom. One incident involved an elderly man who was thrown to the ground with maximum violence by a large police officer. A few minutes later, the assaulted man collapsed in the street from a heart attack.
Another episode occurred when elements of the British police removed their personal identifications before coming on duty, so that they could brutalise without fear of being caught. Their brutality was filmed during the ‘kettling’ of peaceful demonstrators but for the good name of the service – it was soon hushed up.
The case that lives in greatest infamy, concerns the innocent Brazilian boy who was wrongly identified as a bomb-carrying terrorist, even though he had no means by which to conceal such a thing. The media evidence was, that police in civilian clothes fell upon the frightened boy in a railway carriage, pinioned his arms, then callously shot their captive to death with multiple rounds into his head. Some of the normally efficient cameras on the London Transport tube train seemed to have strangely malfunctioned on that day and time but for the good name of the service – it was soon hushed up.
Within the cosy camaraderie clubs of politics, we have that long overdue exposure of the widespread criminal expense scandal. For the ordinary public, a whole swathe of custodial sentencing would have followed but for the good name of those institutions – much of it was soon hushed up. The further cataloguing through the decades of this continuous malignant activity is on public record for anyone to access.
It is towards these ‘pillars’ of society that the young look upwards for guidance. The young are inquisitive, watching, listening and learning, consequently, they are aware of what really goes on behind the higher facades. Thus, the wayward young are a reflection of their ‘betters’ and doomed to follow in the footsteps of those unworthy tutors – tutors who then feel free to castigate their feral creations.
Lessons prove, not to be chastening
There are of course, no exclusion zones to these inclinations; they are at work right across social spectra in every society across our planet.
Predatory activity is also well ensconced within all public service institutions that, whilst getting the job done, also pursue a course of self-serving empowerment. The process is role-reversal; those in service to the general public will inevitably manoeuvre the public into service to them. It is systemic in all societies and subverts the aspirations of social democracy. Why is that? It is because the mechanisms to frustrate this kind of activity are not in place; those who dare to expose a wrong will be pilloried.
Another malignancy has had an airing – that of the child abuse scandal within European religious child ‘care’ institutions. Media investigations revealed that despite it being common knowledge, the people within these religious communities turned a blind eye to the abuses, as indeed their forebears had done, right back to the inception of such institutions.
The reality behind this seemingly, ‘blind-eyed’ phenomena, is that religion is a construct of human elements, brought together in common belief. However, for each element (person), religion is its personal ‘life-boat’ to heaven that it will not have disturbed by unwelcome truths. Moreover, human nature being what it is, will affirm that this activity is not confined to just one religious order or region. Similarly, it finds expression within secular environments.
There are many barbaric cultural and religious customs still at work today, such as the genital mutilation to young girls, added to which, is the paedophilic practice of female children placed in marriage to adult males.
Another medieval custom is that of forced marriages imposed by parents upon their daughters.
The shadow of self-deceit must surely now hang over our self-appellations, such as ‘enlightened’, ‘progressive’, ‘democratic’ and ‘humane’. Moreover, weasel words have long since rendered truth untrustworthy.
To extract pivotal causes from all of this collective interactivity, seems a minefield of complexity and blind alleys but, not if we look in the right way; the causes are universal in nature and distribution, clearly expressed in my other writings.
There are very many bees
preferring different honey
with interest not upon
the type that’s sweet and runny.
There are varied kinds of honeypots
not difficult to find,
though bees that seek to sample
must not show they’re so inclined.
For reasons that’s unique
to every single bee
some will only rarely taste
whilst others fill with glee.
This leaves one to concede
that bees that do such roving
are something other than they seem,
masqueraded in bees clothing.
The journey into Synthetic Man
Our species is awash with unreal disbeliefs that we have carelessly awarded factual status. In contrast, there are realities of critical importance that the hubris of academia has disparagingly discarded, leaving unsounded, the vast oceanic depths of our otherworldly possibilities. By this means, our infinitely greater potentials were left to atrophy upon ‘intellect’s’ shallow shores. Life is proved, infinitely more mysterious than common views.
Fingers in Nature’s till
Perhaps in all our plundering of Nature’s assets, we have become too confident in our feelings of supremacy and whilst doing so, overlooked that every advantage we wrest from Nature will always bring something with it that we do not want. Did we forget Nature’s immutable laws of opposites? They clearly inform us that every seemingly positive creation of ours will also arrive balanced with its negative inputs.
It cannot be denied that we are the greatest inventive living force on the planet; a planet that is now awash with the toys of our inventiveness, also, with all the damaging attachments that arrived with them.
So what is wrong? We are clearly out of balance on our evolutional ladder, too psychologically backward against the exponential pace of our evolution in technical and mechanical creativity, which in turn, informs us we are not safe with them.The phrase ‘Synthetic Man’, relates to mankind’s progressive estrangements from its natural-world origins and into a separate order of things artificial to Nature. It has brought us to where we are today – over-focussed on ourselves and acquisitive to the detriment of the planet and its myriad life forms. The lands, waters and creatures are now exclusively the property of Homo sapiens - they are all harnessed and exploited.
Our exploitation knows no bounds. The world’s glorious tigers are being slaughtered into extinction for the Asian market in the insane belief, that the ingestion of those processed body parts is medicinal in effect. Neither should we overlook that psychotic vanity market whose self-centred demands are savagely exterminating the Rhino and Elephant. Despite there being means by which to quickly stamp out these vile activities, there is no collective resolve to do so.
Moreover, such invasive proclivities for control and exploitation of other creatures, we also turn upon ourselves.
Cuckoos in the nest
Then we have those troublesome hallowed beliefs that arrived cloaked as genuine bestowals, when in fact they are no more than ‘hand-me-down,’ theological superstitions, whose substance in reality, is no more than hearsay and Chinese whispers.
These superstitions have also infiltrated most aspects of social interactivity. They place regressive constraints upon democratic process, whereby civil regulatory decision-making within institutions in many cultures are primarily, skewed towards theocratic considerations. This distort is also prevalent to varying degrees in the decision making of all secular administrations. It indeed beggars the words ‘modern’ and ‘civilised’, that our 21st century world is still awash with these Middle Age style theological superstitions. These beliefs are not real, they are nothing more than a display of our primitive, regressive aspects whose effects infest the better possibilities of our kind with injustice, friction and conflict.
Religion has many faces
What is going on? Why is mankind such a gullible escapist, always dodging around life’s harsher realities? To that end, we have inflated our self-importance by converting our Maker, into one that is anthropomorphic and, built temples of worship where we can fill our ears with self-glorification. How well it blanks out the screams of those creatures in our abattoirs. Does this not echo that of the 1940s German Holocaust camps, where orchestras played for the wider world witnesses, so they could not hear the screams from behind the scenes?
For more delusional activity, let us look closer at Karl Marx. In his rightful haste to unbridle the lower classes of his time, also set the scene for the secular religion of communism and, whose priests of Stalin’s era, were to prove every bit as murderous and tyrannical as its theological counterparts. The book ‘Wild Swans’ by Jung Chang, revealed that China, during Mao’s communist cultural revolution, was a social asylum that caused the death of seventy million of its own people.
Under the secular National Socialist religion of Adolph Hitler, its nation became so entranced by honeyed words, that its national pride and superiority, warped into a mighty machine of destruction.Repeatedly, we are led astray by predatory pied pipers into fanciful wonderland entrapments – all that misery and destruction borne of our specious beliefs. Do we learn nothing?
Beliefs have no substance, they are nothing but abstracts. They are thoughts extracted from our mental ether and devoid of any physical substance. They are features of our cerebral make-up, a mental reservoir of our unborn possibilities. There can be no way forward for those who consistently lack maturity in the deployment of these mental formulations into the physical environment.
Many more tainted areas of our psychology are leading us astray and do so because, they have remained rooted in prehistory. In this way mankind can be likened to a yesteryear born-again actor, with its born-again script, on bad history’s born-again stage in service still, to more born-again killing-fields.
Let us next consider the elements of war from a clearer perspective. Certainly, we are familiar with history’s architects of war (who always remain at a safe distance). Although, perhaps we did not notice that it is always, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Average-Follower’ who actually gets the blood on their hands in history’s killing fields.
Architects of war
Behind status, age and gender
hide some so smugly safe
with hearts that are not tender.
These charnel house purveyors
from sidelines safely prattle
driving others to unwanted battle.
The more we reveal, the more we must interpret and by doing so, discover that there are child-like unworldly aspects in the general make-up of our species that never matured into adulthood, thus to remain the child savant given to tantrums. Whilst one hand creates great wonders, the other reaches out to destroy.
To further stress the point, we are the only species that can lose its rational grounding over baseless emotional ideas and, do so on a pandemic scale. Whatever happened to our sense of perspective? How did we get into this convoluted entanglement? Once again, we should look a little closer at our past influences, which of course are complex, troubling and innumerable, so let us step further.
The Occupying Forces structure
High on our list of entanglements is that great monotheistic conversion whose cloud still hangs problematically over 21st century mankind. This concerns itself with one of the greatest recorded ‘Walter Mitty World’ escapisms. One in which mankind allowed itself to be led en masse into a theological entrapment. This entrapment, was engineered in 325CE by the Roman Emperor, Constantine; the most powerful ‘chieftain-priest’ of his time. Constantine’s strategy began with the discarding of his people’s panoply of gods and deities through the imposition of his Romanised version of the Christian faith. During this period he had all Christian gospels destroyed (some 4000), retaining only the four that were useful to his plans; all duplication was ordered to be in Latin that few could read or understand. This was the beginning of the greatest witchdoctor trickery ever foisted upon ingenuous masses.
The linchpin to Constantine’s plans was the Romanising and incorporation of a Jewish messianic figure. This deceit became more achievable because, prior Roman culpability in the execution of this figure had long since been diverted upon the Jews. Constantine’s plan was to harness his people’s passions to that of its very own Messianic figure. By means of such interpolations, Constantine began to generate the most monstrous mind and body entrapment of mankind that had ever been conceived. All avenues of escape were sealed; apostasy carried the death sentence. The doctrine of fearful Purgatory was invented to stiffen allegiance and dissuade suicide; any such attempts carried a fearful death sentence. The evil decree to prevent suicide was designed for one overriding intent. Information is power and people cannot be tortured for information if they are already dead.
The most lucrative of all information gathering was achieved through a system of local priests. They were so contrived, as to be held in thrall, whilst also providing pseudo salvation for the sinner in the confessional, a process that provided a rich source of feedback intelligence to the bishops. The confession of sins became more formally instituted under Pope Innocent III, following the Petrine system of enlisting popes for primacy over bishops. Constantine’s evil legacies then left Europe submerged in a filth-ridden lunatic asylum for well over a thousand years, whilst other theologies were also playing their own entrapment variations in other places.
Stepping back further
As Plato’s Cave reminds us, we are comfort zone creatures, covering up or turning our attention away from matters we do not understand or, makes us feel uncomfortable. These negative aspects factor into all human activities. For example, although we rightly throw up our arms in horror at history’s great slaughterers, the most essential checks and balances to prevent their re-emergence are still not in place, or have any hope of ever becoming so.
Lest we forget?
Paying homage to our fallen should also stand to remind us how little our kind had achieved in the diminishment of conflict. It is this failure that delivers us more dead to pay homage to – more to join the never ending list into time’s forgetfulness.
No blame to those who fell in battle
or those that never left a trace.
Blame those who schemed and caused them there,
that fell and fell like Lucifer–the uttermost from grace.
They imitate Medusa – causing imagery in stone,
forgotten soldiers’ statuary with more anguish to impart,
for it leaves to all of those bereft,
a static illustration – a Medusa to their heart.
In that same unlearning and forgotten way, our history turns its eyes away from that most loathsome 14th century Muslim decapitator, Tameraine. He had at least 17 million people slaughtered, building a pyramid and hills out of severed human heads – deeds now passed down to Muslim knife-wielding activities of satanic Islamic State militants.
Where nothing ever learns, everything repeats.
Holier than thou
Can any of us feel ‘holier than thou’? We match this terrifying blade to the throat horror, to countless millions of innocent fur and feather creatures in thousands of hide-away abattoirs littering our towns and cities. We should therefore not be surprised when all the evil things we do to other creatures, we then do to our own kind.
What do you do at work Papa?
Can I see the place where you work Papa
and meet your fur and feathered friends?
I’ve seen them delivered in train loads
to your place where unhappiness ends.
I’ve seen a film I didn’t like Papa,
where millions of poor creatures die,
I saw them delivered in train loads.
What is meant by ‘Arbeit Macht Frei?’
We have lost direction, wandered away from Nature into the blind alleys of artificialities. The greatest human arrogance arrived firstly, through the supplanting of our Supra Ordinate reality (God), with that of polytheistic deifications and their eventual evolution through to our pseudo anthropomorphic God.
As we sleep-walked our destructive journeys through history, the new secular God of science began its assent. It was then, due to the progressive nature of science that we overran Nature’s heresy of numbers, to the extent that we grossly inflated human numbers to overload. This is now referred to as the ‘Population Armageddon Equation’, a world population growing larger (about the size of the German nation) every day. Put another way – making exponential leaps forward at inverse proportions to the time scales in which it does so, leaving a question mark over how long before predated resources fail to sustain the numbers.
The great sleep walk
We now need to reveal where the corrupted aspects of mankind’s social interactivity had its origin and by doing so, know how it came to entrap all futures within its ‘time warp’ legacy.
As I have mentioned in other books, the fall of early man took place along Africa’s equatorial belt (zero latitude) where, for the very first time, mankind’s conversion to negative social collectivisation (tribalism) took place.
This first time amassing of people, brought dangerous internal forces into play that put them at risk. It proved to be fertile ground for the emergence of controlling personalities and supportive cohorts. Further empowerment by these personalities, was then achieved by harnessing the passions and fears of its followers. The tools for that process manifested in the form of the first (deified) despotic witchdoctor-priests, tribal chiefs and monarchs. In time, these cunning few were able to position themselves above the herd as occupying forces, entrapping the many. (Psychopath traits being expressed.)
There is for example, a more modern means by which to understand the nature of the mental entrapment that Early Man fell foul of during its collectivisation and, by which early minds became programmed to the degree, that it would sully the better possibilities of their kind in perpetuity.
That defining example of such mental programming was to become known in our times as the Jesuits’ indoctrination process. The Jesuits worked on the principle that early minds are most malleable and stated, “Give me the boy until the age of seven and I’ll show you the man”. Thus, by exactly that same process, early-mankind (Homo sapiens) fell foul of the mind and body entrapments, imposed by its own predatory minority.
Young minds, by older ones are moulded
to foster or curtail the potential there enfolded.
Eventually, these minds are to their owners ceded
as refractory material that to reshaping stay unheeded.
Furthermore, a prime need by despotic leadership was the ownership and control of information and direction. For that reason, repression and eradication of early-mankind’s divine cerebral guidance augmentation became prioritised. Eventually this eradication process became so widespread and complete that it left an empty space within mankind’s spiritual/emotional needs; a space then filled by predatory leadership with ersatz deities. This substitution still left unsatisfied emotional needs within a populace that through time, would be filled by disparate shadowy attachments to pseudo spiritual ways and by which charlatan activity was to become ensconced within our species throughout all times.
Tribal social patterns were firmly established long before our ancestral diasporas out of Africa, some 70,000 and 40,000 years BCE. Their Occupying Forces structures were then to remain the template for all social concepts throughout all future times.
Where are we now? Witchdoctor-priests live on in modern theology; tribal tyrants live on as leaders and all wars, old and modern are precisely, old tribal war reiterations – the same old born-again tribal repeaters re-apparelled to suit their times.
History reveals the collective follower as the ‘milch-cow’ in service to its drones, where modern ‘democracies’ exemplify the case, through which, the herd follower actually installs its own drones. The reason is that we are still expressing that ancient negative programming that imposed upon us an emotional need for a ‘father’ figure to direct us. This makes an extraordinary statement, revealing unevolved aspects to mankind’s perceptual abilities – also noted through Plato’s Cave depiction.
We should ask ourselves what it was, that instigated the infiltration of controlling malevolence within the genetic make-up of our species. I do know the exact answer to that question; it harks even further back into Proto-man.
We no longer know who we are
In the hope of achieving a more balanced understanding of ourselves as Homo sapiens, we must travel even further back through the mists of time to our very beginnings – long before collective malevolence ever gained sway.
Then, who were we?
It is now known that our genetic roots are planted firmly within the African Khoisan Bushman. The evidence supporting our connection back to the San, is through the maternally inherited mitochondrial DNA and the ‘Y’ chromosome inheritance that runs through the paternal side of our species. They link Homo sapiens right back to the pristine San people, as do linguistics.
As we go along, we will see how distant and different we have become from our pristine San ancestors, who were once equal and at one with the natural world and all its creatures.
In consideration of our pristine origins, our minds are again, left to ponder the genesis of the negative influences that found their way into our ‘out of Africa’ ancestral souls, some will be revealed as we go along.
What is known of the Khoisan
The pristine San were a light yellowish brown in colour and lived in balanced partnership with Nature. They were passionate lovers of freedom with no concept of land or animal ownership; they had no clearly defined God but, an unshakeable knowing that there was a Supra Ordinate. Furthermore, through their condition of cerebral augmentation (now all but atrophied in our species), they remained linked into divine guidance. They were also animists, which attributes living souls to all creatures whereby, all matter and life were accorded due respect. The San lived in small, separate, non-hierarchical family groups and were not dominant to one another because violence was not in their nature. Collective assimilation with other family groups was avoided, apart from the occasional short-term ceremonial gathering but perhaps above all else, the San were renowned for their generosity of spirit.
The light skin pigmentation of the Khoisan is related to their Simian origins. The reasoning behind this is that apes have light coloured skin beneath their fur, whereby, as Proto mankind began losing their body fur, then melanin response began lightly shading the skin from harmful UV radiation. Subsequent degrees of skin colourings to later Homo sapiens were then determined by how close, or distant to the equatorial belt (zero latitude) their long time settlements had remained.
Out of Africa
Once more the question arises: How could malignance have emerged from out of pristine San origins? The answer returns us once more to the dynamics of opposites – where there is order – disorder will also be found. By this rule, even the most flawless of San families would father the occasional misfit, who would in time, seek or be encouraged towards pastures new. It then follows that because ‘like is attracted to like’, disparate formations of similar nature would have begun to coalesce and over time, gradually drifting north, towards Africa’s equatorial zones where, as Intermediate Man, they were to acquire much darker skin colour, due to UV intensity and melanin response. It was in these regions that the control systems devised by baleful elements were to evolve into such a powerful mental and physical processing machine, that its malignant precepts would remain extant for all future times.
Repositories of Heart and Mind
Like attracts to like,
each to their own kind,
fraternal inward looking worlds,
self attending and aligned.
Thus, congeries of minute worlds
on the macrocosmic face,
repositories of heart and mind
in a manufactured place.
A mockery of skin colour pejoratives
One of the earliest migrant diasporas out of Africa about seventy thousand years ago, brought them eventually to Australia via south Asia – island hopping and crossing the New Guinea land bridge, whilst the ice age sea levels were considerably lower.
Another great surge of our ancestral migrants came out of Africa and into Europe about forty thousand years ago and is perhaps, a good time to remind ourselves that they all had dark coloured skin. Those who would eventually settle in other places for great periods where the UV factor was very low, gradually found their skin colour, bleaching towards lighter, whiter shades. This must surely put a different slant on those modern skin colour pejoratives.
But, what of us now?
In matters of unpleasant revelations, I am not alone. The American philosopher Ayn Rand produced an informative historical exposition, linking the thuggish and cunning artifice of tribal leadership beginnings as being the most significant probability factors inborn within the psychology of the leadership personality throughout all time. Leadership is of course, the architect of all specious beliefs but it is the sensitivity attachments that adherents place upon them, that then render those beliefs unassailable.
Those architects of spurious beliefs are like the Sirens of Greek mythology emulated in real life, sacrificing the lives of others upon the rocks of their own selfish desires. A more modern Siren – the revolutionary Lenin – inadvertently spoke for all the Sirens of history when he referred to all his supporting foot soldiery in the creation of his ideological desires, as his ‘useful idiots’.
Social leadership is also most attentive to the differing aspirations that are held within the wider populace and which can then be played off against one another to the exclusive advantage of leadership. These social manipulations then amplify the occurrence of human withdrawals behind the barricades of their fraternal comfort zones. These problems pervade countries and communities worldwide, as Ireland’s north/south divide so clearly exemplifies. The universality of this activity is clearly displayed through the social segmentation that democratic party-politics also engenders and, exploits for its own ends.
Making Faustian Bargains
History frowns on psychological hegemony,
the compact majority’s cerebral endogamy.
For latter-day composite kind
is thence to surrogated mind.
Into the labyrinth beguiled,
orchestrated like a child,
a tangled web of tainted choice
to emasculate the inner voice.
A corporate dependant way,
a caricatured overlay
and, its higher politics when properly read
must bring to mind what Hegel said.
“That which seeks a third reaction,
must induce a second faction.”
It is the mutual friction coup d’etat
and all politics profit from this formula.
For every herd goes where it’s sent
and thinks it knows the real intent.
Thus Bovines in the milking-shed,
are those that follow where they’re led.
‘Thesis versus antithesis=synthesis’
Alice in Wonderland
Had the author Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson) been with us today, he would have felt that Alice’s fictional experiences down the rabbit hole had been amazingly prophetic of Britain’s future. Nothing could be more in keeping with this ‘Alice in Wonderland’ theme than the disquiet concerning the bizarre social experiments that are corrupting young people – a reality yet to filter up to the rarefied air of academia; the topic is the deserved smack for which the words ‘corporal punishment’ deputises. Social meddlers seem quite unaware that there are certain inescapable realities that apply to our species, as indeed they do with all other zoological varieties with which we share this planet. What is now referred to as, ‘corporal punishment,’ is one of Nature’s important sanctions for keeping chaos at bay. To support the message, I wonder how many of us took note of an unexpected and worrying trend occurring in parts of Africa, where orphaned juvenile elephants were being collectively destructive, to the extent that they were attacking and killing Rhinoceroses on a regular basis. The reason for this entirely new phenomenon was the consequence of adult elephants, killed for their tusks. This had left the immature elephants isolated from parental guidance, part of which would have been the occasional painful reminder that they had transgressed. It is from such sanctions that the knowledge of what is right or wrong can be achieved, otherwise the ‘brat’ is born. Does this not touch a familiar chord – the feral child within our midst?
Evidence makes it quite clear that our social psychologists are woefully unacquainted with the psychology of their species and as they have also proved to be – to its metaphysical aspects. Therefore, it is better most times for people to make up their own minds over that of science predications.
Furthermore, there is a well-published neurological condition (which has implications relating to our case) that is referred to, as the ‘Anarchic Hand’ and about which there are conflicting medical positions for its causes.
Primarily though, it has raised some serious philosophical questions about our species. The reason it does so, is that the condition acts as a presence of two separate seats of willpower and therefore, two seats of consciousness. A typical effect of this medical condition on a person is that whilst one of their hands responds in the normal way, their other hand can follow the dictates of an entirely separate conscious will – one that is in conflict and at times, destructive towards the person. Moreover, these advents touch upon an unfavourable aspect innate within our species that I refer to as, enfant malveillant. Little wonder that obscurant history disposed of this unfavourable aspect – out there somewhere in the wild blue yonder and re-titled it, ‘the Fallen Angel’ (Devil). This duality of our nature should come as no surprise; the nature of all things is, paired opposites that generate the dynamics of life. More to the point, in the identification of this duality within the adult, we also do so with the child because, wider expression of opposing mental dispositions are normal manifestations of the child.
As we know, there are wide variants in the expression of limbic urges from one child to another and that these variants find their way into the ease or difficulty by which the child gives way to the disciplines of acceptable behaviour. This brings us full circle back to the feral child, because the reason for the accelerated propagation of the child’s destructive aspect (throughout our society) is the meddling of naive social psychology. Moreover, the unbalanced child carries it through into adulthood.
The Cassandra Syndrome
What I am constantly trying to show, is that mankind’s ancient distorts are still active in the mismanagement of our human possibilities, though sadly, they are the Cassandra truths that are never believed.
Affinity for curious premises
Evidence of strange human actions and beliefs abound throughout written history as I constantly reiterate. In the third century BCE, Plato made a statement about our species through his ‘Plato’s Cave’ depiction. He indicated that mankind is primarily a comfort zone creature with a history pursuing fantasies to which it awards factuality, whilst habitually dismissive to uncomfortable facts as though they did not exist.
Was Plato right? Of course he was! There just isn’t enough space here to display the mountain of evidence that supports his observations or, sufficient people willing to risk their comfort zones revealing it.
The Multitude of Sects
Obscurant history invents its numen,
then claims a priori.
It might have been more Godly,
to have stayed in Darwin’s tree.
And Dante’s purgatorius,
is just the journey of a man
playing midwife to his being from the psycho –
pathologic of the clan
The Hydra Syndrome
The world’s systems of logic and guidance are so contaminated with misleading political, cultural and theological bias that it infects critical moral decision-making, universally.
For instance, it is because of strange moral inconsistencies that year on year, we see the startling surge in production and consumption of illegal drugs, whilst the poaching of endangered wildlife has also risen to a similar degree. In both cases, the message is very clear; that despite all containment efforts, the struggle has been hopelessly lost to the benefit of the burgeoning criminal cartels.
Complicit by default
To understand why these activities have continued to grow, we must look towards the moral fallibility of our ‘good and honest guiding’ people, from whose moral misjudgements, the evils in question are encouraged to multiply.
Myths, should remind us about our careless habits but does anyone listen? The Greek myth of the nine-headed Hydra perfectly symbolises some of our ineptitudes. It explains that in cutting off a Hydra’s head, two more will grow in its place. In its more worldly objective sense, this allegorical inference has lived on unlearned within the nature of our kind. Unhealthy biases corrupt our social mores and this factors into major human decision making. It is by this process that we ineptly turn problems into much larger ones because we habitually strike at the subsidiary ‘head’ of problems and not the causal body.
Creating human chimeras
The allied coalitions in Afghanistan were under orders not to damage the poppy fields, which reeks of complicity!
As far back as 1998, the size of the illegal drug trade was estimated to be between a hundred billion to one trillion annually. This ‘cancer’ has continued to grow exponentially year on year, for the reason that conventional containment methods try to resolve this problem from the wrong end. Again, in translation, this is just cutting off ‘Hydra heads’ for many more to grow. In the meantime, physical and mental disfigurements upon drug users, is so widespread and hideous that it cries out in pity for our tainted social mores to be overridden in favour of more rigorous resolutions.
It is only from the fear of subsequent pain that all creatures learn not to harm themselves. It is the deviation from this principle by naive social tinkering, that drug addiction has proved so conspicuously destructive to our society. All users should be isolated securely from their craving (cold turkey) at an early stage until withdrawal symptoms were thoroughly dissipated and knowing that future lapses would incur repeat treatments, would serve to motivate their future drug avoidance (self responsibility). This approach would have created a discouraging environment for this illegal industry and we would not now have our disastrous drug related crime figures.
It is the sheer size of these social problems that mostly claim our attention but in doing so, can divert our focus away from the symbiotic relationships that will inevitably feed off them. In effect, crime becomes the money machine of vested interest and it is a continuing volume of crime that validates the demand for additional resources. Thus, regulatory bodies acquire self-serving concerns in the ‘health’ of their industry and no institution is going to welcome change that would diminish their structures and influence.
Furthermore, any system that in anyway supports the human rights of those committing crime – must itself stand guilty of complicity in those criminal pursuits and be in violation of the human rights of the victims of such crimes.
The answer to this drug addiction problem can only follow from a different course of events taking place from which, such monstrous human creations would be swiftly brought to a decisive end.
In this strictly theoretical exercise, following media warnings, all illegal drug seizures would then be infiltrated continuously back into the illegal markets but, having first been contaminated with undetectable, irremovable, pharmaceutical substances. The point being that it would render those illegal drugs utterly and immediately repellent to a user’s biology. More importantly, when end-users stop buying, the complete illegal supply system behind them that they had created, would collapse.
There is already evidence of illegal drugs having been life threateningly poisoned on many occasions – it being the work of rival organisations and petty grudges, these crimes will grow as the trade does.
Moreover, another psychotic human phenomenon is busily expressing itself in the world’s wild places, indulging in an epic and rapacious slaughter of the planet’s exotic creatures. From this, flows the supply of body parts, mainly to the Asian vanity markets. It also serves those specious medicinal benefits that are fancifully thought to be obtained through the ingestion of certain wild creature parts.
In 1930, there were between five and ten million elephants in Africa, less than one percent is now left. Currently, up to 38,000 African elephants are poached every year. On 14/15th of March 2013 in Chad, more than thirty-six elephants were slaughtered for their tusks, including over thirty pregnant females. Their calves then killed or, left to starve. In Zimbabwe’s Hwange National park, ivory poachers supplied local villagers with cyanide to poison animal salt licks and drinking places. It killed eighty Elephants and continues to do so to all creatures that are having to use those resources. Twenty-three metric tons of tusks were seized in 2011 before they could reach the Asian markets – this quantity represented the slaughter of 2,500 Elephants.
Within the last thirty years, three tiger species have become extinct. As few as 3,200 tigers are left in the wild. Between 1995/2011, over a thousand registered tigers in India were poached.
Between 2007/2011, rhino poaching increased by several thousand percent. In 2012/13, over 600 rhinos were killed in South Africa alone. On a similar scale the lists of atrocities widen into other species – too numerous to be included here. Since 1970, 50% of world wildlife has gone extinct.
Striking at the Hydra’s heart
There are whisperings that some South African game reserves have struck back at the slaughter of their rhinos, wherein rhino horns captured from poachers, are being poisoned and then sold on into the illegal trade. The purpose being, that the end user would subsequently become seriously ill. Therefore, in this small, unregulated way, the war has already been taken to the primary evil – the buyer/end user.
Once again, in our theoretical exercise we would see an officially sanctioned contamination process being used on all elephant tusk seizures, rhino and other wild animal skins and parts, prior to them being filtered back into the illegal trades. The contaminants used in these cases would need to be different from those used against illegal drug users, whilst still needing to be enduring and visually unapparent; the effects of the contaminants would need to be immediate upon all that come into physical contact with them.
Of course, we are only game playing with theories. The diplomatic fallout and reprisals from countries suddenly deprived of their wealth-creating, immoral industries would be significant. The ramifications would also extend to heavy job losses within former containment and enforcement agencies. Now that would rock our sinking morality boat. And we don’t want that do we!
I wonder how many people have read the acclaimed ‘Statement of Universal Values’ by Pastor Martin Niemöller, who, whilst living in Hitler’s Germany, highlighted the complicity repercussions that come from turning one’s eyes away from illegal or legalised social crimes being committed. Of course, his statement of values does have further meanings but in the widest possible sense. One wonders therefore how many people might recognise something of themselves within that wider meaning and, be changed for the better by it.
First They Came
(Pastor Martin Niemöller)
First they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the Socialists and I did not speak out because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
and there was no one left To speak out for me.
The Malevolent Child within us
(Adapted from Pastor Niemöller’s ‘ Statement of Universal Values’)
They corrupted our young with illegal drugs and associated crime; I did not speak up because I do not use drugs.
They killed the last of the elephants and I did not speak up because I do not live among them.
They killed the last of the rhino and I did not speak up because they live elsewhere.
They killed the last of the tiger and I did not speak up because they were someone else’s problem.
They killed the rest of Nature’s creatures and I did not speak up, because I am not an interfering person.
They have all gone now and a most terrible loneliness has come over me
Life is awash with matters to which we turn a blind eye. This is the small print in life, in which the Devil lies; the skipped-over traits in our psychology that we do not want to look at. In simple arithmetic terms, if we were to leave certain important symbols out of an equation because we do not like them, then the wrong answer comes up every time. It is this kind of odd reasoning that, systems of logic guidance and beliefs from one culture to another are in many ways, asymmetric to one another as views so often are, between individuals over same issues.
We have an example of this (small print) phenomenon at work within today’s sciences of psychology and neuroscience; they have moved closer together in a marriage of mutual supra-empowerment. Moreover, their intentions echo that of theology in older times, a need to become the final judge and jury over the workings of the human mind’s spiritual aspects and manifestations.
It is worrisome therefore in these ‘enlightened’ times that this new science-led slant on a Middle Ages control formula, should again be making its unwelcome appearance, which of course is no more than another bridling institution, seeking to bury the paranormal manifestation phenomena for the sake of their own aggrandisement and empowerment.
Did they think we had not noticed that the United States police and others often have their crime cases solved with the help of real productive Psychics?
In its effort to bolster their case against the paranormal, neuroscientists conducted experiments. They used electro-magnets affixed to the sculls of volunteers, who then claimed to have had ‘out-of-body’ experiences, at one with their Creator.
These results emboldened psychology and neuroscience to state categorically, that these experiments had finally proved that all paranormal activity was quite simply, delusional activity taking place within the scull of the person experiencing it.
Neuroscience further supported its assertions through technical jargon, stating that paranormal activity is merely the neural stimulation of the temporopariental junction and from which, originates all ethereal altered states of consciousness. Put another way, the paranormal is delusional activity due to neural stimulation of the brain’s temporal lobe. The underlying message being sent is that all such experience can now be construed (in layman-terms) as a trip down the rabbit hole with Lewis Carol’s, ‘Alice into Wonderland’.
Reality, as I have previously pointed out, has a different statement to make. A person that has experienced extensive paranormal interactivity will in fact, possess some aspects of arcane, enhanced cerebral abilities and by that, be more than the social expression of itself – more than the sum of its particle matrix make-up. Therefore, as I boringly need to reiterate, these abilities are now rare, because the neural pathways associated with these mystical abilities, became atrophied over time within the majority, due to continuous pogroms and denigration, inflicted by all malevolent authorities. It is widely recorded that autocracy has never tolerated the abilities of others that are guided by higher individuating influences. This erasing of pristine abilities by malevolence, began mankind’s detachment from the very essence of its inner spiritual self, until eventually, the echoes and yearnings of this loss would only leave traces within the collective unconscious of the species. Nature abhors a vacuum (as previously mentioned), a space then filled with subliminal yearnings. This spiritual detachment then left mankind vulnerable and exploitable by fraudulent personalities into specious superstitions and other destructive beliefs.
Furthermore, in the knowledge that leadership, old and new, gives itself such a free hand in decisions over rights and wrongs, there can be no surprise that it still applies pariah status to the paranormal. Orthodox positions are then further strengthened against the paranormal, though vicariously by the over-abundance of those ignorant psychic charlatans and equally ignorant psychic debunkers. These carping and quackery personalities are of course, history’s same old born-again oddities, servicing their unreal mindsets out of hearsay, malice, opportunism, Chinese whispers and other such nonsense but, it’s also, par to the course of leadership.
Another apparent impairment to the paranormal is that it disobeys the laws of physics within which, all things are supposedly subject to its rules at all times. However, it is easy to overlook that Nature also has rules of opposites in all matters (exemplified through the particle-wave duality of atomic particles), therefore, in the same contrasting way, meta-physics is paired to physics. It’s a schizoid world!
A point easily overlooked is that the paranormal is a science and comes under the umbrella of Ontology, ‘the science that deals with the principles of pure being – the aspects of metaphysics which deals with the nature and essence of things’. It should also be mentioned that genuine psychic abilities do not kill or corrupt.
More than the sum of our parts
Disparagement, is of little account when one is well grounded and secure with ones psychic experiences. I have lived with its objective (often witnessed) realities most of my life. Furthermore, my philosophy on all issues is founded on life’s hard won objective facts within which, hearsay and Chinese whispers play no part.
These are not empty words; mine are backed up at times by precognitive dreams of almost biblical significance and occasional physical events that make a complete mockery of our laws of physics. Little wonder that I feel very sorry for the conventional mindset, particularly so (as I constantly mention), because the pogroms against cerebral enhancement had left a vacuum of subliminal yearnings that had become infiltrated by specious beliefs and charlatanism.
We move in circles back to the same point
Sanity shakes its head in disbelief at the millions of people who had failed to work out those attendant machinations and insanities that would obviously come attached with the secular religion of autocratic socialism. It was blatantly predictable, that like all emotion led pursuits, they would follow its Middle Ages theological exemplar, to murder, imprison and terrify countless millions of innocents.
Such is the human ‘blind-side’ madness that strides back endlessly through our unlearning history.
Scarlet and red is tautology
Despite semasiology, (that semantic quibbling)
both the theocratic system and atheist are sibling.
These labels are mere synonyms; the end game is the same,
‘gilding lilies’ for the ebbing mind – the easiest to train
We are measured by our past
Everything I write is out of concern for the sanctity of innocent life and the need to preserve all that is good. It is for that reason I remind us constantly of everything that works against this.
In the 20th century, 200 million people and countless numbers of innocent animals, died in our wars. Discounting the millions of minor battles, insurrections and lesser collective killings, there has only been an aggregate 250 years of documented peace in the last 3,400 years, which then tracks back in that same familiar fashion throughout the emergence of Homo sapiens into the wider world.
The evidence is set in concrete; no matter what the colour, creed or country we live in, modern mankind carries with it, the same shared mindset contaminants that its ancestors brought with them out of Africa. Whilst like the cuckoo, Control-Man and its cohorts always own the social nest.
There is a poem by Robert Frost, ‘The Road Not Taken’, that yearningly reminds us of mankind’s loss in the forging of that well travelled road of its own making.
The Road Not Taken
‘Two roads diverged in a wood and I. I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.’
Version - Colin Brookfield:
The First man, in our poetic soul, dreams back to its ancestral San,
and barefoot tread again, that long lost track less travelled by.
Leaving God behind, freed man to transgress into Nature’s heresy of numbers.
When Apprentices Play
Whilst the Wizard went off for a very long stay,
the apprentice had a magical day,
but playing alone proved limited fun,
so he read from the book and a spell was begun.
With a wave of the wand he made more of his kind,
but they did the same they were caught in a bind.
They could see there would soon be nowhere to stand,
so they went off in groups to every known land.
But once they were there they had to be fed,
they eat with a vengeance, the animals fled.
Soon some of the lands gave little to eat
and only a few were more than replete.
Their numbers kept growing increasing the score,
it passed seven billion and still there were more.
In scarcely three decades their numbers would double
and bring in their wake some unthinkable trouble.
The air, the seas and the lands felt the strain,
some lands weren’t so green they were losing their rain.
There were things going wrong wherever they turned,
warm places went cold and cool places burned.
They prayed and they hoped the Wizard would hear,
for without intervention, their end seemed quite clear,
but the Wizard was late and he didn’t stay,
for every apprentice had perished away.
The Curse of Ignorance
My wife and I displayed some disturbing pictures and film, of inhumanity towards our fellow creatures, on You Tube.
The problems are universal; a part of the human curse of ignorance. For example, there are false convictions amongst many people that animals have no souls and according to theology are here to serve mankind, therefore, I need to set theology right.
Humanity and ‘Wisdom’
There are many false beliefs relating to how we perceive ourselves in terms of humanity and wisdom. We have honoured ourselves with the title, ‘Homo sapiens’. Homo is associated with ‘humane nature’ and sapience meaning ‘wise’. In truth, these qualities are no more than potentials. It is also an established fact that all creatures have their own particular aspects of humanity and wisdom, though usually in a way that best fits Nature’s overall scheme of things. Some are better at expressing these qualities, as indeed are some people.
It is a distortion of the known facts, ever to portray our wisdom and humanity in terms of a collective reality. Statistics prove that there are millions of sadistic people inflicting cruelty upon millions of innocent creatures throughout the world today and everyday; this is neither humanity nor wisdom.
We have set ourselves apart from every other species and from Nature itself. In the natural world, each species occupies an essential niche within a collectively dependent relationship with one another – they are cogs in the biological machine – the elimination of just one species unbalances the machine.
When there is a continuous decimation of these life forms then we move towards a tipping point beyond which, mankind’s own survival is at risk.
Contrary to most beliefs, the natural-world creatures have always been the true custodians of life. They had been farming the planet across eons of time before the advent of mankind. They attended to Nature’s need for qualities, diversity and population regulation, crucial to which, were their systems of predation. Had there been no predation upon insects and rodents etcetera, then their uncontrolled numbers would have made the world an impossible place for life to flourish.
The beginnings of change to this balance of Nature, began with the appearance of mankind from out of Africa into the wider world and from there to pursue a remarkable evolutionary journey of technological innovation. Furthermore, within a mere blip of geological time, mankind had contravened Nature’s prime rule – its heresy of numbers.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely
The cost of mankind’s eventual over-dominant numbers, upset the balance of Nature to the detriment of all other varieties.
As I frequently reiterate, it was the creation of hostile technology and mechanisation that gained mankind more and more control and usage of other species. The later repercussions of pharmaceutical, medical and agricultural science then caused man’s numbers to multiply exponentially and at inverse proportions to the time scales within which it did so. Over-exploitation of the world’s resources added to the transgressions and, the carbon repositories that Nature had secured safely away from free circulation were then put into the biosphere in vast uncontrolled quantities.
Worryingly, our darker side appears to be wish-fulfilling the Greek myth, ‘Pandora’s Box’, that when opened, all the ills and afflictions from within, would escape to plague life.
In terms of analogy, the myth fits perfectly; the opening of the dark side of the human mind from which was released the negative technology, whereby Nature’s rules of balance could be undone.
Perhaps in Greek mythical terms, we might also consider that with the advent of nuclear fission, we became the real Prometheus who stole fire from the gods.
The reasons, for which I write the following is to make corrections to particular misleading theological assertions.
God is Multiform
To look upon all creatures with compassion is to be close to God, for God divided itself equally within all creatures; thus a creature harmed is God harmed and it is only through the totality of all its creatures that the image of God is made manifest.
God created people, that they should be helpful to all forms of life.
God created people: that they should care for the land and all things that grow upon it.
God created people, that they should keep the rivers, lakes and oceans, pure.
God created people that they should keep the air fresh and clean for all creatures to breathe.
God created no intermediaries; its guiding voice was gifted to each person and called ‘Intelligence’, so that they should not blindly follow others.Yet they were arrogant and followed false leaders, false gods and false thoughts.
Thus, they came to war upon one another and all things.
Much time was to pass, until all things that were once in balanced perfection had become corrupted.
Then people asked their false gods: “Why do you cause so many problems;
Why do you plague our world with wars, floods and droughts;
Why do you make the polar ice melt and the oceans rise?”
And God looked down in disbelief at their foolishness
The Divine Paradigm
Having dreams that proved to be startlingly prophetic is a very powerful wakeup call and a step into the wider reality that our species left so far behind in its dreamtime.
Before the Fall there were guiding dreams
The angelic guidance source of the very first people came through their dreams, not through other people. For reasons that are unclear, I am also linked back at times into this beginning time phenomena of the guiding dream of ancestral ‘Dreamtime’.
With a revolver against the nape of my neck, a man in grey uniform projected me through the entry of a huge grey stone building. We eventually arrived at a large open quadrangle within the building’s centre. Suddenly, I felt an impact at the back of my head that was followed by the sound of a bullet ricocheting off a wall somewhere ahead; everything that had been in my view then melted into oblivion.
At that moment in time in 1967, I had been working savagely hard seven days a week over a three-month period, with no more than three hours sleep in every twentyfour.
The dream indicates the ego is driving the body towards destruction; a cautionary dream, that I took note of.
I once struggled my way through the hefty tome of Carl Jung’s ‘Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious’ and although I could recognise the wonder and universality of its symbolisms, the dream symbols that I received were of a different order; they were more simplified, more direct and slanted towards my cultural and worldly comprehension. It is also sensible to assume that such narrative would have been similarly slanted for our primal forebears. My first encounter with a symbolic guiding dream was startling and, this is how I would describe what it was endeavouring to achieve.
I was in an ancient stone underground room in Egypt, pounding at a wall with a heavy sledgehammer in the hope of discovering treasure on the other side. The wall finally collapsed from the impact revealing a deep, dark cavity. Something moved from within and a large frightening mummy stepped out then grasped the lapels of my suit jacket. I was petrified as its dark eyes gazed into mine. Then I got another shock. The creature began to speak in a soft and most endearing voice. “I love the material,” it said wistfully. In that second, I realised I had misread everything and was overcome with pity. I immediately assured the creature I would leave at once for Cairo to buy a suit which would then make us equal. As I turned to leave, I noticed a baby had arrived from somewhere and, was gurgling away happily as the mummy played with it.
The baby not only further reinforces the benevolence of the creature (one’s twin aspect) but this child symbol, also stands for one’s own newly acquired possibilities – that like the child, we can grow to greater potential. By being dressed similarly, means to be on a par with one another in mutual acceptance. This represents the opening address by the unconscious in its efforts to establish an open channel.
To further understand its meaning
Imagine that there was a locked attic in your house, which your family insisted was haunted. Then one day whilst you are alone, a poor, unkempt creature that had escaped the attic confronts you. However, during all your fear and panic, you suddenly become aware that things were not quite as they appear. Then the penny drops. You are facing your sibling, your twin self that had been wilfully demonised and shut away by your family but, you are reunited at last.
This dream, following the one above, indicates they are connected.
I was standing inside a garage that was filled with heaps of rubbish; it belonged to an unpleasant schoolboy I had once known. Suddenly the concrete floor beneath our feet began to disintegrate so we leapt towards the door. As I looked back, I saw that a large serpent had risen through the floor. The other boy shouted, “I’ll get the gun and kill it,” then raced off, but before he returned I looked back into the garage and to my surprise, the concrete floor had been reinstated and all the rubbish removed, as though things had never been disturbed.
The garage or shed is a representation of the human objective mind shifting into equilibrium with its unconscious side and by doing so, allows it the means by which to purge the conscious aspect of its specious debris.
The serpent having returned from whence it came and having left no trace of its entry or exit through the concrete floor, indicates a respect for the separateness that exists between the subjective and objective worlds. The serpent visual effect on my part, represents a false overlay of my own making, a continuing response to the influence of institutionalised attitudes towards the subject matter.
The destructive boy represents the negative influences of others against the paranormal.
(The Immortal Three and The Dark Three)
In this further dream, I was in a stone underground room. On one of the walls, were three niches occupying the busts of the ‘Immortal Three’ philosophers, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. From each image shone a beam of white light that converged on the ground to one spot, on which I was centred. I was holding my book, which whilst symbolising mankind’s discarding of its guidance dreams, also catalogues the means by which our species had wandered away from the light.
True to the laws of opposites in the dream, three ugly dark figures emerge from the shadows to snatch at the book, because that book was a danger to evil.
I made my way through the mouldering ruins of ancient cities and in doing so, laying and concealing from sight, an umbilical cord that was attached to me. I was aware of others behind me, further assisting in the concealment of the cord; the images of those assisting were semi transparent and white.
There was open countryside ahead dotted with trees and shrubs and to my right, a well-worn track. I proceeded forwards with great vigilance, well clear of the well-beaten track though parallel with it, for I knew that discovery would mean trouble.
I was aware that my umbilical connection reached all the way back to an ancient vital source and that the purpose of my journey lay somewhere ahead towards the future. Then suddenly, as though from a detached point high in the air, I was able to see a panoramic view of the human journey taken from its past; there was nothing to be seen except ruined ancient cities and diminishing evidence of human habitation crumbling into dust, until all evidence of mankind had reduced to featureless desert. It served also to remind me why I must not be a herd follower.
The well-beaten track represents the herd mentality; the ruin in its past, implies the ruin of its future. The umbilical cord (a connection to the intuitive essence) showed that something that had been lost through time, is being brought forward into the future, for reasons about which, I knew nothing.
I was wandering through undulating countryside, studded with small shrubs. Eventually, I reached a high point above a shallow valley and noticed the valley was covered with American Indians that had just been massacred. My attention was then drawn to a noise from some shrubs at my side and I saw two wounded survivors lying close to one another. One was caught within an entanglement, whilst his friend had managed to sit upright and was pointing to the knife in my belt. I knew he wanted to cut his friend free so I handed it to him. Following this, he gestured for my left hand, which I put forward. To my surprise, he made a small but painless incision across my index finger with the knife. Thinking this was a little strange, I examined it. Much to my consternation the cut suddenly opened like an eyelid and revealed a perfectly formed functioning eye, looking back at me.
The Indian is an archetype, a representative of the natural and spiritual of the unconscious. The massacre represents the killing field nature of mankind. Interestingly, I now use that hand to successfully locate lost pets through psychometry. This also exemplifies how dreamtime direction came through to pristine mankind.
(My own primal self)
From a detached position, I was looking down directly upon the head of a primal man. I knew that this hominid was me (my primal aspect). This man, together with many other creatures was running at full speed to escape predation. Suddenly, a lion homed in from the left and the man threw an inadequately small stone at it, which bounced off. Nevertheless, it did the trick and the lion veered away. The man then made his escape, by climbing a low stone wall which he sat on feeling safe from predation.
The world now laid out in front of him was confusingly unfamiliar, consisting of quiet pastoral scenes with hedged close-cropped green fields and strangest of all – a neat stone farm building.
To interpret this dream I go with my better instincts, which in reincarnation terms, implies that I have been jumped forwards too far into something difficult to comprehend and indeed, as my writings reveal, mankind has created its own world that is artificially strange in every way from the natural one of its ancestral origins.
My wife and I were facing one of the walls in a very large and extremely high bedroom. Some six feet or so above the floor level there was a narrow walkway that ran the full width of the wall. About eight feet above that, there was another one and, a third one of equal height further up. At varying distances along each walkway, a person was moving purposefully towards the right and feeling the wall as they went, each trying to discover their particular secret door. One of them did and, slipped away from sight.
Meanwhile, I moved the bed to the foot of the wall so that my wife and I could reach the walkway and discover our secret doors but the bed was not high enough and, I was only interested in the top walkway.
As usual I am trying to barnstorm the way towards my goal. Everything about the room represents the objective world including the three people upon the walkways. The scene represents their respective levels of spiritual search and successes, as they make their way through life. The left hemisphere of the brain is associated with the ego and is inclined towards objective gains. The three people travelling singly towards the right with no accoutrements, indicates that the journey is away from the ego and towards the intuitive right hemisphere. It indicates the purposeful journey through life and, that it is only achievable within one’s self. The number three often seems significant.
I was sitting by a campfire with another man on open moorland, when a black cat sank its teeth into my hand, I kept hitting it to make it let go but its body fell off and I had to release the head separately from my hand. Then I got to my feet to see the man off as he proceeded along a moorland pathway. He only had a rucksack of basic essentials and went cheerfully on his way. As I looked back towards the campfire, I could see a small aircraft that belonged to me. Then I noticed the head of the black cat floating unsupported in the air; its eyes were glowing in the firelight and in a clear, grating voice it said, “I’ll always be with you.”
The aircraft represents an over commitment to acquisition to which there is always a price attached, hence the malevolent black cat shadow expressing itself saying, “I’ll always be with you.” The other man who stayed close to Nature, had no acquisition mindset, therefore – no shadow assailment. The dream is saying, ‘Which man are you going to be? Which direction will you take?’
I moved my car onto a track off the main road, thinking it might be a short-cut to my destination but gradually, the going became quite rough with many pot holes and obstacles that led into a grey, dusty place littered with machines of war. Eventually I noticed a group of dowdy, dust-covered people who seemed surprised and annoyed that a car with people of a different ilk, had entered a place where they clearly did not belong.
I continued up a steep sloping hill and braked at its summit, where I was confronted by a vast precipice beyond which, there was nothing but dense fog. Then it cleared. Far below, I could see beautiful, cultivated fields in their various crop colours (no animal husbandry) and, here and there, some village cottages. Parking the car, my passenger and I walked towards the edge but he fell over.
My attention was drawn towards an arched viaduct that strode across the lower rural areas on enormously long supports, then shorter ones, as it continued on to the higher area where I stood, coming to an abrupt, broken-off end. The sky above was horrible, it was like a sheet of living brain smothered in veins, with the exception of one small closing blue space into which, white things coming from the green direction were seen to ascend on wings from the top of the viaduct.
This suggests that I was snooping about in places where I did not belong but, made aware that the dual scene before me was displaying the contrasting choices that people make of their lives and what follows through from those choices. The grey place displayed Earth’s aggressors with all their accoutrements of war and, doomed to remain there when the blue sky of deliverance closes.
The viaduct showed that the two levels were tied to a unified purpose and did so by means of the supports that were firmly rooted down into both places. A third level was indicated by the viaducts top surface. Furthermore, there was no embarkation point from the blighted area; it was only from the green natural place that there was access to the third level, enabling more highly evolved consciousness to proceed onwards to its higher spiritual purpose. Again, ‘three’ is significant.
In this dream, I was walking across a large grassed field where groups of people were having picnics. To my left, there was a great abyss. Suddenly, I noticed a dark brown primal horse; it had widespread cloven hooves. Its mouth was wider and flatter than the modern variety and was not very tall. Then its dark penetrating eyes focussed on me, so I nervously moved more towards the edge of the abyss but it kept coming and nobody else noticed this. Finally, I had to slide over the edge of the precipice and into a recess just below the top edge. The horse had no intention of giving up; it knelt down and looked over the edge. This made me dig furiously to enlarge the hole, which proved easier than I thought. Suddenly, the horse grabbed my arm in its mouth but, did it so gently that I realised it was a friend and, had guided me to a place where it knew I belonged. Holding on, was its way of preventing me falling into the abyss. Then I noticed that the grasslands on the other side of the abyss, were being grazed by prehistoric animals, whilst below the far precipice edge, I could see a cave with a girl at its entrance; her place was served by a pathway leading upwards to the primal grasslands.
The abyss represents the vast depths of the unconscious and the division between the objective and subjective worlds; the girl upon the primal side is the Anima; the primal horse is the subjective element encouraging me into a balanced position with the Anima. The other people hadn’t noticed anything unusual, which indicates that what is going on, does so on a different perceptual level to their understanding. Primal creatures on both sides of the divide suggest that the dream also has a relationship to dream number six. These primal creatures serve to remind us that our origins hark back infinitely further, than palaeoanthropological science has any hope of ever discovering.
I was on a high misty place. The mist then started to open into a long, wide tunnel that was quite clear inside. It tapered towards its further end from which, I noticed something moving towards me. It was rotating and moving quickly and closer until my hands instinctively moved in front for protection. As it became clearer, I could see it was a magnificent great sword, that then fell (point up) gently into my hands, as though placed by unseen hands. Then a deep clear commanding voice said, “This sword kills the devil; it can be dangerous.”
In symbolism, the sword represents the thinking function which discriminates, divides and separates. It also represents the intuitive function that can penetrate below the surface and thrust to the core. The sword also points upwards to the light. “This is the sword that kills the devil, it can be dangerous”, concerns my assault upon the shadow aspect in this book and others.
I was at a house in Middlesex, where I spent most of my young life and whilst standing within the concreted alleyway between our house and the neighbour’s, a penny-sized coin tinkled at my feet from out of the sky. After rubbing the dirt off, it revealed the word ‘Malta’. I placed it in my pocket and went indoors to show someone but, when I took it out, it had changed to a gold fob watch. Opening the watch, I noticed its works were broken, to the extent that I could see right through to the back plate upon which, was a religious icon.
Further connections with the watch
Several days later my wife’s young relative from Malta, telephoned us. During the course of the conversation, I mentioned briefly about the dream because of the ‘Malta’ connection but, before I could complete all the details concerning the watch, he interjected, saying that his deceased Maltese grandfather had given him a gold fob watch. The condition of the works and the religious icon matched the description of the one in my dream but there is more connected to this.
Some twenty years previously, my wife’s cousin had paid us a visit from Malta and I had mentioned that I sometimes do psychometry. She then produced an old ring for me to dowse. From that, I drew a detailed sketch of a house I had never seen and, in a country to which I had never been. Moreover, there was no one at all from whom I could have garnered such information. The cousin assured me that every detail was correct, saying that her deceased father had owned the house and the ring.
Eighteen years later armed with the original sketch of the property and details, I arrived for the very first time in Malta and went with my video camera to film the house. To our great surprise, all details were exact, establishing remote viewing as an indisputable reality.
The original clairvoyance and inter-relationship with the later dream carried all the hallmarks of post mortal survival activity; such information could not have come to me unless life was being continued elsewhere.
I was shown a beautiful cushion, as though it was intended for a crown to sit on. There were some strange unknown glyphs on it, then a disembodied voice deciphered the glyphs saying the word, “Consciousness”, meaning that consciousness must be mankind’s crowning goal.
The dream then transferred my view to the angelic place, where only those who had elevated their state of conscious awareness might enter, it showed a small group of spirit people that were apparelled in semi-transparent white and seemed to be in conversation with one another. Next, I was given a name, pronounced as ‘Syme’ (Cime); a word with which I was totally unfamiliar.
The next day, I looked the word up in the dictionary and to my surprise, it actually existed. It was associated also with Cimelia, meaning the flower-head; the pinnacle; the treasure; the store house. Furthermore, there was no possibility on my part, of cryptomnesia having been involved. Interestingly, consciousness connects with the psychological aspects of Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’.
I was standing upon a vast plain; the sky on the horizon was dominated by some equally vast imagery, it took the form of great elephant type tusks set into the ground and reaching miles into the sky. The tusks were set into a semi-circle encompassing many square miles of ground and the sky, outside of the area was quite ordinary. Stranger still, the tusks were permeable in places and the ordinary sky was leaking through them but, in the process, was transformed into speckled colours of the rainbow, which then completely filled the tasked inner space. A male and female figures were in the foreground and there were beautiful white birds flying ever upwards within the colour.
Tusks are archetypal symbols – mythologems of transformation. These particular symbols were set in the context of altered states of mind. The ordinary exterior sky symbolises ‘unconsciousness’. These symbols indicate, that through the guidance of such angelic symbolism, the ordinary can become the extraordinary. Put another way, it is through positive interactivity with this primal language that we acquire intelligent direction (as did early people before the Fall). The male and female figures are an androgynous representation; a balanced togetherness of both male and female qualities that, in coming together within one, have wings to fly.
Whilst out walking with my wife, I took a short cut through some fields. As we progressed, I noticed a man in black clothing in the far distance standing by a gate, staring at me. In another part of the field, I saw a very large agitated bull. This startled me, so I asked my wife to run for the safety of a nearby hedge. Before I could follow, my attention was drawn to an enormous primal cow that was bearing down on me at great speed with its dark eyes transfixed on mine but at the last second, it swerved past as though giving me a warning.
The dream was easy to understand - I was being warned. Not only had I been overworking but had now over extended my capabilities by diverting into new territory. I had recently become part of a very energetic dance group, whilst ignoring the overwhelming tiredness that always followed.
The bull ahead = destruction; the dark man = the collector; the primal cow = the warning helper. Nature was saying, ‘There are no wasteful short cuts for you, there are more important things for you to do’.
The primal cow dates the connection with our pristine origins.
I was standing on the bank above a large lake that I was determined to cross but I accidentally toppled over the edge, sliding on my heels down into the water. Undeterred, I started swimming towards the other side but a heavy mist began to develop that could soon leave me (without any directional reference) swimming in circles, until cold waters claimed me. I was about to return to avoid that possibility, when I saw a very faint dot of guiding light sparkling from the shore that I had originally wished to reach.
It speaks for itself. Sometimes, I can be precipitous in my way of doing things but there is always a guiding light that comes to my aid.
There were two of us making our way across country to a village Inn and we were both well dressed in 18th century period clothes. The area was not familiar and we found ourselves in swampy land within the confluence of two rivers. The river to our right was too fast and deep but the other one proved to be fordable, so the other man took me across on his back. Then in a blip, I was safely in my room at the Inn. My room door was open and a country voice from the passageway said, “Your hot water sir,” which I took, then asked if he could provide some water for the other gentleman. “What other gentleman?” he answered with surprise.
I put this dream into a reincarnation context – part of my journey through time, the same actor on a different stage, but always with an unknown helper towards the necessary goal.
An old friend called Ron Smith (now deceased) was driving me along a road when we passed a magnificent, dapple-grey Shire horse on the right side of us with its head concealed by the overhanging foliage of a tree. I was so impressed by the gigantic creature that I asked Ron to stop and go back. The moment I stepped away from the vehicle – it disappeared and I was left facing something twice the size of any Shire horse I had ever seen. Then the creature stepped towards me and as the branches slipped away, I saw it had the face of an attractive, smiling young woman. I was quite afraid of this awesome portrayal of equine power. I noticed also, there was no profusion of hair about the fetlocks that one would expect with a Shire. Then the visitation spoke in a normal female voice.
“Come close,” she said, “and place your back against my front legs.” I did so fearfully but came to no harm. “Reach back and place your hands against my legs.”
On doing so, I could feel powerful forces coursing through. Later, we walked and talked together. I remember asking her if she had read ‘Laurens van der Post’ or ‘Carl Jung’ but she had not.
Then the dream switched. I was in a shed facing a shelf with jars of healing unction. Having made my selection, I stepped outside where I noticed an old horse needed attention – so I applied the healing unction.
Ron had been an old friend whom I had volunteered to take to a healer for his illness but he had declined the offer. Several years later, he passed away due to that illness.
The car in the dream was the one that Ron owned, so perhaps he is now a spirit helper because by taking me to that contact place, an astounding pre-cognitive reality to this occurred the following day and is still ongoing. Also, the animal/human image implies that we are all intimately connected; all creatures have souls.
(The collective syndrome)
This is a message dream. In this dream, a guide is showing me a huge old castle. He led me through a small side door and down a sloping path into a cavern, vastly out of proportion to the structure above. Most of the ground space was taken up by a crater, which was thousands of feet wide and equally deep, then narrowed downwards conically as it descended; its side walls were made in terraced steps, layer by layer downwards. Every terrace at every level was also packed tightly with people’s adjoined little houses.
The castle represents the power that sits above the collective and, the dark cratered place, represents the lot of the follower. The small side door, symbolises the exit by which those that awaken from the great ‘sleep-walk’, may leave. Strangely, many years later and for the first time, I read of Botticelli’s painting depicting Hell and it described Hell, as a descending conically shaped hole.
(My wife’s dream)
In this symbolic dream that my wife had some years ago, she found herself entering a huge hotel atrium. To her left side was a palatial staircase that she wished to ascend but was stopped. She was directed to a conference hall on her right (as others had been). In the centre of the hall was a large circus ring full of people sitting on benches at tables. It was obvious all of these people had just died because they were all in various states of dress and undress but she refused the ringmaster’s invitation to join them.
At the back, sitting separately, she saw a man accompanying a half grown Silverback gorilla. Being very fond of animals and people who liked them, she darted forward in that direction. In doing so, the scene suddenly shaded as though a chiffon scarf had floated down in front of her and cleared immediately. When she reached those with whom she felt an affinity, the scene changed abruptly. She found herself ascending the upper steps of the palatial staircase, towards places and people of like-mind with whom she would be comfortable.
On reaching the top of the oak-panelled staircase, which was wide and beautiful, she entered a long warm, well-lit gallery. There was a lady sitting close-by at a large oak table on which lay a beautiful leather-bound book with a pen. The table was placed at the side of tall oak doors (of which there were many along the gallery) and she was invited to enter.
The message was, that giving equal standing to other species, indicated a higher level of humanity – hence the stairs.
It is interesting to note the two-fold meaning of the circus. It is where all roads come together and from which other directions will be taken. Secondly, the circus ring is also the place of the ringmasters and those who perform to their wishes.
(The Railway Carriage)
I was in a railway carriage and it felt wrong. The windows were opaque and there was no feeling of traction. The carriage was empty and I was facing the back end. Its interconnecting door was sealed, apart from a gap at the top through which a person might squeeze through. This is what began to happen as people struggled through from another carriage. At this point I moved forward to help this happen quickly – I wanted the people out of the way so that I could get through and, off the train into the sensible, natural world.
Interpretation & Analysis
There are physics at work and best understood later, by referring to the two slot experiment in quantum physics which shows that the particle wave duality nature of sub-atomic particles change, when they know they are being watched (this is reality) and that this provides evidence that the conscious mind is intimately associated with that of all physical construct.
The mechanics of the dream are these: it is concerned with human herd instincts – the follower syndrome (Plato’s Cave). This railway carriage (that’s never going anywhere) is also identical to the other section that people are scrambling out of. The awkward transition from one carriage to another symbolises life’s normal crossing-over death process.
This carriage duplication arrangement implies that it is the parochial collective expectations of follower people, which primes the sub atomic particles (those, other-worldly building blocks) within the reincarnated place. Thus, such mindsets generate their former comfort zone duplication.
Be careful what you wish for!
(The Dark Side)
In this dream, the figure suddenly moved very close, revealing a composite made up of angry, warring people throughout the ages, with their weapons of destruction right through to modern mankind.
I drew this image at the time and it was never shown to anyone, yet years later, the self same image appeared in a national paper. For that to happen would imply that this image is an archetype of the human collective unconscious.
Out of body experience (OBE)
Before I continue, there was an occasion in 1994 when I had the ultimate astounding experience in alter-reality – an out of body experience.
In the early hours of the morning, I was awoken by something sitting on the bedside table by my face from which I naturally recoiled. It was an abnormally large black cat. Having woken me, it quietly slunk to the floor as though its mission was complete, then disappeared into the shadows. At this point, I threw the bed covers to one side and placed my feet on the floor. Whilst doing so, I noticed our Siamese cat, Simba, sitting close by.
Simba had died six months previously and we were still devastated by his passing. I was so astounded that I tried to awaken my wife to share the experience but she could not be woken, even when I shook her. It was then the penny dropped! I realised that something extremely abnormal was happening, except that all my faculties were functioning normally. I could hear my voice and could see everything clearly by the invading light of the street lamp. I checked my tactile sensations; they were completely normal. It was obvious that I was in a separate reality – a duplicate – within which, I could interact on a normal basis with everything inanimate but where animate life could no longer have visual or physical awareness of my presence. That was apparent when I could no longer awaken my wife.
I turned then, to see Simba disappearing into the shadows as if he had decided to ‘move on’.
It was obvious I was having an out-of-body experience and felt quite euphoric and privileged about it. Then it shut down and I fell asleep.
Being inquisitive, when I awoke next morning, one of the first anomalies that came to mind concerned the bedclothes I had thrown to one side during my OBE. Being a light sleeper, I never move or alter the covers without being consciously aware of doing so. Therefore, having no recall of that activity during the night would imply that all objects of physical nature also have ethereal duplication – their alter-ego ghosts. Whereas, like an OBE person is the duplicate of its physical counterpart, then the bedcovers that were being moved, were also the ethereal counterparts to their own physical component.
Simba is the key to understanding the message in this OBE it concerns itself with the dangers of carrying excessive emotional baggage to one’s demise. It is a warning, showing the means by which any creature that passes over, might entrap themselves to the source of their obsession (also the background to all haunting). Simba was an example of over-devotion to my wife and me and at his passing, did not leave but, stayed trapped in his alter-world in isolation, unseen and ignored by those who could no longer see him.
The black (shepherd) cat had come to rescue and guide its own feline kind, out of such entrapment. The lesson applies to all of us to be mindful of what emotional entrapments we are generating for ourselves. Buddhist Monks, from the ‘Book of the Dead’, repeat mantras over the dying to disengage their minds from their emotional chains that could otherwise impede their passage.
Written at the time:-
The Black Shepherd Cat
The black shepherd cat flowed out of the dark,
quiet as a shadow; its paws left no mark.
Then it entered the room where somebody slept,
who was quite unaware just how close it had crept.
Then the black shepherd cat took over control
of the person that slept to awaken their soul.
The awakening one recoiled with surprise,
away from the black shepherd cat’s gleaming eyes.
But the black shepherd cat was there on a quest;
a mission of care at another’s behest.
Then a movement nearby brought its ward into sight,
so the black shepherd cat flowed back to the night.
For a sleek Siamese had appeared on the floor;
a friend who’d been lost from this world months before.
Then gathering, what this was meant to impart,
the awakening one woke up with a start.
It was clear he was now in a parallel life,
for attempts were in vain to awaken his wife.
Had this been the lot of his Siamese friend,
an emotional trap awaiting life’s end
alone in this house with no one to care,
nobody knowing that he was still there?
So this was the task in the ‘shepherd cat’s’ mind,
to gather lost souls for return to their kind.
But why was a human made privy to this?
A portent perhaps that one shouldn’t dismiss?
For a soul cannot fly at the end of the day
when emotional chains too heavily weigh.
But, to the black shepherd cat (I couldn’t owe more),
for I passed and returned through life’s final door.
(Following the above experience)
I picked up a fishing rod and the line tightened. As I struggled with the catch, the rod broke beneath the strain, nevertheless, I still managed to land the catch. To my surprise, it turned out to be our now deceased Siamese, Simba. I shouted to my wife to call him – which she did – but he no longer needed either of us.
Simba had appeared to me (post-mortal) during a nocturnal ‘out of body’ experience some months prior. It is saying ‘Let go’; he no longer knows us, which indicates that he is no longer in limbo and has moved on. The line that was connected to him was an emotional one on our part, hence his struggle against being drawn back. The breaking rod broke that connection with Simba.
Life is an ocean that gives and one day, takes back.
The clock dream I had years ago, is a warning about the future of mankind. Its left face is normal; its right face is completely black from twelve, right down to six.
Three Ominous Sequential Dreams
I had three ominous sequential dreams that followed the clock dream; the first was in 2010, the second, 2011 and the final culminating in 2012. I have never had dreams like these before, that have taken on such a worrying turn and sense of immediacy.
I was standing to the right of the picture. In front of me, was a huge, transparent sphere, divided laterally at its centre point by a transparent floor, creating upper and lower hemispheres. At the bottom of the lower hemisphere was a layer, rather like grains of sand, which I knew represented the whole of humanity.
Suddenly from behind me on my left, the figure of a man in a dark suit (the God figure) stepped out towards the sphere, pointing accusingly at the human mass as he danced about in anger, voicing his rage. Meanwhile I pointed towards the empty upper hemisphere and asked him why the innocent ones could not be saved by transferring to the higher, empty hemisphere but I was ignored.
The sphere is portrayed in the dream as an enclosed environment, within which, mankind and all things exist, as opposed to being on the outer shell of a sphere, as it is conventionally perceived. Perhaps this is closer to probability than we imagine.
For an explanation of the sphere display, there is now serious consideration within quantum science that the world is not as we imagine it to be. Instead, it could exist in (what is referred to as) a ‘superposition’, e.g. a coming together and structuring of substance that we refer to as ‘sub-atomic particles’.
Moreover, this astounding coming together of substance (superposition), sits within an overall vastness referred to as ‘superspace’, within which, there is nothing at all but potential.
What is meant by this potential? This is defined in a later chapter but, is probably better explained in terms of the building blocks of our world –those dual natured little creatures that we referred to previously as, ‘sub-atomic particles’.
These particles have substance but can flip to their alter- ego wave form that has no substance at all (their condition of potential). Where has that potential gone? It instantly resides, sometimes temporarily, sometimes not, to where all potential belongs – superspace.
This 2011 dream came as a split picture. To the left it showed an angelic figure hovering above the pristine world once left in the care of humankind. To the right is the destructive new angel of technology, seen hovering above the greyer world of its own destructive creativity.
This dream is self-explanatory, inasmuch, that the angelic figure represents the natural and original world, whilst the new angel represents the world of technology that is damaging the planet and its creatures. It connects with Dream 26 of the ‘God’ figure’s anger and frustration over the destruction we have created.
This 2012 dream presented itself as though looking along a line of giant glass egg timers, marching back into the past. They were all full at the base and, empty at the top (time past). Whilst the final one representing the present, showed that its final dregs were just running out. The one ready to follow in the infinite continuance, now lay fallen and broken.
The general scheme of the imagery implies, that although time appears to flow like a river, it is really given in sorts of ‘egg timer’ allocations that are seamlessly activating one from another as smoothly as liquid flowing.
It also ties in with the first of the three dreams; the anger and frustration of the furious figure and the other, of the avenging angel with retribution in mind.
Silenced Wings (Paradigm Lost)
Though they lived on the ground,
they belonged to the sky
but, this couldn’t be
and they didn’t know why.
And a whispering voice,
that had long been around,
said “birds cannot fly,
they must stay on the ground.”
Then a solitary bird
appeared in the blue,
like a lark with a trill
that nobody knew.
The whispering voice
grew urgent and strong,
“The eyes falsify,
on the ground, we belong”.
Then it whispered again,
“let us caw the same ode
so that nothing disturbs
our familiar mode.”
What wishes to own will tell you it serves,
lavish and pomp for itself it reserves,
no matter the system, no matter its name,
bureaucracies play their time honoured game.
Societies fleeced, pockets are lined
by those that build palaces for their own kind.
Officialdom low and officialdom high,
burgeoning presences going awry.
The loss to the few whose motives are pure,
their credit enhances the other kind’s lure,
ingenuous populace farmed for a crop
by confidence tricksters that climb to the top.
Personal and Paranormal Experiences
There is an intimate connection between all events in this book that needs to be understood in that context and will be explained as it goes along.
My life is centred between the conflicts of the dark and the light ‘otherworldly’ influences. This may sound silly and primitive but the facts of my case prove otherwise. I always look for truths and when found, I factor them into who I am.
There are aspects of my life that have proved quite conclusively that there is indeed a divine force for good, also a satanic force, that on occasions will manipulate minds and physical environments to achieve its dark desires.
(Seek and Ye shall Find)
This continuing journey of mine into the unknown, tears up the ‘book of life’ as we know it, by proving the reality of satanic influence upon world affairs. By exposing it, I then became a threat. This truth was made evident to me by the vying infernal and angelic forces within which, I have been embattled all of my life.
In their wider context, these vying light and dark elements seem to emulate the mythical tales shared by all cultures – tales of beautiful angelic places, which then become enveloped by an evil darkness. There really is a truth behind this. It was a darkness such as this, that marked the fall of mankind and continues still, to pervade the brutal side of our nature. The divine battle however, to reclaim the light, is at last reaching out through the mists of time – to unite us once again to its pristine guidance of dreamtime – that divine messaging service of beginning times.
Holding this in mind, I should like to show how it has factored into my own, very strange life, one that could almost have been lifted from the manuscripts of J.K. Rowling’s ‘Harry Potter’. For in a similar way, something dark and infernal has hounded me since childhood. It knew that one day in the future I would pursue a mission that would expose its worldwide defilements. Furthermore, in this same seemingly fictional way, I also have an angelic protector that intercedes at the moment of my greatest peril. Although this must sound surreal, my experiences are utterly truthful and factual. Their implications concern every one of us. Life really is not what we thought it was, as a phrase from the ‘Star Trek’ series informs us.
There’s life Jim but not as we know it
There came a time in my life eventually, where looking back, I could see how certain happenings had been developing their driving forces within me, amongst which, were the horrors of the 1914/18 Great War books that I read as a child, then in later times, the Holocaust pictures that flooded our newspapers in 1945.
It was not until 1975 when the day arrived on which my mission and I finally met. It happened on a day trip to the war graves of the Somme in France. This was a defining moment in my life, a revulsion of all the evil and ignorance that unendingly brings life to be slaughtered in such places. It was made so much worse because the causal reasons had never been addressed. Though not without good reason, those answers always lay in places too dangerous for people to go. I vowed that day to address those causes and I stayed true to that task. The disclosures are now here in this book – it takes us back to that (lost in time) fall of mankind – to that dark branch in the road taken, away from our Creator’s dreamtime guidance.
I again mention, that it was through the utterly inconceivable means by which infernal attacks on me had occurred throughout my life, proved the ‘stage managements’ by an infernal entity, was therefore completely factual. In a simulated way, my own journey from childhood had been that of the 14th century Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ passage through Hades, complete at times with my own protective Virgil.
Moreover, from this conclusive evidence, we must surely ask ourselves if it is this same infernal influence that has always steered the hand of mankind into its wider, darker affairs.
Reaping the storm
I touched the nerve of an external malevolence when I exposed our unhealthy taboos and evils. This was then clearly displayed by the unnaturalness and fury of its responses and as it would have been, on anyone pursuing the same objective. For this reason, we can see why delusive beliefs maintain such long, secure existence and why light into those dark places, would need to be extinguished.
As I have already shown, it follows that in having achieved such clear evidence of demonic influence (with early pre-knowledge of my future) and the stage management of people and environment around me, it then raises the question of whether these infernal manipulations extend also, to the wider influencing of mankind’s darker side.
Images of Deceit
Every image from the past can be deceitful,
each one has many functions it fulfils,
for images through time have many masters,
gaining potency derived from managed skills.
Images are used for swaying nations,
collectivising thoughts for channelled flow,
such images express a specious promise
and demand returns exceeding quid quo pro.
The Journey into the wider knowing
My own life seems almost at times to parody that of Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’, that of Dante’s journey through purgatory towards the Mountain of Paradise with Virgil his angelic protector. In a strange but similar way, I also have my ‘Virgil’, for it is proved that I do have an angelic helper blocking the more lethal deeds of the purgatorial darkness that dogs my journeying footsteps towards the light.
A fitting analogy
These realities are playing out as though lifted straight from the annals of Greek mythology (time-slipped into the 21st century) where we, as mere specks within the general scheme of godly affairs, have been enchanted away from its benign creator by a dark and predatory entity.
A further anomaly explained
A social taboo that needs addressing, concerns the dark cloud of antipathy that most people have towards the paranormal. In reality, the supra-normal adept is still in part connection with its (ancient dreamtime) neural pathways. Whilst on the other hand, debunkers, charlatans and predatory control personalities lack this cerebral augmentation – this being due to their ability having become atrophied and therefore, having no active faculty by which it could comprehend the supra-normal.
Dark entity stage-management
My parents had six children but were only dark and destructive to their earliest two (my supportive elder sister and me). This starkly differentiated offspring phenomenon, continued to the end of their days in this ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ style but I got used to it and moved on with my life but in more recent times, I had a reminder of that past.
We were informed that my younger sister who lived in Australia (whom my parents had embittered against me), had fallen ill. My wife and I were living in Cyprus at the time so I sent a letter of sympathy to my sister but there was more to follow.
The shadow strikes again
Several weeks later, my wife and I were sitting on our patio when something monstrous happened within me. I was battling to retain my very soul and, as I struggled inwardly, the tears ran down my face and I said, “I will never leave this place, I am dying!” My wife was utterly nonplussed.
The following day, we had a phone call from Australia to tell us that my sister had died at the exact moment (allowing for the seven hour time difference) that I had her dying experience and words replicated upon me. It seemed that I could have been her last thought in enmity as she passed over. That would answer why my soul became so embattled at her dying moment. Nearer to the truth, this phenomenon really did carry that same ongoing ‘stage management’ of infernal influence upon it.
The effect of that psychic attack took several weeks to throw off, not psychologically, but something deeper inside trying to repair. I moved on from this, adding it to my other great variety of supra-normal knowledge, that despite the occasional fright, I do at least feel privileged to have escaped the perceptual blinkers of conventions mindset.
The Ancient philosopher
(Hand in Hand with the Physicist)
I know that my writings will be difficult for conventional thinking to accept, so it therefore seems sensible to gather support from the science of quantum physics. That should get us back on the solid ground of empirical knowledge and as far away from the quicksand of the paranormal as we can. Well, not quite!
here is a great deal written on the subject of particle/wave duality, whether it be the positive proton in the atom’s nucleus or its spinning compliment of negative electrons. Nevertheless, there had been an irksome secret hiding in there. This secret was brought into the open by the famous two-slot experiment and it has thrown a ‘spanner into the works’ of our safe little world of science.
In this experiment, particles (they have substance) are fired from what is referred to as an ‘atomic gun’ and aimed at a small board with two tiny slots in it. A fired particle will pass through one of those slots and travel on to a device, recording its arrival. In the meantime, because all this is happening at speeds beyond human perceptual abilities, the activity is therefore, remotely observed. This is where things get very strange indeed. The particles know they are being watched. We know this because, when the remote viewer is turned off, everything that is fired from the gun reverts to its preferred alter-ego waveform that has no substance. It then washes through the two slots at the same time, like water waves would do and it is recorded as such.
This discovery implies, that it is the conscious expectation of the viewer that causes the non-physicality of wave to take on particle substance and through that, particles then take on structural form. We are almost forced to conclude, that without an observer, there can be no physicality. Does that not have a very paranormal feel to it?
There is an aboriginal saying that we are the ‘dream being dreamed’. They were indeed aware of some (dreamtime) realities that we have since forgotten.
All things physical also have their ghost
I began that exercise into the strange activities of the sub-atomic particle because in doing so, the evidence reveals that subatomic particles, which have substance and of which all things are constructed, also have their own non-substance alter-ego ghost – their own cryptic metaphysical sibling. More to the point, through this evidence, we are then forced to meet the reality of our own non-substance metaphysical sibling. Trying to dodge this reality is not rational because the very make-up of our physical form is a matrix of those self same sub-atomic particles. It is a particle world, a yesteryear fiction now proved factual. We cannot help but be astounded at the kind of mind and reasoning that caused our real, non-physical self to find itself entrapped within palpable particle form and within which to remain, until particle atrophy releases us back to our real selves, that aspect of us that never dies but travels on.
We now know that not only are our physical forms a construct of sub-atomic particles, so are the foods we intake, from which we then build our physical body. Moreover, this particle matrix physicality of ours, then has a ‘shelf life’, which of course is at variance from one person to another. Therefore, the misnomer ‘natural death’, is merely our particle matrix ‘shelf-life’ loosing its bonds of connectivity. Its decay is the release of those particles back into general usage for other things. (All that is borrowed must be returned).
What then of the real person? Having now realised there is no such thing as death, the deceased discovers that its new direction has already been set by its own prior preferences; its own pre-determined mindset and towards that, it then flies.
The purpose to all my writings is to move us on into a greater reality and away from our destructive fictions. It is a journey into wider consciousness but, only for those who let go of their (shadow imposed) conventional mindsets.
On rare occasions, hyper emotions distort the fabric of acceptability
From the worldwide evidence of this incredible interplay between the human spirit and that of physical construct, logic must sensibly draw us into the wider understanding of this interactive phenomenon. For example, there are many published case histories where the hyper-emotions of a deceased individual can actually distort the physical fabric of accepted normality, hence, the occasional otherworldly thought-form poltergeist activity of a murdered individual. I know by personal experience that such phenomena are factual.
At the age of nine, I had an experience that connects with these phenomena. It implied that in some extremely rare cases, hyper-emotional stress could distort the fabric of accepted normality. Put another way, it can physically re-apply local subatomic particles to unnatural reconfigurations. In my very rare case, there had been a domestic background involvement.
The Shadow has its familiars
My father was prone to violence; he would kick like a mule and thrash like a threshing machine at every given opportunity, during which, my mother always remained indifferent.
I came up with a couple of solutions to this, neither of which proved very clever. One was to avoid returning home from school until everyone was in bed. On the first occasion, he was waiting in the dark, ready to pounce. He screamed as usual, like an enraged bull and danced about thrashing furiously with his leather belt whilst I, had the usual position with my pants down, bent over the settee arm.
The second idea was never to utter a sound again during his beatings. That was a learning curve for both of us. He thrashed with such gusto for so long without my response that he finally collapsed, open mouthed onto a chair. I realised, at last I had found a weapon against his ego.
Every household in our street would have been well aware of the sounds of violence constantly emanating from our house but, the fact that nobody ever commented, is also very strange.
During this period, I used to sleep in our dining room under a wartime, indoor Morrison shelter that also doubled as a table. One night, following one of my father’s violent episodes, I had needed a drink of water from the adjoining kitchen and although the dining room was pitch-dark, I could easily navigate it. However, what happened next gave me a very nasty fright; the kitchen door was not there to be found.
I checked the wall inch by inch all around, only to discover I was surrounded by walls with no openings. It was a long sleepless night and a relief when daylight filtered through the heavy curtains to reveal the return of normality. It was not a delusion! Even at my young age, I had developed a good grasp on practicalities and, was certainly not somnambulistic.
In later years, following the full evidence of satanic influence, I realised that it had been that same destructive effect also at work in the above account.
One extra for the night
To begin this rather unconventional event, I need to move back to the 1930s.
For a brief spell, my parents sent me to stay with my grandmother at an isolated cottage in rural Shropshire. I remember overhearing that my father was on his way to collect me for return to London, so for that reason, I left my bed when all were asleep, then wandered out of the cottage to hide in the pigsty, joining the sow and her young. Of course, all was revealed at the sow’s early morning breakfast call.
Blown out of shop: the Shadow fails again
When I was about four years old, my father sent me to some newly built local shops to buy a packet of cigarettes (five Wild Woodbines). On the way home, I noticed a new open fronted shop with a large pool of water on the floor and as I had my Wellington boots on, meant it was an opportunity not to be missed. During my dance of excitement in the water, some of it had obviously soaked the nearby heavy electrical junction boxes. The explosion that followed literally blew me out of the shop and onto the pavement, whilst cutting off electricity to the local housing estate.
It was not until I got home that I noticed my hair was hard and fused together, my clothes were singed and, my skin was bright red.
It did not raise much interest with my mother and, the stutter had gone within a week.
Angelic helper takes control
At the ages of eight and seven, my sister and I found ourselves at the side of an excavation (later verified) 40 feet square and 12 feet deep. It had been completed ready for a public house to be built but all such work was suddenly brought to a halt at the onset of war.
Within a few months, the excavation had filled with eight feet of water and, it was not long before the local boys had a small raft floating on it and cajoled my sister to join them. That seemed to go well, until the boys started to rock the raft and my poor sister (who could not swim), fell into the water.
I have no idea what possessed me, as I found myself projected towards the raft, making a magnificent high dive and hitting the water – with my arms proficiently flailing towards my sister. Seconds later, we were back on dry land. It all happened so quickly that it seemed utterly unreal, particularly so, as I had never known how to swim or dive.
We spent the rest of the day walking the streets, trying to get dry. To arrive home wet would have meant trouble.
Necessity, Mother of Invention
Following that episode in the water, it was obvious that I should learn to swim. For that, I had the help of my friend’s ‘Hotspur’ comic. It contained instructions on how to do the Australian crawl.
I got hold of a long plank of wood, and raised it up on house bricks at both ends. Then, lying along the length of it, I started going through the rhythm – three beats of the legs to each reach of an arm. After several days (and many sore places), I felt ready for launching.
With my sister as the Safety Officer, armed with a broom handle and a length of string tied to one end, we went off to the local Grand Union canal. I am sure it was a big struggle for her with such a heavy body on the end of her fishing pole. However, she did very well, keeping me near the surface most of the time whilst I performed the magical arms and legs motions.
A few days later I felt the time had arrived to go solo, so my sister cut the string. It turned out to be better on the canal bottom than I had expected. After all, I had not lost my breath and, swimming underwater proved rather easy but it gave my sister a shock when I came out of the canal on the other side.
After that, it became my unaided, underwater swimming place and was always quite safe, although I am quite sure I would have drowned had I tried it on the surface. It took another few months before I became reasonably secure on the surface.
That same year, my father took my sister for a ride in his early 1930s car (its doors opened from the front edge). He had been speeding amongst other traffic along an arterial road with my sister at his side, when ‘mysteriously,’ her door flew open and she was ejected out, into the path of the following traffic. The story my father told my mother later was, that he had neither been aware of the door suddenly opening, nor that my sister was no longer beside him, so for that reason, had driven on for several hundred yards before noticing her empty seat.
When he did eventually turn back, he found her laying in the gutter, battered and scraped – minus her shoes – where the force of the ejection had rolled her and, saved her from the wheels of the following traffic but he never took her to hospital – they would ask questions.
Again, it was not until I was much older that I was eventually faced by irrefutable evidence that all these past destructive attempts upon me and my supportive sister, had been steered by infernal influence. This awakening followed events that were so astoundingly unnatural that they brought clear confirmation of ongoing otherworldly tampering.
The Guy Fawkes experience
Due to the war, there were no longer any fireworks in the shops. Nevertheless, a neighbour kindly invited my sister and me to his back garden bonfire, with a little bit of extra fun thrown in. The little bit of ‘extra fun’ turned out to be some gun practice. Firstly, a 45mm Webley revolver was proffered to my sister; the recoil, as I later discovered, was enough to have knocked her over and the bang was enormous, with stabs of blue flame spitting from the sides of the chamber and muzzle.
The next gun, which was handed to me, was a ten bore muzzle-loader of ancient origin and loaded with black powder and shot. My sister had sensibly declined the offer, so it was up to me to maintain family honour. Luckily, there was a wall behind me, otherwise the gun and I, would have left the area to some distant place and, done so at the same speed as the ammunition coming out of the other end.
Next, it was the neighbour’s turn. He double charged the gun but, when he pulled the trigger, it blew to smithereens. Shrapnel flew everywhere and the man stood there screaming – with a hand missing. All its elements were hanging down around his wrist. I ran for help to the outer road and scoured it for the rare telltale telephone wires leading to a house, indicating it had a house phone. Finding one, I knocked at the door and a woman answered.
I appealed urgently for the woman to phone for an ambulance as a man had just blown his hand off. She told me indignantly that it was a ‘private phone’ and shut the door in my face.
I cannot quite remember how he got to a hospital, but to my amazement, they did a remarkable re-assembly of the man’s hand and in later years, he was using it again.
Shadow fails, but others benefit
At about the same age, I was tagging along carrying some fishing tackle behind my father and his friend as they made their break-of-day tramp through the soaking wet grass of a gigantic field. My father, who was wearing his friend’s fishing waders had dry, warm feet and was laughing at everyone else’s predicament. So it continued, with everyone’s attention on their feet. The many cows kept moving out of the way unnoticed, as we moved through them. Suddenly, that all changed!
We were forced to raise our eyes to something huge that was not moving out of the way. It was a gigantic brown and white bull, scarcely fifteen feet away from us. The animal’s head was held high, so that its inflamed angry eyes could look at us from beneath a metal reinforced board that was strapped across its face. This bull was a killer! The purpose of the board was to close off the creature’s vision when it lowered its head to charge.
Time stood still as both prey and predator waited for the first one to move. It happened when the three of us exploded sensibly in three different directions at once, each heading for their own distant unreachable hedge. The bull detonated into a screaming, ranting nightmare as it danced around in circles, ripping great chunks out of the ground. Then it stopped, lined up its first quarry and thundered after it.
Even at that age, I had instantly worked out the game play. To survive, one has to keep changing tack at the strategic moments. It enraged the bull even more each time it arrived at the impact point – only to find the prey missing. Many times in turn, one of us would almost make it to the safety of a hedge to leap over, only to be cut off by the bull and forced to head back into the wide-open spaces.
That was amongst the longest days I had ever known. Fortunately, each one of us finally found a fence to leap; the last to do so was a bit slower than the rest, because he was wearing long fishing waders!
Shadow and its familiar - continuing
I was about eight or nine when my father and his friend went on another one of their camping fishing holidays and I was again, taken along to help carry some of the equipment. They had decided to fish the River Conway and visited its estuary first whilst the tide was out, to see if the Salmon were on the move. This entailed a long walk out over the densely packed growths of mussel beds to reach the seawards racing river stream.
We had all kept our shoes on over the razor sharp mussels. When we reached flat wet sand, my father said it would ruin my shoes and told me to leave them on the mussel beds until I returned back to shore. I thought that was a bit strange, because they kept theirs on.
After a while, the tide began turning fast and treacherously, so they started running back to the shore. As he went, my father grabbed my shoes and ran off with them. This left me in great danger; within minutes, the tide would carry me away. That barefoot race in rising waters to the distant shore, lacerated the soles of my feet and a few other places but, at least I had survived.
Strangely, my father’s friend had seemed not to notice anything unusual.
Satanic influence fails again
Afew months after my experience on the mussel beds, my father purchased a second-hand American cement mixer, sited in an open field where it could be worked on. It was an unusual machine, having a small opening on one side through which, ingredients were delivered from a mechanised hand activated skip device. A hole of the same size on the other side of the great drum provided the exit place from which the finished mixture could be extracted.
My father had started a raging fire within the drum to loosen the hardened concrete and then threw water in to cool it. With that over, I was the next part of the plan and was instructed to climb through one of the small apertures with my hammer and chisel then told (as he left) to “get cutting”.
After a while, I repositioned myself a little and the drum turned slightly. This started the engine running because my father had not disconnected it from the drum, as it should have been. It quickly built up speed and I clung on to the mixing blades for dear life. One slip and I would have been hacked to pieces. After about fifteen revolutions, the petrol ran out. Although soaked, battered by concrete chunks and covered in filth, I had again beaten the odds.
Dark desperation, leads to another
On one occasion in the early morning hours, I was ordered to our kitchen. By the side of me on the linoleum floor rested a bucket of water, several bars of Sunlight soap, a cloth and a scrubbing brush. “Get scrubbing and don’t miss an inch,” ordered my father and, that is how it went without a break until late evening. By then, the top and bottom floors had been scrubbed a total of seven times. It would have been more, had I not made an escape up the stairs.
My father was soon hot on my heels, brandishing a stair rod from the stair carpet; it had become a ‘do or die’ situation. A first floor window offered the only available escape route, so I leapt through.
Not daring to return, I slept the late September nights in the local wood, covered in leaves. My older sister kept me supplied now and again, with smuggled out jam sandwiches. Eventually, a friend and I decided on an adventure to the River Thames at Gravesend.
On arrival at our destination we were immediately awed by the mighty river and more so, by the prospects that lay ahead of us. We had come too far to get ‘cold feet’ and, certainly for me, there was no going back, so we got on with the business at hand.
Having accessed the quayside, we surveyed all the possibilities that seemed to favour our plans, and made a decision.
We spent the remainder of the daylight hours resting, in preparation for the evening’s adventure. It was very dark when we returned to our selected place at the quayside and could see the Tilbury lights twinkling across the vast expanse of black water, so the prospects ahead took on a frightening feeling but there was no turning back!
Having carefully edged our way towards our bollard at the side of the quayside, we checked to make sure the all important rope was still tied around it and hopefully, somewhere far below in the inky darkness, there was still a dinghy tied to the other end. Then I slipped over the edge and down the rope, feeling occasionally with my foot to see if the dinghy had been reached.
Finally, my foot touched the gunnels of a little boat and with my friend following, we were soon sitting in, what turned out to be a small, leaky old tub with no oars. We also had six inches or so of water in the bottom soaking our feet and, an old tin can that needed no explanation.
We cast off with great care, not to lose our hold on the quayside timbers, gradually pulling ourselves towards a derelict motor torpedo boat that we had previously noticed. It had a dinghy upon its deck and some oars that it was about to lose.
A short time later, complete with oars that were a bit too long, I directed our little boat towards the Tilbury lights and pulled on the oars. Meanwhile, my friend baled furiously to keep the water at bay and raise us a little higher out of the oily black waters.
The target we had set for ourselves was a very large ship, anchored about a quarter of a mile offshore and half a mile downstream. My strategy was to row in a straight line towards Tilbury whilst the flow of the river would be pulling us seawards. By this method, we should eventually arrive at the rear of the ship. It had not crossed my mind that the tide could easily have been going the other way, which, with the benefit of hindsight, might have proved a great deal safer.
The over-long oars made progress much more difficult than it should have been, so it seemed an eternity before I could finally swing the boat seawards and in line with our distant target.
Since starting out, barely a word had passed between us, because our lives depended on total commitment to our equally important jobs.
All we had to do then was leave the penultimate stage of our plan to the river current. Our ship was now easy to see; it was lit up like a Christmas tree but this could disappear within a few seconds in the event of an air-raid warning, as would the distant shore lights from either side of us. Without those lights, the surrounding blackness would soon deny us all reference to ship and shore.
With the current doing most of the work, we had time to reflect on the frightening possibilities of our position but, it soon became much more serious. The fast approaching ship had begun growing at ‘mind boggling’ speed. To counter this, I quickly swung the dinghy 180 degrees until it was pointing upstream and then rowed for all I was worth against what had now become, an ebb tide. The procedure did little to slow our speed as we closed in on the ship’s stern. It was probably the glaring lights from the ship, that had prevented us from seeing the other disaster that was waiting, until it was almost too late.
My friend was first to notice the white froth at the rear, of what had become a monstrous vessel. It was now scarcely fifty yards in front of us with the gap closing fast and we were soon staring at the blades of two enormous propellers that were slowly rotating like giant egg-beaters and into which we were centred. The following seconds were a blur of controlled activity as I strove desperately to redirect the dinghy away from the propellers.
We hit the rear edge of the vessel with a bone jarring crash just a few feet from one of the propeller tips. The impact was so violent that it threw us in a heap at the bottom of the dinghy, losing the inboard oar in the process.
It was from this position that we saw the vast rising cliff of steel above as the current pulled our dinghy around the ship’s edge and along its great length.
Where were all those ropes and ladders that always festooned the sides of the galleons in our comics? Without them, how were we to board this vessel and start the great adventure we had planned?
As speedily as it had come, the mighty ship retreated from our vision and then disappeared completely.
We were soon in the fairway of a great river that was discharging its pent-up waters seawards behind a receding tide. Using our solitary oar like a canoe paddle, I made what progress I could, towards the side of the river from which we originally came. The only things that now indicated its presence were the distant twinkling lights that quickly diminished in number as we headed towards the sea. An over-blanket of low, dark clouds had now shut out any light that may have come from the sky. Then, in what seemed a remarkably short space of time, the mist blotted out all the shore lights and it became so impenetrably black, that for all we knew we were already at sea.
We began to have some disagreeable feelings of sensory deprivation, apart from the feeling of gravity. Even that played tricks at times. Having been separated from all our usual auditory and visual references – it seemed like a black cotton wool limbo land where time stands still
All through the night we paddled and baled like automatons, until at long last, a faint lightening of the sky gave enough vision to take stock of our surroundings but, all we saw were the low grey clouds and murky waters encircled by mist.
Hours later and to our right, we saw the vague outline of land peering at us through a break in the mist. We were ecstatic and surprised to find ourselves at the side of the river that I had hopefully paddled towards throughout the long night. However, hopes had to be put on hold, because as more light and less mist were to reveal, there was only deep, treacherous mud as far as the eye could see.
The paddling continued as we hugged the muddy shoreline, pulled along by the current. It was the sharp eyes of my friend, that noticed the rickety ‘Heath Robinson’ wooden causeway that led landwards across the mud. A dredger, sitting low in the water was moored at its river end and the current was carrying us towards it.
As we got closer to the dredger, it became apparent that we would arrive beneath a porthole at eye level, so eventually we could see right into a cabin. Its interior was lit by a hanging lamp, which swung from side to side with the motion of the vessel revealing a man fast asleep in a chair. We made contact with a loud crash and saw the startled man leap to his feet. As anger would no doubt be quick to follow, we hastily scrambled on board and down the rickety causeway towards terra firma.
Disregarding the receding shouts of the angry man behind us, we revelled in the feeling of something firm beneath our feet that wasn’t constantly rolling about, although, it took time for our wobbly sea legs to get the message. We knew there would be a marathon walk ahead but that was a minor concern after our previous experiences.
Naturally, the details of our miraculous escape were the only topic of conversation, amongst which, was that of the ship’s excessive height out of the water. This was finally resolved to our satisfaction that it was unladen and the rotating propellers accounted for, by mechanical repairs being undertaken. Another possibility we reasoned, was that the propellers might have been put into reverse, to help compensate for the tidal forces imposed on the anchors.
It was late that evening when at last we reached a point where we could board a train for home and slept for the first time in 36 hours in the station waiting room.
Taking courage in ‘both hands’ (not that there was really any available option), I returned home and luckily, nothing was said. Neither, strangely enough, were there any questions as to how my time had been occupied during those missing weeks or, the police informed of a missing child, so it remained my secret.
In later years, I traced the progress of our little boat. It had drifted past the Halstow marshes during that night and finally made landfall on the Isle of Grain. If we had missed that dredger boat then we would have entered the open sea and soon swamped.
The Shadow’s Familiar, fails again
One weekend, because there was no school, my father drove me to a timber yard where he instructed me how to use a paint spray gun and start the electric air compressor by the side of it. After that, I was shown the timber to be sprayed with pink primer.
“It needs to be thinned,” he remarked, producing a can of petrol, which I remember thinking as he left, was not a healthy combination.
It seemed to go well, until later, when I got a bit careless and the lid on the quart of paint container (affixed to the top of my spray gun), fell off. It dumped a quart of petrol-thinned paint on top of my head and I changed colour from head to toe in a sticky mess. Goodness knows what people thought as a strange, sticky, pink figure made its three-mile journey home but at least I had escaped becoming a human torch.
I was peeling potatoes on a sunny day in our garden, unaware that a German V1 rocket with fuel now exhausted, was silently homing-in on our street. It arrived with a violent ground shock and a bang that deafened the ears, followed by a blast of air that took the glass out of the neighbourhood windows. At the end of our road, a great black oily column was rising swiftly like a living, animated monster, twisting and turning skywards. I never did find my peeler or the potato.
It became common to see the noisy V1s scooting over us on our way to school. Sometimes they ran out of fuel and started circling downwards which naturally, frightened the whole district because in circling lower and lower, one could never be certain who was going to be its victim, until the big bang went off in another place.
On another occasion, when my friend and I were camping, we had an unpleasant close-encounter with a V1. We had risen early to find ourselves enveloped by dense fog that would take a while before the sun burned it off. Suddenly, there was a loud swishing sound, followed by a large fog-free area opening up in front of us through which passed, a large, black, ground-hugging form of a gliding V1 bomb. It was scarcely a hundred feet from where we had just dropped flat. Oddly, we never heard a sound from that moment on. It must have been picked up on a vagrant breeze and travelled on a very long way without exploding when it came to earth, otherwise we would surely have heard it.
Wartime men create wartime boys
My war zone was at home and a place to keep away from whenever possible, so for that reason I had to introduce some fun and adventure (often misplaced) into my life in the wider world.
For several years, I had earned a few pence occasionally at the local scrap yard, sorting bottles by colour –ready for recycling. That changed when I made a big discovery whilst wandering through the local fields. I found an old shotgun practice range; its dry sandy soil was thick with spent lead shot. The price board at the scrap yard had shown a very high price for lead, so I was in business!
I carried kitbags of the stuff to the bottom of my father’s junk filled builder’s yard, where I had built a small rudimentary furnace out of house bricks where a fierce coke fire was burning. A big old iron pot sat on this into which, I poured the earth/lead mixture. I kept stirring, until the heavy lead melted to the bottom and then disposed of the earth floating on top of it. I then scooped the hot lead out with an old soup ladle into the hollow sides of dry, house bricks. Staying as low key as possible – it became quite profitable!
For the sake of adventure, a friend and I used to make occasional appearances into the local army camps by worming our way through their barbed wire entanglements that were designed to keep the dreaded enemy out. We used to do the same at the local fighter aerodrome, so that we could chat to the pilots who were seated ad-hock outside, close to their fighter aircraft.
In case the airfield was attacked, some Spitfires and Hurricanes were dispersed away from the airfield in small asbestos-walled hangers that were disguised to look like domestic properties and fool the enemy, therefore avoiding the bombers. Nevertheless, my friend and I (the dreaded enemy) occasionally discovered a hole through which to creep.
Not many young boys could truthfully say they had actually sat in a Hurricane or Spitfire. All the same, we were always seriously mindful never to tamper or remove anything from these revered craft.
In the same way that adults influence children into smoking, adults blowing things up, encouraged young boys to do the same. I am sure that was our excuse!
This activity did cause a few problems, to the extent, that our local paper issued a warning to parents to keep a watch on the antics of their young boys, because too many experimenting boys were being blown out of garden sheds. I remember reading it and thinking that they must be amateurs. After all, my friend and I had been making bombs for ages. We used the thin spaghetti-like contents out of 303 tracer bullets (that always seemed freely available) to make our bombs.
My friend Trevor (now Trevor Baylis CBE), made a cannon in his garden shed and loaded it. It worked perfectly, except for that slight miscalculation that blew the neighbours chimney pot off. We were all playing the same games!
Time moves on and we must follow
Nineteen forty-seven was the worst winter in living memory and building workers had to be laid off. I was fourteen and had just left school, so my father put me to work on his building site in the middle of a wide-open field to paint window frames.
I only had summer clothes on and day after day, the biting wind kept reducing me to tears. What kept me going was the thought of the promised one pound a week wage from which, I might start buying something warm to wear but when I was finally paid, my mother took it, giving me only two shillings and sixpence back. “You must buy your own clothes with that from now on,” she instructed and, that was how it remained.
Once again, I had beaten the odds. I was obviously too fit to be finished off through exposure to the elements.
The infernal, was not short of imagination
There was a roof slate and a gutter to repair on a three-storey high structure opposite the Southall Town Hall in Middlesex and, my father said he was allergic to heights. Therefore, with the ladder in place, I was sent up. Having reached the top I then had to crawl up a sloping slate roof without any further ladder.
Scarcely had I begun when I was halted by voices from far below.
“Get that boy off that roof!” screamed the people. It seemed that most of the Town Hall employees were out to castigate my father and get me out of danger.
I once made the big mistake of joining my father’s business partner in a moment of fun. My father had just decorated a house wall and said it was finished. His partner said that it needed another coat of paint because he could still see the wall through it. I then added with a smile, “You can see the house next door through it!”
My father exploded like a wild creature and kicked me so viciously that it lifted me off my feet and into a nearby corner. His partner took no notice.
I did not feel safe there, so I walked the twelve miles back home.
It is always with reluctance that I have to raise these domestic matters but do so, because they carry such a degree of unnaturalness that I am again, forced to recognise the hand of infernal influence in these events.
Battle of opposites, Angel wins
I escaped that family house eventually at the age of sixteen, after pestering the P&O shipping line Head Office in Leadenhall Street, until in probable desperation, they allowed me a place in their mercantile training school at Gravesend. My parental agreement signature was obtained by a ‘little sleight of hand’.
I became part of the ship’s company in time and went off to Hong Kong on the SS Corfu – but that is another story.
National service claimed me at the age of eighteen and eventually, to another near death experience.
Our regiment had arrived at a simulated battlefield training ground. During that exercise, I was given a message to deliver to our Commanding Officer and directed with my vehicle, along a dirt track to a high hilltop point, where his tank had been positioned.
On arrival, there was no tank crew, which seemed rather strange, so I parked my vehicle to one side of the tank – the lucky side as it turned out! Army engineers had mined the other side and had neither set guards nor informed anyone. The mine detonated as I was getting out of my vehicle.
When all the dust and downward falling lumps had subsided, I found a crater big enough to hide a tank’s profile from attack (in a real war) which of course, was the purpose of the exercise, whilst also allowing a tank’s armaments to pick off distant targets. However, I would not be writing this had I parked on the other side of the tank.
Angelic wins, the Dark loses,
The years moved on into a life of my own management, though still in the sights of something dark. It revealed itself again at a time when I was driving a car along a narrow road with a deep, tree-bordered ditch to my left. As I approached a blind corner, two racing vehicles, one trying to overtake the other, appeared right in front of me. Blindly, I threw my vehicle hard to the left and found myself mysteriously unscathed in a cornfield, having passed over a narrow, unseen concrete ditch lid and through a heavy wooden farm gateway that had been left open. It was almost as though I had been expected!
I begin Psychic investigations
I was fortunate in finding a psychic medium, Ann Martin, who ran an effective psychic circle. She proved to be a very pleasant and patient lady, which was probably just as well because I soon became a rather disturbing influence to the former tranquillity of the circle. Well, it was not completely my fault! Figures of people that only I could see, kept entering my vision and I did like to share the experience with others in the room.
On one occasion in September 1997, I described an unusual looking man, in fine detail. “Is there a light behind him?” enquired the medium, which I affirmed. “Then ask him to walk into it,” she replied. I did and, the vision obeyed then disappeared.
On disclosing this, I was told I had just done my first ‘spirit rescue’.
The following day, the detailed description of the man I had seen in circle was pictured in our daily national newspaper, amongst the people killed in the Southall train crash.
Another, rather startling experience occurred when the medium asked two of us within the circle to stand facing one another. For a second or so nothing happened, then I began to feel something trickling up the inside of my legs as though they were hollow; it began to grow in force, flowing up through my body and out through the hands which had now elevated inadvertently until pointing at the face of the person in front. The bigger surprise came when I noticed something developing some six inches in front of the face before me. Instead of being frightened, I felt quite excited about the experience. Eventually the development began to take on the features of a disembodied face, which still retained my fascination, until its fluttering eyelids revealed eyes that were trying to obtain focus on mine. I felt that was going a bit too far, which changed my mood, dissipating the energies, until everything returned to normal.
Another interesting experiment conducted, was that of sitting behind another person who was standing within the circle and then, through force of mind, cause that person to move off balance in the direction that you wanted it to. The purpose of this exercise was to show that thoughts always get to where they are sent and, in some circumstances, can achieve a physical effect.
It was due to all the evidence gathered in that circle that enabled me to have deeper understandings of other psychic events in later life.
Reality opens its door a little wider
The healing dream, (Dream 19, Chapter 2) also produced another interesting encounter some years later, whilst my wife and I were living in Dorset. It proceeded from a visit by a lady one Friday evening, enquiring as to whether I did remote healing. I told her that I did and, requested a photograph or personal object of the person if possible.
The following day, she produced a distant photograph of a man and woman in front of their house in South America. She told me it was her ex-husband, now remarried but that they remained the best of friends. However, he was now very ill. She then handed me an old hunting knife, telling me that he used to be a professional hunter.
Later that evening, in my study, I commenced the remote healing process to a man living seven and half thousand miles away. In my right hand, I held the knife, which links me to the man in picture form; with the left hand, I direct healing and can feel its activity.
By the end of the week, I had a phone call from the lady informing me that the man had suddenly made a great improvement.
“Was that on Wednesday?” I asked.
“Goodness! How did you know that?”
I knew much more!
On that Wednesday when the man’s state of health had suddenly improved, I also had a surprise visit from a spirit in limbo; it came in the form of a deep, dark shadow in front of me with a bleached, white human skull centred within it. It was a very clear message. A dark deed had been committed and a body left, lost and unclaimed. I was not frightened by this experience, because I already had a fundamental grasp on such phenomena, having dealt with it previously in circle work – rather like the previously mentioned spirit rescue phenomenon in the Southall train crash. For some silly reason, on that Wednesday night, I had declined intervention but it would return to haunt me. On the following Friday evening, the healing took a dramatic turn.
My wife had been quietly sewing in the room next to mine when I interrupted her as I rushed noisily out of my room. The sudden smell of a rotting corpse had made me take flight. This was a spirit in limbo, bringing more evidence to support its case. Holding our noses, we then opened the patio doors to the fresh night air and put the suspect hunting knife outside.
The next morning before the lady arrived for her items, I placed the knife and picture on my desk; the air bore no trace of the previous night. I then went for my morning coffee. On my return I was again greeted by the miasma. The lady arrived later for her items and I had a list of happenings for her to look at.
By then the miasma had dissipated and I read off the information that had come to me from that far away place of her former husband.
“I saw a man on an operating table; everyone around him was in white.”
Lady: “He had just had an operation and in that country, surgeons still wear white,”
“Who owns a light brown horse, its dark mane brushed down to its right?”
Lady: ‘He did, many years ago when he was a professional hunter’.
“Who might the lady be that I saw with black styled hair and white nightdress?”
Lady: “It fits my sister’s description; she is staying there to help out.”
‘Who do you know with startlingly blue eyes?”
Lady: “That was a feature of my ex husband, that cannot be seen in the picture!”
I related the miasma phenomena to her but not my conclusions.
Money was offered but I declined as I always do. The lady left with my findings in hand, saying she would be seeing her ex husband and his wife within a week or so, then would phone me from there and bring me a present on return. As she left, I told my wife, that if the gentleman I was healing gets to see my notations, he will not be pleased and we will hear no more from the lady – and we never did.
That evening in my office, I was suddenly confronted by a white mist, which cleared to leave me standing on a theatre floor left of stage, to look diagonally across to the right of stage wings within which, stood the figure of the limbo spirit who had needed my help. There was bright light behind him and wispy white figures helping him out through the curtain wings and into the light.
I remember thinking afterwards how it all fitted together so well. ‘Life is a stage and we are but actors upon it’ and at the end of our career, we must, as others do, leave the stage through the wings for the very last time.
Remote viewing of Willow and Sable
Very early, on the morning of Tuesday 6th January 2004, we received a delivery from a company in Leeds. It was not until four hours later we realised that both our Siamese cats, Willow and Sable were missing and, must have jumped into the back of their van.
Clairvoyantly, I received a view from the back of the vehicle in which our cats were trapped, as it proceeded away from our house, which gave me the direction in which they were being carried away. Then I saw a small stream with a railway line parallel to it. This concerned Sable as I was using her collar whilst doing psychometry. For some reason she was out of sight but, the feeling of her terror was palpable; I got exactly the same picture and feeling, on five consecutive evenings and she was still out of sight.
By now a national search was under way because the vehicle had made twelve other deliveries across country on its way back to Leeds but the delivery men remained in denial about the cats.
Using Willow’s collar, I saw his view of someone’s kitchen or dining room and could see a dresser with coloured chinaware on it. I got the word ‘BEDE’. My wife tried to find this on the internet, thinking that it might be a place where the drivers had stopped along the route but, to no avail.
We had a report that schoolchildren had seen an unusual, light coloured cat, thought to be Siamese, about three quarters of a mile away where they caught their school bus. Although it was pouring with rain, we proceeded to that place immediately and with torches, made our way on foot. After searching, calling and whistling for about an hour, we finally heard Sable’s weak ‘meow’ above the sound of the storm. It took quite a while to find a break through the hawthorn hedge and then backtrack towards the distressed cat. Eventually she was discovered deep inside a great mound of rotting pieces of wood in a deserted area. It was little wonder I could not see her during clairvoyance. The brook next to her (which I fell in to), was in spate and her place, flooded.
We later discovered that on the further side of the adjacent field, there was a railway line running parallel with the brook. Despite having this information at hand, it never crossed my mind to consult the local map. Had I done so, we would have found her within a day.
Sable was so emaciated and terrorized that it became apparent that she had not budged for the eleven days. It proves that clairvoyance also expects one to use their intelligence and I, obviously had not.
My wife was driving back from the village Post Office to put a poster in about Willow when on the off chance, decided to call at a house that she was passing, just to spread the word about him. To her surprise, they reported that their neighbours had seen him in their garden the previous day (Thursday 15th), so she went to see them.
The neighbour confirmed that she had seen him and furthermore, their cat’s food had started disappearing at a rather unusual rate, so it seemed that Willow had become a ‘cat flap raider’. They also had a dresser with coloured chinaware on it.
When my wife reported the event to the Post Mistress later, she replied “Oh yes, I know that couple, they live at ‘Bede’s Meadow’ which used to be called ‘St. BEDE.” We were new to the village so had no knowledge of this and there was no house name on the gate, so remote viewing had also proved precognition.
Following a feature in the Western Gazette, we received a telephone call from a couple at Henstridge, approximately 6 miles away. They had seen an unusual cat in their area, so we drove there and searched for hours but to no avail.
Later that day I held Willow’s collar again and clairvoyantly it came up with one particular cul-de-sac and that Willow, would be there at 8:45 that evening. If my wife whistled once, Willow would come to her.
When we arrived at the designated time and place, we were blissfully unaware (as indeed was Willow), that we were within twenty feet of one another. Then my wife gave one whistle. He ‘exploded’ out from under a parked car with enough noise to alert the whole street – which it did! This was also featured in the Western Gazette.
Four months later, a young woman deliberately killed Willow with her car, driving onto our grass verge at two thirty in the morning. We then placed a sign indicating that our Willow had been killed at that spot by a speeding car.
The following morning at the same time, a car raced to a halt outside our house and an ugly raucous female voice awakened us, screaming out ‘Willow’, then laughed and drove off.
In 2007 we moved to Paphos in Cyprus, where I continued to help people find their lost pets. One such case was for a dog called Holly, belonging to a couple living in Peyia. She was missing from 17th to 20th January 2008.
Looking through Holly’s eyes
I collected Holly’s play ball and this allowed me to see things that Holly had during her wanderings. When I later phoned the dog’s owner on his mobile, he was already searching an area where a woman had phoned him to say she had seen his dog.
I told him that Holly was at a place recently, where she had seen a tall, slim, fair-skinned woman with a small rust coloured dog.
Man: “That’s strange, it fits the description of the lady who phoned. She met me here with her small rust coloured dog.”
“Holly could see a large crowd of men surging forwards from one place to another.”
Man: “I’m by the side of a football stadium, where men have crowded in for the game”.
“Holly also saw an old abandoned car, its colour is a faded, light mauve.”
Man: “I’m finding this difficult to understand, I’ve just passed the old car you’ve described and it has no wheels.”
“Holly also saw a man in a black suit standing on white aggregate.”
Man “He is still there, in the distance.”
“I can see Holly now with other dogs and someone with a white medical coat, so my feelings are that she has been taken to the dog shelter called ‘Paphiakos’”.
Man “These places have been checked and nobody has her.”
I advised him to check again with the Paphiakos, which he did. Holly had indeed been taken there – where staff wore white coats. There had been misreading of Holly’s microchip but, when the confusion was cleared up, Holly and family were reunited.
I was never thanked, as there seems to be a need in most people to distance themselves, from (what they consider to be) abnormalities.
Milo on the move
Milo was another Cyprus cat that had been missing for several months. I borrowed some of his toys and after using psychometry for a few days, assured the lady that he was alive and well but because he was a wanderer, I would dowse for his location using a local map and rule on edge.
For this process, I laid the map out on a table and with my eyes closed at all times, scanned over it with the rule. Every time I felt the rule stop, I pencilled across at that place. Then the map was rotated and the process repeated several times. When I opened my eyes, every line had crossed on precisely the same spot.
I told the lady, that this was a place where a woman called Margaret, an artist who had her own paintings hung on her walls, had seen Milo.
On arrival with Milo’s owner, at the spot marked on the map, she knocked at the door of a corner house. She carried a picture of Milo in case the house owner had seen him. We discovered that she had and, that her name was ‘Maggie’ (Margaret). Furthermore, she was an artist and had her paintings on the house walls.
Milo was never reunited with his owner, he had left home because he had been frightened away by another cat but, I could still track him; he was quite content living with one of the many feline colonies and fed by the occasional kind lady.
Sometimes help comes too late. Ozzie’s owners brought one of his toys to me, so that I could use it psychometrically to locate him. By this method I clearly pictured him walking along a garden path and, into a garden shed within which, he became trapped.
The following day I commenced psychometry at the very moment that Ozzie had made his escape from the shed and ran for home. He did not make it! I got pulled into the death scene; he was struck on the right side of his head by a speeding car as he crossed a road. This is still very hard for me to deal with.
I had been sitting in my chair when, at that instant my head was jerked violently to the right, as though startled by something from that direction. I was further shocked by a loud, clear, woman’s voice shouting, “Stinger!” If a cat could talk, then ‘Stinger’ would be its descriptive word to explain the impact pain but I was astounded, when it came in a woman’s voice. We are infinitely more integrated with our fellow creatures than we have the commonsense to realise.
Clash of the Titans
Many years ago, I emigrated to the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia and married my English fiancé who arrived after several months but an astounding thing happened to me in the sea a few years later.
I had taken up surfboard riding and had been doing so safely, for several years. That is, until that day when I would meet my nemesis.
There were just a few other board riders on the beach when I arrived; they were scattered here and there in the cool placid shallows, as I was soon to be, whilst my wife preferred to watch from the dry sand.
There had been a vicious cyclone during the night that had left the sea so ragged and violent that all ships had been kept harboured in port. There would be no board riding that day or venturing any closer to the sea than these shallows. Then the impossible thing happened!
I was just about to leave the safe (below-knee) shallows for the dry sand, when I was seized by an unnatural force from above the water level, which hauled me seawards into the violence and just kept going further and further. I hung on to my board for dear life, even though I knew death had already claimed me. Nobody could survive in that maelstrom – not even for a minute but, something else knew otherwise. Time had no meaning anymore, it was as though it had stopped. Then miraculously, a smooth, rolling board-rider’s wave, obeying its own laws of physics, came smoothly through the chaos towards me. It took a major act of courage to let go of my life support and jump on it. That same unbroken rolling wave, carried me on through the surrounding violence for about a quarter of a mile, right back to the beach. I wondered how I could have found myself that far out, in what had felt like, a few seconds.
My wife and some landside board-surfers had watched everything. They said they had given me up for dead and could not believe the miracle they had seen. I had another shock, when my wife confirmed I had been out in that sea for an hour.
With absolute certainty, that same satanic influence had again set itself upon my destruction but, with equal amazement, an angelic influence had decided otherwise. My time in that sea had taken place within an entirely different time frame. This display firmly puts the reality stamp on both the dark and light entities.
I am Not That Easy to Kill
My life was saved again whilst working 18 floors up on a new high rise building in Surfers Paradise. We were constructing a walkway that extended beyond the outer walls of the structure. This was the top exposed slab, ready for the next floor to be constructed. During this process, a long length of timber that was supposedly secured, gave way beneath me and, I slid out into open space. I would have continued had it not been for the fellow workman, quickly taking hold of the other end.
Luck rubs off on others
After returning to the U.K. five years later, I was walking with my wife and her father along the main road pavement at Virginia Waters, when I saw a speeding vehicle mount the pavement in front of us. My wife and her father were so engrossed in conversation they had not seen the immanent danger. In a lightning move, I literally jumped them off their feet sideways and, we all lived for another day.
Early morning encounter
My wife and I were living in the London suburbs at a time of a rather strange encounter.
We had been asleep in the dark hours well after midnight, when Cita, one of our Siamese cats, awakened us with her yowling at our front gate. So feeling brave, I asked my wife if she would like to investigate.
Our bungalow was situated in the corner from which two roads diverged away from one another at 90 degrees and where Cita had taken up position to defend her property from something that had angered her. My wife hurried out to join the cat and the approaching scene that disturbed it.
A young lady was approaching with arms outstretched and, moving forward, as though guiding the black cat in front of her. As she reached the street lamp near our gate, my wife realised that she could not hear any footsteps from the girl. Her clothes were of expensive 1920s fashion, with black high-buttoned boots. Although the girl came quite close, neither she nor her cat, seem to be aware of my wife or our yowling Cita, who by this time, was ‘boxing’ in the air as if to warn off a predator. They then bore sharply to the left along the other road.
We did some research the following day and discovered that the land, before the houses had been built, had a large mansion on it in the nineteen twenties that served as a school for well-to-do young ladies. We also discovered on the local map of that time that a deep ditch had run across the outside of our gate and then parallel to the right of the path the ‘apparition’ took, as she disappeared into the distance. Therefore, in her alter-world she had finally turned away from our direction to avoid the ditch in front of her.
Written at the time:-
A voice was on the night air rung
and spoken in the Siamese tongue,
Its sound upon the quietness broke,
upon my mind thus I awoke.
This urgent tone quickly worsening,
called to mind my Siamese nurseling,
so curious what my kitten faced,
I stumbled from my sleep in haste.
Soon the door was opened wide,
to find me in the night outside
and there beneath a street-light sat,
my kitten and a large black cat.
But something else moved in the night,
with soundless feet towards the light,
It was a lady, of some substance,
I stayed no less, though with reluctance.
For what was elegance and grace,
doing where it had no place,
with clothes a hundred years out-dated,
we were sharing times unrelated.
Her arms reached out unnaturally,
towards the silent cats and me,
I saw the large black cat respond,
as though the two of them belonged.
Then she turned with arms out-stretched,
her cat went too, though it were fetched,
they wandered outward from the light
and then away towards the night.
She came it seems, to guide its paws,
back through times re-opening doors
Forces and influences beyond the ken of mankind
My wife and I went to our local theatre to see the band of the Blues and Royals concert. It was a cold evening, so the police stayed in the warmth of the theatre. This rather annoyed me at the time and I said to my wife, “They should be doing their job properly and checking the outside perimeter to protect us from the IRA.” As usual, it was a fine concert but the next morning, our neighbour’s dog Honey, whilst sniffing around, discovered a bag with 27lbs of Semtex explosive; its timer had malfunctioned.
This was the largest bomb ever planted on the British mainland at the time and had it gone off, there would have been no one left to bury.
Sociopaths bent on murder
In 1995, my wife and I visited Cyprus to attend a friend’s wedding and hired a car. On the way to our hotel, we were held up by a traffic queue behind two huge tankers. Eventually our car was in position to overtake and the gently rising hill in front of us was clear, apart from a car that was too far in the distance to be a hazard, but once committed, matters began changing rapidly.
The tankers were tailgated and travelling at top speed, whilst other cars behind had blocked any opportunity of returning. Then our position changed to critical; the man coming towards us had deliberately speeded up, as though on some kind of pathological suicide mission.
The two tanker drivers at the side of us were aware of our plight and could have saved us. The cars behind them could have opened up a gap for us to return into but did the opposite. We were being deliberately trapped in all directions by sociopaths. How we managed to save ourselves was nothing short of miraculous; the final escape almost had our paint scraped off on either side. We never forgot that killer driver coming towards us; his face was transfixed in suicidal determination.
Something angelic had again interceded on our behalf and induced an unnatural calm both during and after the event that had made us coldly focussed, without the slightest sign of nerves – even afterwards – and that was very unnatural.
As for the psychopaths, each one saw our predicament and could have saved us but were collaboratively trying to kill us. That is an impossible happening in a civilised place, without the intervention of something evil having exerted a concerted influence over all the drivers. There is nothing new here. It can be seen quite clearly amongst these pages, where the same dark side orchestration of people and events recur and do so, in much the same astounding way as it did in the beginning times with the manifestations of my parents’ ‘Jekyll & Hyde’ alter-egos.
The dentist and the helper’s warning
I paid three thousand euros in advance, to a Cypriot Hospital’s dental department to have screwed-in type titanium dental implants. It was not until the surgeon began to work on me that I discovered he had other ideas. He started banging the implants in, instead of screwing them.
“I prefer my method”, the surgeon informed me as he then banged some titanium plugs into the insert holes. At the age of eighty, the constant impact made me feel disorientated, but at least, it seemed the worst was over. However, the plugs fell out on the way home.
The hospital arranged the next appointment for two days later, but by then, the gums had encroached so close to the open holes that when the plugs were banged back in, they splattered parts of the gums. I went back and forth for weeks and was suffering severe headaches. Then I had an ‘other-worldly’ warning.
I came down for breakfast one morning and found a pencil sharpener on the table. When I picked it up to put it away, something rattled inside, so I opened it. My wife and I were stunned! One of my titanium plugs dropped out. Then I discovered the plug was missing from my mouth. Something ‘mysterious’ had removed it whilst I was asleep and placed it in the sharpener and as I have said before, I am not somnambulistic.
I realised that I was heading for some serious harm if I allowed that surgeon to continue, so I never returned to that dreadful place and the money was lost.
Drugged, saved unconscious from the sea
The experiences I was subsequently subjected to by foreign authorities, are rather too brutal for reiteration here. Again, my angelic helper intervened.
Right of Passage
As I have already mentioned, Plato castigates us for our unworldly choices, whilst many centuries later, Dante (13/14th century), produced the solution to Plato’s observation. It came in the form of Dante’s Divine Comedy’. Its narrative describes Dante’s descent into hell with his guide Virgil, where he must face all the most evil features of human nature and hideous inflictors. There was no other road by which, to reach and ascend, the mountain of Paradise and be at one with his God.
Naturally, Dante’s lower Inferno place is a complete fiction but, it did fill a lot of pews at the time, as it did again in times later, with Botticelli’s descriptive painting of Hell and its warning, ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’.
After dismissing the Dante fiction, it must be looked at again, this time for the genius of its psychology because, Dante’s purging descent into the inferno, delivers us (vicariously), the mirror image of our very own vital journey; one that directs us away from our dangerous comfort zone ‘reality’ fictions and into wider conscious awareness – an expanded sense of perspective.
Out of the ‘Ether’ messaging service
I finish by describing a clever directional pointer that remained in my mind recently for several days. It arrived as two words, ‘Popol Vhu,’ which made no sense to me until it was checked on Google. It indicated, that ‘Popol Vhu,’ was the Maya story of mankind’s origins, saying that in beginning times mankind was taken over by the feathered reptilian serpent lord, a creature referred to as ‘Q’ uq’ umatus’, who then raised mankind to dominance, bringing about rituals, structures, fortifications, thus tribal strife ensues. This serpent belief is common to all cultures and, most probably related in some way with the ‘Fall’ of mankind in beginning times.
There is much more to the reason that I had been drawn into the Mayan story of our origins. Because their story reiterated what I had already received in my predictive dreams years previously.
My Dreams linking with Popol Vhu
My clock dream face was blackened on one half from 12 downwards (2012)
The Popol Vhu indicates that our planet intersects the black road at 2012
My three dreams, concluding with the end of time broken ‘egg timer’.
Popol Vhu, at 2012 Earth enters its destructive singularity phenomenon
The Mayan calendar predictions are associated with the Earths processional drift (its gyroscopic motion) that completes its 360 degree rotational process every 26,000 years and, at this point each such completion, is represented by an alignment of our mid-winter solstice sun with the galactic centre. This processional point on the year ‘2012’, arrives as Pisces ends. We have then entered the Age of Aquarius, which Popol Vhu describes as, entering the black road; the repeating 26,000 year destructive singularity phenomenon and states, ‘time ending’.
By the same author:
For other information written or recorded by Colin Brookfield please refer to the website:
where everything is listed with links, at the bottom of each page:
The Satanic Conspiracy
The Curse of Ignorance
Pet Safety Doors
The Ambivalent Gene (Parts 1 and 2)
Cyprus Animal Welfare (Anne Brookfield)
Texte: Colin Brookfield
Bildmaterialien: Colin Brookfield
Lektorat/Korrektorat: Colin Brookfield
Übersetzung: Colin Brookfield
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.08.2016
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