Mind control from the BBC?

Just posted this at The Daily Behemoth, but I thought it warranted its own special place here too. I could write a whole article on this, but it speaks eloquently enough itself.

Black Mountain- Update

I didn't pick up on this immediately, but the Black Mountain dream dovetails perfectly with our discussions from last week, and poses several new questions of its own. I had forgotten, when I saw this, that the climax to Strieber's novel Black Magic- click here- is set in the Black Hills of South Dakota. This, due to the proximity of Ellsworth AFB, is where a rogue group of Islamists set up their ELF base, with the aim of remotely influencing the US to launch nuclear missles at Russia, and thus trigger Armageddon. (Strieber was rather forward-thinking in this respect.) Interestingly enough, although Minuteman-III missiles are no longer held at Ellsworth, it has been at the centre of an important Ufological controversy after Linda Moulton Howe claimed to have seen documents proving the existence of recovered disks at the base (see here), continuing the tradition of Ufological incidents 'clustering' around nuclear bases (eg, Roswell, Rendlesham Forest, etc.)

I find it interesting that you must have had this Black Mountain dream on or very close to the same night that I was reading the above passage. Also interesting is this mural, which I found on Wikipedia: allegedly painted on a wall shaft of the launching facility at Warren AFB, Colorado. Check it out:


The Black Hills are also home to what may eventually be the world's largest sculpture: the Crazy Horse Memorial. I'm reaching a little bit here- OK, a lot- but I couldn't help but recall our conversation about the Osmonds when I read this! (See here.)

The Black Mountains themselves, however, seem even more significant. (Like, for example, the name of its highest point- Mount Mitchell (MM)- which is also the highest peak in the whole of the Appalachians.) The key to this does indeed seem to be Black Mountain College, of which I had not previously heard, but which bears close resemblance to the Byrdcliffe Arts Colony (founded 1902) which I wrote about in this BTB post from last November. A regular guest at Byrdcliffe was the educator John Dewey, whose 'pioneering' ideas were central to the curriculum of Black Mountain College. Believing that education must serve 'a social motive', Dewey was instrumental in the gradual erosion of traditional subjects, thus preparing the way for the 'experiential' (and entirely ineffectual) methods exemplified by programmes such as Goals 2000, and 'child-centred learning.' (See here.)

I speculated in the above article that the residual energy of Byrdcliffe (based in Woodstock, New York) was the catalyst for the Woodstock festival of 1969, 'An Aquarian Exposition' and stargate event; a process to which Black Mountain College also contributed. Counterculture guru Buckminster Fuller was a former pupil; and through Allen Ginsberg, the school forged a close association with the Beat Movement, as you say, and the American avant-garde generally, devoted as much to the expansion of consciousness- and the creation of a new aeon- as much as the production of art. (John Cage was also educated at the school, which opened its doors in the esoterically-significant date of 1933.)

In summary, then, a very important place.

As to why it turned up in your dream, I think the fact that we were discussing the Beats is obviously a factor, though I prefer to think it may have been intelligently implanted- by something- to spur further study and thought. Perhaps the Mountains or College will turn up in some undisclosed way in a future investigation... I wouldn't be surprised if you had some incarnational relationship to the School either; whether in the sense of a past life, or perhaps in symbolic form, as an idealised 'Secret School'. Perhaps a visit to the Mountains could be a good idea for you? (Just a thought.)

One last point... When I think of the Appalachians, I always think of Dylan, and one song in particular: The Girl from the North Country (North Carolina?), the very song (from Nashville Skyline) we had been discussing a few days before this dream. Could this have triggered the dreamtime vision?

There is a medical procedure...

comparable to one or two of your dream experiences in an early novel by Mr Strieber, Black Magic. Although written before his first consciously-remembered 'abduction', much of the imagery (and themes) are suggestive of screen memories, raising the possibility of direct ET involvement in the work. I will be posting a more complete review on The Daily Behemoth shortly, but as this passage seemed similar to your dreams of men in white coats forcing back your head, etc, I decided to put down a few early thoughts here too. (For a similar review of The Wolfen, comparing the themes of that novel to the Communion cycle, click here.) In this case, the abductors are KGB agents.

'There were people looming forward now, gathering around the table, men and women, creatures at their feast, eyes upon her, complicated, frozen faces- and hands pushing, pulling- a hand in my hair! 'Aaahh!' Back, lie back: and now the black straps strapped, cold across belly, arms and legs.

'Please!' I don't want them to scar me. There are so many, so very many. Six, seven. It's like some kind of crazy dance the way they keep coming and going... Catherine tried to raise her head enough to see them, but somebody was behind her and pulled her hair again. Next a thick band was yanked around her forehead. Now she was really stuck, straps and bands keeping her absolutely still.'

Your description of the 'medics' as being 'machine-like' (ie, possessed), is conveyed pretty effectively in the above, I feel.

Realm Breach dream

I think I was waiting at a bus stop when I was picked up by a group of Mormons whom I knew from my time in the church. They are friendly enough but I am aware, because I haven't been in touch with them (or their religion) for many months, that I am regarded with a certain suspicion. We are due to participate in a reality TV-style singing contest, which seems to have enlisted the entire country. Cut to centre court at Wimbledon, and scenes of melee inspired by this show... (and host Bruce Forsyth, suave and don-like, in the eye of the storm.) Arriving at the concert hall where the contest is being filmed, we are greeted by a scene of all-out pandemonium. Boys, all in crisp white shirts, are bundling into every door, entrance and window of the building, which is designed like a multi-level car park (or Tower of Babel.) The energy is wild and very threatening; I am due to room with the artist Banksy, but when we get to his dormitory we find it has been raided by the swarming hordes. A mocking letter from the thieves thanks Banksy for the free Radiohead CDs, amongst other items stolen. I find a degree of comfort and solitude in the basement gym, though when I catch my reflection in the tall mirrors that completely cover one wall I look terrible: my hair is long, greasy and threadbare; and a large black eye covers one half of my face.

So two dreams in two nights about reality TV. A precognitive register, possibly, of this very important story from today's Daily Mail, perhaps?

http://the-daily-behemoth.blogspot.com/2008/11/truman-syndrome.html

NY Woman dream

NY Woman and I are playing badminton. She is considerably better than I; I manage to return the shuttlecock most points, but when I do she is usually well-positioned to stick it away in a far corner of the court. Eventually I get a little tired of this slightly bullying treatment, and I say to her: 'Do you even like me?' NY Woman takes a deep breath, pauses for long enough for me to already know the answer, and says, 'Well, you are a bit loud.'

Later on I dream of her again. We are both living (or staying) in a small town in a place I take to be Devon, but separately. I hear from somewhere that she is intending to stand for election as a local councillor; so my brother (Tom) and I decide to attend the public hustings with an eye to wrecking her chances. We arrive, and watch a few hopefuls make brief speeches; none of them are very impressive. There is a small group of judges at the back of the small hall scoring each contestant after the manner of a reality TV show. To my great disappointment, I notice that Simone's name has already been written up, along with her (very high) score.

I approach one of the judges. 'Did you know this contestant has a full-time job with the Governor of New York?' I ask him, expecting that this fact should immediately disqualify her from standing in a local British election; but he doesn't seem interested. In fact, judging from his cagey answers, he rates Simone as an excellent prospect. After a brief exchange with one of his colleagues- a woman, considerably more responsive- I return to my brother, heartbroken that I have missed my opportunity to see her again. 'She'll turn up in the future, mate,' he says, reassuringly. 'But I need her now,' I say, sadly.

Minor fandango

This situation was clearly signalled in a dream I had last night, or early this morning. It was another of those 'realm breach' dreams- like the famous 'Oxford Bullingdon' dream from recently. In this particular case I was back on one of the Crusader holidays I used to attend for a couple of weeks during the summer as a kid: Christian events, with plenty of wholesome activities laid on in a pleasant semi-rural setting somewhere. In the dream I was 'camping' (or sleeping in sleeping bags) in a large dormitory room in a group of about fifteen, amongst whose number was a breathakingly beautiful Carissa C. Tom was present- in the background but definitely part of the group; and the intense sexual chemistry between myself and Carissa was causing me great concern. Eventually it got to the stage where I had to act; and for about three or four intensely pleasurable strokes, Carissa and I were making love inside my sleeping bag. It was probably the shag of my life, and to wrench myself away from her due to the skulking figure of TM was an awful disappointment. There was another woman in the dream- the 'mad blogger' woman who you know about- and I compensated for the loss of Carissa, to some extent, by hitting on her... becoming more and more aware as I did so that the energy in the room was turning very hostile towards me. (A very common theme in my dreams.) Threats of a dark nature were issued, and I knew I would be leaving the camp in the morning, that I couldn't spend another night there.

Obama assassination plot dream...

This one was very vivid, and contained many more elements than I have recorded here. I either 'was', or was very close to, Barack Obama during the early days of his presidency. (Part of the time I seemed to be following the action on a giant telescreen, beamed into some sort of military or NASA-style bunker; at other times I was involved in the action, either as an observer of, or participant in, the First Family.) Then there was a major security alert, an attempted assassination or worse, which required Obama/me to be bundled into a small room by several burly Secret Service operatives. Inside this room- more like a nuclear fallout shelter- was ensconced the whole of the cabinet and the higher-ups of the Washington political apparatus... and bombs were falling outside. As Obama, I realised that a single strike on our location would not only wipe out my family, but the entire leadership of the American nation. Fortunately, acting against the wishes of his Secret Service handlers, through courage and diplomacy Obama averted the crisis.

Returning to the...

... subject of the relationship between imagination and pre-cognition, and other non-ordinary states of mind, I uncovered an interesting quotation from the psychologist Robert Baker yesterday, from a book by Jane Goldman. On hypnosis and false memory, Goldman writes:

'Psychologist Robert Baker's 'Lost In A Shopping Mall' study showed that childhood memories could be implanted by the power of suggestion. Patients who had never been lost as children were asked if they could remember such an incident and eventually 'recalled' it clearly, chattering away with details. Baker says hypnosis simply enhances suggestability. 'Hypnosis is nothing but the turning on of the human imagination. And that can be turned on best by getting them in a relaxed state and providing them with suggestions.' [My emphasis.]

It strikes me as intuitively correct that hypnosis activates the imagination; and that imagination, in turn, can activate faculties which are ordinarily dormant. What really interests me, however, is the connection between hypnosis, fantasy and disocciation- as mentioned here. If hypnosis activates imagation, and imagination is the key to non-ordinary experience, then what is hypnosis? From my experience, the light trance (or dissociation) induced in hypnosis is an ordinary state of consciousness which varies only slightly from the waking mind. Indeed, for some people, experiencers in particular, a light trance is almost continual.

If this is the case, those spaces between cognition- the dissociative breaks which may occur several times a minute in some people- are vital for the development and stimulation of the imagination, and possibly for the higher psychic functions too. There are countless examples of intuitive breakthroughs occuring when the recipient is defocused, perhaps engaged in deliberate distraction intended to 'power up' the greater pool of unconscious awareness; and a study by researchers at the University of Stirling confirms that children who 'daydream' actually perform better in class than those who pay closer attention to the teacher- click here.

But what actually happens whilst our unconscious is being activated in these frequent 'away trips' into disocciation? A developing theory of mine is that it is during these cognitive breaks that the real 'abduction phenomenon' occurs; as well as during the more substantial hypnotic bloc experienced as sleep. According to a correspondent on the Open Minds Forum, PKD believed that contact, far from being rare, was a phenomenon which involved all of us at one level or another, most of the time. Could it be that the trance, or dissociative, state is the switch between the ordinary and higher circuits of our minds; that everytime we flip into 'daydream mode' we are actually- in places unseen- in contact with alien forces? There is certainly an anecdotal relationship between dissociation and the imagination; this is why poets and writers are often considered 'away with the fairies', whilst the near absence of any fantasy life at all may be a perverse source of pride amongst highly-functioning professionals in business, law or science. It is also the case that one of the early ('prodomal') symptoms of schizophrenic psychosis is the long, blank stare; and that in many cases, schizophrenics develop very complicated mythologies which often bear a close resemblance to channelled texts. Could the long, blank stare be the mechanism which permits the receipt of such information; and the worst symptoms of this debilitating condition be the result of excessive immersion in alien worlds?

I am aware I sound a little 'schizoid' myself... Are you grokking me?

Tomorrow I'll write something about the deep hypnotic blocks which nearly always descend whenever I attempt to convey thoughts like the above... and what they might signify.

Adding to the Sutton Place intrigue...

... is the fact that, at the time Strieber was writing The Hunger (the early 1980s) the then-occupant of the office of Secretary-General of the United Nations was one Kurt Waldheim, a former Nazi Stormtrooper. Whilst I am aware this is not a 'research blog', forgive me if I mention, if only in passing, the parallels between vampire mythology and National Socialism. Both place very high status on 'blood' and racial purity; have a close affinity with occult traditions; and exhort a creed of violence, tempered by a certain nobility. The iconography of both have been absorbed into popular culture, and imbued with sexual glamour.

Whilst I doubt Strieber had any of these associations in mind, the fictional location of his vampire den is highly appropriate. It is interesting, too, that Mr Waldheim's successor in Sutton Place was Javier Perez de Cueller, UN Secretary-General from 1982 to 1992. His career entwined with Strieber's, if very tangentially, when he was named (unofficially, by Budd Hopkins) as the high-ranking politician who witnessed the abduction by aliens of Linda Napolitano (aka Linda Cortile) in 1989. This, the so-called 'Brooklyn Bridge Abduction', is probably the most sensational case of its type, and would certainly have been very well known to Strieber, whose initial regressions were conducted by Hopkins, and whose famous memoir, Communion was published just two years before the Cortile case came to light.

There is a very good article about the Cortile abduction here:

http://www.philipcoppens.com/cortile.html

By the way, most of my pre-cog moments are to do with pop culture too. I had one this morning, in fact: for no apparent reason, or none at all, a memory entered my mind a couple of days ago about a TV quiz show I used to watch on occasional afternoons when not at school. The memory in question concerned the irritating catch-phrase of the host of the show, one Matthew Kelly, who used to describe contestants lagging behind as 'playing catch-up.' Neither the host nor the phrase are staple components of the culture in Britain; and, as with your Michael J Fox synch- who, by the way, I also thought about last night apropos of nowt- I am not aware of having read or seen anything regarding in the hours or days before. Then, this morning, I wander into a local greasy spoon cafe for my habitual fry-up, and happen to notice that the television is tuned to a semi-obscure satellite channel. On the screen is the revived Going For Gold, the same show whose host (and catch-phrase) I had thought about so recently, only now in a revamped format including a younger female presenter.

Actually, I wish my pre-cog was tuned in to events a little higher on the frequency band, like current affairs, geopolitics, or lottery numbers... Any thoughts about how we could put these talents to greater use?

The RV experiment... and another Fortean codewode.

... was more successful than you think, in my opinion. You got the hair and the age right; and his 'older fashion' style, which was quite precise. Where you began losing it a little it was, as you noticed, when your imagination started riffing on the images conjured up by his vampiric-sounding name and title; and his admitted pre-cog abilities. This is a typical dilemma for anyone with psychic abilities or potential; the imagination is the key to psychic perception, but, unchecked, it can so easily impair the quality of the 'transmission.' That the ability to glimpse 'beyond the veil' is a gift related to the capacity to imagine is one of the reasons why attempting to discern fact from fiction in the testimonies of experiencers is often very difficult. There is, in addition, a proven relationship between disocciation- often very pronounced in experiencers- and fantasy, which complicates things even further.

Now, those Sutton sightings. Looking at the can of Red Bull in front of me, I can confirm that the London address of this company is 12 Sutton Row. The Lincolnshire town in which 'celebrity abductees' Ann and Jason Andrews live in is Long Sutton; and reading The Hunger by Whitley Strieber, I saw that the name of the vampire's New York domicile is Sutton Place. The latter is a real neighbourhood located near Midtown and the Upper East Side; former residents have included Marilyn Monroe, rather tellingly, and the famous Illuminati architect, I M Pei, who still lives there. According to Wikipedia: 'The official residence of the United Nations Secretary-General is a five-story townhouse in Sutton Place. The townhouse was built for Anne Morgan, daughter of financier J. P. Morgan, in 1921, and donated as a gift to the United Nations in 1972.'

Saturn-Sutton strikes again, non?

And finally, the Oxford-Bullingdon synchs continue. A point made often on BTB is the frequency with which ideas or events, having penetrated the global consciousness, provoke echoes (or copycat events) whose appearance can not be explained by coincidence (or media contagion) alone. Pre-cogs like us seem to anticipate the arrival of these memes, and be a little more sensitive to them than the rest. My Oxford dream, for example, occurred just a couple of days before two stories appeared, both of which specifically referenced either the University or the notorious Bullingdon club itself. Now in today's Daily Mail we read:

'Four students pose glassy-eyed, blacked up and semi-naked in loincloths for an Africa theme party.

The extreme political incorrectness of the picture will horrify the Oxford University authorities.

Particularly since at least two of the students are members of the university's under-21 rugby squad, which is already under investigation for alleged anti-Semitism after inviting players to bring 'attractive Jewish girls' to a dinner last week.'

Full story here.

Considering the attention I have paid to Oxford in the past, either via Ellis Taylor or my own 'Goddess Trail' articles, and the fact that the cousin (and foxy girlfriend) I met at Tom's wedding the other day hail from the city, perhaps these synchs are a reminder from the uber-mind to keep on investigating.

Pre-cog strikes again...

Following my post last week, about the 'Bullingdon toffs' who crashed my parents' home in the dream state, I was not particularly surprised to read this in today's Mail on Sunday:

'As the officer overseeing the training of Prince William in the Household Cavalry, Major General Sir Sebastian Roberts might have been expected to have had an unblemished record.

But it has been revealed he was a member of Oxford University’s notorious Bullingdon Club and his excessive quaffing of champagne once led to the abandonment of a university shooting match after he was ‘sent off’ for recklessly waving his gun.'

Full story here.

This is a good example of the sort of short-term, apparently insignificant sort of precognition that follows me about everywhere. Pertinently, this was a favourite obsession of Philip K Dick- one of several. In The World That Jones Made, a NWO-type society is disrupted by the emergence of a young visionary whose political skill rests on his ability to see a full year into the future. In The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, 'pre-fash' consultants are used to divine whether or not a particular product will turn in a profit; and in Time Out of Joint the protagonist Ragle Gumm becomes a local celebrity due to his unerring success in predicting the results of a daily newspaper contest.

I'll try and keep you posted on pre-cog developments of my own this week.

Recurring dream weirdness

This happened a couple of nights back, though the basic form of the dream is one which I experience regularly. I was back in Cambridge, where I went to university for three years from 1994. I was in my rooms in college, or possibly an amalgam of those rooms and my parents' house in Bromley. There is a disturbance downstairs, and looking out the window I see a group of well-dressed young revellers in evening wear, making a lot of noise and lording it up in typical Brideshead/Bullingdon Club style. (For a recent example, click here.) As I look, I am aware of a small contingent coming through the door behind me. Once in one of them begins bossing me imperiously. I submit initially, but quickly start resisting. The leader of the group then grabs me by the neck; thwarting this unwanted psychic intrusion causes me to jerk awake, with a residual pressure on my throat.

These themes- breaking and entering, bad people 'on the threshold'- are a very regular part of my dream-life. Usually the venue is my parents' house, and the amassed crowds represent every kind of minor delinquent or influence that I was dilligently shielded from in my infancy. The 'realm breach' is always successful; and I nearly always wake with feelings of fear, sadness, and a sense of something pending down the pike.

The fact that this dream preceded the above news story (see link) by two or three days is something I find very significant. With unfailing regularity I find myself precognitively anticipating (often very minor) cultural and personal developments, either in my dream life or simply amidst the usual word-soup of daily existence. To demonstrate what I mean, I will attempt to record the process here as and when it happens next.

11:11

11/11: a very auspicious date to begin a blog dedicated to the subjects of mind control, and military/alien abductions. I will start by sharing a new link I discovered recently, containing a massive number of articles on similar subjects, with a particular emphasis on organized stalking (aka, gangstalking) and 'street theatre.'

http://www.raven1.net/ravindex.htm