I like dreams of the future better than the history of the past. – Thomas Jefferson
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
Our successful angel-powered earthquake meditation, facilitated by our tiny three person dream team working beside the gurgling Soda Creek, still buzzes in my head. I bounce in the back seat as Cali navigates the SUV up the bumpy dirt road, shaken to my core about the majestic planetary scale of the angels’ work growing giant white trees all the along the San Andreas fault to save the planet from the tectonic 2012 nightmares. I am so honored to be doing this work that I fight back tears of joy.
Despite the urgency of reaching the volcano meditation site, we have yet to scout, by 1 PM I cannot resit asking Cali to make a quick stop to take pics of a gorgeous temple beside the pot-holed dirt road. The small stone temple dazzles with a fountain at it’s core. But the temple is fenced off so we must take our pics through the chain links. I notice one of the fence posts is the stump of a once mighty pine. It’s bark is crushed by rusty cables. I gather Cali and Chris to take my hands and we take a minute to pay our respects to this once mighty pine. Then we are off.
Back on I-5 a cloud formation that looks remarkably like an atomic bomb’s mushroom cloud rises above the mountains. I’ve never see anything so perfectly like the mushroom clouds that haunted my 1950’s childhood when it seemed life could be snuffed out at the sound of an air raid siren. The night before leaving I was sent a fantastically paranoid sounding article about a nuclear bomb getting planted this very day on the San Andreas fault by extremists to launch a massive earthquake and I share the story with Chris and Cali.
The couple looks a bit shaken at this nuclear fear, fear that sounds too much like Lex Luthor’s battle with Superman in the first Superman film for me to take seriously. Work with the angels allows me to let go of fears of a nuclear war that have troubled me since The Cuban Missile Crisis. I blessedly know now that the angels will only let us go just so far before they step in.
And perhaps this angels work about saving us from nuclear war has already happened. As we search for a road to get us to the volcano I tell the Rossens the amazing true story how for six months President Clinton simply had lost the nuclear launch codes. Imagine that, the most powerful nuclear power on earth unable to make nuclear war for six months because the launch codes were lost.
Could anything show how simple it would be for mischievous angels, who seem to love misplacing my house keys for fun sometimes, to stop a nuclear war?
Sure enough when I would return home from Mt. Shasta there would be the 24/7 fear machine of our modern media speculating on the North Korea tensions escalating into a nuclear war with China. Seriously? China nuke the biggest consumer of their products, America? I sigh as I type this, glad to know the angels don’t even need to handle something this silly.
The white SUV finally reaches a road that looks promising at the base of a dump and I feel this is the route to reach the planetary meditation spot. But Cali stops to ask an old Native America man for directions.
“Does that road lead up to the volcano?” Cali asks.
The old Native American gazes at the road downhill from the dump and seems to take forever to say…
It seems to me the old fellow is a trickster spirit but I hold my tongue in the backseat.
The old Native American squints into the sloping winter sun, past the dormant volcano, points and speaks very slowly,
“Get back onto the I-5 and take the first exit, there are some tourist viewing spots on that side.”
I check my watch it’s 12:50 PM. If these directions are wrong I worry we’ll be late for the 1 PM meditation. Despite my better instincts I keep my mouth shut as Cali heads onto the 5.
Sure enough, as I suspected, we seem to be on a road to nowhere. There are no tourist spots apparent to us. We try backtracking to a rainbow of multi-colored semi trucks beside the road at the midpoint between the exit to the dump and the north side of the mountain.
Tension rises in the SUV as 1 PM comes and goes and we not getting any closer to the volcano.
“Back to the dump! ” I instruct Cali a bit harshly, angry with myself for not checking that road myself for this important volcanic meditation.
As we reach the exit for the dump it’s 1:11 and we are all stressed. Just then a rainbow appears leading to the dump. A sure sign my instincts had been right. I’d done my homework and as it turns out there is a low level turf war going on between the New Agers and Native Americans over the very spiritual Mt. Shasta. Perhaps this is why we were sent on a wild goose chase.
I am annoyed as Cali stops the SUV to take a picture of the rainbow. Cali is trying to get the perfect photo when I tell her time is running out.
I shout to be heard over the whipping wind,”We have to roll! Angels have no concept of time and they need these binary dates and times to synch up with us. We might miss them!” Soon as I say it I laugh out loud and add, “Man, if you’d have told me I’d be worrying about angels making appointments 6 months ago I’d have said you were nuts!”
Cali still resists moving on, trying for the perfect photo of the dazzling rainbow.
Chris finally coaxes his wife back into the car with a simple, “Cali…”
Finally we’re off, racing for the rainbow above the dump, not knowing if the untested road is going to get us there. I’ve never been late for a planetary meditation with angels before and I feel me blood pressure pound in my ears.
I point to a road. “There, that’s the road leads to the dump!”
“No it’s not. The we want’s road’s further up, ” says Cali, still sounding peeved about my rushing her rainbow shot.
“Humor me. I’m willing to bet you 100 bucks this is the right road.” I grouse, starting to sound like a grumpy Larry David.
Cali sweetly complies. I should have kept my mouth shut and let Cali drive as we are shortly in a dusty rock quarry. Another dead end. My watch shows 1:20 as I groan, “You were right, Cali. I don’t get what’s holding us back. I never get lost! I owe you a hundo. Take us to the dump your way.”
Cali cracks a victorious smile to Chris and takes the SUV up the correct road. The old Native American is long gone as we head through the dump for the back road I wish I would have tested a half an hour earlier.
This sleeping giant is one of 4 dormant volcanoes in the area. The inn keeper where we are staying, The Dream Inn, explained over breakfast that the volcano blows every 1,000 years or so. And since it blew about 100 years ago we are safe. That last blast was so powerful it was seen by ships out on the Pacific a hundred miles away.
Turns out the old Native American was both right and wrong about the road. It does dead end about half a mile above the dump for car travel, but there’s a path I spot that can be easily hiked on foot to the volcano.
I check my watch as I hop from the SUV. We are late but still within the binary 1 PM hour. I scurry over the buckled lost road, well ahead of Chris and Cali who are unsure about all this. I reach a plateau at the base of the volcano, topped with reddish purple asphalt, as if perhaps a vast long forgotten tourist attraction parking lot once stood here beneath the volcano.
Chris and Cali hurry now, close behind at my excited shout, “Whoo hoo! We’re in business!”
But before we can meditate with the angels we mortals all need a rest stop. So we each head into the brush in 3 directions. I am zipping up as I hear Cali’s squeal from the brush.
Chris and I hunt for where Cali’s excited shouts are coming from, and lo and behold there stands a grinning Cali beside an abandoned ’91 Saab. Cali’s bullet riddled discovery has been here forever from the rust. It sits upside down on it’s roof, trunk pointing at the volcano.
Cali, who has been remarkable this whole trip with her insights, has brought amazing stones with her that she found in Italy 10 years ago when she saw miniature angels in a wrestling match with dark spirits. We quickly place the amazing stones around the wasted Saab along with some sacred objects I’ve brought along of my own; a small glass paperweight of the world, the only object I took from my home in the divorce for reasons I did not understand at the time, and a palm print of my daughter’s hand that her grandfather carved for her from a 200 year-old oak plank.
We invite in the angels. They are laughing, happy we made it in time.
Well, let’s let the video do the rest of the talking.
Read about the vision we saw at ANGEL DRILL TEAM AT MT. SHASTA!
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