SURPRISE OF A LIFETIME
So, I drove up the Thruway back to my old home in Scotia, New York. But before arriving in Scotia, I stopped off at the Barnes and Noble bookstore on Wolf Road in Albany.
My typical salve for any wound I was feeling was to buy a new book or two -- something to get me started, to recharge the batteries. I was constantly and compulsively looking for new information, something to help me understand the UFO question even better than I already did.
So, no matter where I went, I always stopped off at the bookstores to check on any new titles that might have been released recently. Nine times out of ten, if I saw something that was interesting and that "tingled" when I held it in my hands, I would buy it, with no further questions asked.
I would still spend money on books even when I was so poor that I could barely buy enough food to feed myself.
There in the Barnes and Noble, I saw a new, hardcover book that really caught my eye. The name of it was From Elsewhere, by Scott Mandelker, Ph.D.
The subtitle of the book was "Being ET in America: The Subculture of Those Who Claim to be of Non-Earthly Origins." It had an incredible energetic charge on it that I could feel in my hands.
When I first started to look at the book, I honestly thought that Mandelker was crazy! What kind of dark and ludicrous "subculture" was this? After all, I had seen a wide variety of UFO literature in print, and there was nothing in the past that had even remotely suggested that something like this could be true.
So, to see an apparently reputable man staking his own Ph.D. on this material certainly caught my attention! But the real shocker was when I opened the book up to Appendix 1 in the back. There, Mandelker had printed a list of thirteen behavioral characteristics that a person might have that would suggest that they were in fact a Wanderer.
He explained that "Wanderers" were those who had a soul that was extra-terrestrial, a soul that had originated in a higher dimensional level and had then compressed its vibrations to volunteer to be human.
This volunteer mission was supposedly geared towards a "lightening of the planetary vibrations" so as to help everyone become more attuned.
The long story short is that I read these thirteen questions and could hardly even breathe by the time I had gotten to the last one. Somehow, some way, Mandelker's list had described my personality so well, with such accuracy, that I could hardly even believe my own eyes!
It was as if I had sat there and told him all of the deepest, most personal secrets of my life, and he had then compiled them into a list of twelve main characteristics that defined me. Take a look for yourself.
A Brief Quiz for Sleeping Wanderers
The following quiz basically indicates what I look for when determining if someone is an ET soul. It's a very subjective measurement based on my own experience, neither authoritative nor statistical.
Please take it as simply a broadstroke portrait of ET Wanderers (or Star People), and a novel type of road map to assist your journey towards the shrouded citadel of Self.
You are most likely an ET Wanderer if...
1. You were often lost in daydreams of ETs, UFOs, other worlds, space travel and utopian societies as a child. Your family thought you were "a bit odd," without knowing quite why.
2. You always felt like your parents were not your true parents, that your real family was far away and hidden. Perhaps you thought things around you were somehow "not the way they should be," and reminded you of life somewhere "far away." These beliefs may have caused you a great deal of pain and sorrow. You felt "out of place."
3. You've had one or more vivid UFO experiences (in a dream or during waking hours) which dramatically changed your life: they helped resolve doubts, inspired confidence and hope, and gave you meaning and greater purpose. From then on, you knew you were a different person. Like a spiritual wake-up call, it changed your life.
4. You are genuinely kind, gentle, harmless, peaceful, and nonaggressive (not just sometimes, but almost always).
You are not much interested in money and possessions, so if "someone must do without," it is usually you - such is your habitual self-sacrifice. Acts of human cruelty, violence and perpetual global warfare seem really strange (shall we say, alien?). You just can't figure out all this anger, rage and competition.
5. You have a hard time recognizing evil and trickery: some people call you naive (and they're right!). When you do perceive genuine negativity in your midst, you recoil in horror and may feel shocked that "some people really do things like that."
In a subtle way, you actually feel confused. Perhaps you vaguely sense having known a world free of such disharmony.
6. The essence of your life is serving others (be they family, friends, or in a profession), and you cherish great ideals, which may also be somewhat innocent and naive (in worldly terms). But you sincerely, deeply hope to improve the world. A lot of disappointment and frustration comes when such hopes and dreams don't materialize.
7. You completely embrace the scientific temperament, with a cool, reasonable, and measured approach to life. Human passion and red hot desire seem strange: you are baffled. Romance and the entire world of feelings are truly foreign to your natural way.
You always analyze experiences, and so people say you're always in your head-which is true! [Note: This type of Wanderer is less common, and probably wouldn't be reading this book-their skepticism would be too great! Such an "odd bird" is probably a brilliant scientist.]
8. You easily get lost in science fiction, medieval epic fantasy (like The Hobbit) and visionary art. Given a choice, you'd much prefer to live in your dreams of the past or future than in the present.
Sometimes you consider your Earth life boring and meaningless, and wish you could go to a perfect, exciting world. Such dreams have been with you a long time.
9. You have an insatiable interest in UFOs, life on other worlds or previous Earth civilizations such as Atlantis or Lemuria. Sometimes you feel like you've really been there, and may even go back someday.
There may be quite a few of such books on your bookshelves. (Actually, this question is a give-away, since only Wanderers and Walk-ins have profound, undying curiosity about worlds beyond -- and for good reason!)
10. You have a strong interest in mystic spirituality (East or West), both theory and practice, with a deep sense that you used to have greater powers and somehow lost them.
You may feel it's unnecessary to discipline yourself since "you've already been there," but somehow forgot what you used to know. People may doubt your resolve, but you know it's not that simple.
11. You have become a conscious channel for ETs or some other non-Earth source - and you realize that the purpose of your life is to help others grow and evolve. (Most likely, you're no longer sleeping, Wanderer!)
12. You feel, and perhaps all your life have felt tremendous alienation and a sense of never quite fitting in. Maybe you hope to be like others, try your best to be "normal," or imagine yourself like everyone else-but the bottom line is that you simply feel different and always have.
There is a very real fear of never finding a place in this world. (Which you might not! Note: This is the classic profile of Wanderers.)
Of course, my questionnaire is not exhaustive, and simply answering "yes" to any one point doesn't necessarily mean you are From Elsewhere.
Although some questions are pretty good E.T.-indicators, such as number 3 (if your ET contact was clear and overwhelmingly positive), and the combination of numbers 1 and 12 (a classic profile), there are no guarantees. (And I assume no legal liabilities, please!)
Only you can determine whether or not you are an ET soul, coming from the depths of intimate self-understanding!
If you do conclude it really is possible to be sure of something as radical as ET identity (which, however, is not radical to some people,) then you have to see it through to the end.
Plainly stated, if you can't stop wondering then you must make a commitment to finding the answer. Otherwise, your doubts will consume you and fill your life with anxiety and uncertainty!
And so, there they were -- all my most intimate, personal traits and descriptions, printed as a list of the Wanderer personality type! I was literally shaken to my core! Plus, Question 11 implied that I might actually regain contact with this group in the future!
But that was not all. The next book that I picked up was "The Mayan Factor" by Jose Arguelles. I opened up the book at random, and to my utter surprise, I arrived on a page that had a large image of the exact same shape that I had carved into jewelry in high school -- a question mark with a squiggly tail.
The Mayan glyph had a box that was drawn around this shape, and that was really the only difference from the stylized version of it that I made. But what surprised me the most was what Arguelles said that this symbol meant!
When I looked at the print to the side of the image, it said, "CIB: Ability to contact and commune with Galactic Consciousness." And, I had carved this pin as part of a two-pin set. The other pin was a Star Trek communicator -- what they would touch when they wanted to talk to the Enterprise!
The shock of all of this was incredible! I couldn't escape from the fact that Mandelker's question 11 said that many Wanderers begin contacting their own home group once they have "awakened" to who and what they really are.
And here I was, looking at all of this information as though I had just seen it for the very first time! I ended up buying Mandelker's book and could hardly wait to read the whole thing. I already felt like this had to be the answer -- I had to be one of these Wanderers. All the synchronicity was piling up, and I could not ignore it.
Just as Mandelker said in the paragraphs after the questionnaire, once I discovered the question I had to stick with it long enough to try to get a definitive answer. I had to see it through to term, to come up with the proof that would convince me one way or the other.
I was very excited about these new potentials when I went home. I told my mother about what had happened, but she did not seem particularly interested or impressed by such a possibility. She was worried about my instability and thought that this was a sign of how deeply involved I had become in my work.
My friend Jude, on the other hand, was very excited about it. Apparently, just two days before my return home and my phone call, Jude had been going through some old papers and had found a written account of a "dream" that he had when he was only five years old. Jude had written up this "dream" to present it to his kindergarten teacher.
In the "dream," two men came to him in his room and brought him outside of his house, where it was cold. To his amazement, there was a huge "submarine" floating in his backyard, and they brought him into it!
Then they gave him a ride in the "submarine," and apparently this was a submarine that traveled through space, as he saw many wonderful things. They finally brought him back to his room and put him back in bed, and the dream ended.
For some reason, Jude had just thrown away that old piece of paper, seeing it as nothing more than an old dream. But as soon as he told me of his own experiences with recent dreams, leading up to the discovery of Mandelker's book, I wished that I could have gotten the paper back.
I read the personality descriptions to Jude over the phone, and both of us started to realize together that we both fit the "Wanderer questionnaire" to a tee. Both of us were totally sensitive, dedicated to others, creative, and obsessed with UFOs, metaphysics and fantasy.
Both of us had an extremely powerful mystical experience at around age five, and we were both shocked to realize that this was part of the "pattern." (This was not in the questionnaire itself, but in the main body of text in the book.)
We both felt as if we were on a mission to "save the planet," we were often taken advantage of by others, we were nonviolent, engaged in "helping professions" like counseling, and unable to understand negativity or "evil."
Since Jude had mentioned a cylinder-shaped "submarine," I was also well aware of the numerous reports of cigar-shaped UFOs in the literature, and the fact that Mandelker's book said that it was most common for a contact experience to occur at age five.
My life had satisfied Mandelker's questionnaire to a tee, and now Jude's life satisfied it as well -- or perhaps even better. He appeared to have actually gone somewhere with these forces, whereas I chickened out at the last minute. Oh, well, Jude always seemed to have the upper hand.
"He says we've got to see this thing through to term and get a solid answer. But how in the world could we ever prove something like being a Wanderer?" I asked.
"Well, we can try automatic writing," Jude replied.
I snapped back. "Yeah, right. There's just no way that you could single-handedly control the motion of a pencil in your hand from the psychic level. That whole idea is a lot of bull, just like the Ouija board. You know that I used to move that thing all the time when I did it with other people, just for fun."
"Well, we've got to try something, just to see if it will work. Don't you agree?"
"Yeah, I do see your point, but are you sure about this? Automatic writing seems awfully sketchy to me - get it?"
"Ha, ha, ha, yeah, I get it. Well, come on! The least we can do is try it out, man."
"Yeah, well I guess you're right," I replied.
And so, Jude and I went out together on an expedition to his girlfriend's house in Queensbury, New York and then on to his soon-to-be rented apartment on the shores of Lake George.
Jude was painting in the apartment, and it was filled with fumes, so neither of us really wanted to stay inside of it. We both hiked down to the waterfront, and there was an incredible sight.
The mountains loomed darkly in the background, and at the point where they met the water, long strips of light could be seen from the different buildings on shore. The full moon reflected off of the lake's waters, casting an eerie, rippling effect that traveled in a straight line as far as the eye could see.
In that moment, I had a very strange sense of deja vu. It was as if Jude and I had somehow decided to take on this "Wanderer" mission on Earth at the same time; as if we were somehow connected through this Divine level. (I would later identify him as a key player in the Cayce saga, but we'll get to that later on.)
I wondered aloud whether we might at one time have seen a very similar scene as this, only on an alien world. It could have been a base on the Moon or a space station, with similar dark hills in the background and strips of light along the bottom. It was a very strange feeling, and both Jude and I started to feel uncomfortable.
We jumped back into my car and drove back to Jude's girlfriend's house in Queensbury. On the way there, we both agreed that it was time to try out the automatic writing, just to see if we got any verifiable results.
The results were indeed so incredible that I have already written them up in five or six separate instances. But, there were other synchronicities that I usually do not mention. When we got back to the house, it was already quite late and everyone was asleep.
The house was quite dark inside, but we did turn on some very sparse lights so that we wouldn't crash into anything as we moved around. As I reached for one light switch, I could hardly believe my eyes!
There in the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen, was a table that was obviously from India, with each table leg represented as a stylized elephant's head. To my utter amazement, this was exactly the same as the table that I had been so fond of at Angelica's place! And Angelica had the same guru as the two men whom I had met on the train coming back from Colorado.
The synchronicity was so powerful that I could feel a physical pressure on my head as I strove to put it all together! There was clearly something special about the place we were in, and what we were about to try to do.
When it was time to do the automatic writing, both Jude and I got a piece of loose-leaf college-ruled lined paper and taped it to the hard tile floor. I sat to the left of Jude, and we both were sitting Indian-style in the dark.
Jude instructed me to hold the pencil in my non-writing hand, which in this case was the left hand. Jude had said to me to basically just let my hand "do what it wants," and not to interfere with it.
I still doubted highly whether anything would happen or not, but I was willing to give it a shot. So, as we both sat there, we meditated and got very silent. I concentrated deeper and deeper, and tried to listen and attune the vibrations in my mind at the same time that I tried to transfer that awareness to my left hand.
At first, I seemed to be "training" my left hand through an interesting process. I heard single words in my mind, and would then allow my hand to move, dimly aware that my hand was writing the same word that I was hearing.
The first three words that came through by this method were "Chasten", "Awareness" and "Hostile." Then, I tried to stop listening for any word in my mind, and just let my hand do what it wanted. At that point, my hand actually wrote the word "Hostile" yet again, which did surprise me later on when we turned the lights on.
I was aware that this part of the message was telling me that I was currently too hostile, that I needed to be more chaste in my life and focus my awareness. I was still aware that I could be in a deeper trance, and I meditated with even greater intensity to try to widen the scope.
Then, as my trance deepened, I felt my hand starting to go by itself in a series of curves that felt very natural. I felt it go forwards along one of the lines, then stop and go backwards across the same line. By this point, my trance was becoming deeper and deeper.
When I knew that I had finished that line, I meditated with an even greater intensity than before, making my best effort yet to secure a deep trance. I concentrated on the third eye, or the brow chakra between the eyebrows, and really tried to feel like I was pulling energy in through it and sending it to my hand.
I did this with almost ferocious intensity, summoning up all the concentrative strength that I could muster. And at that moment, something totally incredible happened that I could not possibly have expected!
An unseen force seemed to grab my arm, wrist and fingers and completely took control! At an incredible speed, my left hand whipped out eleven characters on the paper and then stopped abruptly. The only one of the characters that I recognized was the letter "x", as the rest were just going by too fast to understand.
Suddenly, in the middle of our meditation, I broke the silence. I threw the pencil down and with a shocked, bewildered excitement, I said to Jude,
"Jesus Christ, man, something just happened to me! A force grabbed my hand and used it to write something on the paper! Turn on the lights, man, I've really got something here! We've got to read this right now!"
Jude immediately jumped up and ran over to a light over the sofa in the downstairs living room where we were. He turned the light on and I took the paper off of the floor, being very careful to insure that the tape didn't rip it.
I brought it over into the light, and to my shock and horror, the paper was completely white! There was nothing written on it whatsoever!
"What! what the hell? Where's all the writing?" I was quite worried.
"No, brother, look closer!" Jude exclaimed. "There's writing on there all right, it's just very faint. You did get something, that's for sure!"
"Let me see, let me see!" I responded.
Sure enough, there was writing on the paper, very faint and barely even visible. And that was just the beginning of the adventure.
The first thing that I noticed is that the line where the writing had gone backwards and forwards actually spelled out "Christ Cometh." What was even more incredible about this was the fact that it was built up through a synthesis of both the forward and backward lines.
In other words, they overlapped each other, and within the overlaps, "Christ Cometh" was clearly and definitively spelled out. The "th" on the end of "Cometh" was shaped somewhat strangely, and there was a strangely curving line that came off of the bottom right edge of the "h."
Jude noticed that this letter combination clearly spelled out the word "Ra." I did not agree that this is what it was. I knew that Ra was supposedly an Egyptian god, but other than that I was at a loss to understand what, if anything, it meant.
Little did I know that this would turn out to be a direct prophecy of my discovery, exactly two years later, of my own apparent past life as Edgar Cayce. The Cayce Readings said that Edgar had once been the Atlantean priest Ra-Ta, and later just Ra, some 12,500 years ago from the present.
Even though it would be two full years before I "discovered" the truth, the next line that appeared would actually strengthen the "Cayce connection" even more. On the line where my hand jumped into action and moved on its own accord, it scribbled out the following, with exactly the upper case / lower case configuration that I have indicated here:
EC 40 57 + oxen
From the present vantagepoint, it is very interesting to see that the next two characters after "Ra" were "EC." These are obviously the initials for the name Edgar Cayce, and I would later realize that these initials were consistently used to refer to Cayce in his reading transcriptions, and also by the readings themselves.
That certainly was just the beginning of this message; there was much more to uncover at that point.
As we stared at the enigmatic message, Jude was the first to recognize that "EC 40 57" could be a quotation from the Bible.
"EC 40 57. What if that's a Bible quote? Don't you think that could be Ecclesiastes?" Jude asked.
"Oh my God, you're right! Where's the Bible? We've got to look this one up!"
Despite our being in a household that was rigidly Fundamentalist to its core, we had a very hard time finding a Bible! I had never really read the Bible, and had no idea what to expect. After a good bit of time, quietly searching through the den in the finished-off cellar of the house, Jude was able to locate a large Bible with a black leather cover.
"Well, let's see what we can find!" I said, excitedly. We looked together at Ecclesiastes, and were quite disappointed to see that there was no verse 40 at all! The book went from chapter 1, verse 18 directly into chapter 2. It seemed like it was a wash.
"Oh, well, it certainly was interesting, even if it doesn't mean anything," Jude replied.
Suddenly, I had a flash of insight. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!"
"Sssh!" Jude hissed. I was too excited, speaking too loudly. Then, more quietly, he responded, "What?"
"Don't you remember in math class when they taught us about absolute value? Do you remember what that was all about?"
"Yeah, isn't that when you have negative numbers and count them as if they were positives?"
"Exactly. What if this number 40 is the absolute value of where this Bible passage begins? Maybe all we need to do is start 40 lines after the beginning, and then end 57 lines after the beginning! Whatever we find between those two spots will be the message!"
"You're right! Let's check it out!"
We were both fascinated to see that 40 lines after the beginning of Ecclesiastes was cited as "2:22," or Chapter 2, verse 22. This came directly across as being identical to the "clock synchronicities" that both Jude and I had been seeing for years by this point.
I was now to the point where these numbers were jumping out at me several times a day, and Jude was seeing them almost every day of his own life. I also knew now that these numbers were part of the "Wanderer Activation" process.
That synchronicity obviously validated the material even more, as I had never studied the Bible a day in my life -- or at least not in this present one! There was just no way that I could have "fooled myself" subconsciously. The Bible's material simply did not exist in my conscious mind to be accessed.
The profundity and gravity of what had occurred that night immediately sank in as I read the initial words of Ecclesiastes 2:22:
"For what hath a man toiled and labored under the sun? This too is meaningless!" [5:55 a.m. 4/7/99]
To my conscious mind, this was an arresting confirmation of the validity of the source that had used my hand to write. I had just been fired not three days earlier from my job at the mental ward, and now the Bible quote that was cited through my own hand was directly addressing my sense of meaningless bewilderment with my working life.
At that moment, realizing that I was probably an extraterrestrial soul in a human body, I certainly felt as if everything about what I had been striving for, the internship, the graduate school and the career in psychology, was all becoming meaningless.
Amazingly, these forces speaking through me were able to give me a very complex message just through the simple citation of a quote from the Bible.
I read the entire passage aloud, stunned and amazed at what was happening. I realized that the passage ran directly into one of the most famous parts of the Bible, which read,
"To everything, there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die!"
The passage listed a large number of apparent opposites, and was showing how they moved in cycles. This also seemed to be pursuant to my own situation, having just been through another agonizing contortion of this cycle of my job life.
Then, when I got to the end of the cited passage, which was Ecc. 3:13, I was even more amazed. At that point in the text, the emphasis suddenly shifted, and it had a direct, prophetic bearing on my own situation at the time:
"To eat and drink and be happy in one's toil - this is the grace of God."
So, the message was very clear; no matter who I was, I still needed to try to enjoy my physical life and my jobs. The message was numerically "keyed in" to 2:22, but also that seemed to be the only "perfect" starting point for this message in the entire book of Ecclesiastes.
It was obviously fashioned to relate directly to what had just happened in my life. The ending point of the passage also seemed to be of singular importance, and as I read before and after it, I realized that it was the single best possible spot for the forces to finish my message.
Plus, it was preceded by the message "Christ Cometh," and possibly the word "Ra" as well. (I still wasn't willing to accept that the "Ra" meant anything, even though it is very clear and obvious to see in hindsight.)
Now the message was becoming quite clear, and that only now left the question of the word "oxen."
A few things came to mind right away. I knew that my birth animal in the Chinese Zodiac was the ox. (Cayce and I were born exactly 96 years apart, which is a key 'harmonic frequency number,' and remarkably enough that means that he was also born in the year of the ox! - 4:44 p.m., 6/17/99!)
Later on, I would learn that the position of the Moon at the time of my birth was in the sign of Taurus, just like Cayce's. But the real clincher was that I had just bought the carved statue of an ox at a job that I had while still living at home, before I had moved back down to New Paltz, my college town.
I had gotten a temporary job through an agency that placed me at a booth in the Altamont Fair, representing ADT home security systems and handing out flyers to people who came by. I really didn't like the job and often felt like I was just taking up space, but I did see it through the full time commitment that I had agreed to.
My booth was directly behind the chicken barn, and I could smell and hear them all day long. After a while, I started to tune them out, and by the end I hardly even noticed them any more. Directly to the right of me was an African woman from Kenya who was selling carved wooden statues that her husband had produced.
I got to be quite friendly with the woman, and we talked at great length to pass the time during the day. Even though I had no real money to speak of, I felt obligated to extend a token gesture of friendship to the woman by buying one of her pieces.
I was aware from what she told me that the ebony wood was the rarest, most expensive material that her husband used to carve, and thus they were the most expensive pieces in her collection.
There were a few different African animals carved out of ebony, including the antelope and the cheetah. They were brilliant in design, as the man who had carved them was a true master.
The prices were actually very low, but the American dollar was worth so much to them in Kenya that they were actually quite wealthy through this business. I wanted to pick out the animal that was right for me, and for some reason I kept gravitating back to the ebony ox.
Nothing else seemed to feel right to me. It ended up costing 27 dollars and was one of the most expensive pieces she had available, but I decided that I wanted it anyway. I felt that I wanted an animal that would symbolize where my life was at that time.
I figured that the ox was a good choice, because it symbolized my new entrance into the working world. I thought myself to be a beast of burden, calm and determined, shackled to the yoke of oppression to pull the plow for the hand of an unseen master. It was a good metaphorical statement, I thought.
I did end up buying the ox, for the magical number of 22 dollars, and after I had purchased it I asked the woman if there was any symbolism that they ascribed to this animal. She laughed and implied that Americans always think that there is symbolism to everything!
Apparently, many of her customers wanted to know what magical powers their purchases would convey to them, and were disappointed when she responded that she did not know. I then rephrased my question and said:
"Well, I guess what I mean is, where is this animal's role in your society? You use the oxen to pull the plow and tend your fields, right?"
The woman's eyes widened. "Oh no," she said. "This is water buffalo. The water buffalo is one of the three deadliest animals in all of Kenya. This is very dangerous animal, and no one in their right mind would try to tend crops with water buffalo."
I replied, "Deadly? Come on. It's an ox! How could an ox be so deadly?"
The woman answered, "If this animal sees you, and you are within 200 yards of it, you basically run fast as you can and pray you will get away. If you don't get away, then you pray for quick death.
"Water buffalo will charge you and drive its horn directly through your chest, toss you high up in air and then run back around and do it again and again until you die."
"Wow! So you're really serious when you say that this is one of the three deadliest animals?"
So, when I got the statue home and put it on my desk opposite my bedstand, I looked upon it with new respect. Yes, it represented my entrance into the working world and the yoke of oppression, but it also represented the fact that I had great power, great ability.
Once I really began to stand up for myself, no one could stop me from achieving my goals. I took that experience to indicate that the working world would only make me tougher, stronger and better in every conceivable way. I kept the statue in solid view in my room on a consistent basis.
Now, the transmission that had come through my own hand added a dramatic and unexpected twist to the story. The fact that the forces put the word "oxen" after the Bible quotation about work clearly showed that they knew and understood the symbolism that I had given it.
They might have even been responsible for my decision to purchase it in the first place! It also took something that could otherwise have been a very Christian message and made it more personal, by phrasing it in terms that I could understand.
The implications of all of this were causing both of our minds to reel. In a surprising moment of clarity, Jude asked, "Well, do you think that we should ask for more confirmation? Should we do it again, or is this our proof here?"
I stopped and thought for a moment. "No," I said, pausing somberly, "I am pretty happy with what I got here." At that exact second, the clock struck two, making two loud bonging noises that echoed through the room.
Both I and Jude looked at each other with astonishment, realizing that yet another layer of synchronicity around the number two had been added to the mix, in order to even further validate the idea that something truly extraordinary had just occurred. Ecclesiastes 2:22, my 22-dollar ox and now the clock striking two. It was just "two" much to believe.
It is important to note the other possible layers that this message could have as well. Christ was very important to Cayce, and thus "Christ Cometh" had great meaning to me on the soul level.
The word "Ra" indicated the past life that Cayce had been most proud of. Then, the initials "EC" came through. Even though it was a Bible quote, most authors typically put two "C's" after the "E" for Ecclesiastes, and the "C's" are usually lower case.
We also must ask the question of what the numbers after EC could have to do with Edgar Cayce's life. Recently, I accessed the Cayce Readings CD-ROM and tried to determine if there were any significant readings with these call numbers, but there were not.
However, the numbers could certainly be important for another reason as well -- the ages of Cayce's life that corresponded to what I was going through at the time.
In the biography There is a River, we learn that when Cayce turned 40, the year was 1917. In that year, he saw the start of World War One, and most of his entire Sunday Bible school of young men were drafted and had to go fight.
This was obviously a difficult event in Cayce's life -- the loss of those whom he had been caring for, and the world descending into the most horrible war in history. And then, when Cayce was 57, the year was 1935, and in between those two years of Cayce's life, he had seen the rise and fall of his professional career with his Cayce Hospital.
Morton and Edwin Blumenthal, two New York Jewish men who got very rich from the business and financial advice of Cayce's readings, had funded this hospital. After the Great Depression, Morton Blumenthal lost all of his money and the hospital collapsed. Cayce was still feeling the sting of this loss in December, 1935, when his whole family was unwittingly arrested in Detroit for practicing medicine without a license.
So, at age 57, Cayce had completed a cycle of loss, in a sense. (A time to be born, and a time to die!) There was a time where he had his hospital and everything was great -- he could do readings and treat people with complete legitimacy.
His dream had come true, established doctors had underwritten him and all the legal loopholes had been filled. Now, still feeling the pain of the hospital's loss, his whole family had gotten arrested for something that had been completely legitimate and in full swing just six years earlier.
This arrest had come about through Cayce's practice of medical readings, and though he did not receive any punitive sentence from the Detroit judge, it still had a very sobering effect on him.
I had also just "lost the hospital," namely my job at the ward. I could not have known that Cayce's arrest at age 57, time-coded into my message, had occurred exactly 60 years earlier, almost to the week, from when I was fired and did the automatic writing!
In "Convergence," I write about the importance of the "harmonic number" 60 in so many different contexts, including cycles of time, and now we see it here again. One of the key lengths for cycles of time in human history is 2160 years, and this is exactly 36 units of 60.
36 is another key harmonic number, as the square of the number six. Furthermore, 36 is one of the fundamental cornerstone numbers of the entire harmonic series.
So, both ages 40 and 57 involved a cycle of humiliation and loss in Cayce's life, similar to the total ruin that I now felt of losing my own hospital and getting reprimanded. I had also just been trounced on by the system for trying to help other people.
Another interesting point, which may not really mean anything, is what happens when you multiply 40 and 57 together. The number that you get is 2280, and this is the same number as the street address of the farmhouse in Virginia Beach where I ended up writing much of this book as well as "Convergence."
We once again get the number "22" and the all-important number "8", which signifies the infinity of the octave. (Also, eight is two times two times two: another level of the "2:22" synchronicity.)
It is also interesting to point out that in one of my dreams prior to the actual automatic writing session and discovery, I had to confront my "UFO double" by picking up a leek.
At the farmhouse at 2280, I ended up working with this style of leeks and consistently eating them for really the first time in my life. It certainly causes one to wonder exactly how far these prophecies can really go! [Wouldn't you know it - 3:33 p.m. 4/7/99 as I finish this sentence!]
After this event, changes slowly and gradually took place in my consciousness. I had been given unequivocal proof of an outside psychic contact, after specifically asking the question, "Am I a Wanderer? Am I an extraterrestrial soul in a human body, here on a volunteer mission to help the planet?"
And not only did I get an affirmative answer, but it was curiously tied in with Biblical prophecy as well! Not only did it directly and accurately cite a quotation from the Bible, line for line, it also said the enigmatic phrase, "Christ Cometh."
I felt as if this might possibly be a reference to the Second Coming of Christ, but I had read enough literature by this point to suspect that they were talking about the dawning of the Christ Light within me. I was very excited by this prospect.
So, even with the predominantly Christian theme of the message, I did not just automatically convert over to Christianity and begin reading the Bible every day. Life went on, dramatically enhanced with the new information in one sense and very similar, if not identical in the other.
I had fulfilled Mandelker's caveat of "seeing it through to term," and now I had the personal proof. Changes were still happening, as my friend Eric and I had decided to rent a place out in Rosendale, New York, a place that had once been owned by the delightfully eccentric artist and video producer Allen Epstein, who had since died.
The name of the place was "Chateau Bullshinski -- The Metaphysical Resort."
THE METAPHYSICAL RESORT
I had intended on going to the new house partly as a way to support my lifestyle of working at the hospital, and now all of that had fallen apart. I knew that I had to get out of the boarding house where I was living, as I could no longer tolerate the misgivings of the students who were living there.
So, Eric and I decided to move in together. Eric ended up single-handedly producing almost all of the incredible $1725 in cash that we needed to move in. But, it was a fantastic apartment, and I did actually pay my half back completely later on.
The apartment walls were largely brick, with huge, 20-foot high ceilings. It had once been an old schoolhouse and was remodeled into an apartment, with a giant loft in the center of the room that formed a second-floor bedroom, where I slept. Eric slept on the main floor downstairs, which was divided into two main sections.
The artist Allen Epstein had died several years earlier, but as I lived there and heard the stories from Allen's daughter and from the neighbors, I gradually pieced together an account of what had happened.
Allen had gone to Yale on a full scholarship when he was only 17 years old, and he was obviously a true creative genius, who eventually became quite successful in the video production business. Allen became an interesting and important figure in my life, and I often felt as if I could sense Allen's spirit in the apartment with me.
I also felt that the studious energy of the classroom was still stored in the apartment as well, even though no classes had occurred in there for probably more than 70 years.
The idea of Allen's success and care-free lifestyle was attractive to me, and I grew out my sideburns as a way to greater harmonize with Allen's energies, as he invariably had them in every picture that I saw.
The brick walls, wood stove and hardwood floors gave the apartment a very rustic feel. The uniqueness of the place was compounded by the fact that many of Epstein's best paintings still hung on the walls. They were bright and colorful and very enjoyable, and the effect that they caused was to basically turn the whole apartment into an art gallery.
Dozens of oddly positioned track lights and a giant carved mirror in the middle of the apartment added to the ambience that could be created there. I was very excited about actually living in such an incredible place as this.
Plus, Eric had a modern, Internet-compatible computer. Soon, I would completely give up on my old Apple IIc , which I had been using as a word-processor for so many years now.
My journals at the time revealed that many interesting things were happening; things that would later blossom into a full-blown way of life as a modern prophet. Throughout the entire awakening process, as well as the whole first year of doing readings, I could have never imagined that I would be told that I had been Edgar Cayce in a past life.
An idea like that was so outside of my universe that I never would have possibly had any reason to suspect it whatsoever. Such a thing was not even remotely possible, and I never once had the thought cross my mind with any real seriousness until my readings had already delivered me squarely into Virginia Beach.
The early journal writings do show the latent potentials, even if consciously I was not seeing them. Here is an excerpt, from when I was still living in the boarding house:
11 / 28 / 95-
Something is happening. Something right now. A culmination. I had a dream a short time ago where I was finally facing up to a UFO contact, and there was a leek there (line 333) that I had to pick up which indicated that I was ready for it to happen. I was quite scared.
The other day, I was in the store and ended up buying the leek just like in my dream without even really realizing what I was doing. Somehow, I feel that these two things are related, and when I use the leek, the time has come.
I am now planning on going into the kitchen and cooking with it. Tomorrow is the first day of my new life, where the next step of the ascending passage locks into place and I am forever ahead of where I once was, never to slide back there again in quite the same way.
(It is interesting to note how often I would use symbolism from the Pyramid Timeline in my journal writings. In the Cayce Readings, Ra-Ta was said to have co-designed the Great Pyramid with Hermes.)
The time is growing close. I need to remember what happened in between the moment of sudden fear and my waking up, (in my OBE when I was five.) I now think that some kind of contact might have occurred between the time that I became afraid and the time that I was back in my body.
My memory might have somehow been erased for this period of time, as often happens to people in the UFO books I read. Something was clearly at work in my life at that time, and I want to find out more.
The part that must now become the primary focus is the spiritual growth element, which I have largely ignored in my research so far. I must now begin a regular meditation schedule, and stick to it. They can't get closer to me unless I stop the spiraling loops of thought that are getting in the way of my deeper mind.
Voices are already in there, talking. I just have a hard time keeping them in. I can't think about them the way that you would expect to. If I try to listen to them, they change. I just have to let them pass through me.
I have to clear the detritus out of my mind, and the impurities out of my diet.
12 / 28 / 95 -
(Here in my new place, I write about the night where Jude and I did the automatic writing, and our collective realization that we were indeed both Wanderers. I write from the "What if" perspective of being on the other side -- having been the extraterrestrial entity choosing to come to Earth, before it had actually happened.)
We were brave -- the bravest of our entire society, perhaps. It was on that night when we decided to come to Earth that we realized how dedicated to love and light we really were. We would sacrifice all of our major spiritual powers, and incarnate into physical bodies with no memory of how we initially got there.
We could get trapped into depression and drugs, feeling rejected and frustrated with a society whose corruption we could not relate to at all. We would have a dim idea that we were there to change the world, but the fears generated by the great negativity of the planet could easily overwhelm us into an ineffectual life, burdened with the continuous suffering that flesh is heir to.
But, there was an excitement there as well. Nowhere else in the universe was there a place like this Earth. A turning point was arriving imminently, wherein the entire vibratory level of the planet would be raised.
Souls who refused to progress would reincarnate elsewhere, and there were many who would have to move on in the pivotal time. So, the idea was to try to individually help as many beings as possible to realize that spiritual growth is the whole game behind Schoolhouse Earth, and to see it and act on it before the shit hits the fan.
We both had faith in our strength. We knew that we would do all we could to pierce through the shells of their material world to convey messages to them. As we partially realized our identity in waking life, our souls, still possessing higher connections, could easily manipulate events in our creatures' worlds.
This was done in order to create the types of synchronistic occurrences that would wake ourselves up from slumber and gradually lead our physical selves back to the wisdom that we possessed in the spirit. If we could attain this full realization, the impact upon the planet could be quite profound.
We knew that it wasn't necessarily imperative to become world famous, just to do the grassroots work in the areas we found ourselves in and raise the consciousness of people a few at a time. There were at least 65 million of us out there, perhaps 100 million. That adds up to one out of every eighty people.
Then, if ET souls tend to converge in certain areas, such as Boulder or California or here in the Hudson Valley, then the odds could get even better.
So, we would have a pretty fair chance of eventually meeting others like us, possibly as a direct result of talking to them in the spirit world and working together to create the proper synchronicities in order to have everything fall into place the way it should.
Thus, Jude and I "discovered" each other in 1988 and had kept a solid spiritual connection for the entire rest of our lives. Consciously unaware, we set it all up that way. The material world was like a playground, in a way.
We could do a lot with beings -- putting suggestions into their heads to go to certain places at certain times, getting their own spirits to agree, in order to make everything work smoothly. And, we could actually manipulate physical reality to varying degrees as well.
We could set up that bottle for the creature to trip over in advance, getting another being to kick it. Then, when our subject walks near it, we cause them to not see what their foot is doing long enough to manipulate them into the proper tripping-over alignment. This tripping over might be exactly what was needed to balance the being's karma at that time.
All of this was being done in order to teach a lesson about doing the right thing. We were at work constantly, constructing rich metaphors and obstacles in the dreams as a way to send messages from ourselves into the creature's mind, and forever!
(D: Brief interruption as my clock says 3:33. I just picked up the phone and realized that the NYCA repertory company wants me to perform in another musical for two weekends in January. I am quite excited, and I happened to listen back to the message at 3:33 "just by accident." As a little joke, my alien spirit set that one up just to let me know that she is there.)
working on SYNCHRONICITIES in the daily life of the being, in full accordance with how much the being chooses to act for the highest forces of love and light. Once the container of this mighty soul clicks in to the truth of his or her being, we delight in rewarding the positive actions richly.
When the path is deviated from, we then resort to whatever degree of compassionately functioning karma is necessary for the being to maintain balance, and not the slightest bit more.
It is the luckiest of us who are able to fully align the being's physical mind with us. As in the case of David, who is writing here, we now know that he has broken through.
We have worked extensively to show him that he is on the right track in every possible way, using all of our resources available to shower him with confidence-boosting good luck. And it is working better than ever; we are all very pleased.
David knows a moderate amount about our past activities, and has correctly received the impetus to continuously study. David has been doing so much good lately that we were able to finally reveal these things to him.
And I, David, am glad for it. Whether they or I wrote the above, I know that it is right on. They have been working overtime in my life lately -- things have been going crazy.
In hindsight, it is surprising that even though I wrote the above from a clearly inspired, psychic standpoint, it would indeed be almost an entire year before I "officially" began receiving psychic messages.
This journal entry almost seemed to be a sort of "practice run" in a much lighter trance than what I would later assume to do my work. Yet, even in those early days, my dreams were communicating to me, regarding exactly what I would need to do to open up a full contact. Here is one dream from New Year's Day 1996 that proves the point quite well.
1 / 1 / 96 -
In this dream, someone had died, and I actually encountered him. He wanted to get an inside message to his friends, who were still alive, by putting a message on their answering machine.
Anyway, we tried to record his speech on the answering machine, and afterwards nothing came out except the voice of my mom, speaking with a droning sound in the background.
After we checked the machine, we decided that the best way to do it would be for him to say it to me and then for me to dictate it into the machine!
In this dream, we can see how I was being given explicit instructions on how I could begin a channeling process to communicate with these forces; simply listening to their voice and then putting it into a recording.
It would turn out almost a year later that this is exactly what I did; I listened to the still small voice in my mind and recorded it onto a tape player. At the time it was just another dream, one of many, but now it is clear that everything was being set up in advance for this moment.
Certainly the automatic writing episode with Jude had opened up my mind considerably to a whole new reality. I now had the "proof" that I was one of these remarkable Wanderers, or ET souls incarnating as human beings.
Life took on a whole new slant, as I realized that the behind-the-scenes work going on here with Earth was much more impressively huge and powerful than I could have ever imagined! In other words, it confirmed everything that I had ever felt so strongly about with myself.
I now knew that there was a very good reason for why I felt so different, for why I simply could not understand negativity, deceit and deception. I also realized that the more awakened I became, the more of an important role I could have in shaping the future course of human destiny.
I was now a veritable encyclopedia of UFO and metaphysical information from all of my book readings, and my three solid years of daily dream journalizing.
Despite all this grandiose knowledge coming from my ET self, I still had major work to do with my Earth self! Indeed, the whole concept of "staying grounded" would prove to be my biggest challenge.
I had spent almost the entire month of December unemployed, trying to find a job. I wasn't really trying as hard as I should have, because I even admitted to myself that I was lazy and self-indulgent.
The idea of walking into a disgusting corporate office with fluorescent lights and begging them for a job felt as humiliating and degrading to me as if I were a slave, washing toilets. I knew that I had backups, including the fact that Eric had money, my parents had a little money and my grandparents had a lot of money.
I still had only been living on my own since Graduation, which realistically wasn't all that long ago. Even if my life was in danger from not working, I still wanted "private space" to myself to adjust to my new knowledge.
I mean after all, here I am an awakened Volunteer Extraterrestrial Ambassador to Earth, and they want me to work for six bucks an hour? I think not, dear friends.
I had become so accustomed to the carefree, easygoing lifestyle of being in the dorms that I did not want to assume responsibility for my life. In college, all I had needed to do was to meet a minimum standard in terms of my grades, which to me meant that I needed to score slightly higher than a B- on everything.
But, since the entire school seemed to be filled with lazy and self-indulgent people, the grades were "curved." No professor wanted a class full of failures, and so we were graded by a democratic process, based on the overall success and/or failure of the group.
Since I was very intellectually gifted, I could do almost nothing but take solid notes while I was in class and still beat the curves. The note-taking and constant eye contact with the professor was my secret to duck out on almost all extracurricular work and still get good grades.
Half of my fellow classmates were smoking pot, drinking alcohol and doing even less about their work than I was. One of my hobbies was to sit in the side chairs by the front, where I could see the whole class as well as the teacher.
I would be awed to realize that I was almost always one of about five students in a class of 40 or more who actually maintained eye contact with the professor and participated in class! The rest of the students would just dreadfully stare off into space, acting as if almost anything else in their exciting lives would be better than being sentenced to sit in that classroom.
The closer we got to the end of the semester, the more the classes would thin out, those unmotivated students simply failing to appear. Even if I came out with below-grade raw scores on my exams, these "lackeys" almost always brought up the rear on the curve.
There was one exception to this bell-curve rule in my classes, as I sank like the Titanic in Statistical Psychology, actually taking it twice in a row and ending up with a D- the first time and a C- the second time.
Neither of those grades were good enough to enroll into a graduate program with, and that knowledge haunted me. In the back of my mind, I still wanted to go on to get at least a Master's and possibly a Doctorate in psychology, preferably in a spiritual concentration.
So, even though I had gotten my diploma, I hadn't actually "finished college" to the point of being ready to go on to higher learning. In the back of my mind, I was constantly shadowed by that fact, and it emerged consistently in my dreams in many different cases.
In fact, as time progressed and I got to know my dreams better, certain themes began to emerge. Whenever I was being especially self-destructive, through my own indulgence in laziness, worry and lack of motivation to change a difficult situation in my life, I would get dreams where I was killing someone, or someone else was being killed.
If the message did not need to be as intense as the actual murder, my dreams would actually do something else that in some ways was far worse.
Every time I needed a lesson, every time I indulged in a habitual behavior out of laziness, my dreams would send me right back into hell itself - High School!
It was almost always the same basic dream, and I have literally documented hundreds of them. In this dream, I suddenly realize that my work in high school was never finished and I have to go back. I find myself in class and am horrified to be there.
I awaken with desperate relief that it is not true, failing to realize the real reason for why I was meant to have the dream. Every time I stayed in a job or a life pattern that was worn-out and no longer useful to me, on came the high school dreams, shocking and threatening me to my very core.
I still never thought about my former life as an addict, and tried to act as if it had never even happened.
And so now in December of 1995, I was completely dodging responsibility by not looking for a job. These were the exact same problems that plagued me as a marijuana smoker, and so even though I had cleaned up, the habit patterns themselves still remained.
I still wanted to live in a fog, ignore responsibility and stay "high," only now that was being done through my vigilant UFO / metaphysics research. So now, I found myself driving down Creeklocks Road in the snow, and I decided that I really didn't feel like doing anything more to look for work that day, even though I still had the time to try.
I was weary and tired of beating my brains out, tired of trying to find jobs that I was massively overqualified for and that I didn't even want. I had realized almost immediately after graduating that my BA in Psychology meant absolutely nothing in the "real world."
I would put it on my job applications and it didn't seem to make a bit of difference in anyone's hiring decisions. I gripped the steering wheel in frustration as all these thoughts cascaded through my mind. No more ridiculous job searching for today, I thought. I'm tired of it.
Suddenly, I rounded a turn and started to slide, quite badly. I mentally screamed, hit the brakes, and the car just kept on sliding out of control! Suddenly, time seemed to slow down to a crawl, and I wondered if I was about to die.
No steering or braking did anything to stop the car's motion. Out loud, I started screaming "Shit" in a percussive, rhythmic chant, two times per second, getting louder and louder the longer I slid. I was still going pretty fast, about 35 miles per hour.
My car slid around backwards, making a complete 180-degree arc before slamming into a post on the side of the road. At the same moment of time that I swore and slid in this giant circle, I felt compelled to look at my car's digital clock, and the digits 1:11 burned at me from the dashboard.
I really didn't have time to think about what it meant, but yet I was aware even as it was happening that the higher forces were somehow involved with it. That was the signature of my "new ET family," and here I was about to die in my car.
I was very, very lucky, as my car might have slid right off of the road and down a big hill if I hadn't hit that post! The posts were spaced about thirty feet apart from each other, and I really was lucky that I hit one.
The sudden force of the impact seemed to be extremely jarring, and I had no idea how much damage there would be, or if I would even be able to drive my car again.
On the verge of a total, helpless breakdown, both mentally and physically, I quickly jumped out and was quite relieved to see that the dent was actually rather small and cosmetic, and that the car could still be easily driven afterwards.
The wheel and axle absorbed the majority of the shock head-on, so there was little damage. I started seriously thinking about the fact that the presence of the triple numbers was a sign that the higher spiritual forces had something to do with the crash.
Then, I went back to my dream notebooks, and found more than one dream that had predicted the event in advance. I had it coming for my lack of responsibility, and I realized that I had better start working a lot harder to look for a job.
Just before I had moved into my new apartment, I had gone through a rather lengthy conversation with Yumi on the telephone. The price of a long-distance call to Japan was quite high, and I did not have the money to afford such a thing.
We had ended up getting into a fight, with Yumi actually giving me the silent treatment at a rate of more than 70 cents a minute! It had taken me a long time to get through the conversation intact, and I had hardly cared how much it would cost when I was in the middle of it.
I figured that I would pay the bill with the money from whatever new job I ended up receiving after I moved.
I finally ended my tremendous cycle of unemployment by starting at a local behavioral day treatment center for developmentally disabled people on Dec. 31, 1995. My new boss had purposefully gotten me in before 1996 so that I did not fall under the new tax and salary laws that the company had just passed, further limiting vacation time and salary increases from the earlier status.
I was happy about that, and felt quite good about this new boss of mine, whose name was Peter. The only problem with the job was that the salary was abysmally poor -- not a penny more than $5.77 per hour! This, for a freshly graduated college student?
I was fed a pack of lies, told that there was a huge amount of opportunity for me there and that once I was "in," I could get a much higher paying job that utilized my education. Higher paying meant something closer to $7 dollars an hour, and I knew it was a bad scene when five different Master's degree people applied for a job that only required a BA. I didn't stand a chance.
Plus, because of my BA in psychology and probably my youth and masculine gender, Peter ended up placing me almost exclusively in the "Behavior Rooms," where they essentially separated all the "consumers" who had the most severe behavioral problems.
These people would disrupt the normal, peaceful routines of the other rooms, and were placed in these special circumstances so that they could be monitored more closely. What this essentially created, depending on the day, was a brick oven of pure hell, where you would get burned alive just trying to keep everyone sitting down and quiet.
The job was incredibly stressful, but in the calmer hours I was very happy that I was able to extend compassion towards other people and not get fired for doing it. This was definitely a far cry from a mental ward, as I was working with a completely different population of people.
In fact, extending my compassion was exactly what they wanted me to be doing, and this made me feel wonderful. I still felt like I "had" to work in the Mental Health field, because I still planned on going to graduate school. These were the jobs you were "supposed" to take on the way there.
The reality and horror of my financial picture started to become quite clear. Even though I had just gotten my Christmas money from the family, I was disappointed when I realized that there wasn't as much of it as I had planned on receiving.
Plus, my paychecks from this new job would be so low that I had very little chance of ever being able to pay all of my bills on time. My paychecks only came once every two weeks, and there was an initial period of delay that I had to sweat through as well.
All in all, it was going to be rough going, and I realized that I would be apt to remain abysmally poor for the entire time that I kept the job.
Eric and I had transferred my old phone account over to our new phone, and kept it in my name. So, I was naturally quite shocked on January 18, 1996, when a leftover phone bill showed up in the mail.
Apparently, it was for a billing period of only three days, directly before I had moved out of my apartment in New Paltz. Despite the short time involved, the bill itself was for close to 200 dollars! Almost the entire amount had been racked up in that one single conversation that I had with Yumi, where we were fighting about our dying relationship! I could hardly believe my bad luck.
I had absolutely no way to pay out the money by the deadline time that was given on the bill, and now I was going to lose my phone. I suddenly felt the world collapsing in on me from all sides. I was slipping into a state of total panic and intense depression, feeling completely hopeless.
Here I had finally tackled my inner demons of laziness and had gotten a job, but it was too little, too late. And then, right in the middle of this feeling, I suddenly thought back to my discovery of only six weeks earlier.
I remembered that I had been given astonishing proof that I was actually a Wanderer, or an extraterrestrial soul in a physical body. My hand had sprung to life and written out my 11-character message all by itself, and that message was incredibly profound.
Now, I felt so paralyzed, so completely alone, that I burst out crying, going into a feeling of complete and total despair and isolation. I began doing something that could only be described as a hysterical, screaming prayer, yelling at the mute brick walls.
"If this is who you are, and this is what I am, you need to show me something right now! You can't expect me to just crash through life with all these problems and simply believe what you told me on faith!
I need more proof, and I need it now! If you want me to believe this, you'd better show me something right now, or that's it!"
I was totally serious as I said these things. After my screaming, crying prayer, I started to calm down, and frequently looked out the window to see if a UFO would appear outside! Nothing like that was happening.
Then, I decided that maybe "they" would allow me to have a temporary telekinetic ability. I tried to levitate the napkin off of my plate by sheer concentration alone, but nothing happened. I essentially gave up, and realized that even though the whole thing had seemed rather interesting, it was obvious that nothing had happened.
In my time of greatest need, "they" had let me down. It was certainly interesting to wonder if I actually might have been such a Wanderer, but now I knew that the "reality" was that I was just David Wilcock, BA, a young slave to the Machine.
I certainly had felt pretty convinced by what had happened with the automatic writing at the time, but now I wasn't so sure.
Suddenly, as I sat there staring at the phone bill, I realized that they had never applied my international calling discount rate to the charges -- I was being billed nearly twice the rate per minute than what I had actually agreed to!
I suddenly picked up the phone and called the phone company, angrily explaining what had happened to me. Not only did they change the rate back to what it was supposed to be, they actually gave me a 25-dollar discount for my trouble as well!
Suddenly, I had whittled the untenable bill down to a manageable 75 dollars! I was amazed that I hadn't noticed this before, and I started to feel much better about the entire situation. I actually did have enough money to afford this.
Right after this, my friend Chris called up, talking about his own struggles with drinking alcohol and his desire to quit. I was able to draw heavily off of my own past history with addiction and recovery, giving Chris valuable advice. We talked for a good bit of time, and I made a powerful realization.
No matter how dismal or horrible my life might have appeared to be in the present moment, it was still just far, far better than the incredible pit that I had slipped into while smoking marijuana. Randy had threatened my life, I had been almost suicidally depressed and I existed in a constant state of relentless paranoia and anxiety.
I had been a willing slave to the Devil himself, acting through Randy. I was running from my problems like crazy, and that only made them come back even harder and more viciously with each ensuing event.
There was just no getting around the truth, which was that I had made incredible progress, and was still progressing. After getting off of the phone with Chris, I ended up playing my original tape, "Stories from the Love Brothers," which I had listened to every day while I was getting clean to combat my loneliness.
This tape was that initial blast of light that had dispelled the negativity in my life in the first place, giving me the strength to quit. Suddenly, it was all brand new and funny again, and it completely and totally lifted my mood.
I laughed so hard at the same jokes that I had heard so many times before that I almost cried. I went to sleep that night before Eric had ever come home, and by that point I had completely forgotten about my prayer. Eric certainly didn't know about it either, since he wasn't even there when it happened.
"HE IS ONE OF US"
The forces decided to make good on my prayer, but they did it in a way that I could never have imagined. I got up several hours before my housemate would in order to make it to work on time. Eric was still working nights, doing the same pizza delivery job that I had long since quit.
That particular morning, it was very cold outside, and I got the strong intuition to go outside and start my car to warm it up before I left for work. Even though I normally did not do this, I felt that it was very important that I do it that morning.
When I came back into the house, I was quite surprised to see Eric awake and out of bed, talking on the telephone! This was extremely bizarre, as Eric normally slept like a rock! A large red pillow mark had creased his face from the top left to the bottom right, and he looked like a zombie, barely even awake.
He hung up the phone just as I came back inside. Apparently, one of Eric's obscure friends had called at that ungodly time of the morning, even though both Eric and I had unilaterally told everyone we knew to never call when it was early.
I greeted Eric as I got the last of my things for lunch before rushing out the door. Eric seemed very curiously perplexed, and mumbled to me, "You know, I just had a dream about you, man!"
"I can't listen to your dreams right now! I've got to go!" I replied. It was going to get late very soon, and I had a terrible habit of driving aggressively fast when I was running behind, since Peter was a complete taskmaster, especially when it came to promptness.
"But no! wait! this was different, man. This dream involved you and UFO's, and it was totally incredible."
Now, my attitude changed. Even though I had already forgotten my screaming prayer the night before, I snapped to attention. "Wow! Okay, I'm listening!"
Here is the result, as it was originally written into my dream notebook that same afternoon:
1 / 19 / 96 -
Note: Moments after I wrote down this morning's dream, Eric had a dream which, by a well-placed phone call, he revealed to me as I left for work.
The call occurred while I was outside starting my car. In his dream, he was hooking up with a girl from the Rosendale Cafe who he liked, and they ran into me and we were all talking. We walked into what I described as a huge, open-spaced outdoor mall with tons of people.
Suddenly, there was a massive overflight of a UFO fleet, and a man "descended" from it onto a raised, circular platform in the center of the mall.
Eric describes this man as looking vaguely like a chef who lived for a short time in Bouton Hall. It was an older man with graying hair and a similar beard, only thinner and with somehow very sensitive features.
When he first came down he was lecturing to everyone, saying that his group was responsible for guiding humankind's development, that we were their long-lost brothers and that they were coming back to help us.
He repeatedly stressed Ascension and the fact that Earth was heading into a major transformation quite imminently soon. Despite the incredible positivity of his message, people were panicking and didn't know what to do.
The girl kept asking Eric all kinds of questions, and I believe that he told her that I would be the one to ask -- I already knew most of what they were about at this point.
Then, the man's speech was over, and he was just standing there. All the others had totally cleared out in a blind panic.
The girl asked, "Shouldn't we just go talk to him?" Eric said, "We'll leave that up to Dave; he's the UFO guy, not me." They both pressured me and I finally agreed to do it.
I went up to the man and said a word that Eric didn't recognize, a word that started with an S, and from his various guesses I believe that it was "Shalom," the Hebrew word for peace. The man seemed to recognize me, and said the same word back to me!
There was a sudden sense of outrageous surprise on both of our faces as the man reached out and embraced me quite vigorously! Then, with his arm around my shoulders, he turned to Eric and said quite directly, "It is very important that you realize that he is one of us."
Eric said that I appeared to be completely ecstatic; in fact, he had never seen me look so happy in all the time that he had been around me. Tears of joy were streaming down my face.
Then, the man seemed to be concentrating for a bit, and he then said the following: "There is still attachment to another woman in your life; Yumi. Ah, but it was only a temporary infatuation..."
The reality of what had happened did not strike me until that afternoon, when I was driving back to my hometown on the New York State Thruway to visit my family. My day of work had been simply horrible, another day of trying to keep the most minimum standards of sanity alive in the incinerator.
I was working with another fellow student who had also just graduated from New Paltz, a female, and she did not have the "edge" to maintain order. As a result, it was a complete disaster, and we had to fight like crazy just to keep the noise down from a perpetual scream and the most problematic people from escaping into the hallways.
(Even though it was a locked and alarmed building, you were in big trouble if you let them get out of the room.)
So, no sooner did I come back from this day of hell but what I had to turn right around and rush back into my car to try to drive home at a reasonable hour. The rain was pouring down outside, making it very difficult to see and to drive.
I was hitting puddles on the road and hydroplaning quite frequently, which made me very nervous. Plus, the rain was so intense that the windows were fogging up on the inside faster than I could defrost them.
I had never really left the Behavior Rooms behind that day, and now I was literally sweating with fear, clinging to the steering wheel and hoping that I could get through this horrible test alive.
In the middle of all this struggle, I suddenly realized that my wish had been granted -- "they" had answered my prayer last night, and did it through causing an entirely different person to have a dream about it!
The gravity of my prayers being answered was so great that I actually had to pull over the car, flip on the hazard lights and basically cry it out of my system. Finally, after my now trademark half-hour of wailing in the car, in a bizarre combination of sadness and joy, I got back on the road again, feeling much better.
The storm had considerably lessened, and the rest of the drive was relatively easy. When I came home, I again told my mother what had happened, but I could tell that she was not at all convinced. The concept of being an extraterrestrial soul in a human body was just too far outside of her universe to be an acceptable statement of true reality.
Now that such a stunning confirmation had happened, I could hardly even imagine the resources available to these Extraterrestrials. Somehow, they were able to get me a message through an extraordinary display, combining my own urge to go start my car, a person calling us at exactly the right time and Eric's subconscious dream being timed precisely in conjunction with these events.
Essentially speaking, three completely different people had to totally triangulate on the same moment of space and time, and none of us had any conscious idea that this was being guided by an unseen force.
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