Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Dreams With Motion

As I have indicated for the past three months or more, dream invasion is becoming more prevalent by the sustained (auto-bailout capabilities now defeatable) and excessively vivid and technical nature of these planted (IMHO) dreams/manipulations. And for added realism they even added a "new feature", the sensation of motion while I am in the controlled dreamstate. It wasn't anything horrid or unsavory, but it was a first, and would of likely been cause for my normally protective auto-bad dream bailout capabilities to be invoked and get me out of the dream. And too, the dream was far too technical for me to dream it up on my own, as well as overly vivid. That the pulsed erections were also "happening" in parallel was also a giveaway as this has been going on for some months, and believe me, there was no erotic content, last night or at anytime. And for those who are unaware of the imposed solitary-ness of the TI's existence, especially this one, there wasn't any corporeal erotic source either. My entire sexual nature, the little that it was, has been shut down for over five years now.

The wackos pulled a new stunt tonight at the car dealership where I do an hour cleaning job with the boss man. This older man in a suit had me lined up and I said I was the janitor's assistant and he said he knew that and then complained about the state of the washroom on the main floor, the one the boss man would of cleaned. I said I would tell the boss man, which I did, and then he said he cleaned it last night and if there was any mess it was the first few to use it. He went to find the complainant, but he didn't complain anymore. The putative cause was a book that was lying on the floor, and the complainant couldn't be bothered to pick up.

The had the Parts and Service workers still hanging around when I was about to begin cleaning, and lo, if they didn't need to pass back and forth twice just before I was about to clean the windowed door they passed through. And also, the deep metallic red Tribute with two yellow fiberglassed stringered ladders on its roofrack wasn't still there, now at least a week. This emulates a very common gangstalker vehicle configuration, the Ladder Patrol. This just happens to be parked in varying locations in the service bay and with vary ladder configurations. That was one of three red colored vehicles that were converged and arranged so I had to pass through the center of their convergence to attend to the mop bucket and garbage, at least six round trips in all. The convergence zone was about 6' wide and forced me to go underneath the one rearward projecting ladder. I could never imagine this would be a real business vehicle with it being tied up for so long with the ladders.

I had a profusion of red colored vehicles passing me by when walking to and from the car dealership tonight, getting me "prepped" for red color interaction in the dim light. I notice that the garbage room has red vehicles parked outside it and a red plastic recycle bin at least 4' tall. And lo, if they didn't put a automotive tire in the garbage room and orient it in varying orthogonal cardinalities. This is a 10 bay shop and here they are putzing around with one tire in the wrong disposal area? Pah..leasssse. And lo, if the tire didn't move by itself tonight when in that dim lit room, even if it has a windowed garage door; it shifted some 6" without the usual cover story of having me trip on it. Another stunt they pull in this garbage room is to have a vehicle outside with its headlights aimed directly through the windowed garage door just when I am there; funny how this happens so often, this pitlamping.

Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over all things made of rubber and I suppose there are varying kinds of formulations they are testing me on. Not only old tires per above, but also stacks of new ones in the Service area and the Parts area. They also arrange for at least two pairs of windshield wipers to be tossed into the garbage that I am picking up each night I work there. That might also explain why my parents haven't changed their piss-poor wiper blades on their vehicle since they acquired it 8 years ago. For the 15 years I owned my vehicle until 2006 the perps had me changing all my wiper blades each year due to "accelerated wear", but even that wasn't enough fuckery so they nicked the new ones to make them skip an arc in the windshield. What their issue is with rubber compounds is beyond me, and anyone or any organization which spends six years of rabid covert warfare in life-raping me instead of fessing up and seeking cooperation to expedite an answer is so fucking depraved and debased that it astounds me even now. And here we are, ice hockey as the Canadian national sport, which entails 12 players chasing a rubber compound 4" disc (puck), and the perps still won't come out of the closet. But as rubber is made from petroleum byproducts it suggests that this is really all about the perps' petroleum products fixation.

But the assholes weren't done with me yet; they pulled another light bulb blowout yesterday, taking up the last bulb in the package, making it four bulbs gone in one year. I stopped at the LD store on the way back to pickup some more, and the usual surge of red dressed gangtalkers and freaks was in abundance. I also bought some chocolate and a stainless steel drinking vessel that the fuckers had been bugging me to purchase. And lo, if they didn't double charge me for the stainless steel bottle which the resulted in me getting on the phone to them within a minute of unpacking the bag and looking at the reciept. So... not only a phone call at a critical time for the perps, just arriving somewhere, but it is also an exercise in taking the reciept back for whatever their interest in all these bits of paper going back and forth. Fucking pathetic, for the reasons given above.

And here is a timely piece, likely planted for topicality reasons; the unconscious brain rarely makes poor decisions. Which might explain why the perps are pumping me with bullshit scenarios and as soon as I detect "bullshit" they have a noise go off, aka, noisestalking. Unconscious thought must be a brainstem area determination as they have been whacking me with knee pain, foot jabs, nipple pinches and debris under my fingers, all highly sensitive areas and likely connected to the more primative brain regions. Plus, I get the odd maser pulse through my neck above my Adam's apple which suggests the perps are perturbing the magnetic field from below as a possible route to remotely detecting my bioenergetics of unconscious decision making. I use the term subconscious, rather than suggesting the assholes knocked me out, a better outcome if they allowed it rather that the ongoing rage-ification torment fuckery they constantly immerse me in.

An hour and 44 minutes was listening to Miriam Delicado; a contactee of the tall blondes who are watching us all and will only intervene in cataclysmic circumstances. For us conspiracists this is a different take; we can direct our future and it isn't pre-determined. I don't dwell on this too much as I cannot figure it all out with over a hundred alien species reportedly and three secret societies vying for control of NASA according to Richard Hoagland, so who knows what is really cooking. I get the overhead rumbling noise with my headphones on and especially if I am making any observations as to the veracity of her story. She is a legit contactee IMHO, one of the most articulate and credible. Though she does mention dark forces and is genuinely concerned about this. As to my scurilous tormentors I really don't which way they bat; they are fucking sick and would rather trash someone's life playing dumbass games with disappearing breadcrumbs than get off their asses and expedite this unmitigated life-rape. That sounds like the dark forces to me.

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