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When I was about five or six years old, my father was an airman stationed overseas, and my young mother and us, her six children, all stayed with her mother, in Indianapolis, Indiana. At night all of the kids slept in the same room, in the same bed, with the exception of our one-week old brother, John,who slept in his crib. One summer night, I awoke to go to the restroom. I climbed over one of my siblings and made my way to the bathroom. On the way, I stopped by my infant brother’s crib to see if he was okay. As I stared down at him, I noticed something like illuminated fog, swirling against the wall over his crib. Transfixed by this strange sight, I froze in place like a statue until the image came into focus. There were three men with distressed faces and all dressed in friar robes, looking down at my infant brother. Somehow I knew they were passing some type of judgment over him. I continued to just stare at them until my bladder commanded my attention. I quickly went to the bathroom, did my business, and made my way back to the bedroom through pitch blackness, more by memory than sight. Once inside the room, I veered near the crib to see if the three men were still staring down at my baby brother. Sure enough, there they were, as still as a picture.
Suddenly, one of the three men quickly turned to look me straight in the eyes.
It startled me so, I dashed over to the bed and quickly found a free spot to hide until morning.
That next morning I awoke to what sounded like a grown man coughing. Alarmed, I got up to find the source of the coughing. I found my mother standing where I stood the night before, near the crib.
The image of the three men’s stern faces hit me.
I asked my mother what was wrong. She said, “Oh, he’s just got the whooping cough.” I didn’t know what that was, but the more I heard him cough, the more concerned I became.
The three men’s faces hung over me like a cloud. I said, “Mommy. Please take him to the hospital! Please, mommy!”
“He’ll be okay,” she said.
“No,” I interrupted, “please take him to the hospital. Something’s wrong!” At that point, I began to repeatedly yank on her skirt.
Getting a bit perturbed at my insistence, my mother scolded me and said, “Go outside and play! He’ll be okay.”
My four-year old brother, Steven, and I went outside with our grandmother. It was a beautiful sunny day, as we followed our grandmother across the street so she could chat with her neighbor. Steven and I found something to do, when I realized all they wanted to talk about was growing flowers and grapes.
I am very nearsighted, so when my mother came out of the house across the street carrying our infant brother in her arms, I thought she was smiling. My grandmother said, “What’s wrong?” Her tone cut through my joy like a razor, making me squint in order to catch a better glimpse of my mother’s face. Yes, something was wrong. As we all ran toward my mother, I heard her sobbing so hard, she could not speak. She held the lifeless infant in her arms and just stood there helpless in anguish. My grandmother lifted the infant from my mother’s arm, then she told my mother to run around the corner to a nearby relative who had a phone (back in the early 60s, not everyone had a phone in their homes).
Little John was pronounced dead upon arrival to the hospital.
My heart broke that day. I never forgot that vision or the aftermath of a caution gone unheeded.
Since that day, I’ve had many revelations, dreams, visions and “knowings” as some people call it. And, some of them were joyful even.
I am no stranger to the supernatural.
My biggest revelation (or so I thought at the time) came on April 20, 1977. While stationed overseas as an army solder, I dedicated my life to Christ. Soon afterwards, I was baptized in the Holy Spirit and began to have holy visions, dreams, signs and wonders. Everyone called me a prophet.
Once, in a Bible Study with some Christian brothers in 1977, I raised a question about one passage, Genesis 2:10-11:
“And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads.
And the name of the first is Pison: that is it which compasseth the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold.”
I asked them, “Why in the world would God care about gold?” I was told, “Well, you see, the streets of heaven are paved in gold, blah, blah, blah!” And, another brother chimed in “blah, blah blah.” None of their attempts to explain or dismiss my question hit the “truth” spot in my spirit.
Since then, I’ve had some ups and downs, and experienced some powerful moves of the Holy Spirit. But, a few personal things never changed, and a few questions lingered about the Bible.
Time moved on…
On Tuesday, October 30, 2012, very early in the morning I found myself in that state between a dream and awake, and some of what I heard was “Valkyrie. Black Energy; Universal Wave Force. Space Travel possible through people learning to tap into this energy and projecting themselves through space.”
I went to my computer to find anything that would help explain what I heard. As I searched for this energy source that could enable space travel, I found myself exploring properties of monatomic gold (gold processed until it becomes a white powder). Noted author of Genesis of the Grail Kings, Laurence Gardner gives a short explanation about some monatomic gold applications: youth, anti-gravity capabilities and interdimensional travel, to name a few(a full description for those hungry for more details).
Another shocking discovery was the Custodians, as labeled by Gardner, or the Anunnaki, per Zecharia Sitchin. Just who were these Anunnaki, I wondered. I stumbled upon the late Zecharia Sitchin’s videos on YouTube, where he patiently, with bits of humor, shared his theories and beliefs about the Anunnaki and their involvement with the collection of monatomic gold from the Persian Gulf region, followed by extensive mining in what’s now South Africa. The miners were Anunnaki. Their labor became so unbearable after hundreds of years, they began to murmur and complain. While in South Africa, one of the Anunnaki leaders, Enki or EA, along with his son and half-sister, genetically manipulated the DNA of early hominids (See Genesis Revisited) to create homo sapiens (to become the new gold miners), then homo sapiens sapiens (as more advanced workers and rulers).
After watching about 20 videos on the topic, I soon realized that I could get lost in the diverse theories floating across the Web, so I opted instead to begin my “Esoteric” library, beginning with Zecharia Sitchin and Laurence Gardner.
While reading Genesis Revisited, I chose to suspend my belief system, because Mr. Sitchin fully answered my question concerning “gold” and Genesis 2:10-11, among many other things I wondered about.
I now know there’s more than one God, and that our languages were cleverly designed to offend other earthlings, to keep us divided. I am convinced that we’re probably the creation of advanced beings (even the Anunnaki) who visited the earth to mine for gold, so they could convert it into monatomic gold to help heal their planetary atmosphere.
Nonetheless, I retained some good things from Christianity, such as loving your neighbor as you love yourself. That’s why I’m writing this blog. I love you enough to share my testimony of my awakening.
It’s my hope and dream that in the near future we will truly find unity by stepping over our religious, political and territorial differences. Once we cast down our walls made of smoke and mirrors, we’ll find ways to unlock our true potential and set a path of greatness beyond our dreams.
Are you ready to look behind the curtain and see the true identity of your wizard? They’re just a Kansas flimflam peddling division, misinformation and partial truths?
It’s time to WAKE UP!
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