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The Wave Chapter 45: The Gulf Breeze

The trip to Gulf Breeze was all Frank could talk about. I had the idea that we would drive up in my van, split the expenses three ways, and we could park the van on one of the great beaches up there and camp out with sleeping bags. Frank would have none of that! He would have a hotel room or nothing.

OK. Well, I couldn’t afford a hotel room. But Frank pointed out that S** could. She had a large inheritance from her father, and Frank decided that she ought to fund this trip. As he pointed out, S** had certainly been providing printing supplies, paper, ink, and tapes to me for the sessions and printing excerpts and copies of sessions. Why shouldn’t she pay for a trip to Gulf Breeze?

I didn’t like it, but Frank said, “If we don’t go in style, I ain’t goin’!” And I most definitely wanted Frank to go! “Just let me handle S**,” he assured me.

I didn’t want S** to have to discuss this with Frank alone, since I was already certain that she couldn’t see through his little manipulations that I generally swept under the rug when he tried them on me, and made every effort to protect other people from them. (Again, I was waiting for Frank to come into his own, and I tolerated his flaws until he did, which I was sure he would eventually!)

After Frank had made his proposal to her in a more or less direct way, which could not have been faulted, I mentioned the fact that my idea had been to drive up and camp out to save money. S** thought my idea was more fun, but Frank again interjected that he wasn’t going to go if he couldn’t stay in a hotel.

So, S** said, “Sure! That would be fun! We can just all share a double room!”

“Nope!” Frank declared. He would not go if he couldn’t have his own room. I could see the chances of going to the conference and distributing the magazine dwindling. But S** agreed. Sure, she’d pay for two rooms if that would make Frank happy.

However, that wasn’t all that Frank wanted. Now he announced that it would undoubtedly be cheaper all the way around if we were to fly up instead of drive. I could see the chances of going to the conference and distributing the magazine dwindling. But S** agreed. Sure, she’d pay for round-trip tickets for the three of us.

And Frank just beamed with delight.

At some point during the magazine preparation period, S** made an offhand remark about her relations with several people that I knew to be deeply involved with ritual magic and other unsavory activities. I was surprised. After all we had learned so far, didn’t she think it was a bit dangerous to be hanging out with those people? S** explained that she really wasn’t hanging out with them, she was being paid to do therapy with them. It was purely and simply a business relationship.

But she knew that this was the same group of people who had previously tried to harm me, and I felt a tremendous sense of betrayal. I knew I couldn’t ask her to give up a massage client in solidarity with me, but I certainly hoped she would.

Having this sudden revelation just before our trip did not make the prospects all that pleasant for me. But, I was committed to getting the magazine out, and that was that.

In addition to the storm that was brewing in regard to S**, it was becoming very evident that our involvement with Pam was far more complicated and problematical than I had ever anticipated. We had started the project at the beginning of January, and already I was becoming unwillingly embroiled in Pam’s control games with her children and her dying husband. The whole family dynamic had presented itself in the beginning as so very charming and loving. As I spent more time with them on the magazine project, more and more secrets – ugly secrets – bubbled to the surface.

It became clear that Pam had bought the print shop business in order to be able to totally dominate her children. It was also clear that her children, aged 20 and 17, were completely and totally irresponsible and undesirous of being dominated. With a dying husband and mounting medical bills, Pam had also endeavored to exert controls on her children by buying both of them expensive new cars as well as a 40K sports car for herself so that they could maintain their images as “business owners.” Patrick and Shayna, the children, thought that the print shop was their personal bank and that it was supposed to finance their every whim – even without completing the many orders that were placed by their customers. They would take initial payments on large business orders, close the shop and go out to eat and party and sometimes not return to the shop for days.

Pam laughed at this in an indulgent way for a while. But then the bills began to pile up, the investment income from her other sources began to dry up, and her husband’s pension and inherited trust fund payments were not nearly enough to keep up the car and insurance payments.

And, angry customers became more and more frequent, making Pam embarrassingly aware of what her kids were doing when she wasn’t watching.

Pam was at her wit’s end. She would be at home, caring for her husband, and would call the shop to see how the kids were managing things, and find that it was closed and they were gone. Little by little she confided to me her concern over Patrick and his apparent substance abuse problems as well as her perception of her daughter, Shayna, as a flighty, promiscuous borderline mental case. Pam was constantly dragging Patrick to doctors for mind-controlling drugs such as Prozac and other antidepressants. She was convinced that if he failed to take his medication he would turn into a monster, and he would certainly fail to take his medicine if he did not have his mother’s constant attendance.

I was unsure why she felt this until she began to reveal that he had violent tendencies and had physically attacked both his parents on occasion, even throwing his father’s oxygen tank into the swimming pool. Pam had to call the police several times, but each time, she refused to press charges when Patrick would beg her forgiveness as soon as the police were at the door. On one such occasion, he had stormed out of the house and had taken her car and disappeared for two weeks along with her credit cards. It turned out that he and a friend had been partying in New Orleans, visiting whorehouses and eating in fine restaurants. She attributed all of this behavior to his failure to take his medication, and she was determined to keep him under her thumb; thus, she bought the print shop after he had expressed interest in the printing business.

Shayna, a more-than-plain girl with little but air between her ears, was proving to be a teenaged slut of the first order. She had picked up a very sleazy boyfriend at a nightclub who glommed onto her because of her fancy car and access to fast, easy cash. More than once I observed him brazenly opening the cash drawer in the shop and taking out money for dinner and movies for himself and Shayna, who was simply gaga that such a slick guy would pay her so much attention; never mind that he was doing it with the customers’ money and no work was getting done for that money!

Pam tried to control all of them and get the print shop to run, but it was a losing battle. I was practically desperate to get the magazine finished and Pam began to manipulate me to that end. She couldn’t get to my magazine (which had been paid up front), until other, even older, backed up orders were finished so I ended up spending many nights in the shop helping her get the orders out. But, we could only do that if Patrick showed up in condition to run the presses, which was problematical at best. He would disappear for days at a time, showing up bleary eyed and sullen with no explanation for where he had been or what he had been doing.

And worse than that, he was dangling after my daughter who was completely insensible to any warnings I gave her that she was being sucked into a black hole!

It was turning into a nightmare! My dreams of producing a magazine and getting it to the Gulf Breeze conference were rapidly fading, my daughter was being drawn into the clutches of a family that I was beginning to see as Tobacco Road incarnate, and meanwhile S** and her wicked-witch mother lurking like spiders in the background. I resolved to keep my cool, navigate these treacherous waters as best I could, and try to get out of this minefield with as little damage as possible.

Meanwhile, as if things were not crazy enough, another weird element was introduced into the situation. Against all odds and opposition, I finally had all the layout done, the copy was finished on the computer (I should add that I had to learn the program by doing it!), and we were ready to print. At this point, a man came into the print shop talking big money and big print jobs. He was a huge guy, over six-and-a-half feet tall, puffing a cigar and punctuating the verbal dollar signs he was scattering through the atmosphere with smoke rings. Pam and her kids, desperate for more money, hung on his every pronouncement of how he was the answer to their prayers; they were sitting on a gold mine in their print shop, and he was just the guy to turn every ream of paper to riches. I could see my magazine being shoved to the back room with every word.

Not surprisingly, all of a sudden, Pam and her kids were no longer interested in the magazine or anything but the promises of gold and glory being spun by the “mysterious stranger.” I couldn’t get anyone to answer the phone at the print shop, no one answered the phone at Pam’s house and I was feeling desperate again at the thought of all my hard work being locked up and inaccessible to me. At least my daughter seemed to be seeing the light and was distancing herself from Patrick. I counted my blessings on that one.

Then Pam called. Something was not right with the “mysterious stranger.” Things were getting totally weird in her life also! She needed to come and talk to me and she needed to ask the Cassiopaeans some questions. Well, finally! The light was shining through and everybody was going to figure out all the issues and start acting like human beings again!

As best I could make out from the very confused tale she recounted to me, this mysterious man was taking control of her son and filling his mind with promises of big money while, at the same time, not coming up with any money of his own to back up his big words. Not only that, but the stories he recounted to all of them about his experiences as an undercover agent were getting stranger and stranger. He claimed to have been a spy against the Nazis in WWII and he also claimed to have been single-handedly responsible for bringing down the Outlaws Motorcycle Gang! (This mention of the Outlaws Motorcycle Gang was a really creepy thing and comes up again. It was just another of the many crazy connections threading through this whole drama.) He also claimed to have been forced to divorce his wife and abandon his family to do this job, which was a great and noble sacrifice on his part, though no reason was ever given as to why this had been necessary. Further, after it was all over (and all this was supposed to have taken place in Tallahassee), he had remarried her, they had a child, and this child had convinced him to give up the cloak-and-dagger life, which was why he was now looking for promising businesses in which to invest lots of money. The only problem was, the money didn’t seem to be materializing.

He promised to show up with a large check to put down on a big job for Patrick that was going to be the start of their future moneymaking enterprises; however, this event kept getting put off over and over again. So Pam was becoming suspicious and thought that they were being taken for a ride by a con artist. She expressed this opinion to her son, and Patrick was so taken in by the man that he fell out with his mother and spent more and more time away from the shop, which meant that less and less work was getting done!

I really wanted out of this mess. But, I didn’t know what to do. I knew that Pam was not in any position to pay back the money I had already paid her to purchase the paper which was sitting unused in the shop. I knew I couldn’t just take my paper to another shop and get a similar deal where I could do some of the work for a lower cost. I also knew that I didn’t have the money to just go to any print shop and get the whole thing done from scratch. What’s more, time was growing short. If we wanted to have a thousand magazines to take to the conference, it had to be done pretty soon!

As it happened, the very day that Pam called me, right after she hung up the phone, the mysterious stranger did come in to the shop to reassure her that he would be dropping off some big money in the next few days. And he had his wife with him along with the child. The only problem was, as Pam expressed it to me when she called later, the child was only about 8 or 9 years old, and the woman was clearly in her 70s or thereabouts. The man, himself, didn’t look to be much over 40, so all the numbers regarding when he was doing what just didn’t add up.

Pam was mystified.

I was disgusted with the whole thing. I couldn’t figure out why Pam just couldn’t see that the guy was a con artist from the word “go,” and why did she keep dangling after him when he hadn’t put up a single dime?

Well, she came over wanting to discuss every detail of what this man had told her, every thing he had told her son, dates and times and just the whole scenario and it was so bizarre as to baffle the cleverest mind. He couldn’t be old enough to do all the things he claimed, and his wife wasn’t young enough to be the mother of a preadolescent child! It was perfectly weird!

Well, we decided that the guy was a complete fraud and con artist. I just wanted him gone and my magazine printed. Apparently, Pam had been ashamed to call me for advice without being able to produce something of what was supposed to have already been finished, and she had prevailed on Patrick to print the inside pages. So, Frank and I were invited to the shop the next day to get all the pages of the magazine assembled. Now, all that was left to do was to print the covers.

So the next evening, there we were, in the print shop after closing and the doors were locked. The presses were running in the back, and Patrick seemed to be more stable than usual. He was working hard and doing a very good job. I was thinking that things might work.

A knock came at the door.

It was the “mysterious stranger” just “dropping by” to say that he would be there with the “big check” in the morning. He was full of all kinds of apologies for having had to “leave town on a special assignment that was an emergency.” Never mind that he was retired from cloak-and-dagger stuff. They had had an emergency that only he could handle! Now he was back, and all would be well! Then, out of the blue, in response to no question whatsoever, he began to, point by point, give explanations for all the difficulties we had found with his story, including the fact that he was from a family that just simply did not show their age, even though he was now claiming to be well into his 60s. So, naturally, that explained how he could have been a spy against the Nazi’s and still look young enough to go undercover with the Outlaws Motorcycle Gang! His wife, on the other hand, had been horribly injured because of some of “secret agent” work, and that was why he had had to divorce her – for her safety – and when they remarried, she was still undergoing plastic surgery that “went bad” and that was why she looked so old. But she was really much younger than she looked! But, they had dreamed of a regular family and had gotten help with in vitro conception, even though she was still older than she should have been to have a child, while being younger than she looked, and so on and on.

No problem. Everything was explained. The only thing was: no one had asked any questions about these things or voiced their doubts and questions; at least not to his face!

Yet, he had just stood there and, point by point, in the same order we had discussed them, answered every question we had established as important in our private conversation of the night before. My back was to him as I listened, working on collating pages, and I can tell you that my jaw dropped to the floor when he started on this subject. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my skin felt like it was going to crawl off my flesh! I had the most bizarre sensation of time stopping and I almost froze in my rhythmic paper stacking motions; I had to force myself to keep working and to show no sign of surprise or curiosity.

Then, just as if he had done what he came to do, he gave everyone a cheerful good night and left! We all turned around and looked at each other with our mouths hanging open, our eyes as big as saucers, and said: What the heck just happened here?! The three of us could hardly speak. We could only sit and look at each other and feel like the laws of the universe had been violated somehow.

After a few minutes Pam breathed, “Jesus H. Christ! It was just like he had been listening to us talking last night!” And she was right. We called Patrick out of the press room and told him the story and he looked at all of us with disgust on his face and pronounced us paranoid. Well, maybe we were.

But maybe we had a reason to be. The next night, Frank was at his job, sitting at his desk, when he stood up to go to the water fountain. As he rose from his chair, he turned and looked at the window of the office building where he was employed, and there, standing and staring inside, was the mysterious stranger. As soon as he saw Frank stand up he began to move away as if he had just been “passing by,” but it was too late. Frank knew he was being watched.

He called me when he was home and told me. The main thing we couldn’t figure out was how did this guy know where Frank worked and what his schedule was? I called Pam to see if she had told the guy anything. It turned out that even Pam didn’t know where Frank actually worked! How did this guy know? Why was he watching Frank? Who was he and what did he want? How did he know about our private conversations at my house?! What was this deal about the Outlaws?

Pam had become so frightened by the incidents that she had called the local law enforcement offices to inquire and complain. The day after she did this, the man showed up and made vague, threatening remarks about how “traitors” were dealt with “permanently” and that guys in law enforcement always shared information with each other. He didn’t say anything specific, but was generally vague and indirect. Nevertheless, Pam nearly had a heart attack!

So, it seemed that some questions were in order. The next session was attended by a number of guests, including a friend that Lilly had brought. The Cassiopaeans were uncharacteristically sharp with S** and I was aware of all kinds of crosscurrents of energy flowing around the room. For some time, S** had been in charge of note-taking, and it was a constant struggle for me to work with her notes because she was careless and easily distracted. It seemed that the Cassiopaeans weren’t too happy with this state of affairs either, or they were trying to convey something to me through their remarks to her:

February 3, 1996

Q: (L) We have several questions tonight. Do you have any particular messages for anyone here first?

A: The need to deliver messages flows naturally, there is no way to “choreograph” it by requesting a specific “time” for this procedure. And, please tell S** to relay specifically when we place words in quotes!!!!! It is annoying to not get messages properly transmitted when it is important for each entity receiving to absorb every detail of the given messages as it is intended. We have up until now not said anything about this, in the hopes that she would learn this by herself, but alas, she has not. Therefore, we regret the necessary reprimand. Sorry S**, but now please be aware that you have been told, and do not make this error ever again!

Q: (L) Goodness! All I did was ask if there was a message for anyone!

A: But it is important for you to continue at the same steady pace.

Q: (L) Can I continue with the questions now?

A: Obviously, it is always possible to do all that you desire to attempt.

The following week I declined all requests for guest attendance. I wanted to deal with this issue of corruption of the channel, as I perceived it:

February 8, 1996

Q: (L) Last Saturday night we had a very large group of people here and I experienced very unpleasant sensations. I would like to know the source of these? Was the channel corrupted?

A: Not corrupted, diluted. Static EM discharge from two entity sectors.

Q: (L) Was this due to the presence of any one or more persons in the room?

A: One person but two entities.

Q: (L) Well you said, at the time, that Lilly had an attachment and needed spirit release, is this the same person?

A: You learn by answering, using your own learnings, not from ceaseless confirmations by us.

Q: (L) Well, I am obviously not learning too well, even if you have been telling me about my “amazing abilities” which don’t seem to be so amazing lately!

A: All who have amazing abilities must too guard against corruptive forces from within and without having to do with prejudice, assumption, and the anticipatory desires involving patterning presumption. i.e. keep an open mind, always!!! […]

A: First things first! Please, S**, try to be accurate! You were warned, S**! Please, please, please, please, when you call or cry out for help and or guidance, know that we will always, always, always answer. It is up to you to be aware and then trust and follow. If your deep seated stubbornness prevents this, it will result in nothing short of your total undoing! This is because we never give such warnings, except when Vitally necessary! This applies to all others present equally as well!!

Well, I was still trying to fit that square peg in the round hole! The Cs gave me the clue, and it was coded right into the remarks: “It is up to you to be aware and then trust and follow. If your deep-seated stubbornness prevents this, it will result in nothing short of your total undoing! This is because we never give such warnings, except when Vitally necessary! This applies to all others present equally as well!!”

Note that S**’s last name was “Vitale.”

Now, the reader has to understand the problem here. Sure, the Cs were telling us all kinds of things about agents and theological struggles between forces and that those forces act through human beings, and that people can be activated as agents and that everybody was controlled to one extent or another by a vast, bizarre system that was basically run by a sort of Evil-Magician complex; but having them tell us this, and apply it in our lives so that we made life decisions based on it was another thing altogether.

However, the situation was becoming unbearable at the time we made the trip to Gulf Breeze. I decided to closely observe S** during this time we were going to be together day and night and see if I could discover what, exactly, the problem was. I certainly did not want to jump to conclusions and exclude her if it was just a matter of personality. I have always believed that people can get along even if they have very different personalities, if they have some things in common, or at least a common goal. The question was: what was S**’s goal? What were her intentions? Why did she so eagerly seek to join our group? It had been gratifying, of course, to think that she was so excited over the material as she claimed to be; that she was truly being helped by participation; and that she was the most faithful attendee! But, was there a motive behind this that was not so benevolent?

Just prior to this trip, Frank asked me one day didn’t I think it was strange that S** had been involved with the Outlaws Motorcycle gang, and Pam’s agent had also been involved with the Outlaws?

I had never given the matter much thought. S** was adopted and really knew nothing about her biological family, but that was not the issue. At a young age, she had rebelled, as is generally considered normal, but her mode of rebellion was a little extreme: She became involved with a member of a notorious motorcycle gang!

Of course, by the time we knew her, all that was in the past. She had long been disassociated with them, had gone to school to become a massage therapist and had become actively involved in the local metaphysical community. She had experienced an “awakening” and “conversion,” and her declared form of service was to be a part of our group.

But still, as Frank pointed out, she could talk about mayhem and even murder in the most disconnected way imaginable. It was as though she had no emotion about it at all! This was very disturbing. Frank pointed out how on the several occasions when he had asked her questions about her experiences, rather than seeing them as dreadful, she talked and laughed about some of them, and she never seemed reluctant to talk about it at all! Frank drove home the point that this simply did not mesh with her reformed persona. How could someone decry the extermination of roaches, and pass off the murder of human beings as though it were nothing?

I had no answer, but Frank did. He was convinced that this was the root of any problems with the group. It was S** who was to blame for attitudes, atmosphere, strange connections that are too numerous to describe. But, most of all, it was now clear that this was the reason the Cassiopaeans would not be as forthcoming in her presence as they had formerly been. It also explained the reason they had changed the subject when I was talking about the Coral Castle and, instead, brought up the fact that S**’s background was unusual … all were clues for me to pick up on, designed to not violate my free will.

And exactly like the guy in Pam’s shop, no sooner had we discussed it, than something manifested to explain it or counteract what we were thinking and talking about. During the trip up to Gulf Breeze, all of a sudden, S** was a literal bundle of emotions. She more than made up for all the emotions she had never displayed before all in a three day period. It was as though she had been able to hear our thoughts and was now counteracting them. The thing that never, ever occurred to me at the time was the fact that Frank was the only one who was physically present at each conversation, following which the Matrix did its little two-step shift.

Tom French and Cherie Diez met us in Gulf Breeze for the conference. When we arrived after a trip that was probably more exhausting than driving up in the van would have been, we settled in our rooms and went looking for Tom and Cherie. There was a bulletin board in the hotel lobby where Tom had left a message for a rendezvous, and we made our way to the vendors to unload a stack of magazines to our friend who promised to distribute them.

Having done that, we attended a few lectures, met Tom and Cherie for lunch, attended a couple more lectures with Tom and Cherie, and at the end of the day, everyone went out on the beach for a UFO watch.

I have read that people who have visited all the most famous beaches in the world say that the beaches along the Florida panhandle are the finest in the world. I have to agree. They are absolutely gorgeous.

But, no UFOs showed up, and we finally retired for the evening, Frank to his private room, and S** and myself to our shared double room. I was soon asleep. And then, the dream.

I dreamed that there was someone far away, in a room full of people who were planning to do something to harm him, only he didn’t know it. I tried to get his attention and signaled that he should meet me in the next room. He followed me in there and I told him that I was afraid for his safety. He told me not to worry, that he would be all right, and that I should go back home and wait for him because as soon as he could make the arrangements and extricate himself from this danger, he would come to me. And then he kissed me. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I most definitely felt that kiss.

The only thing I can say about it is that it was like being Sleeping Beauty and being kissed by the Prince, because I woke up. Not just figuratively, but literally, too. I woke up and sat bolt upright in bed with the sensation of having been kissed still on my lips. I stared around the unfamiliar hotel room in bewilderment and heard S** snoring lightly. I reached up to touch my lips with my fingers as if by doing so I could detect some trace of who had kissed me. But there was nothing, no clue. Just an incredible feeling that something amazing had just happened. I laid back down and went back to sleep. I dreamed again. This time, I was with the man who had kissed me, though again, I couldn’t see his face. In the dream, my then husband came to me to ask me to come back to him, and this other man put his arms around me protectively and said, “She belongs to me. She always belonged to me. You were supposed to protect her until I came, and all you did was hurt her. Now go!”

At breakfast I shared the dream with S** and Frank, and later told it to Tom and Cherie. I still had the sensation on my lips of having been kissed. Now, as so many years have passed and I understand more – even understanding what “We are You in the Future” really means – I realize that this dream, this kiss was the appearance of the Cs at the UFO conference!

The flight back was a real doozie. We went through a major thunderstorm that there was no way to fly under, over or around. We just had to brace ourselves and the plane bucked like a bronco. I had to laugh because this was only the third time I had ever been on a plane in my life, and Frank had spent hours before the trip recounting all his memorable flights and how much he loved to fly. And now, he was popping motion sickness pills, looking as green as a tree frog, and I was having the time of my life.

Curiously, S**, who had been so terrified of getting on a plane on the trip up to Gulf Breeze, just slept through the whole thing. And lest you think I am exaggerating, at the end of the flight, even the Captain was green as he stood there shaking everybody’s hand on their way out. They were all thanking him for still being alive!

After we were back from the trip, V** came over and we decided to ask about this situation since she was there to take notes.

March 23, 1996

Q: (L) The first inquiry I have is our situation relating to SV, and the different clues that we have received, and the different observations that I have made myself, and the discussions or the networking interactions that we have had on the subject. Can you tell us anything in a general way, or do we really have to ask specific questions about the subject?

A: SV is storehouse of vital information, clue for you was in name, but you failed to notice!

Q: (L) OK, but SV …

A: This is why the frustration is for you; nothing of value comes without a price!!

Q: (L) Number one, SV has lied to us. Number two, it seems that she began to demonstrate emotional affect after we had discussed the fact that there was a serious lack of emotional affect after you had told us that these robot people are people who spend a lot of time alone and have …

A: The price, my dear, continues …

Q: (V) By continuing the relationship?

A: The Nordic Covenant was a duality.

Q: (L) SV comes from that area where that Nordic covenant, what is it, Minnesota, she’s from Minnesota? Oh, I never made that connection! Holy Frijoles! “Nordic Covenant was a duality” … so, when you made mention of the Nordic Covenant, and the banking scandal, was that a double-layered statement to us?

A: Maybe, but you are missing the point! All persons of Nordic heritage hold secret power centers, can be of darkness, or of light … SV is of Teutonic bloodline leading directly to such super power source such as Thule Society and others, and she is aware of her powers and mission. It is of positive orientation. However, you are being tested by 4th through 6th-density forces to determine if you have the strength and wisdom for continuance!

Q: (L) The whole thing just doesn’t make sense … I mean, with that nasty red aura she has …

A: Red aura needs much further study on your part. Your sources for such information could be deceiving you.

Q: (L) Well then …

A: And we are the Cassiopaeans, but it is of your will to live as you desire.

Q: (L) Well … Then why was she told by you guys, that if she didn’t do certain things that it would lead to her total undoing?

A: Go back and study that message again, with assistance of tape, and with mind open to all angles. Check intent, however, malice is in absence. Notice the difference. The duality of covenant!!!

Q: (L) Well, Frank is of Nordic extraction. Is he a member of this covenant, also?

A: Maybe.

Q: (F) If so, it’s news to me. [laughs] (L) Do you say she is aware of her mission?

A: Some are.

Q: (L) Is her mother something in the way to block her from performing her mission?

A: Mother is inconsequential.

Q: (V) Her mother, her adopted mother … inconsequential. OK, so does …

A: Curious how background is murky, yes!

Q: (L) Yes, that is curious. (V) Something tells me that this can go further … (L) Well, yes, but they were also talking about her birth, and her adoption, and all that kind of thing in another session. Stuff that’s so unclear, she doesn’t know anything about it, and claims she doesn’t. So strange … Is SV a “walk-in?”

A: Not correct terminology.

Q: (L) Well, then what is the correct terminology? What is SV?

A: Birthright.

Q: (L) Now, what does that mean?

A: Discover.

Q: (L) Are you saying that when we make mention of the Nordic Covenant and the Thule Society, that there’s some possibility that SV has been programmed, or has layers of programs, and that some part of her program knows what she’s doing, and maybe other parts don’t?

A: Yes, but this is not a negative thing.

Q: (L) OK, now let me go a little bit deeper. Could SV be what you described as a robot person, but programmed for a positive purpose?

A: No, robot “people” do not have bloodlines.

Q: (L) So, this is something that’s programmed genetically in a bloodline?

A: Not exactly, those that have the bloodline have the corresponding soul alignment.

Q: (L) We are talking about a genetic bloodline that activates certain abilities and genes that interface with the corresponding soul that has prepared for this manifestation of the bloodline?

A: Yes.

Q: (L) Is there any significance to the fact that SV spent all of those years living with the Outlaws Motorcycle gang and this covenant?

A: Yes, and that is what has led and is leading to the destruction of the “Outlaws,” a group associated directly with 4th-density STS.

Q: (V) Her presence there caused them to break up? This was a good thing. Is this what is meant here? That her presence was uplifting to them? (L) Well, it’s not uplifting them, it’s breaking them; they are all going to jail!

A: Yes and because of circumstances planted by “Agent SV.” This is why the perceived lack of emotion connected with that whole situation. Vitale is the bravest human you have ever known! All evidence to the contrary is veil; part of the testing process.

Q: (L) If we’re being tested, why are you telling us? (V) So that you do not fail?

A: Yes.

Q: (L) Is SV aware that this is going on?

A: Vital that you do not fail.

Q: (V) Is SV aware that …

A: Yes.

Q: (V) Is there a pivotal word that might break this open to a clearer understanding?

A: Discover.

Q: (L) Now, when we were flying back home, and we were flying through that storm, was that storm, which began before we left, and we flew through it on the way back, was that a byproduct or bleed through of a battle between the forces?

A: Yes.

Q: (L) Was it trying to harm us in any way, because we had to fly through it, and couldn’t fly over it? I mean, even the pilot was worried, and he had been flying for years!

A: Yes.

Q: (L) What brought it to an end?

A: Vitale. Notice how “unaffected” she was?!?

Q: (L) I told you that the whole thing about being scared was a fake! (F) Yes, she was scared on the way up, when there was nothing to be scared of, and on the way back, when we were bouncing around like a pinball in a pinball machine, she’s sleeping, I’m getting sick, and Laura’s going “Ride ’em, cowboy!!” [all laugh] (L) OK, so how are we supposed to react to this situation?

A: Up to you.

Q: (L) OK, we knew that was coming. It wouldn’t have been a good night without it! (V) Some things never change, huh? (L) Well Frank seems to think there’s a whole lot more there in terms of background than she was letting on. Is that correct?

A: Maybe.

Q: (L) Well, OK, I’m going to trust you guys, and I’m going to go with the flow, and I’m going to assume that you are right, and I’m going to assume that this is for the best and for the good, and I’m going to stop my knee jerk reactions, and stop worrying about such things.

A: Suggest you look before you leap. All can be wrong in their quick judgments, whether the result be acceptance or rejection. All is not as it seems … Remember, those that come into your group, or your circle of influence can be different than you think.

Q: (L) You said we were being tested. Tested for what?

A: Continuance.

Q: (L) Continuance of what?

A: All.

Q: (L) Continuance of all. OK, and we are being tested through SV?

A: Currently.

Q: (L) Are you saying that what we have been considering attacks were just tests?

A: The ones associated with Vitale. And no, all with that name are not of this orientation, but this clue was installed for you.

Q: (L) Are you saying that SV is our fourth-density Nordic?

A: ?

Q: (V) Maybe just by the purpose of her being, she’s vital for you!

After the end of the session, I read over the notes quickly, and noted that, in response to my acquiescence to the idea that S** was a positive being exactly as the Cs were saying, the Cs had said: “Suggest you look before you leap. All can be wrong in their quick judgments, whether the result be acceptance or rejection. All is not as it seems … Remember, those that come into your group, or your circle of influence can be different than you think.”

I realized suddenly that their high praise of S** had been so exaggerated that I was supposed to catch the fact that the truth was the exact opposite of what the Cs were saying. I knew that I was so uncomfortable with the situation that I simply wanted to find a way to bring our association to an end amicably and without any ugly confrontations. With those thoughts firmly in mind, I asked for the Cs to come back and comment.

Q: Hello. Are you there? I am not comfortable with this information about SV. It seems to be contradictory to everything I can observe and feel.

A: Hiklu Cassiopaea. Worry not further! Discomfort is not necessarily danger, and is indicative of growth and learning. So, proceed and celebrate!!

Apparently, I had passed the test. But there were so many more yet to come!

I was beginning to get the idea that there was a lot being said to me that required study and contemplation. Obviously, getting the truth through the Matrix was not so easy. I was beginning to feel like a spy in enemy territory needing to decode messages that were double and triply encoded.

And it was Vital to succeed.