It happened without warning. On Wednesday, I woke up later than usual. A thick mist was drowning the garden. You couldn’t see it at a stone’s throw. My tenant told me that the internet was down: the connection but no signal. I checked everything, mystery. It’s beyond me. I’m breaking. This thing started it all.
Uprooted I am. Disoriented. In another myself, I float. This dirty mist projects me elsewhere. Where? Mail to Noémie. She responds, exchange emails published in an article to read first. Posted urgently. With a big surprise: at the time of posting, I advise the word counter: 666!!! There were exactly 666 words in our exchange! 666!!! The figure of the Beast … Jesus said it!! So incredible. Her words and my words counting exactly 666, there was a chance on how much? On six hundred and sixty-six? Or six million six hundred and sixty six thousand six hundred and sixty six? Or worse?
Man is neither angel nor beast, and misfortune dictates that whoever wants to make the angel is the beast.
That was yesterday. Back home, in my furniture, in front of my keyboard with sea view, I have clearer ideas to comment on the adventure and my feelings.
I seem to be stuck in a parallel universe. The source of my great grief comes from where I am. Back again to this sadness without a cause. I have been talking about for days. Morose matter that grows around here.
A world whose matter is not earth but sadness. This is where I was transported. We live on a false world inserted within the true. I have often said that the plan we are on is unreal, parody, simulacrum. The reality is elsewhere, look for it in your dreams. When I saw Matrix, I understood that I was not alone. Millions of us think that by now.
All reality exists in the mind. The outer phenomenon, that which appears, is only its outer expression. The visible universe is the reflection of the invisible,
It embraces my heart, it weakens my body, this sadness, wavelength of the other world, the true. Everything breathes a terrifying sadness. Neither color nor relief, mist. This vaporous side of the sensations that you have, the diffuse feeling of an unreality — then that’s the reality. It seems.
This hypothetical reality, inaccessible, is the other side of the normal world. Is it really normal, our world trompe l’oeil? It’s just a fake pretence. Once a beloved woman allowed me to go.
For her, on the fifth day before her period, the world became blurred. Unstable. Wide waves undulated the landscape. Wide ribbons that spread a little.
It had the power to slip into the interstice. And take me there. Unforgettable sensation of crossing the scenery. But no memory of what was behind it.
It was him. It was this world of sorrow without cause. World of perpetual sorrow. The land below.
You just pass through to not stay there. A human can die of sadness in this hyperspace hole. Reason is in danger. My house is surrounded. Are they invisible? I can’t see them, I feel them coming in the mist.
They want me. They envy me. They send me rockets of hate, pain, grief. Bursts of violence so intense that I lose consciousness.
The old world is dying, the new one is slow to appear, and in this chiaroscuro monsters appear.
Nothing is true where you are. Just a decor, I see from here the seams and nails. Still, I’d like to go back to my jar and get out of this grief.
The delirium of the decor has been close to my heart and body for several years. A bad decor, sorry to say. When you look! better, you can see the covers. The tape that patches. The gaffer supposed to hold forever takes off, miserable. We wonder if it will last for a long time. The owners are no longer doing any work, they are looking to sell.
Sell to whom? There is no shortage of clients. Entertainment companies, mining, tourism unions, pension funds… At the galactic level, there’s no shortage of opportunities like Terra. We’re talking about Aldebaran. Soon Grand Central will be on it. If they buy, given the size they have, it will be for a country house.
Near the Giga Black Hole, they are miles high. Terra as a whole would just be enough for a detached house and its garden. But major adjustments will be necessary. Increase the gravity, vary the composition of the air, desalinate the water of the seas, irrigate the deserts, modify the climate… It’s going to take a few millennia, but it has to be done. They don’t live like the rest of us.
How? What will happen to current populations? Who cares? Investors have other things to worry about.
We are in a parallel world made by animal entities to keep us prisoners. These animals feed on all our emotions, thoughts, ideas, lights, sensations, feelings, discoveries and various calculations. Without us they would be nothing. Without them we would be free.
Yeah, free, free, it’s quick to say. Change exploiters? Belong to investors who will bite us as appetizers? Or remain the property of animals that suck our energy and empty us of our luminous substance? Whatever happens, we are in shit. Those who do not believe me are right to bury their heads in the sand. They have a chance to die happy.
I’m starting to understand my Devic with his pessimism. He wanted nothing after death. According to him, if anything happens, it could be worse than here and now. Now he died, I saw him several times since, he did not look ill. Less crippled, in any case, than in his last days on earth.
I’m split, one foot here and the other in your world. It’s very destabilizing. But sadness again becomes bearable and the garden is almost normal. The house not yet. Have I returned to your world? Can you contact me astral as usual?
I am familiar with the feeling of duplication. I detailed it in Here and Here. Bilocation is one of our lost powers. It’s up to us to win them back. And that’s called enlightenment.
The other morning, the duplication was painful for me. Much more than usual. Because one side felt like hell. Gradually I stayed on the good side. The one that does not stink. The usual. It is not true, but we get used to it. We are parked in a fake world, like lions at the zoo. We turn into cages. We travel. Wherever you go, you’re always in a cage, but less, you see the landscape.
Two men looked by the bars of their prison. One saw mud, the other saw stars.
I went into the real world, theirs. I evolved among them without them paying attention to me. I was invisible, imperceptible. I could understand a lot of things, you can understand them too.
What I call the real world is the world below. The world of the entities that lead us. To them, we are nothing but cattle. They graze the wool on our backs. And not just the wool. And not just on our backs.
I thought at first that was the only real world. Actually, no. There are others. Every world is infinite except ours, the only one that is bogus. Our prison is not a kingdom. Just a jail. Beasts have stuck us to the wildebeest where everyone works for them. Under the orders of the great Mammon, god of money. Work harder, vermin! Fucking gold searchers! Give it to me!
Mammon always wants more. He sleeps on his pile of gold, and it’s not an image. He sleeps on real junk. Stacked, collapsing on all sides. He basks like an armored pasha. He sleeps, he has golden dreams, and endless fine gold waters the goret. Head of pig and body of scales, king of the pearls and gold jewels, such is Mammon who puts the scum on the straw.
I’m sure he saw me even though he didn’t show anything.
My messages do not go through the Internet, but through scalar waves that I send to the Internet. The earth does not exist. The universe is a trap. I’m not an enchanter.
My benefactor belonged to the Wolf Clan. So were all his children. Enchanter and passant. I am an open door, so come in and look up there as the weather was fine. But the Netherlands closed in on me. I came out unscathed. And without compensation.
It’s hard to enchant such a disenchanted world. The desire has passed me. I would like to rediscover the brilliance of Hyperborea, the untamed Sun that made me dream so much. Below, rather die! I do not return. One misstep, I slipped all my way down. But it’s over for me, I won’t come back.
The enchanter cannot be disillusioned. The healer cannot resurrect the dead. The set has fallen and so have the actors. The stage was wobbly and smelled of scorn. It only takes a moment to get out of here. Wait a minute. It’s nothing.
The fault is wanted. The unreal mist is wanted. They have accepted that someone reveals the truth. Since 2008, they have not stopped giving information. Is this the end of their reign? A giga planetary awakening?
Noémie: This is what many have been talking about for a few years now, it can happen without warning in a split second.
Are these voracious animals so negative? Have they felt the wind change? Are they ignoring Terra, men? For them, losing or winning, it’s worth it. It’s just like that. They’re going to leave our hell soon. Eve crunched the apple. Mammon finishes his nap. Smile! They will leave! Hell is behind. We passed the worst.
In any case, they are pretending. They signed a blank cheque. The amount is up to me.
Another shot of rum? Who is this handsome young man and what is his name? Would he be king of Rome? The lover of the begum? No, it’s me, I myself! … A fucking fool, in short.
It lasts a good part of the day. The mist has left the landscape but it still sticks to my body by opaque plates. Noémie watches over me all the time, I feel her at a distance. At the end of the afternoon, she writes this to me:
Noémie: Well, so far, I’ve been feeling a little bit floating and somewhere else, it seems to me that now you’re right there.
Yes, I am here and now, I was elsewhere and tomorrow. I hurry to write down everything I experienced and understood.
Elsewhere and Tomorrow?Ailleurs et Demain, Robert Laffont Fine collection of SciFi books. Forget it. I was there for good. That’s why I named this article inside global awakening. I was inside definitely. It happens, yes. But how long will it take to happen? Personally, I am ready. Quite.
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