Note: And, for the backstory, read this post, all the way through, or you’ll miss what I’m trying to say.
It is 1:14 am, February 4, 2012, the very day Neptune moves into its home sign Pisces for the first time in 164 years and remains there, until 2025. Much will change. Its first hours in Pisces has me up and roaming, after two hours of sound sleep and then a vague nightmare of some kind that woke me up. It may have been the sound of some kind of machinery coming from the house behind that produced the nightmare and woke me up, because I heard it (again?), when I was lying there, nearly paralyzed, in “fright.”
It’s happened before, this feeling of being paralyzed. Not recently, and this time was not nearly as “bad.” Just a subtle feeling of being “afraid” to move a muscle, which faded within less than, I guess now, in hindsight, a minute or two.
The first time it happened — oh no, I just realized, not the first time, as there were plenty of times when I was married in my 20s, and my husband was gone, and I fantasized a bogeyman outside the bedroom window and had to talk myself out of it — so I’d say no, the worst time it happened to me, the fear, the paralysis, was on a night after I had divorced him when I literally found myself unable to move for hours upon hours.
I was, at the time, 27 years old, and had just returned, was “coming to” from my first (and strongest, deepest, most world-view shattering) “out of body” experience, though I didn’t know to call it that then. All I knew was that while lying there at night, in the hypnogognic state that precedes sleep, with all senses shutting down one by one, all of a sudden it was as if a trap door opened in the middle of my brain, right behind my forehead, and unleashed a wall of electricity, like lightning reverberating inside my skull which then, just as suddenly, whooshed down into the rest of me so that my entire body was buzzing, electrified, and, as you can imagine, terrified.
Then, the top of my head seemed to open, because, all of a sudden “I,” my consciousnesses, my awareness, whooshed out and up and was circling below the ceiling of my room above my body on the bed, and then, just as suddenly “I” shot out the closed window and up into the night above Cambridge, Massachusetts, above the Charles River, Boston, out, out out into the black night faster and faster and faster and oh my god, I must be dead, I thought, I finally managed to think a thought, and still going out, out out, until the fear became so overwhelming that “I” stopped, turned abruptly 180° and started back, back to Earth, propelling faster and faster until once again there were the lit up towers of Boston and the winding Charles River and the trees in the yard, and through the window circling the body and whoosh, back in through the top of the head.
That’s when I lay there paralyzed, for hours. What was that?
Okay, back to now. About an hour or so ago I woke up kinda paralyzed, not bad, nothing like that one time. But clearly, the body . . . there is this physical/emotional part of me that involuntarily feels fear when undergoing certain experiences. Fear that I can only observe, and, eventually, absorb, and go on.
Okay, so why this post?
Well, I spent the entire day yesterday, along with hundreds of other people all over the globe, waiting, waiting to see if the “scouts” had gone to and returned from the good ship “Neptune.” Say wha . . .?
That’s right. On the day Neptune was making that all-important transition into its own sign, I was waiting for a sign that the mothership called “Neptune,” parked somewhere nearby in the solar system, was going to receive both myself and all the other people who were to be “picked up” in black limousines and taken.
We had had three days notice. That’s all. Three days to prepare ourselves internally for a ten-day trip to “Neptune,” in which we would be introduced to our star brothers and sisters and to each other.
I know I sound “crazy.” I am not crazy. Even now, I await another “sign” that the black limo will arrive sometime tomorrow and “take” me and my dog Shadow, to return in ten days.
If this audacious experiment that was set in motion by Steve Beckow, bless his heart, works, then we will have occupied Disclosure. Us. The people. The people with nothing to lose by doing so. Only Beckow’s reputation is “damaged” if it doesn’t happen. No other big branded light workers are affected.
If this audacious experiment works, then at the end of ten days, we will return and hold a press conference. Together, en masse, with all our animals.
I’d advise you to read all the posts that relate to this Voyage to the Stars on the www.stevebeckow.com site, and to then keep abreast of it there, as there are some people who work with him that will be “remaining behind” and hopefully, will have communication from Neptune (the ship, not the planet). Meanwhile, this is my final post for this week, as I am again taking two days off — at least, and perhaps my final post for ten days!
You’ll know that I was picked up by the black limo if I don’t return to posting here on Monday.
(Of course, there’s always the off-chance that the black limo actually belongs to some kind of black ops CIA operation, that “they” are picking this easy — and profoundly clever — way to get rid of us all! If so, you’ll know that too, when I don’t return. Period. Ever. Once again, fear. Fear of the unknown, starts to grip my body. Once again, I observe, absorb, and move on.)
My son Colin might be posting here while I’m away. Or not. He’s also going to be present when whoever it is picks me up — and will photograph the occasion, including license plates. But as he told me over dinner last night when we were commiserating with each other over the fact that the scouts had not gone on their short jaunts — and so the whole thing might be a joke, maybe there was no need to pack after all — he also told me that if he sees a black limousine slow down and park in front of the house tomorrow (now today) that the first thing he’s going to do is shit in his pants. Exactly! There is no way that we earthlings can, without working with our bodies and the feelings lodged in them, open to the otherworldly experiences that await us when we let go of earth’s gravity — without shitting in our pants. At least not at first!
Just so you know. It’s not that I don’t feel fear. Of course I feel fear. It’s what I do with the fear that counts.
So, on balance, you should know that my heart, mind, and spirit are all deeply, intensely, interested and excited to be going on this trip. And that even if the trip does not take place, or is postponed until later, I am deeply, intensely, interested and excited to do my part in “Bridging Above and Below” (the motto of this expermaculture site).
So. Until Monday, or until eight days later, or until forever, I remain your faithful, if a bit absurd and quirky and silly and philosophical observer and commentator of the contemporary scene on Planet Earth.