Blue whale that is! Last night I go to see THE WALK. As I pull into the Harken’s Theater parking lot the familiar voice of Robin Williams beams in from somewhere off the coast of Northern Mexico, as I researched on Google today, “Pod greetings, Ken Sheetz.”
“Nanu, Nanu, Robin. How’s life as a two month blue whale calf?” I ask in my mind, even though I am alone in my Jeep as could speak out loud, I prefer speaking telepathically with Robin. Helps me hear him in my mind’s ear more clearly.
“Whoa! I’ve packed on a lot of weight since I was born. Mamu is eating for two,” says Robin.
“Yeah, did some research on arkive.org to understand what you are going through. You were born 3 tons. Feeding on Mamu’s milk will go on for a full year. You’re gaining about 200 pounds and growing 1.5 inches per day,” I say, proud of my research.
“1.5 inches a day. I’m a whale boner. 200 pounds, cool, that’s how much I weighed when I was off the wagon as a human. You’re becoming a whale of nerd Sheetzy!” Says Robin brightly in my mind’s ear. So clear is Robin’s familiar voice that my old fears of being craked in the head break the surface like a whale’s spout.
Connected to me without words, we do that for fun and so readers can follow, Robin says using his excellent John Wayne voice, “Ken, buddy, ya ever going to realize you’re not nuts and that our talks are real, pilgrim?”
“I don’t think belief is ever going to be a 100% thing with me, Robin. All my spirits visitors and guides must put up with the way I stay feeling somewhat sane using a degree of healthy doubt as my anchor,” I say.
“Whatever floats your boat, Sheetzo. Just keep my whale of a tale going on your blog. Some of my fans believe I made the hyper space jump to whale life to bring in this groovy new frequency that’s going to change the world. Need to keep their hopes up, me boyo.” says Robin, serious as a judge.
“OK tomorrow, Robin. Promise. Sorry I missed reporting your birth in August. Been up to my eyeballs getting this ultrasonic device called the NEO Neurophone out into the world on Indiegogo. Got a break in the action as we sold out $1.6 million of them so fast the scientist Dr. Flanagan was caught off guard on restocking.” I say, resent creeping into my thoughts about the lost momentum.
Robin imitates an Indian guru, “Indeed, you must be patient, my friend. Breathe deep and trust all is unfolding perfectly imperfect. The 3,333 NEOs you sold for the doctor are making an ultrasonic harmonic we blues are receiving. Too many NEOs too soon is not what we wanted, most definitely.”
“Ah ha. So your blue whale clan ruling the oceans is responsible for this break in the NEO action. That’s a heck of a way to get me blogging again,” I laugh as I exit the Jeep and head for the movie theater to watch THE WALK.
The promising movie bombed opening weekend and so I share the theater this warm Tuesday night 10/15/15 with only one other person, a woman who looks at me nervously one time and never makes eye contact again. She remains quiet as a mouse to my roars of laughter at the funny moments of the film. You never want to sit directly in front of me in a movie.
To fill the theater void, Robin appears in human spirit form. He’s dressed in a blue jump suit form, munching a popcorn in the seat beside me. Of course only I can see him as the movie opens. This is typical of all my visions. Robin shape shifts into a blue skinned Roger Ebert, offering commentary, “Watched this talented lad grown up in THIRD ROCK FROM THE SUN. Sadly, Josh Gordon-Levit overdoes his French accent… but his sweet face gets you past it.”
I chuckle softly. Even dead Williams is hilarious. Josh narrates on screen as his character Philippe Petit, perched on the Statue of Liberty, the twin towers, where the walk will occur, glittering in the background. “I see why this film has bombed,” I offer to Robin.
“Do say, Ken?” says Robin now in the form of a blue skinned Gene Siskel.
“People are still too sad to see a movie about the twin towers.” I say as I experience an epiphany about the foreshadowing of Robin playing the shape shifting blue skinned Genie in ALADIN and his now being reincarnated as a blue whale. Whoa.
“Yeah, bummer. In fact I am getting depressed. I need more of Mamu’s milk. I leave you to it, Sheeterino!” Robin vanishes in a puff of blue smoke and I settle in to watch the movie.
The narration choice of writer director Zemeckis drags this movie down all the way through.The wire scene makes all painful expository narration worth the watch. A film well worth seeing on the big screen. 3 moons of the world Nektar out of 5.
And there you have it. The world’s first movie review with ghost blue whale Robin Williams commentary.
Yesterday’s amazing healing, see my SICARIO review, has unleashed some memories from my dark childhood. Again, this piece is not for my more sensitive readers. I hold nothing back from this true-life drama of my coming of age in darkness.
THE MORNING AFTER CRAZY
It is a perfect October 1969 morning. Mom pours my sleepy father a coffee. I shudder in disgust as she kisses a band-aid on his forehead. Then my beautiful mom turns to me with a bright smile and says, “Orange juice, Kenny?”
I am freshly 17 and dead tired of yet another “morning after crazy”. “Seriously? ‘Orange juice, Kenny?’ after you guys tried to kill each other last night?” a disdain in my voice I’ve never expressed to my parents before.
“Ken!” whispers Mom, worried dad had enough booze still in him to go volcanic. But Dad simply sips his coffee with a sullen look.
“What the hell keeps you two together? Get a fucking divorce before you kill each other!” I shout back.
Without waiting for an answer from my sheepish parents I storm out the door. I gulp the fresh Wisconsin autumn air and flash back to the crazy night before.
I wake in a cold sweat in my bed I have outgrown so bad my feet hang midair through the foot-board spokes of a wagon wheel. I hear a wrestling match going on in the family room that’s been invading my dreams. The nightstand clock reads 3:13 AM as Mom’s scream lights every nerve in my body on fire,”Ken! Help! He’s going to kill me! Help!”
I throw off my blanket. Dressed only in a t-shirt and my tighty whities, I race to rescue Mom. Since my summer growth spurt and muscle building I have somehow been appointed the new referee in my mom and dad’s sick marriage. I race to the fight, but I slip and fall hard on the hard linoleum tile floor, almost re-breaking the arm my father broke when I was eight. Shocked and in severe pain, I realize I am sitting in a puddle of blood.
Dad cringes on the family room floor, the recipient an epic ass whooping! Mom wields a heavy black phone receiver like an avenging goddess.
“Fucker! Hit me again will you?”Mom shouts, delivering devastating blows so fast and furious I know she’ll kill Dad if I don’t act fast.
Years later when KILL BILL is released I flashback to this night when my mother took justice into own hands, after countless times the cops showing up on our doorsteps did nothing to save her. This was the 60s, long before domestic violence protected women like Mom from sickos like my dear old dad. Indeed, this bloody night is for me like a living prequel to Uma’s epic revenge against the man who beat her and almost killed her. And, yeah, my crazy dad’s name was Bill as well. Hence KILL BILL AND KILL BILL VOLUME 2 will forever be in my top ten.
Slipping and sliding in Dad’s blood that’s everywhere, my underwear stained blood red, I shout, “Stop, Mom! You’re killing Dad!”
“GOOD! I am done getting beat up by this fucker!” shouts Mom. Dad strangely is not fighting back. Thinking at the lighting speed of adrenaline, I see Dad’s either to out of it or waiting for the final death blow he so richly deserves for making this family’s life a living hell for so long. Mom winds the heavy black receiver back to end this sick man’s abuse once and for all. In desperation, I finally gain my footing and snatch the phone from mom’s hand just in the nick of time.
“He ain’t worth going to prison for, Ma.” I say. Mom falls to pieces, a sobbing mess on the throw rug.
“Thanks, son,” croaks my father. How he’s seeing through the blood running down his face I have no idea.
“Shut up before I finish what Mom started,” I say checking Dad’s gashes. I am a newly trained life guard with first-aid skills I’d not expected to use this way. “You need stitches. Let’s get your sorry ass to the ER.”
“Too many questions. Get the band-aids.” says Dad softly. His sweet side is back in charge. Will be for weeks. He’ll be a dad any Disney movie goer would love. Wild Bill’s mood swings like this give me such anxiety my hands tremble as I apply some band-aids.
“Good thing I have a tough head,” Dad chuckles. “It’s OK, Georgie, I had it coming.”
Mom’s shoulders stiffen at the arrival of Bill the Good and she keeps on weeping on the rug.
I am back in my body, walking for the school bus to whisk me off to a blissful normal day at high school on this autumn morning after crazy. In some twisted way I am happy Mom had finally stood up to my dad.
“Ma kicked my old man’s ass!” I shout to a crow in red maple tree. The crow flies off into the Wisconsin to share the good news of 1969 which, because I had lot of healing to do, I only got today in 2015:
Women are done putting up with the abuse of wicked men!
Mom and Dad stay married “for the sake” of my two younger brothers for another 10 years. Each of my little brothers get put through the same sick growing up process of becoming big and strong enough to be my parents’ referee, and sip on orange juice on many crazy morning’s after. After their divorce Mom and Dad will each will remarry within a year to mates far better suited. Dad passes of painful bowel cancer in 2011. My avenging mother is alive and well and loving life in Las Vegas as an expert Keno player.
I did not expect a planetary healing from such a violent film as SICARIO. Spoiler alert. I can’t explain the impact of the film on me without giving away the best secrets of the story. Then again, my fans know the films I review are a springboard for me to talk planetary change.
Emily Blunt is the innocent Phoenix police officer dragged into a CIA scheme to assassinate a cartel leader. A part she plays to confused brilliance that makes her one of the most believable cops characters, male or female, in film history. The CIA needs a domestic officer to expand jurisdiction into Mexico and Emily is it.
The broken town of Juarez is where action centers. Josh Brolin is the CIA’s master disruptive player. All law has broken down in Juarez as the cartels battle. It’s a chilling look at how thin the line between anarchy and civilization truly is.
Blunt’s character is watched over by Benicio Del Toro’s dark angel. He’s a free agent, a Columbian lawyer turned assassin, out to kill the cartel leader who beheaded his wife and killed his teen daughter, boiling her alive in acid. Nothing will stop this Sicario, which means “hit man” in English, not even his affection for Blunt, who reminds him of his daughter.
The first 10 minutes of this film are very hard to get through as Blunt uncovers 20 mutilated corpses in a Phoenix bust. I’ll admit I closed my eyes to get past it.
The amazing ending, which I will not spoil for you, is just as hard to endure. Violence here is not gratuitous. It’s a documentary to the real zombie apocalypse we face. SICARIO offers a deep look into our sick society, decaying from the inside, fueled by the greed of men that seek to send humanity into a hellish dark ages.
As the credits rolled I stood to go home after my matinée break. Then a soulful Mexican guitar solo in the credit score broke the 2 hour tension. I retook my seat and soon my ET guide Ohom asked me to meditate on making sure the world does not go the violent way of Jaurez. The meditation enemy once again, addiction.
I closed my eyes and the sweet guitar sounds swept me away. Ohom asked me to go beyond addiction to seek in my mind’s eye the root cause. I saw many of my neural pathways were badly ruptured from the nightmare of the first 20 years of my life in family as a helpless kid ruled over by a drunken father. They neurons were the red exploded remnants. How could I still be so PST damaged on the inside after decades of many kinds of therapies I wondered?
Ohom showed me the neuron reroutes I had created to function as normally as possible. Then he and his team began helping me heal my damaged neurons and neural pathways at super speed. In less than 2 minutes 2 decades of mental and physical abuse I’d suffered as child survivor of frequent bloody fatherly beatings were healed, along with my broken my heart from when my mother did not rescue me from hell but abandoned ship. A pain far worse than the broken arm my drunken father would give me.
Again I may never know if this amazing ET shit’s real, it just works for me as gateway to higher energies and I do feel more whole. I’d not expected this kind of breakthrough this warm fall Sedona afternoon, and accepted this ET healing with tears of joy in the dark movie house.
I see now clearly the root cause of addiction is seeking to numb our pain via self-medicating with drugs, both illegal and prescription, booze and loveless sex. My addiction of choice has been my work. Getting older and not being able to work at my crazy pace, still far more than men half my age, is buying me time to smell the roses and moments like this.
As always the personal healing begets a planetary healing and I sent out the bliss of my healing across the world.
The credits ended. As I stood to go a young theater attendant asked me, “How was SICARIO?”
When last we left my super-self in deep space, it was September 22nd 2015, and 19 remaining asteroids were hurtling for earth. This despite the 9 asteroids I’d already mentally destroyed the night of the 21st in an all-niter of 9 planetary meditations back to back. The 28 original asteroids are the nasty mental product of a fear soaked imagination of rapture doom from an obscure Reverend in Puerto Rico. But because humanity’s fear had grown so high, these fantasies of asteroid doom had to nonetheless be debunked by NASA.
The nineteen remaining asteroids visualized by the believers in this Apocalyptic nuttiness of the Reverend and his followers are still enough to wipe humanity from the planet, my higher ET self Ohom tells me, because the Reverend’s fears of doom have tapped into the upcoming Super Blood moon of 9/28/15.
Destroying the first 9 meteors in meditation the night before, some birthday, proved far more challenging and exhausting than I’d imagined. See Prt 1 & Prt 2 before reading onward to get the whole picture of my longest meditation series of my planet saving hobby so far.
Oh, and save the straitjacket, doubters. I don’t literally believe I physically fly into space and smash asteroids with my bare hands. But I do know in my heart that on some level of reality these meditations truly do help in some small way to protect the positive side of our global consciousness. We are all Messiahs these day. No single being is coming to save us.
At the very least these planetary meditations are healing for me as an individual. And since we’re all connected and every little bit helps. Last its way more fun to experience all these 5D visions than to watch even a great movie like THE MARTIAN for this story-teller of the light.
Yes, I’ve come to accept the power of positive vision, which me and others like me are doing every day all over the world to wipe out negative visions as old as the Mayan Calendar. At his stage, 5 years into my awakening, I just accept and go where I am told by my higher self, Ohom, a 7 foot tall Insectoid from the world of Nektar.
Ohom’s DreamShield planetary missions he guides me to, some at very obscure and unplanned locations, have carried me all the way to Antarctica in real life on 12/12/12. These mission have led to my current home base, Sedona. Sedona is famed for its vortexes and rich soil filled with crystal and iron, which naturally boosts the power of my DreamShield Planetary meditations.
This also led to…proud plug… filming scientist Patrick in Sedona for two years now for a new DVD called THE NEUROPHONE EXPERIENCE just released on Amazon by yours truly, a modern-day Don Quixote. My Hollywood dream begun in 2003 after a highly successful real estate career goes on. Expect my long neglected Antarctica 12.12.12 meditation DVD soon. Stay tuned here and on DreamShield.org for the announcement. And there will be a private screening party here in Sedona and/or LA.
ASTEROIDS OF FEAR
Because the 9/21 meditations went on into the wee hours of the morning of 9/22 and were exhausting as hell, I gave myself two solid days to blog about asteroid 1-9. Good thing I finished all that meditating and blog writing before my sick brother made an emotional attack on me using my mother as his pawn on the afternoon of 9/22.
Mom resisted my lost ex-convict brother’s insistence to hassle me on my birthday, the 21st. My brother was acting out as he’s in deep pain from the fact I am holding firm to my 2013 vow that he must stay sober a full year or he stays out of my life. My tough love is predicated by the doctors all warning me, after he came out of 3 week induced coma, that my out of control bro would die if he ever drank again. On my 2013 birthday my brother heard my warning and promised me he’d never drink again. But in 2014 addiction recaptured him and my brother began drinking again in Florida in spectacular fashion and we’ve not spoken since.
So think it’s an accident that only 1/3 of the way through the series of 28 meditations my lost brother tells my mother he wants metal sculpture back he gave me for my 42nd birthday to mess with my head? He claimed to mom the sculpture was done for his share of 1993 TV show I made called Cook & Rock and he now wanted it back. When my mom called me her voice was so filled with emotion I thought she was going to tell me my lost brother had perished of drink. The poor 87 year-old woman, who has single-handily kept my brother alive was since his spectacular 2014 fall they landed him on Florida NBC TV as a dog abuser, worried about my bitter brother’s claim he’d come to my door in Sedona with the cops if I did not send him the sculpture back.
I said as sweetly as I could, “Relax, mom. Fred’s mad at me for keeping my word he must be clean and sober or 12 months solid to reenter my life. He has no real claim on the sculpture but let him know it will be shipped out to him tomorrow.” Mom thanked me profusely and continued to share the horror story my brother’s ruined life until I cut her short. “Mom, please. Join me in this intervention to save him. You’re only making it take longer for your son to hit bottom by enabling him.” Mom did not want to hear this about her favorite son as needing her intervention. And so, after my thanking mom for not bothering me with my brother attack on my birthday, we made our goodbyes.
ONLY 19 ASTEROIDS TO DESTROY
At the end of prt 2 of these meditations I asked for guidance on a visualization of how to rid our dream skies of the doomsayers the asteroids 19 remaining all at once. Much needed after the psychic attack I warded off of my sick brother that day. How amazing I asked spirit for guidance of a way to beat all 19 asteroids at once before all that old family broken record of addiction that robbed me of a normal childhood with aunts and uncles dying off left and right and father who became demon when he drank.
So no sooner did I close my eyes, transform into the Super hero of Superman and fly from Sedona, did I have the super solution. I rocketed for the 199 asteroids hurting for earth. I felt the menace of these damned asteroids, brimming with humanity’s suicidal negative energy in the form of, you guessed it, addiction.
The very addiction energy killing my baby brother, only 18 months my junior. Practically my twin. Sober my brother is a powerful man to have in my corner. But drunk he represents all that was wrong with my drunkard father squared. Drunk my brother becomes jealous of anyone kind to me, male or female, and resentful of any luck in life. When he’s sick with booze poisoning his mind my kid brother is capable of freaky behaviors; like popping out of manhole covers like a crazed gopher, perching on your rooftop like a demented vulture and messing with all of us in the family living normal addiction free lives, including his own son and my kids. His rage at our healthy lifestyles knows no boundaries. Mass murder seems not out of the question, which terrifies my mother. As for me. Fear stopped motivating me to humor anyone with my awakening.
In meditation, my x-ray vision sees that all 19 of these asteroids are filled with suicidal dark addiction energy. But I bravely rocket head-on for the menacing asteroids. This doomsday rescue is personal and this one is for my addict brother and anyone on the earth stuck in addiction.
As the deadly asteroids near I recall my screenplay ELVIS AND ARMAGEDDON, a top ten finalist in a 1998 contest. The first draft of that screenplay was “1 Through 9” and it’s about two hillbilly brothers who must come to peace with each other before they can save earth from 9 asteroids. Coincidence that I was flying for 19 asteroids in meditation, a variant of 1-9? Not for this psychic screenwriter who predicted 911 five years before it happened. I take it as confirmation to knock these fucking asteroids out all at once.
If you follow my DreamShield planetary meditations you know many of my meditations are about ending addiction on earth. In 2010 I drew a diagram of a circle and a triangle at its center as a way to block the black hole to lead a group meditation in Nashville. My meditations show little mercy for the dark forces. I am a spirit warrior that takes no prisoners when it comes to addiction. I will destroy this asteroids or die in bed back in Sedona rather than fail.
Then it hits me. “It’s a trap!” A sick looking purple energy of addiction beam lashes out for me from all 19 asteroids. I dodge and dart at super speed. If even one of the beams hit me I will fall into addiction myself. But before any of the 19 beams can lock onto me, a hard thing as I am traveling 12 times the speed of light – I use my super willpower to rip a black hole in the fabric of space at the center of the train of 19 asteroids.
Instantly all 19 asteroids are sucked to the purple vortex beyond this universe. I visualize all of the addictive fear based asteroids off to a nether-dimension from which they will never return. The 19 asteroids rage with a wail impossible to describe as they vanish.
But the killer asteroids aren’t done with me yet. They reach out foe me as one telepathically and yank me for the black. If I fall in there Ohom warns me that I’ll pop out in alley in my home town of Milwaukee, a heroin addict scrounging garbage can for breakfast, my sick brother grinning over me!
The rim of the black hole rushes for me. Desperate, I smack my super hands together with a clap louder than millions of thunder bolts. A cool trick as I am in the vacuum of space where no sound can exist. The black hole slams closed just before I am sucked into my own rage at addiction. Only deep love for saving my lost brother has saved me. Free of the black holes pull I spin out of control from the momentum and crash-land back in my bed in Sedona. I take a few deeps breaths and fall straight to a blissful night’s sleep.
The next day, the 23rd, which “happens” to be my addict father’s birthday, I write I loving letter to my brother telling him to look upon the guitar as my gift back to him to remind himself how talented he is. I say in the letter all he needs to do is be 12 months clean and sober and I will be waiting with open arms.
At the Sedona shipping store a customer raves over the beautiful metal guitar my clean and sober brother gave me 19 years ago. I realize right as the clerk starts packing that I was down to 19 asteroids to destroy with my Super Sheetz meditations before my brother asked for this art he created 19 years ago from love when the friendly customer asks me, “What’s the story is behind this amazing sculpture?
I simply smile sadly and say, “Long story. Just returning it to the artist who loaned it to me for 19 years. He needs it back to get his life together.”
So here it is Sunday October 4th, 2015. And we all still here on our troubled little blue ball. Earth saved.
Thanks, Ohom and Dreamshield and thanks to my brother, for whose recovery I meditate often, for inspiring the exciting conclusion to APOCALYPSE NOT. Get well, bro.
Ken Sheetz is a film maker and social media expert whose life has not been the same since his 2010 awakening in Italy. If you enjoy his meditation stories, packed with more excitement than most Hollywood films, and want make a contribution via Ken’s PayPal account it’s BuzzBroz@yahoo.com.
Going to be interesting to see how well I do in my Pilates class today after back to back nights of lucid dream meditation for my birthday.
Read APOCALYPSE NOT – THIS TIME IT’S PERSONAL – PRT 1 for the background on my lucid dreaming super powered meditation technique I’ve honed over the past 5 years as a hobby to save the world from our own negative intentions, fed by a sick mass media that sucks on our fear like an electronic vampire.
And this time a prediction from a Doomsayers led by Rev. Efraid Rodriguez that up to a series of 28 asteroids will pulverize the earth, starting on my birthday and lasting a week, has my spirit dander up.
No the world will not end on my birthday. This time my planetary meditations are personal.
ASTEROIDS 22 -20 – 11 PM to 12 AM
It’s the evening of my birthday, 9/21/15. I spent the day in solitude, having called a friend too late to have dinner with me. I blogged 12 hours straight about my work to wipe out the Rodriguez asteroids before they could wipe us out.
Last night’s meditations took out 6 asteroids. Leaving 22 to go. I begin the meditation, connecting my chakaras to the stars and earth core energy and take on the powers of my childhood hero, Superman. I bound for the stars from my bedside, willing myself to reach the 22 asteroids, rocketing their way to earth.
Soon I am face to face with mammoth asteroid 22. I keep a respectful distance. These asteroids, which are astral plane manifestations of humanity’s own fear and negativity, are becoming more and more difficult as the negativity becomes more focused when the number of asteroids reduces.
I am stunned asteroid 22 looks so gray and perfectly smooth. Just as I notice the formation a large elliptical indentation on its face, a death ray lashes out at me. Without conscious thought, I raise a force field. The death ray deflects into space harmlessly in spectacular shower of sparks. I change my force field’s shape to a mirror image asteroid 22’s ellipse and hurtle the death ray back at the asteroid.
KABOOM! Asteroid 22 explodes into harmless rubble that will burn up safely in earth’s atmosphere. I check with my microscopic vision to make sure this was not a clever with to send a plague to earth on the dust. All clear.
As I turn to face asteroid 21, rock jaws swallow me whole. I am in the belly of the asteroid 21. Engulfed in negative energy. I begin to see images of my father beating me on my 13th birthday. I feel the pain in my chest of how my abusive dad used to lay on top on me as little kid; until I would nearly pass out my lungs were so crushed. I shake it off. I am an adult now. Dad’s been dead 4 years. His spirit and mine have come to peace. These are old negative memories this asteroid is using to imprison me until it can strike the earth. I shake it off, my rough past no longer exists.
Luckily, I remember, in this super state, I don’t need to breathe. I can hold my breath effortless for hours on what’s in my lungs. I calm and decide I have so much air to spare I will use it to destroy the asteroid from within. I exhale a mighty breath. Here, in the vacuum of space, Asteroid 21 trembles as it’s center fills with my expanding super air. Cracks emerge across asteroid 20’s ragged surface. BOOM! Asteroid 21 is dust. I scan the dust cloud for plague, taking no chances
I no sooner do I finish my scan of asteroid 21 than I am engulfed in asteroid 20. It’s made of sickly looking goo! I am lucky my force field acts automatically and forms into a tight protective sphere about me. I scan the goo with my microscopic vision and find all manner plague surrounds me. I realize my fear of the asteroids plague has manifested this monstrosity! If even one drop of this gooey asteroid reaches earth it’s all over.
My force field grows ever tighter about me, restricting my arms. I try to fly out of here but the gooey plague filled asteroid just moves with me. Then I have an idea. I am invulnerable to fire. If if keep flying I can pilot asteroid 20 into sun from within! The asteroid desperately crushes my force field tighter as I hurtle for the sun, asteroid 19 and all. The human part of my mind looks in fear as the sun, 109 times larger than earth, looms. Will super me be able to survive 10,000 degrees of the sun’s super heat? Is this like the Matrix I wonder, where if you die in lucid dream you die in real life? Will I die alone on my birthday in my bed back in Sedona of a stroke? Am I wearing clean underwear?
Then I catch myself. The plague the gooey germ soaked asteroid 20 also carries the germ of despair destroying our world. I increase my flight to 5 times the speed of light and dive into the center of sun. The sound of lethal plague burning up sends out shrieks that would put any horror film to shame. I cover my ears it’s so stressful to hear those banshee screams. But soon the plague filled asteroid 20 burns away and I hear the voice of Gaia,”Father sun loves you champion of earth. Rest awhile, Ken, bask and tan in Sol’s power. Recharge yourself, spirit warrior and carry the dream of solar-powered sustainable world back home to your people!”
Gaia’s beautiful voice and the glare of the inner sun fades. I am back in Sedona. Mortal again. I look at nightstand clock that reads 12 AM. Only an hour has passed. My birthday is over.
I set an intention before drifting off to normal sleep, if there ever has been such a thing for me. “Find me a way to defeat all 19 remaining asteroids all at one time before morning, please.”
I am 63 today, 9/21/15. Happy birthday to me, on a day that should not exist according to many doomsayers. Heck, shouldn’t we all be far, far away on the 1997 Hailbopp express by now?
Today, my 63rd, according self-proclaimed prophet Rev Efraid Rodriguez, is the day the first of 6 asteroids are set to vaporize our world over a period of a week. The number blooms to 28 asteroids in some crazy prognostications.
Almost like the blossoming stats I heard as a kid, when the Cuban Missile Crisis had pundits trying to top each other with scaring the hell out of us all with stories on how many times over the US and the USSR had to destroy the earth with our insane nuclear arsenals. Great for my formative years while teachers taught us to “duck and cover” under our desks if an A bomb hit before lunch break.
After the higher consciousness light bulb went off for me – with an epic vision of saving the earth in a yoga hall in Italy about the help of ETS aided by a super powered me 5 years ago – I took up saving the earth from the jerks who spread fear as a hobby. That passion hobby to simply say on YouTube, FB and Twitter, “Hey, forget these doomsayers, everything is going to be AOK. Even better than AOK,” would take me all the to the shores Antarctica for 2012.
I’ll never forget when I came back from my 24 Antarctica meditations someone close to me, no longer so, asked, “What’s next?”
I sat there on the phone stunned for a moment and lost my cool saying, “What the hell? Raising $20K on Indiegogo to go save the earth wasn’t enough for you? I’m done, Bozo. Back to my normal life.”
But life has never really gone back to normal since visiting the most energetically pristine place on earth, Antarctica. My higher self, a being I see as Ohom, is still with me, along with many new spirit guides. And, like my mission before all the way south when Ohom told me, “Few if any will believe your reversing negative visualizations propagated in the media are of any effect.” But I don’t care. I love saving the world. So here I am, still saving the world. It’s a nice world. It’s my home. And I love to help people visualize earth going on until we seed the stars, safe forever from extinction.
But lucid dream work is hard. You don’t rest like normal. So last night I thought hard about passing up the hard meditation work of deflecting not 28 asteroids from hitting earth. That’s one meditation per asteroid. More than the 24, one for each time-zone, that I did in Antarctica while I wasn’t running a multi-million dollar Indiegogo campaign as my day job while still working to crack Hollywood.
Then, right in the middle of my listening to Jonathan Goldman sound healing music, Ohom’s voice came through loud and clear, “Ken, I know the trauma of your nearly being beaten to death on your 13th birthday by your father. It troubles you each year. Depresses you. Well, after this series of 28 asteroid meditations, you’ll think of saving earth, not the lash of you father’s bloodied belt each birthday from now on.”
“Yes, that’s worth it, Ohom. Thank you for this mission!” I say out loud, as I am home alone. I cry tears of relief and shout, “Watch out asteroids! This looks like a job for Super Sheetz!”
9/20-9/21’s ALL-NIGHTER LUCID DREAM-FEST TO SAVE EARTH FROM ASTEROIDS
LUCID DREAM 1
I take some deep breaths and set the intention to dream away the negativity and fear of the Rev Efraid Rodriguez predictions and even the expanded horror of 28 asteroids. Truly a mission worthy of super powers that I’ve developed since 2010 to save our world in meditation. Is real? Well, you’re here aren’t you? Reading this blog. Whose to say? It’s both real and unreal at the same time. Holding that paradoxical thought is what keeps you grounded with your head in the stars.
Soon I am asleep and ready for action. I hitch a ride on Ohom’s inter-dimensional ship THE NEKTAR, named after his Insectoid evolved home world. It’s a short trip back in time and space. I am on the gorgeous Nektarian command deck, drinking a delicious golden beverage. I cannot describe the taste it’s so delicious. A natural high ensues. We reach the menacing 28 Rodriguez asteroids. Ohom nods and an Insectoid crewman hits a switch. The ship shudders a little.
“Done, Ken. Two down and only 26 asteroids to go.” says Ohom.
“That little jolt from the ship made earth safe from two of those huge asteroids?” I say puzzled.
The crew all laugh at my blissful ignorance and Ohom motions them to respectful silence. The seven foot tall blue Insectoid leader Ohom says kindly to me, “We’ve traveled back 5 million years in time. So that little nudge from our ship’s propulsion system is enough to make these first two asteroids miss your solar system completely 5 million years from now on 9/21/ 2015. Happy Birthday, Ken.”
“Awesome, buzz bro. Let’s kick the ass out of the other 26 asteroids while we drink this nectar of the gods!” I smile, downing a sparkling mug.
“Um. The other 26 will be a little trickier. You see, Ken, there are negative forces on your world holding the other 26 in place. The dark forces saw we alerted time, and took care of these two and cried fowl. So it’s going to be up to you, in your human form, and other meditators like you on your world, to rid the skies of the rest of the remaining 26 asteroids yourselves,” Ohom offers sheepishly.
“Free-will regulations suck. Why do we all have to keep on saving the world over and over again from these “nabobs of negativity? To quote Spiro T. Agnew.” I grouse.
“Who is this Spiro T, one of your great philosophers?” says Ohom excitedly.
“Agnew was vice president to Richard Nixon in the 1970s. Kind of a jerk actually,” I say, pleased Ohom is not all-knowing.
Reading my mind, the crew applauds my getting one up on Ohom and I find myself back in bed in Sedona. Only 45 minutes have passed on my nightstand clock. I roll my eyes and mutter to myself, “26 more asteroids to go. It’s gonna be a loooong night!”
And so it is.
LUCID DREAM 2 – 1 AM to 2 AM
It’s time for my Superman visualization. His super powers, combined with new ones I dream up give me even more powers than Supes in mediation and they are badly needed. Superman serves as an inspirational base for my expansion of his super powers. I adapted my now perfected super hero meditation from Connie Miller of Soul Drama, back in 2010. It works on the principle that all of us, Connie teaches, can call on the abilities of our favorite childhood heroes to solve problems in our lives. I just took it to a planetary scale of Reiki.
My childhood favorite hands down is Superman. At one point I had a collection of hundreds of first edition Superman comics. That is until my mom burned them all, worried her sixteen year old boy was living in a world of fantasy. Ah. Little did Mom know I was learning the heroics that in meditation would help me visualize saving billions of lives.
I transform into Super Sheetz form and take off like a bullet, passing right through the roof pf my sweet little Sedona rental home. Up, up and away I soar into the Sedona night sky. Soon the lights of the little town nestled in the red rocks, rocks of iron and crystal that help amp up my meditation powers, are left behind. I will myself to the Rev Efraid Rodriguez cluster of asteroids, hurtling for our blue world.
I note from the spacing of the Rev Efraid (has to be spoof right? E-fraid) asteroids, using my super senses, that Ohom and his team have bought earth another day, five million years ago with their nudge of asteroids 1 &2, which are gone. I will have a Happy Birthday tomorrow, even if I just return to ordinary sleep. But I feel driven, Virgo perfectionist that I am, to get on top of this stream of 26 remaining asteroids. I decide another to knock out 5 asteroids tonight. That is if I can last that long. Lucid dreams of this magnitude are exhausting.
Back in my sleeping body in Sedona, my hand presses against the rough surface of my stucco bedroom wall. I can’t even imagine being in a relationship right now. What woman could ever put up with the super sleeper I am? I do so many world saving mission, knitting the San Andreas fault together, fighting Chemtrails, that a full night of normal non-lucid, sleep is a distant memory. Maybe that’s why I’ve been called to this work so late in life, while I am alone. I was married 18 years and slept solid, well, that is except for occasional nightmares about my twisted childhood that would send be bolting up in bed and scaring my ex-wife half to death. Yeah. My poor ex.
In my lucid asteroid dream, I reach asteroid 26, working my way down in order. I wonder, “Where’s a safe place to get rid of this asteroid so that it never returns?” The sun glints among the stars as if making the invite to accept this asteroid that’s about the size of a football stadium.
Momentum is hard at first, but soon I have asteroid 26 on a sun trajectory and traveling at sufficient velocity to get there and then some. With a super shove I send asteroid 26 off. I watch with my telescopic vision as asteroid 26 nears the speed of light. In a heartbeat, the asteroid that would have wiped out China vanishes into the blaze of the sun. A small sunspot appears in place of its fiery crash.
25 asteroids to go. Still a helluva lot. Excited, I lose my lucid dream connection. I look at my nightstand clock. 2AM. Only another hour has passed. “Need to pick up the pace if I am gonna get this done by September 28th.”
LUCID DREAM 3 – 2 AM to 4 AM
No brag, just fact. After years of training, that I began as child to ward off bad dreams, I am a master lucid dreamer. So I resume the asteroid dream right where I left off. I decide on new strategy. I am going to smash this asteroids into dust and small chunks that will harmlessly burn up on entry to earth’s atmosphere. Fists forward, flying super speed, my heat vision blasting, I make short work of the huge asteroid.
24 asteroids to go.
“See, Ohom? This is going to be easy!” I say accelerating for asteroid 23, like speeding bullet. It’s about the size of Chicago, and heading that way to wipe out most of America, I super-sense. I hit the asteroid near the speed of light, but instead of pulverizing asteroid 24 I bounce off it like a bullet hitting steel. I am flung unconscious though space and crash into Mars, out cold deep inside a new crater. Dazed, I shake the cobwebs from my head and leaps from Mars, returning to battle the dwindling Rev Efraid Rodriguez asteroid cluster train.
I focus my x-ray vision on Asteroid 24 and see it is laced with ugly blood-red veining. It’s having an effect on me like Kryptonite does on Superman. I get too close and I quickly lose my superpowers, even my ability to live without air in space. I desperately space swim to safety out of range. I realize I’ll need to use some smarts to destroy the massive asteroid 24.
Next thing I know I am in Paris, sipping wine at a bistro. A beautiful young Parisian woman seated across from me, dazzling in afternoon sun, explains how to make a french braid from her long brunette hair.
“Huh? How is a hair design an answer to destroying asteroid 24?” I ask in my mind to Ohom. But there is no answer from my higher ET self, so I keep on watching the beauty weave her hair, having faith in my visions. Then it hits me. “She’s showing me how to make rope!” I leap off into the sweet Paris sky and dive into the steamy jungles of the Amazon. I rapidly snap huge vines from giant trees. Using telekinesis, I weave the massive vines into a French braid-like super rope. Told you I have more powers than Superman.
Dreams are like movies. I cut to myself as Super Sheetz swirling a lasso as big as the diameter of Chicago at asteroid 24, from a safe distance where I am immune to the power robbing red veins of this nasty negative asteroid. My space cowboy self ropes asteroid 24. Now, a super human discus thrower, I swing asteroid 24 in giant arcs of accelerating speed. I take aim and release the discus asteroid at the waiting sun. And tricky asteroid 24 is toast.
ASTEROID 23
Still in lucid dream, I cautiously fly toward asteroid 23. Instantly, I begin to worry the asteroid difficulty level may escalate beyond my ability to save earth. Then I stop myself realizing that although this asteroid is smaller than the others, about the size of a US battleship, it possesses a negative super power is purely fear based. Lucky for earth, I’ve learned dark energy like this can’t stand against positive energy. I say, hoping the dark powers behind asteroid 23 can hear my lack of fear,” Piece of cake. No blood veins here. Hope you are wearing sunblock, asteroid 23.”
I push and push until the veins bugle all over my super body, but no dice. I can’t move asteroid 23 an inch. My super-senses tell me asteroid 23 is steadily raging it way for Paris to will wipe out the beauty, who I know was Gaia in human form showing me the answer to asteroid 23. My mind drifts to negativity again,”What would earth be without the soul of Gaia? Lifeless in no time.” No matter how hard I strain myself, fear grows if I am up to this mission.
I decide to go to my ace in the hole, the NEO Neurophone that makes you smarter and more serene. My day job in my day life is promoting the NEO. A real planetary saving device, NEO reverses decades of dumbing down. I hate to sound like this is a plug, but the NEO, short for Neural Efficiency Optimizer is the real deal in real life. NEO has proven a great tool to increase my lucid dreaming and mediation. My dream self puts on the NEO in space, as I hover before fear based face asteroid 23, that I now see is shaped like a giant skull.
I feel the sweet sensation I’ve come to adore of NEO’s ultrasonic bliss, I tap into universal knowledge, flow through my already super powered brain. Soon a new super power opens through my eyes. I can see magnetic energy beams from negative asteroid 23, honed on Paris like a homing beacon. I observe how this asteroid is in fact powered by fears some Parisans have about the doomsayers.
I ask my super powered brain, knowing I am solo and Ohom cannot assist me, “How do I reprogram this meteor to veer harmlessly away from earth?” In a flash of brilliance, a cool birthday gift as I was born exactly this time in the morning 63 years ago to the second, I have my answer: Dr. Emoto. The recently passed doctor experimented with water by labeling bottles and taking microscopic photos of the changes the labels made to the structure of water.
I amp my heat vision up to full power and carve the word LOVE into the side of asteroid 23. I carve hunks of asteroid away from the death mask skull of the asteroid until it is a smiley face. Asteroid 23 trembles as its ugly brown color turns to pure gold.
I carve my name proudly in the side of asteroid 23. If these visions ever prove to have been real, on some Quantum level, I want my signature on this miracle of transformation; the power of love overcoming fear.
“Ken Sheetz Was Here on 9/21/2015 for his birthday!” I burn with my heat vision onto the shiny golden asteroid. A new consciousness awakens in asteroid 23. I sense it no longer wishes to destroy Paris or the earth. Using telepathy I tell asteroid 23, which listens to me like a big happy puppy, about the Asteroid Belt. “You’ll love the Asteroid Bely 23. So many of your kind and you’ll be the Michael Jordan, who wore #23, a gem in the Asteroid belt.” I raise an arm and point the direction of the Asteroid Belt asteroid 23 changes courses and rockets off. Happy with its new life in its new golden heart!
Then I am back in my bed in Sedona. The nightstand clock reads 4 AM. I decide this is all I can do tonight. Gotta get some regular dream sleep or I will not enjoy my birthday. I am 63 but, honestly, I am getting younger and I’ve never had such a great time-saving the world before.
Enjoy my evening meditation video that led to all this lucid dreaming and know, folks, even if I do not have time to blog the rest of the 7 days and 22 asteroids left. Super Sheetz is on it. Earth, and you, are safe.
The biopic is taken to a new level with director Bill Pohlad’s LOVE & MERCY. The dual portrayals of Brian Wilson by John Cusak and Paul Dano are breathtaking, but Elizabeth Banks steals the show as the woman, Melinda Ledbetter, who saves Brian from the clutches of a crazed shrink played to mad perfection by Paul Giamatti.
This movie takes a hard look at how people who see visions and hear voices are marginalized and put on meds. In Brian’s case he started the drug ball rolling with LSD, weed, booze and cocaine. Typical rock star stuff, but in Brian’s case he slid into the deep end of altered consciousness and never crawled out. A big part of the story of how Wilson fell into of the clutches of the truly evil Dr. Landy, who knew Giamatti could play such fiend, is missing for me.
I flashed back to the 70s, when drugs were even more rampant than they are today. When offered acid or pot I would always day, “No thanks I trip everyday.” Seeing this movie made me glad I stuck to that credo.
Brian’s lucky he was Caddy shopping and found a good woman to rebuild his life with in Melinda. And we have more songs from a genius of the 60s and a great lady to thank for that. 4 stars. Would have been 5 but something for me was lacking in Cusak performance. Though great he did not seem loveable enough to attract a Melinda. Still a film very worth seeing as a look deep into a great artist’s mind.
Reincarnation lies at the heart of the long running BBC TV series DR. WHO. The clever creators of DR. WHO disguise reincarnation, for Christians and Muslims who prefer the belief in an afterlife, as regeneration.
When the doctor reaches the end of a useful life in one body he regenerates into an entire new body. Like rebirth in reincarnation, the doctor’s regenerations are painful and chaotic. The Time Lord, last of his race, is always disoriented at first adapting to his new body. Much like we are as reborn babies, starting the life-cycle all over again as we’ve done countless times in the longest running reality show called “Life on planet Earth”.
Since 1966 when the series premiered, and soon to celebrate a 50-year anniversary as the longest running TV series on earth, twelve equally amazing actors have played the 2,000 year-old Dr. Who. I have watched so many of these Dr. Who regenerations over my lifetime that it’s hard for me to imagine a life without this coolest of sci-fi shows.
Heck, I was only 14 when the show began, though I began watching it on PBS in the 1980s in my 30s during the Tom Baker DR. WHO years. I love how you never know in what form the doctor will regenerate, complete with a new wardrobe style and interior redecorated time machine called the Tardis, bigger on the inside than the outside.
An outside that’s supposed to camouflaged into the landscape, but that cool Tardis function is broken. So the doctor’s time machine is frozen in the form of a blue London police phone booth from a desperate 1966 mission to save Earth, just it has been since the show began in 1966 as the only constant in the ever changing Dr. Who series. This broken but still powerful Tardis is the doctor’s only tool, along with his trusty multi-use sonic screwdriver, for saving the world. Which the doctor does every season on regular basis.
In season eight, a bit confusing as it would be season 27 but they chose to renumber the series when it revived in 2005 after being off the air since 1996, Clara Oswald, who I feel is hands down the best in 50 years of Dr. Who companions, is beautifully played by Jenna Coleman. Clara is repulsed when the hot young Dr. Who, played by Matt Smith, that she crushes on, is regenerated into a cantankerous old Scott, played masterfully Peter Capaldi, with touching and hilarious results for them both.
Thus Clara bridges from one Dr. Who to the next, a process we as the audience all go through too. Yes, every time there’s new doctor the BBC message boards are filled with dislike for any new Dr. Who. But soon we fans, along with Clara and her predecessor companions, are comforted by the fact that, despite Dr. Who’s new look, that he demonstrates by action and character he remains the same vibrant world saving hero underneath the skin. The same soul living in a new body, just as in reincarnation, Dr. Who continues to grow and develop new complexities of character and compassion, while he is constantly humbled and rescued many times by his human companion. An incredible metaphor for relationships that are the key to our souls’ evolution in reincarnation.
It’s wild how the show makers masterfully overlap all the Dr. Who’s and along with his change of companions like 2015’s Clara. Just as we do in real-life, if you believe as I do in the endless cycles of reincarnation. We mortals are constantly changing lives in an immortal cycle of regeneration. Like the water of lakes that vaporizes to fall as rain endlessly, we are ever dying and reborn, re-meeting our companions of the past, sometimes as human beings and sometimes other life forms, all mostly made of water.
In other words, dear dreamers of a better tomorrow, we are all Claras and Dr. Whos in a Tardis called Me.
This blog posting dedicated to a real-life Dr. Who I have had the honor of helping bring a new sonic mind tool into the world called the NEO Neurophone, Dr. G. Patrick Flanagan.
I had one of my most epic nights of dream work during the recent blue moon. A dream mission to repair a giant tear in the space time continuum, the assassination of JFK.
In dream I hurtle back in time to November 23, 1963. Reaching this tragic day in American history, I find myself standing on streets of Dallas before an old Zenith television store window, filled with blinking old TV sets playing 1962 TV shows. Ohom, my 7 foot tall blue skinned ET guide, invisible to all but me, waves his hand and the old tube TVs unite to show me a giant screen view of earth from space filled with equations written in the stars. Some equations are in white letters while other are highlighted in red. No scientist, I nonetheless I understand the complex formulas’ meanings intuitively.
Ohom points to the earth/star chart and says, “11.23.62 represents a major rupture in the mutli-verse space time continuum. Note, Ken, what is remarkable about your timeline repair mission is that in all the billions of timelines going forward from the JFK take-out point is that JFK survives in none.”
“JFK, dead in all these timelines? That’s impossible in Quantum physics,” I say, anger at the dark forces creeping into my voice.
“Yes, the JKF timeline tampering by the dark forces evidence is clear as the night of the blue moon out your Sedona bedroom window,” says Ohom, proud of his human counterpart. “Kennedy was far from the perfection you all projected upon him, but his death ended humanity’s best motivator for space exploration and the evolution of a peace loving earth. So the dark forces are taking no chances and sought to end JFK’s survival in any and all timelines.”
“Don’t these evil jerks ever give up?” I gripe to Ohom.
“In a word, no. And there is nothing inherently evil in these “jerks”. Evil is your name for out-balance. — Your DreamShield planetary healing mission, far more dangerous and exciting that the MISSION IMPOSSIBLE film you saw today as an activation of certain skills you need for saving JFK, should you choose to accept it, Ken, is to save JFK for a host of timelines. If you succeed you will turn the tables on the endless war machine America has become and channel that energy into making earth a interstellar traveling world.”
“Ohom, usually you don’t give me this much orientation. What’s up?” I say as respectfully as I can while getting my point across.
“This timeline repair work requires all the lucid dream skills I’ve taught you, Ken. The stakes are high.”
“How high?”
“If you die in this dream rescue of JFK you will die in bed. So are you 100% sure you want this mission?” says Ohom, his kind blue insectoid face troubled.
“Ohom, as a kid I loved JFK and all he stood for. To save President Kennedy in multiple timelines is an honor to attempt, even if I fail. I can think of worse places to die than home in bed.” I say bravely smiling up at Ohom as an old prop plane sails in the Dallas sky above his smiling blue face.
“The dark energies will be more intense on the JFK timeline restoration mission than any dream work you’ve done since the 2011 when you facilitated closing the Bermuda Triangle, Ken. And, as always, none but a faint few of your fellow humans, will believe, as you’ve seen with Antarctica, believe that you have done anything at all, let alone the huge positive impact this will have on your timeline where JFK will remain assassinated in your history. But the positive shifts will be felt almost instantly.”
I nod and the giant Ohom takes me into a buzzing hug. His blue wings a flutter in the Dallas breeze. I feel the sandpaper like gem encrusted texture of his turquoise robe against my cheek and recall the shock of my first time meeting of Ohom in a little yoga hall in Italy in 2010. The first five years of my 50 year mission have passed so fast and so amazingly. I feel new abilities and powers flowing though me from Ohom’s embrace. This is more than a hug, it’s an epic upgrade!
“My dream team and I will be watching over you to guide you to the next life should you fail and die in bed, Ken. As always, Ken, we cannot assist directly in human affairs. Now go save JFK!” says Ohom, vanishing in sparkling swirl of energy.
I head up the street for sounds of the cheering crowd. JFKs motorcade nears and I am filled with such joy to see my childhood hero JFK’s very much alive beaming smile!
I make myself invisible to crowd, JFK and Jackie, the Secret Service and the many gunmen I sense have a bead on the president and his wife Jackie. I slip unseen into JFKs limo and erect a dream shield above all our heads at the exact instant the assassins fire. This force field like is nothing like anything I ever since in film or literature, ripping and pulsating with white and black waves of energy. It easily deflects the bullets meant for JFK. Each ripple of black and white energy represent a new timeline I am creating on this dream mission.
Hearing the shots and screams JFK’s Secret Service team swings into action. Men in black dive onto of Jackie and JFK. The presidential limo screeches off into an alley, hurtling past startled faces in the crowd. More shots! But my DreamShield holds and the bullets spark off harmlessly creating ripples on the shield like a stone cast in a lake.
“Thanks! Who are you?” shouts JFK from under a stack of FBI agents.
Realizing the dream shield work has made me visible, I look down at myself, embarrassed I did not wear pajamas tonight. “Just a friend from 2015, Mr. President.”
“2015?!” shouts Jackie.
Dark beings, only I can see, materialize in the alley ahead the JFK limo, menace in their glowing green eyes. “Sorry, Mr and Mrs. President. My work is not done.” I launch myself into the dark ones and battle like one man wrecking crew as the JFK limo safely escapes from sight.
The leader of dark ones lays beaten on the pavement, his green eyes trying to dig into my soul. “Enjoy this moment, human. But you may find your victory a costly one.” Suddenly I feel deathly ill. Cackling, the leader and his dark ones vanish.
I vomit on the alley pavement. A rat scurries into the shadows in fear. I look at my arms and the veins are growing black. I realize from all I’ve learned from Ohom that I’ve taken on too much dark energy. I curse myself that I’ve yet to master love as force against the dark ones. I am terribly out of balance. My heart is racing. If I die in this condition I am not sure Ohom can even guide me into the afterlife.
Whenever I dream and I need help I fly! I leap into the sky, happy for my blinding speed. Instantly, I circle the earth at impossible speed, I let loose the dark energy in my wake, a total reversal of the energy of light the DreamShield was made of in 2010. The interwoven light and dark Dreamshields each merge into the heavens. Stars and the void.
I hear Ohom in my mind,”A new universe of positive timelines is born. Good dream work, Ken.”
Tears of joy in my eyes to have dreamed of saving JFK, I awake blissfully to singing of the crickets and go the bathroom. Once again I am just my 62-year-old self, badly out of shape self from too much computer work on the NEO Neurophone project. I chuckle and say to myself in the the mirror on my way back to bed, “One day this shit is all going to make sense.”
In a nutshell, from “Star Wars” to “Star Trek”, or fall back further to “Flash Gordon” of the 1930s, virtually all science fiction suffers from acute symptoms of humanity’s deepest flaws. War, violence, hate, greed, intrigue lie at the plot of so many films and TV shows. It’s as though our media is painting a hopeless picture of a meaningless future where the troubles of our world are extrapolated to the stars.
Check out Teaser 2 for the next “Star Wars”. Eliminate the alien costumes and space battles and basically you’ve got WW2.
I’ve been on a year long marathon of seeing every episode in the Star Trek series concluding in DS-9. And frankly it’s becoming so boring to see this look at petty ethics of space faring civilizations more suited to ancient Rome than modern space travel.
Fact is, if a civilization has survived long enough to travel the stars they are going to be far more evolved than any science fiction has yet shown them to be. Only the film ET portrays an evolved alien race powered by love and that had to be propped up with humans acting like fools chasing kids on bikes.
When there is at last contact with an alien race we have few media creations to prepare us for what is going to be a happy occasion. Indeed, the races that travel space, who can tune in on our media, might be waiting for a film that shows the real nature of space, which is peaceful and loving.
I have ideas for an exciting story based on my meditations that help me reach the stars and from where this message of “Oh come on!” is coming from. Stay tuned for something revolutionary and more tuned into life among the space traveling races.
“Nanu, Nanu, Robin. How’s life as a two month blue whale calf?” I ask in my mind, even though I am alone in my Jeep as could speak out loud, I prefer speaking telepathically with Robin. Helps me hear him in my mind’s ear more clearly.
Media, Meditations & Musings 