I’ve gone from place to place tonight seeking genuine places to seek help, and everything has gone silent pretty much everywhere. I tried my local MUFON group a while back but they didn’t help, a couple of encounters with the group had them run very fast in the opposite direction. Proof it seems of any kind is the fastest way to get those who profess to be there to help bugger off.
There are many experiences I’ve had that involved missing time, coming to in a different place in states of terror that are not easily described. Those incidents not only left their mark in terror, but distinctive UV burns to the tear ducts somehow gained at night. First would come silence, then the bluish white light followed by gaps of time ranging from three to six hours. If someone tries to say the effing devil and demons did that, read this – you ritually consume a mans flesh and drink his blood, keep your crap to yourself, and your evil religion.
This is the work of people, by people, I mean intelligent bipeds that think, not devils or demons or Mastema (Satan of the bible who IS named therein who DOES THE WORK OF IT’S GOD).
Other experiences I’ve had were not so bad, I have a dreamlike recollection, though clear enough, my perceptions were interfered with to a degree but not my mind. A couple saved my life from serious medical conditions after being tossed out onto the street by a hospital because at that time we lacked health insurance and a means to pay to save my life from a large collection of gall stones upon one occasion. Nice hospitals in the USA, really nice, yes, note the sarcasm.
Help came from another source where I was carried out wrapped in something soft, dark and warm. Caring hands carried me before a voice told me to go back to sleep after complaining that I should not have woken at all. I woke a number of times though I felt sedated that night. Once I was woken as for some reason, permission was needed for the procedure that removed those gallstones. Out like a light soon after, woke again when I wasn’t supposed to in a white room. I saw two individuals, six digits upon each hand, five fingers and a thumb. I could not see their faces, just a blur where a face should be. Whoever they were, they weren’t bad. Most fail to listen to their feelings, distracted are they by transient hormone induced emotion which is little more than a biochemically induced reaction to outside stimuli, thought plays no part in such a reaction. I’m not an animal, I think, I trust feelings, assess situations and pay attention to details when able to.
There was some disturbance that showed when normal -tricks- failed to prevent me waking or staying awake, before being returned, I was drugged. Again. The upside of that encounter was that when other issues arose, they came back and again gave me the help I needed.
Greys, an image of one alone incites feelings of fury. I have no conscious memory of ever seeing one, but images have a powerful effect so I wonder at those episodes of missing time, UV burned eyes, endless vomiting of vile green goo afterwards, and I wonder if there is a connection of some kind between the fury that rises at a mere image, unreasoning feelings like that are NOT part of my normal reaction mode.
I’ve seen craft of many kinds, some have left feelings of dread, others filled me with wonder. I remember a number of years ago when one such craft appeared at O’Hare Airport. Lots of coverage for a few days then silence, but I’d seen such craft before – back where I was born, Darwin, Australia. In Victoria, Australia, one form of entertainment was to sit on the balcony at night and watch the Jets from Sale attempt to catch the flitting craft that played with them in the night sky. They’d wait, sitting in the sky looking pretty till the aircraft came, then from all that I could see with my stepsisters and friends was whoever was flying those pretty craft appeared to find entertainment in driving human pilots bonkers.
There is no option for me to recall what happened in hundreds of episodes of missing time. It’s been tried, but I’m immune to hypnosis unless drugged to a life threatening level to break my will. Even then, not much comes out, what does isn’t in english at all, but a language long dead. Sumerian. I did eventually get around to studying it, I have a brain and if I wish to learn something, I do just that. I don’t care about silly pieces of paper to prove I can regurgitate in a pleasing way and classrooms are not a place I like to be. The learning curve while locked in a room is too slow and its more productive to gain some sleep than listen to the same things over and over again. Too much value is placed upon idiotic pieces of paper. The internet was a blessing when I discovered it, I could learn whatever I wanted without being slowed up by so much wasted time.
I’ve found other accounts that match those of my periods of absent time, up to and including the utter terror without explanation. Whatever happened in those periods of missing time wasn’t good, now, I’m no longer sure I even want to know what happened, I have enough difficulties sorting out the damage from my biological parents who hated me so much that by the time I was eight years old had attempted to kill me a handful of times. Each time was worse because -something- always intervened. Adding to that trauma and PTSD isn’t something I really think I need to get on with my life.
Everywhere, things are so silent now, boards dead, sites gone, groups gone, the only active group near me won’t come near me now. I was changed by my encounters, I have issues with electronics at times save for computers, computers and I get along very well as long as the power supplies are VERY heavily shielded against electromagnetic fields. Learned that the hard way. Fried gadgets after some testing meant I was persona non grata with them. Yet, I am in a way proof of the very thing they state they try to investigate, understand and prove. I gave some proof of the changes made to me and they took off screaming like kiddies faced with a pack of scorpions.
But silence rules now, I question why. Is it fear? Threats? Or is it that there is no more profit to be found in the suffering and experiences of others. Those of us with real experiences that have changed us in very real ways, measurable ways seem to have the hardest time getting any kind of help or understanding. Is proof that frightening? Or is it something more?
Even the crickets have fallen silent.