Thursday, December 3, 2009
I'm going to explain something here, because my friend told me to write these things out, so I don't have to keep repeating it.
These people and their story are real. They are, and I don't know any other way to prove it to people without them thinking I have a problem. The way I can prove it is by showing the audience what the 'fallen people' have shown to me. This is via my drawings and writing. The fallen people are reaching out to prove to our people on this planet, that they do exist. Because humans are so disinclined to think that another life form has made contact. Well, guess what, they're doing it right now. This is how:
I don't get to go into their world, but they let little phantasms and such out to me via the Maitofif Gate. The reason I don't get everything at once is because they're still living out their story, so I can only get what they've accomplished in their lives so far. They want this shown so we all know that they are real. Don't you want to be heard? Don't we all? So do they.
How does it happen? How do you become a vessel to them? It's nothing you chose. It's in your stars. If everything lined up properly and polar when you were born, they choose you. Because you understand how to get to their world, for it is parallel to your own. I did not know this until recently when my star chart was shown to the astrologists and they told me this chart is unusual and rare, the polarities are so uncommon. They say it's often associated with people who have two sides to them, and cannot choose which one to be. Polarity. That is my chart to the side.
When you are born to the correct star placement, you are tuned into the fallen people's wavelength. It's like radio, almost, but it's transferred mentally. I didn't know any of this, but over the past 2 years it's slowly made itself evident.. and recently it's sped up more. I know why I'm here now.
Medication - oh medications. If I were to tell my psych about this, she'd thrown more meds at me. Do you know what those do? Block the wiring signals from their world to mine. Everything will have been wasted and lost. Everything I've worked hard on will become moot. And the fallen people will not be able to prove themselves real, and they'll be lost. And mad at me. They depend on me.