This morning I had a profound vision in Sedona, on the road to Antarctica, of one of 24 time zone meditations I will conduct on 12.12.12 with your support.
I have little ego about all this. It’s brilliant work I am simply channeling by the spirit guides.
WAR TO PEACE VISION
The vision I saw today was shift of man’s predilection to War to overriding Peace.I stood on the ice of Antarctica on 12.12.12 and raised my hands which tingled with massive energy. Weapons, from hand guns to atomic missiles, smashed from the ice the medicine wheel I had laid out in the snow. The sound of sorrow of the collective human soul became a raging vortex of all the weapons of the earth spinning high about the arctic landscape. A hurricane of death.I saw my tiny human form, my crystal skull glowing through my 60 year-old pale skin, skin, strike the snow with my walking stick, like some modern Gandalf. “SHIFT!” my voice echoed through the crystals of icebergs nearby. A chill, not from the cold, but the magnetism of South Pole, sent a shiver down my spine.
Doves of dazzling white sprung to flight from the snow. — One dove of peace for each weapon of death. The doves began to glow with an intensity greater than the sun. The angelic doves grabbed hold of the weapons with impossibly sharp talons and drew out negative energy from the weapons. Around and around the doves worked their magic until the weapons turned white-hot, molten.The melting weapons and doves forged themselves into single molten blob. The silver blog sank, steaming into the mile thick ice sheet of Antarctica. I peered over the precipice into the deep shaft and beheld a silver spaceship lifting off!
No UFO, this was a human made spaceship. I heard angelic singing as the ship roared past. Humanity’s war energy had shifted from war to peace to reach the stars.
Will this really happen when I reach Antarctica? My spirit guides won’t say. So we’ll only know when I get there.
From the heights of these pyramids, forty centuries look down on us. Napoleon Bonaparte
By Ken Sheetz
A powerful Shaman told me, in 2011, that before 12.21.12 got here I would do a powerful meditation to correct the energetic geometry of the Luxor pyramid to match that of Giza. Now, over a year later, on June 13, 2012, the time had come to fulfill this part of my mission. Hard to believe it has already been two years now of fantastic planetary meditations to many energetic points around the world- with many more to come, so stay tuned to this blog.
Despite being TSA-worn from the short hop flight from LA, I went straight to the Luxor hotel/casino and met my meditation partner for this DreamShield work, Lynda Valliche. I explained to Lynda what we’d be doing over a coffee in the Starbucks tucked away in the vast lobby. The actress , singer, business woman and healer was enthused to begin and so we headed into the sloped elevator and up into the pyramid.
I had booked a private room, 17-106 (any numerology experts out there?), for the meditation because I knew it would be impossible to meditate in the noisy casino/lobby or grounds of the hotel. Lynda and I chatted excitedly as we made our way to the room across the 17th floor balcony, past the endless inverted rows of rooms. I sensed ET beings taking up positions in each of the hotels hundreds of rooms to power the meditation. The air of the giant hotel was totally electric.
While I used my Mac and Google to research the proper dimensions to make the Luxor an energetic twin to Giza, Lynda took apart the cushions of a lounge chair and arranged a comfortable place for us to meditate, near the sloped glass of the curtain wall.
Soon, Lynda and I were deep in meditation. I held forth my hands to the windows, which floated in the sunlit reflection of the mirrored glass, looking quite alien. I told Lynda I sensed the ET angels in each room putting their hands forth with us. But as soon as I set the intent for the angels to create an energetic match to the Giza pyramid, I felt a resistance to the energetic expansion. After struggling a bit longer with the expansion I described the unexpected resistant energy to Lynda.
A moment later, Lynda’s guides sent her a message. She explained she was being told that the mission had changed, that she and I were now to join the Luxor to a secret pyramid somewhere else in the world. She asked me how I felt about this.
I said it rang true because the eagle pattern that appeared mystically in my hair pattern when I first saw the angels create the DreamShield in Italy in 2012, had begun to tingle. I turned my energetic of the eagle loose and it blazed out the Luxor hotel windows and was quickly in high orbit, scanning the earth at impossible speed. Soon, buried beneath a mountain in China, my mystical eagle located Lynda’s guide’s hidden pyramid. Looking through the eagle’s eyes I gazed upon a giant China pyramid as it glowed with a white energy like the Luxor’s. A shudder ran through me as the Luxor pyramid began adding thousands of levels to its ever-expanding base. Deep into the earth the Luxor rapidly grew, while the pyramid in China did the same. Heading for a collision at the earth’s magnetic iron core.
Soon the two pyramids joined, not in a collision, but gently intertwining at the spinning earth’s core. I felt pure electricity blast through me, but I was unafraid knowing Lynda and I were both well protected by the host of ET angels in the Luxor’s every room and on every new level added to the pyramid. I saw an eagle-eye vision of a new giant diamond that spanned the earth between the opposing pyramids.
The planet size diamond now began to turn and blast out a powerful wave of energy that swept across the entire universe. I marveled at the sight of alien races on many worlds welcoming this wave of new energy. I was delighted seeing our work wash over countless worlds. I was everywhere at once. One with the cosmos, realizing the shift of 2012 is universal and earth’s role far more than we realize in our human form.
The dazzling visions faded and I lowered my trembling hands. After sharing what we each saw and felt, Lydna expressed her dislike for the term “angels”. I explained it was the best term I could use given how similar the ETs that work with me look to angels, except they are 7 to 10 feet tall, blue and have spiked wings that glitter. One can imagine that primitive man would think these ETs angels Gods. The explanation seemed to satisfy her a bit and we laughed it off, hugged good-bye and she hurried off for some fun with family and friends in good old 3D Vegas.
Alone in the room, the sun setting over Vegas, I walked to the sloped glass wall of the pyramid and touched it. My happy face hung suspended in a reflection. I chuckled because I had seen my face like this in a dream the previous week and now here it was. Confirmation. You see, I still have some lingering doubts from time to time about all this vision stuff. The ETs give me these signs, like the eagle on branded on my head, to remind me this all real on another dimension of reality that affects ours. I smiled at my alien-like reflection, amazed how these DreamShield meditations never turn out how I, or in this case a shaman in 2011, might have preconceived them.
And for these surprises in the planetary meditation work I am grateful. The unpredictable nature of what we do keeps us safe from the dark forces who underestimate the power of the work. I love how the element of surprise keeps all this so much fun for me and my mediation teams, from 2 and up in size, that been blessed to be a small, but vital, part of the shift to a gentle 2012.
Before she left the Luxor, Lynda made sure to tell me her guides say that outcome of the Shift is not yet certain. I agreed because this is a free will world and the future has many possible outcomes. But assured her that if we do the work my guides tell me humanity will not fail. Change will come. And it won’t be overnight change like some happy movie ending. It might even seem hopeless at times. But over 50 years, change will come and our world will be saved from our species’ self-destruction. This has been a protected world since May of 2010. The game is over and who knows if the process might accelerate? But it certainly won’t be longer than 50 years, the speed at which a planetary transformation manifests currently.
In one epic dream after the Luxor meditation, I stood in a large group in ceremony at Great Spirits Ranch, where I am based in 2012 and blessed with amazing support. And I saw an old friend get possessed by an alien presence. My old pal’s face filled with black veins and then he assured me in a strained voice, “Everything will be fine. Don’t give up.” Talk about keeping me on target!
Come hear me speak about DreamShield’s exciting plans for a North Pole meditation at our Skywatch event on July 14th in Malibu at the ranch. The event features famed UFO expert Renato Longato with music by Kalix Sky and fire dancing by Mila XStarzx. Sign up on Facebook to reserve your spot for only $33.
The following vision art is the creation DreamShield.org founder Ken Sheetz. But Ken is only one of millions having visions of other realms of reality. We encourage you to contact us at firstname.lastname@example.org with any vision art of your own for posting here on our blog.
Sing like no one’s listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and live like its heaven on earth.– Mark Twain
By Ken Sheetz
I’ve been resting up for days for this posting. Channeling is still new for me and I feel a bit afraid opening myself up for this one big. 2012! Have we done our job I wonder manifesting a gentle 2012?
I am nervous to open the channel. I don’t want to have let Ohom and his people down. Ohom, for any new readers is my higher ET self, a blue angel-like ET from the Orion’s belt star system.
To heck with fear! Here goes. This is like closing your eyes with them still open. I have no idea what Ohom has in store for us…
“Ohom, I am ready. Take over the keyboard and tell us what we can expect in 2012!”
“Thank you, Ken Sheetz, for this opportunity to share my predictions for 2012 with your readers. I want to emphasize that my predictions are an energetic not to be taken literally, but spiritually.
The work of gentle 2012 has been magnificent, keep it up, all of you people of the light, no matter how different from my 2012 predictions it may seem. All sorrow is an illusion. Stay joyous!
January 1, 2012 – As the last of earth’s time zones shift into 2012 a ripple in the space-time continuum flutters through the hearts of every human being on your world.
January 11, 2012 – The heart ripple, now 10 days old, breaks away the crust of the old programming around the hearts of humanity. Freedom after eons of enslavement sends billions to dance in the streets.
February 10, 2012 – The heart ripple grows to a tsunami. People for first time are able think as one. Governments, banks and corporations collapse when people see such ill serving institutions are obsolete.
March 21, 2012 – The dark ones threaten nuclear destruction if the people will not obey to the old. New humanity calls the bluff, but it was no bluff and a launch of h-bombs is made. But the human mind that now operates as one neutralizes the bombs midway and they fall to earth as rose petals. Triumph. Humanity is truly free.
May 11, 2012 – Freed of its slavery to the old for nearly two months, humanity creates the first thought powered forms of teleportation. The first living being to teleport is kitten named Whiskers. Whiskers travel around the earth in just 24 minutes, making one stop in each teleportation station in each of earth’s time zones.
June 21, 2012 – Earth celebrates the summer solstice with freedom from oil addiction by manifesting of a fleet of clean solar energy cars for all. Oil wells are capped. Gaia rejoices.
July 11. 2012 – Hunger and homelessness upon the earth is officially a thing of the fading past. All eat healthy, and fast food restaurants are converted to living museums.
August 10, 2012 – The 2012 Presidential elections are officially called off as humanity no longer needs politics. Whiskers replaces Obama as America’s figure-head of state.
September 21, 2012 – Love is recognized as earth’s official new currency. All the animals in every zoo are freed. The oceans and air are purified in a wave of purifying positive human thought.
October 11, 2012 – Cancer officially becomes the last disease to fall under the power of earth’s shared positive consciousness.
November 11, 2012 – Shared dreams replace TV and movie as the greatest form of entertainment on the planet.
December 21, 2012 – Parties that have been going on for 10 days erupt into global shout of joy at the end of the Mayan calendar.
December 22, 2012 – The spaceships of Orion hear the joyous shout of humanity and we arrive on the first day of your golden age.
December 31, 2012 – One billion people teleport to my home world in the Orion belt for a cultural exchange. To humanity’s shock it is You who we are learning from. The people of earth are greatest manifestors in all the universe! All galactic society rejoices that you finally have stepped into your own power to co-create heaven on earth.
“If you are not happy in this world you are stupid.” – Don Miguel Ruiz, Author of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS
By Ken Sheetz
I sensed in meditation, that at its zenith, the multiracial culture of Teotihuacan did not know poverty or shame. It was a culture of pure positivity and love. Looking deeper, I saw in my meditations at the pyramid of the Sun, that the Teotihuacan culture became great through the tender guidance of ancient astronauts. Or ETs as we call them, even though they have been here on earth long before our species emerged.
How then did Teo fall, I further meditated? Ohom, my higher ET self sadly answered, “When our space ships left on a mission to another of the young worlds we care for, the people of Teo fell into fear of our return. Deeper and deeper the people sank in darkness without the light of the “Gods” as they called us. Finally, one of your elders suggested human sacrifice would speed our return. In desperation some of the people agreed, while other people who did not agree left Teotihuacan forever and took to the jungles in secret.”
Ohom continued, “One day, when the “Gods” returned of our own accord, we were appalled at the taking of human life in our name and so we took back our gifts of technology you were not ready for. Humanity was left time to evolve on its own before the ETs would ever return again. Our return is delayed by human sacrifice in the form of war, greed, starvation and consumerism that has never been greater than it is in 2011.”
As Ohom’s words echoed I saw Teo’s ancient people weep as the ships left for the stars in the middle of the night. Such sorrow went out from the people that I sat up from my meditation in deep racking sobs.
Ohom’s voice comforted me, “Please know, Kenneth, that though you may not be able to see us that we have never truly left you and do watch over you and all the people of your blue world in secret.”
A year from now Earth enters a golden age. The ET council still debates how fast our transformation will be, anything from a night-time to a million years for humanity to become the protectors, not consumers, of this world.
Both a night-time and a million years are the blink of an eye in universal time. My higher self, Ohom, has asked the ET council that full transformation to a positive society be 50 years, of which we are now 18 months deep into.
I urge you to get in touch with you higher self in the coming year in meditation and put in your vote with the ET council for the speed of our evolution. Much as I love him, I hope Ohom is out voted and the shift is faster rather than slower, for all our sakes and the world’s. Please post your vote for the length of the Shift and your reasoning below!
I recognize all of the above could be my own overactive imagination in my DreamShield meditations, simply beautiful symbols for my subconscious to express in words the deep impact Teotihuacan had upon me. An impact merged with my own history of abandonment as a child. Or perhaps that my sad history is why I have been gifted to see into the fall of the Teo. Who can say?
All that matters is that whatever it is that moves you, be it religion, science or visions of your own amazing minds, that we strive to change our society from the negative to the positive.
Angels do not condone violence as a solution, nor do I. Not to say I won’t pop a guy one, with fair warming, if he pushes me too far. I may see angels but I sure ain’t one. Angels simply work in ways that are 5th dimensional and so they show me things in symbolic 3 dimensional ways I can understand and report to you. Or for all I know they’ve added something to the water in LA. I have no idea why I am seeing all this as an ongoing vision for 18 months solid now. And what you see on my blogs is only about 20% of what I see. I could literally write about all this 24/7 and never catch up.
A few nights ago I meditated and asked the DreamShield to show me what the angels were up to in the quest for gentle 2012. I was whisked from LA to Chicago, where hundreds of earth angels, dressed like 1930’s mobsters, were shooting up my kinda town!
Earth angels zipped through the skies and skyscrapers of the loop, blasting away mercilessly at evil spirits corrupting our legal system and government. Legions of lawyer and judge demon spirits were blown away with the angel Tommy guns blasting bullets of lethal light. I laughed for joy at this unexpected angel work in my adopted home town!
On LaSalle Street I watched in wonder as none other that the great Humphery Bogart led a raid on the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago.
I shouted to Bogey, “The Fed was a client of mine. The people I worked with seemed like regular Joes.”
“Who the heck are you?” Bogey said spinning on me.
“Ken Sheetz, a spirit reporter for the work of a gentle 2012.” I said as I held up my humble Flip camera.
“I’m huntin’ demons sucking the life outta Gaia, not regular Joes or dames! Got it?!” said Bogey shouting in my face, not a smart thing to do with my childhood of having a Drill Sargent dad, but I liked what Bogey was up to and let it slide.
“How about a gun for me then?”
“Swell. Jimmy give the junior reporter a heater!” Bogey said with relieved chuckle.
None other than the great James Cagey slapped a Tommy gun in my hands. “Welcome to the gang, kiddo. Be sure you get my good side, my left, in any photos or I’ll brain you.”
“Ok boys, time to cut the Fed’s credit line!” Bogey shouted.
“Kill any demon that moves and the ones that don’t.” added Cagney as the angel gangsters all cheered.
Guns blazing, Bogey led our charge into the Federal Reserve lobby. Demon guards drew ray gun pistols that were no match for the angels hail of light bullets. Even your faithful reporter lost all journalistic objectivity and got in demon kills. And before you know it the battle was done, the lobby clear.
“Nothing here but a stinking money museum!” Bogey fumed.
“How’s about this? ” said Cagney pointing to an armored elevator door locked tight with an electronic keypad.
“Try 11 -11-11 as the combo,” I offered.
Cagney rolled his eyes. “No pathway to Gaia’s gonna be some lame combo any sap could stumble on.”
“Do like he says!” Bogey snapped.
Cagney complied punching in all the numbers, “See? No dice.”
“Add four more 11s for 11:11 PM. No, wait, four more 11s for AM too.”
Cagney punched in the numbers. “Crap. So many ones I lost track! Your honor Mr.Elevens.”
I counted on my fingers saying, ” 11.11.11 and 11:11 AM and PM. That’s 7 -11s, fourteen ones.” and punched in the numbers. Not an easy task as I thought as the pattern on the keypad kept shifting and the #1 hopped to another spot every couple of seconds. But as I punched in the 14th one, the heavy armored elevator door opened.
What we saw was not good however. No elevator, just darkness and showers of sparks where the elevator cab should have been.
“Wise guys cut the cords. Gotta make a jump for it.” Bogey said looking down the miles deep shaft filled with dangerous sparking wires.
“Well, boys, in for a dime… ” shouted Cagey as he jumped past Bogey into the shaft.
The rest of the angel gang followed.
“Sheetz, stay behind and watch our backside.” said Bogey jumping into the fray and not giving me time to argue.
I peered down the scary elevator shaft, filming the brave angels battle slithering snakes of dark energy. Something stunk. I was aware of an evil presence. I spun and looked smack into the face with a giant golden snake. Its pitiless eyes looked right through me with the heartless effectiveness of a credit report.
“Stand aside, mortal. Thisss is not your fight.” the golden snake spoke!
I raised my Tommy gun. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
The snake leaped for me, fangs dripping with venom. My Tommy gun blazing, the snake and I fell together down the elevator shaft. ‘
I found myself in my boardroom at my Chicago real estate company. My partner and I were laughing as my construction manager sweated bullets. It was 1990, one year before my fall from the easy credit I had ridden to the top of Chicago’s commercial real estate world. We all laughed as the prospective “tenant” and took off her clothes in the middle of our employee’s presentation.
Bats flew at me as the snake hissed, “How can a man with so little respect for women that he’d bring a stripper to come into his company’s offices be a champion of Gaia?”
The snake was right. I had no comeback and it infuriated me. I drew my sword and switched on my red ethereal armor for battle as we fell for the center of the earth.
“Rage is your answer and your undoing!” said the snake as it bit right through my armor. Armor had never failed me and now in over a year of these visions. Poison raced through my veins. The speeding tumble of wires and the laughing gold snake faded.
It was 1991, I was in my family room hollering like a crazy man at my wife. Still, she bravely refused to sign the second mortgage papers I shoved in her face, papers that would have given me $250,000 to keep my failing real estate company alive.
The golden snake and I hit beam as it bit into my leg, fangs piercing me the bone. As we plumeted for the depths, locked in mortal combat, I saw a fevered parade of all the women I’d somehow hurt in my life, a fiance’, lovers, friends, co-workers, my daughter, my mother, even my Irish grandmother.
The snake was right! How could a chauvanist-jerk like me help the angels free Gaia’s heart from the vampire energy of the Fed tapping her dry?
“I’ve pumped enough poison into you to kill ten men! Why do you still persissst?” the golden snake hissed, shaking me in its jaws like a limp rag doll.
By the freshness that flowed in the dank elevator shaft I knew angels were near. Bogey flew past as he took aim at the great serpent. “Because Sheetz is already dead and now, snake, so are you!” The angels opened fire and the snake vaporized in a hail of angelic fire.
Cagney caught me in his arms, “Gotcha, kid!”
“What did, Bogart, mean I am already dead?” I asked, feeling better already.
“Get some sleep now. We got miles left to go. Christ you’re heavy!” Cageny complained as I drifted off.
I sat alone on Oak Street beach of Lake Michigan. It was winter 1992. Snowflakes swirled as I stared at the waves. I’d lost everything, my skyscraper, my cars, my company, my wife and kids. I walked into the icy water and kept walking until I was deep beneath the lake and I drowned.
I blinked awake in a great cavern, Bogart, Cagney and the angels all about me. “But if I died in 1992 how am I still alive in 2011?,” I said raising my throbbing head.
“Are you alive?” chuckled Bogart.
“Seems like I am,” I said checking my pulse.
“Look, kid, this ain’t no time for a lecture on mutli-verses. Alls that’s important you showin’ up to record what the angels do and give the people hope. Now shoot your camera over there.”
Bogey pointed to Cagney who was placing dynamite atop the energy tap the fed had to the core Gaia. The tap flowed with her precious blue-white energy to Federal Reserve and World Bank siphons all across the earth.
Now an army of snakes rose from the ashes of the old and surrounded Cagney.
“Get outta there, Jimmy. We can try this another day!” shouted Bogey.
“Got my left side, Sheetzy?”
I flashed Cagney the thumbs up as I had him my Flip camera’s view finder.
“Made it, Ma! Top of the world!” Cagney shoved down the plunger.
The cavern filled with explosions and fire that made hell seem like a picnic. I couldn’t see him, in the smoke and fire, but I heard Bogey shout,”Gaia is free!
I rose to full consciousness from my meditation, knowing in some crazy way that what I see the angels doing on another plane of reality helps our world, but wondering if I am in fact a ghost.
Your love donations atDreamShield.org at the PayPal link on the page help me report work on the angel visions which, hopefully with your help, I will one day gather into a book.
“Angels may be sneaky, but the stinkers have humanity’s best interests at heart.” – Ken Sheetz
December 4, 2011 – Important DreamShield 2012 Vision Report!
Back a few blogs ago I wrote of how at 11:11 PM, as Laura De León, did a meditation count down on the big stage at the 11.11.11 Ascension Convention we co-hosted, I saw the 11th vault door, so massive that it locked off the entire face of the Earth, turn red-hot as we meditated with the blue angels in our midst and that I saw the huge vault simply vaporize from outer space at the climax our day-long group 11.11.11 meditations. And when Laura handed me the mic, expecting some lengthy vision I had seen I simply said, “The angels melted the vault,” to the cheers of the crowd.
But I went silent because strangely I saw no heart of banks to warm, the 11th Vault meditation’s purpose that climaxed 6 months of meditation opening the 10 other vaults to this final vault. Or so I thought as I talk about in detail on blog link above (important to review to understand this latest vital vision fully) Why then had I been guided to do this meditation that seemed pointless?
So many mysteries. I’d not been so confused about a vision since this all began with my seeing the DreamShield in Italy back in May of 2010 that got this whole project started, set dates years in advance for key meditations, via a God-like voice and all. Then, a few days ago, came the amazing 11.11.11 after-vision you see pictures above, as best as I can render it for you, dear reader, and I became even more confused.
So today I surrendered and channeled Ohom, my higher blue-ET-angel-self, to get the scoop on what’s the heck’s going on!
“Ohom, millions of angels tugging on golden threads wrapped around the Earth, pulling the world through a hole in the space-time fabric left behind by our 11th vault meditation. What’s this 11.11.11 after vision mean?” I said, thinking I sounded more like a journalist than a channeler.
“Hallelujah!” Shouted Ohom. – By the way, you’ve not lived until you’ve heard an angel shout ‘Hallelujah’ in your echoing head. – Ohom joyously continued, “Rejoice! Your 11.11.11 event meditation, along with 5 million people across the Earth at various sacred sites, opened a portal to the 5th dimension. We are in the process now of what you call The Shift.”
“We opened a portal? I thought we were unlocking the vault to the heart of earth’s banks on 11.11.11?” I asked, feeling a tickle of anger.
“Sorry, it was necessary to withhold the true purpose of the work from you and everyone else on your world,” Ohom answered without shame.
“If you didn’t trust me to keep a secret, you could have at least trusted Laura De León, who ran sacred ceremony for event.” I said.
“Far too risky for the beautiful diva’s safety and yours. We kept all 11.11.11 events across the Earth scattered, moderate in size, and unaware of what you were doing so as not to draw attention of the dark forces. Forces that were, in fact, tracking your 11th vault meditation, which was all over the web. But as the dark ones know that banks are in fact heartless, as you too now know, the dark forces merely got a chuckle out of your work.”
“Their overconfidence is their undoing. The portal you and the five million opened means the Shift will succeed without question.”
“What if the dark forces close the portal, or block it?” I said.
“According to the Galactic Treaty of Pangea since it was created telepathically by your species, the hole in space you co-created with the 5 million signals humanity’s ascension and thus the portal cannot be closed.”
“Nice. All without any of us knowing what we the heck were doing? Kinda takes the fun out it.” I sighed.
“You mean the ego out of it?” Ohom laughed playfully.
“Laura got that ball rolling beautifully of ego to heart. At least one of us knew what we were doing! ” I groused.
“Let go your anger, Ken, lest you end up a modern-day Moses.”
“Left behind as the rest of the people entered the promise land? Swell. You mean there will be an earth that’s like the one we have today to get left behind on?”
“Yes, but it will not be like the Earth of today. It will be a place of total Ego, no heart, where the few rule over the many like cattle.” said Ohom with deep compassion that tinkled like wind chimes.
“Sounds like a typical corporation. Look, I’m doing my best, Ohom. But, frankly, I feel blackmailed into giving up my ego with this Moses stuff. And I sure ain’t no Moses.” I said, surprised at my own outrage.
“Ken, there’s not time left for soft-pedaling this. You must live from heart to make the Shift. I tell you this from love, not to blackmail you.”
“Sorry. I’ve been a bear to be around for over a month now. Where has all my peace of mind from the Work gone?” I said in hoarse whisper.
“The past and present are mingling in this transition, like the old caterpillar and the new butterfly in the cocoon. Both existing simultaneously before the birth of the new.”
“You make it sound poetic, but I tell you this caterpillar/butterfly thing is driving me nuts.”
My best advice: Look forward. Let yourself be happy that there is a higher power on humanity’s side, guiding all. The dark forces cannot win. I leave you in peace. Namaste, Ken Sheetz.”
“Namaste, Ohom. It is an honor to be part of you.”
Your love donations at DreamShield.org at the PayPal link on the page help me report work on the angel visions which, hopefully with your help, I will one day gather into a book.
Most of the shadows or this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
By Ken Sheetz
11.11.11 was here at last. The date that I’d been getting messages to hold a DreamShield event on since 5.5.10, when I saw the 7 foot tall blue angels build a force field around earth that was capable of harnessing the mass consciousness of humanity to protect this world and help manifest a gentle 2012. Looking at the sentence I just wrote, I still have a hard time believing the 30 some events attended by so many now and recorded on YouTube in over 200 videos from around the world in just 18 months has really happened.
Really, I don’t proclaim to believe to know what’s behind any of my visions, could be anything from a tumor to the real thing, angels from outer space, and here was all this happening and much more to come. And happening to a man not used to the public spotlight. A filmmaker who prefers to stay behind the camera rather than in front.
Unfortunately, come 11.11.11 I had been so busy helping put this event together, from securing our location event sponsor EARTH SHIFT PRODUCTS, also our 10.10.10 sponsor and to whom we are eternally grateful, to using my old architectural skills of making floor plans to marketing, via my social media company BuzzBroz, to arranging video production gear for the day, planning interviews with exhibitors and much more, that I’d not given much thought to my part in the ceremonies Laura De León had planned so impeccably for the day, but, out of love and respect, had left me the space to plan by myself. And I’d planned nothing.
What the heck would I do on stage, in front of all these people who had paid to be here, if I saw no angels? Sing karaoke? Do a card trick? I’d actually had one in my pocket I was not very good at. It felt like one of those college exam dreams where you lost your speech and had to go on before the class, naked.
Fortunately, Laura had plenty more wonders for the people to experience that day than me if I bombed. As Laura’s day of amazing workshops on ascension minded topics drew to a close I took to the stage and looked at the enthused crowd. A crowd that would have been larger but for the rains that were now starting to patter on the beautiful big tent that I thanked the angels was here for us. I’d been angry with the angels all week during the lousy weather forecasts. It hardly ever rains in California. Why rain and cool weather on this magical day of 11.11.11?
A voice kept assuring me, ” All is as it should be, Ken. These fine group of people who braved the weather are just what this meditation to unlock the 11th vault needs.”
“Easy for the angels to say,” I raged inwardly at the voice within me. “ETs and angels have no need for money. This rain means I just worked 15 hour days for three months without a day off without a pay day. Angels are lousy bosses.”
Very small of me, I know, chewing out angels. They don’t call me the Larry David of the spirit world for nothing! All my spiritual growth of the past 18 months was out the window. So when Laura asked if I could speed things up on my meditation as the night was already behind schedule, well, this did not help my disposition. Ironically, the theme of the night was Laura’s brilliant idea of humanity ascending from ego consciousness to living from the heart, and here I was having a ego trip about being rushed at my own event.
Yes, my angels love comedy. It’s a galactic reality show I feel at times with all of us as human cameras, cameras that also have every human sense recorded for the galactic audience to relish in. Kinda like THE MATRIX meets THE TRUMAN SHOW. At times, frankly it pisses me off to be laughed at so much. But ETs, as Jackie Salvitti of ETHEALING.COM, one of our night’s featured speakers, says, “ETs have a great sense of humor.”
It explains much. How boring watching us would be if our weather were perfect. Yeah, angels are stinkers that throw challenges at us that would make any reality show producer blush. You heard it here first.
But all my doubts and ego subsided as I looked over the beautiful crowd of eager happy faces in the tent. Honestly, Ive done a lot of public speaking in business and attended many events, but in all my 30 years of that corporate junk I’ve never seen a crowd as open as receptive and beautiful as the one gathered under the tent at Rancho De Las Palmas. The stinker angels were right. This was the perfect crowd to meditate on opeing the hearts of banks.
Then suddenly, as the crowd’s passion picked me up off my grouchy butt, dozens blue angels materialized, filling every the empty white seat scattered in the crowd. As I reported this news of ET angels joining the 11th Vault meditation, a thrill went through the gathering.
Now, I began to see earth from space and the golden vault door that was hiding the heart of earth’s banks. This earth-size safe cracking was a mammoth job I told the meditating crowd. Honestly, folks. Whatever it is we are we are far more powerful than we know. I could feel the energy of the crowd willing the vault to open. The crowd’s energy filled my exhausted body with vitality and I knew in that moment what has kept old performers like the Stones young and alive.
Next, I saw millions of angels pulling at the golden door. I shouted joyously the meditating crowd, “Imagine if we can open the vault and warm the heart of the banks! Banks with a heart would no longer fund wars, fund polluters! Banks with a heart would no longer steal peoples homes, impoverish us and would instead of enrich us. At 11:11 PM let’s open the vault!” I left the stage to applause, drained of my last reserves but feeling the energy of the crowd and angels building.
Laura turned to me as I took my seat and said, “Wow.” Which made me feel a whole lot better. I was almost myself again.
As the amazing night continued, the vision built. At Aros’ dolphin mediation I caught a glimpse of lasers cutting the vault. At Jackie Salvitti’s amazing ET healing I saw my higher angel self with a stethoscope trying to break the combo. At Renato Longato’s amazing speech about ETs and their role in 2012 I saw the circular pavilion, where the exhibitors worked flawlessly during the day, become a giant spaceship pumping energy to the DreamShield, where the White Tree of 10.10.10 still stood.
And rather than seeing something, during Laura’s amazing singing with Philippo Francnhini, I felt a spark of something new ignite in my heart. A spark that is still growing.
Finally, as Laura conducted the 11:11 PM mediation I closed my eyes and instantly saw the angels work reach its climax: The vault turned red-hot and simply vaporized in a shimmering wave. Laura handed me the mic and asked me to report what I saw to the crowd.
I felt like the stoic Bruce Willis character in THE FIFTH ELEMENT when all I said was…
“The angels melted the vault.”
6 moths of meditations on opening the vault to hearts of Earth’s banks, some very painful and poignant, but for the final vault this was all there was to it? I was hoping to see more!
But the crowd cheered and danced for joy in the puddles that seeped under the beautiful tent. I took a seat, too tired to enjoy the fun and wondering where was the heart of the banks? I expected the banks to have a heart, my theory, as explained in the video above, that since the corporations have fought to recognized as living beings that this would mean they have a heart was kaput. And I’ve seen the hearts of Apple and Disney and warmed them in past meditations with angels. Now here, blessedly, there was only Gia, Mother Earth, free of the banks that had been sucking off her like a vampire. But no bank heart to be found!
I can only conclude one of two things from the no heart scenario. One, the heart is hidden somewhere on this world or, two, and very chilling, that banks are truly as heartless as they seem. I prefer to think the heart of banks are hidden and that my higher self with the aid of the angels will find that heart and warm it. Ever since 11.11.11 I have been doing just that in meditations. Still not even a clue. God knows we need to find that heart!
Back to the 11.11.11 fun and a moment that stunned me. A couple that were in human form, but of other worldly height and perfection of form came up to me and congratulated me on the meditation with warm hugs. The male must have been 7 feet tall and the woman a good 6 foot plus. I asked if I could take a picture, thinking they were ETs, and they said yes. I turned to get my camera out of my pocket but when I looked up they were gone.
After working until 2 AM to pack up the event and collapsing into bed at the hotel in that exhausted state where visions come easily, I saw to my shock that a beast had been in our midst as the crowd danced! Our uninvited hairy guest was big and ugly, with the head of a black bull! I’ve been told by my spirit guides that this Minotaur was an angry Wall Street spirit guarding the 11th vault. Defeated, it was lost and out of job.
My spirit guide Angus assured my fearful mind that the confused beast was quickly tossed out of the tent by his Galactic enforcer clan, a vision to itself. I’d not seen any of this in real time as I was too tired.
Was I imagining this beast? Well, a few days later Laura would email me, without having heard my after vision story of the uninvited guest, that she had clearly heard a beast-like grunt come from near me.
And this after-vision of the Wall Street Minotaur would be just the start. There was much more to the visions of 11.11.11 to come in the following days and weeks.
LOOKING FORWARD TO 2012
12.12.12 is the last primary date the voice in Italy has told me must be honored to power the DreamShield for the completion of this gentle 2012 mission on 12.21.12. This will be a 10 day long symposium where all we have learned from 10.10.10 and 11.11.11 and other of the smaller events will be put to work. We’re going to have this one somewhere warm and dry tropical, Hawaii. Ha! Try to make Hawaii’s weather funny, angels! Oh, wait, volcanoes. Never tempt angels. Sorry, guys.
Too early for advanced 12.12.12 tickets, but stay tuned as I work on venue and sponsors, this time giving myself a full year to get this stuff done so I can enjoy myself at my own event! Meanwhile, however, your love donations at DreamShield.org at the PayPal link on the page help me report work on the angel visions which, hopefully with your help, I will one day gather into a book.
And stay tuned as well for a February the rescheduling of Renato’s DreamShield UFO Sky Watch which was rained out on 11.11.11!
“The oneness many in spiritual work have been talking about may be about something else entirely. Namely, oneness with our multi-universe selves.” — Ken Sheetz
I could write entire blogs about each of these visions but I will be brief and let the vision art I am creating do a lot of the talking.
#1 – 11.10.11
It was long day of prepping for the big 11.11.11 Ascension Convention event. Exhausted, I stagger to my room at the Grand Vista hotel near Rancho De Las Palma, the event site, tear back the covers and collapse into bed without even the energy to brush my teeth. I am instantly in that semi-conscious state that often leads to visions.
Soon my spirit leaves my fatigued body and I ascend above the Simi Valley. But the air is not normal. Rather it is like a great faceted diamond, pancaked from horizon to horizon. My higher self tells me that these fractals in the atmosphere are all different universes where I exist in many pieces and places. One universe, where for example, I am still married, another where I am still an architect, and so on, one universe for every possible choice I’d ever made or the world made for me.
My higher self now says it is time to unite all my divided selves. So I hold forth my hands and begin to will all my countless selves into this one vessel. Slowly at first, but with a growing speed that dazzles me, billions of my other selves start to integrate into one ascended self. As the amazing process continues at exhilarating speeds that are indescribable, the sky fractals become less and less until the sky is one and so am I!
Knowing I am done, my spirit flys back to my meditating body in the Grand Vista hotel and I fall blissfully asleep, excited for the magic that awaits me on 11.11.11.
“I may see angels but I am far from being one.” – Ken Sheetz
Two weeks ago, on the magical binary date of 11.11.11, I co-hosted a beautiful event about the ascension with a star-studded evening of speculation about ETs role in the Shift I’d been guided to create by a God-like voice 18 months ago in Italy. The masterful ceremonies and workshops had been created to perfection by the amazing multi-talented co-host Laura De León of MyMysticMuse. Just one problem. I was not very “present”, to put it mildly, for my own event.
I’ve been pondering for the entire time since, wishing I could have enjoyed something so beautiful that I’d help create, all stemming from an angelic vision I had in Italy for a gentle 2012. The 11.11.11 event is possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been a part of bringing into this world. So why had I been so hard on myself and hard for Laura and others on the team to be around me that day and the weeks leading up to the big day? Why was Laura’s singing her amazing Babaji song with Philippo Franchini one of the few moments I truly enjoyed on 11.11.11? Exhaustion? No. This was more than simple exhaustion. The excuse I tried to hide behind post 11.11.11.
I took a break from pondering my failure to enjoy 11.11.11 to ponder the parallels of family dynamics in why I’d not enjoyed Thanksgiving this year. I was traveling from my Vegas Thanksgiving, back home, the way I’d been doing in these tough times for two years now, by a Greyhound Bus. The Friday 10 AM bus back to LA was 5 minutes late without any Greyhound announcements so I calmly asked one of the bus terminal attendants, “What’s the delay?”
The Greyhound attendant smirked at me and said in a thick Asian accent, “Buddy, you better learn something. This is Greyhound! Bus gets here when bus gets here!”
The people in line laughed at my expecting decent service for what is not that much less than a Southwest Airline fare.
A sweet little Black lady, with a white fur hat that made her look like a stylized rabbit out of Alice in Wonderland, turned to me from ahead in line and said, “Public transportation, mister. Gotta expect this kinda thing.”
I reminded her, like it was my duty as a remnant from a long gone, more caring America, “Greyhound’s not public, except for treating customers like a public toilet.”
Rather than laughter as I expected, people in line reacted in silence as though I was rocking the boat. “What boat? It’s a bus, you bunch of sheep!” I raged inwardly as I dug into my knapsack, grabbed the Thanksgiving leftovers Mom had made for the bus ride back to LA, the land of dreams, and thought back on my Vegas 2011 Thanksgiving, having a picnic in the terminal.
The trip got off to a rocky start in this very bus station on the way in to Vegas on Wednesday. My stepfather Nick, a fiery tempered Sicilian who holds grudges like a character who stepped right out of Mario Puzo novel (first suspect, please, if I am ever murdered) kept me waiting at the Greyhound terminal for half an hour.
A half an hour where I’d learn the Vegas Greyhound terminal front door is a den of prostitution. Unable to see through the dark tinted terminal front doors I was forced to stand with my backpack full of Mac gear, stranded, like a Thanksgiving turkey ready to be plucked by pimps and thugs who kept giving me the hairy eyeball.
Finally, after what seemed hours, Nick and my Mom’s car arrived. I quickly tossed my bags and myself into the backseat. No apologies for running late from Nick, of course. The crabby 83 year-old-man sat stoic and uncaring at the wheel. — Not unexpected. Nick’s not spoken to me much in three years since I read him the riot act over his outlandish claim I was trying to kill my mother by adjusting the condo temp by one degree downwards.
Most I’d hear from Nick on the entire visit was his yelling at my 82-year-old mother to “Shut the hell up!” when she screamed after he almost rear-ended a car. A retired as a prison guard, Nick’s belligerent treatment of my Mom, like a prisoner he was keeping in check, gave me heartburn. I had a coughing fit.
Mom asked if I was sick and I told her, “Nick yelling at you is the only thing making me sick. Well, that and being let stranded for half an hour as I watched other arriving passengers all picked up within the first five minutes.” Getting pissed at me snapped Nick out of his tirade at Mom and back to silence. Old training as kid from how I’d take the heat for Mom to save her from my real dad, who passed early this year.
Now, I managed a tense front seat to backseat chat where I filled Mom in on a few things in my life. We’ve never talked about the angels and ETs working for the cause of the Shift I see in meditations. And didn’t now. I guess I’d think she’d feel I’ve gone off my rocker. Why worry her? She has no concept of what a blog is or how to work a computer and has seen nothing of my writing.
Soon we arrived at the small one bedroom condo Mom has carved into a pretty home. She said to me timidly, not her style, “Hungry, Ken? We already ate, not knowing when you’d really get here on the bus.”
I played along, even though it was only 5:30 PM, and ate alone at the kitchen counter while Mom filled in my brother Fred, who had manned the condo during my pickup from Greyhound. Which was odd. Fred usually came to greet me. “Ken’s goin’ to Mexico for a film shoot next month, Fred,” Mom chirped.
Fred puffed on cigarette and grunted, “Beats gardening I bet, eh, Ken?”
Fred knew from our weekly phone talks, we both cling to like a family life raft, that I’d made a deal for social media barter where I was living at a spirit resort called BushWillows north of LA. Because they had gone into suspended animation on the resort for reasons unknown, the owners instead wanted gardening help instead of web work.
Now here was my brother, making fun of my doing manual labor to keep a roof over my head in the worst recession ever. How it stung me to the soul. What happened to my sweet “over the phone” brother I wondered looking at the grouchy Fred? Yep, a voice answered, four days with Nick contaminated his aura. He be back to normal when he returned to Wisconsin.
Mom sensed the tension with Fred and chimed in, “I bet you’re learning lotsa gardening stuff. Right, Ken?”
“Yep.” I answered meaning it, biting into Mom’s steak that was like rubber.
“After Mexico Ken’s filming in Hawaii first two months of the year, Fred.”
I could see Fred was puzzled so much good fortune had popped up since we spoke only a few days earlier. Now that the 11.11.11 event of 15 hours days of work for 3 solid months without pay was over and I could refocus my energy. I was beginning to feel some of the old fire that made me a millionaire in the past. Fred didn’t like me much when I was millionaire who’s most famous project was building Oprah’s Harpo Studios, and rightly so. I was a dick when I was rich. Not next time, if there is one, will it be so!
“Lousy economy might finally be lifting.” I muttered into my meal.
Soon as I finished my solo dinner and complimented Mom, despite how god awful the steak was, Nick put on his coat. Mom and Fred quickly followed his lead. “I just got here. Where’s everyone going?” I groused.
“Casino, ” Fred grinned as I steamed, “Relax. Mom and Nick did the same thing to me when I got here: Quick meal then off to the slots!”
So without even a chance to rest or a catch-up on life, besides the brief car talk with Mom from the backseat, I was soon in Nick’s car again and heading for the Orleans, a locals casino my mother and Nick frequent often for the loose Keno slots. Nick complained to my Mom as he cruised the Orleans multi-leveled lot for a parking spot, “Handicapped spots all gone getting here so late.”
I let the dig pass, as I let so much pass with Nick. For a comedy writer when I am not helping angels manifest a gentle 2012, this man is a gold mine for material. We parked not very far from the door despite my “late” arrival. I climbed from the backseat of the car, dreading the casino, already sorry I’d come. I limped for the casino, having slightly pulled both hamstrings hauling wheelbarrows full of compost early in the week at the gardens.
Sure enough, soon I found myself in the smokey noisy as hell confines of the Orleans casino, surrounded by drunken gamblers and haggard locals.
Fred plopped himself on a Keno machine beside Mom and lit up. Mom’s 82 but going strong and she was ready for action, silent Nick her bodyguard. It was almost as though I ceased to exist. I tried to make conversation, but the casino noise that keeps people hypnotized with noisy beeps and bloops and smoke won. So I excused myself and limped my way to my old Vegas escape pod, the movies.
We all agreed, Nick in silence of course, to meet back at the Keno spot midnight when the gambling ordeal had hopefully reached an end. I say “hopefully” because there have been nights when Mom or Fred or Nick get on a winning streak where they all stay out to 3 or 4 AM and I’d end up taking a taxi back to condo myself.
I saw two movies back to back to kill time and lose myself. ARTHUR’S CHRISTMAS, an instant classic 4 stars out of 5 and HAPPY FEET TWO, a doh doh bird of a penguin flick, 1 star. But I fell asleep so don’t take my word on the penguins if you enjoy hearing Robin Williams do a bad Spanish accent.
Midnight, when I got back to the Keno machines Mom and Fred were fighting about, of all things, meatballs sandwiches. I was relieved. The meatball fight meant they’d lost at Keno and so we’d be going home at a decent hour. Fred was craving a Subway meatball treat and would not be swayed. Mom who had won a little that week offered him $5 from her pot.
Fred sniped, “I have a paying job,” he said looking at me, who has not had a paying job since college, but who usually does very well despite that fact in a normal economy, “I pay for my own meatballs. And when I win I buy for everybody.”
On the way to the car, while Fred got his beloved meatball sandwich, Mom worried to me, “Fred’s been in a bad mood all week.” I took a look a Nick and thought, “Who wouldn’t be with that sourpuss around?” feeling compassion for my beloved brother and more for Mom who was living with this grumpy diabetic every day.
But then, surprisingly, my heart began to open for my fellow grouch Nick. At Souldrama in Italy I learned it’s what bothers you most in others that you are bothered most about in yourself. I saw the grouch I was around the loving dream team that had come together from 11.11.11. And here was Nick, in the bosom of a family that loved him, driving wedges between us all and himself. I saw the little boy Nick was who lived as an orphan on the streets of Milwaukee. No one to love him. And then I saw myself as an abused child who never knew what a happy family life was, wrecking the happiness all around me because I did not know how to handle joy on 11.11.11. And I finally forgave Nick for his junk and me for mine.
I was so deep in thought about my brother grouch Nick that I barely remember getting back to Nick and Mom’s condo after the casino. Fred ate his meatballs making a big deal of it to tease Mom, Nick pulled out the sleeper sofa. Mom and I made up my bed which I quickly collapsed into.
Despite the rough first day in Vegas I was still looking forward to tomorrow. I’d come to Vegas almost every year for 25 years for mom’s Thanksgiving cooking. She makes a great bird. Mom announced to Fred and me as the lights went out, “Night, boys. I’ll getting up to start the turkey cooking at 8AM.”
The night passed with fits of sleep as Fred snored loud enough to wake me. As I tried about 3 Am to get back to sleep I had a vision that was fresh and pure as I saw all the many sacred sites I’d mediated at since 10/10/10 ignite with bright white sparks across the globe, Vegas included where I saw the Luxor casino erupt, spewing energy to the DreamShield surrounding the planet. I saw it matched by energy flares from the real pyramids.
The dazzling clean and pure vision surprised me to full consciousness. “Why was a grump like me allowed to see such angelic glory?” I thought weeping into my pillow. I’d thought, or perhaps even hoped, that since DreamShield’s missions were on prime binary dates, that somehow after 11.11.11 my vision powers might end and life could return to normal. Whatever normal is in these crazy times with innocent people getting beaten down in the Occupy movements. I’d not talk about the visions with anyone next morning on Thanksgiving.
At 8AM as promised, Mom emerged from her bedroom, trusty flashlight in hand because the drapes were all closed. I peeked open an eye to watch her tip toe past as she swung the bright LED flashlight when suddenly she tumbled to the floor!
I bolted from the sleeper sofa and helped her up. Mom pointed the flashlight down at a cushion. “Twisted my back. How the hell did that get down there in my way?”
We both looked over at snoring Fred, who must have peed ten times during the night and knocked over the cushion at some point.
Mom softly giggled and squeezed my hand saying, “Go back to sleep, Ken. I’m OK, ” and she, putting the cushion out the way, went about starting the bird cooking.
Thanksgiving was here at last. The trusty old folding card table of 25 years of Vegas Thanksgivings came out as the Packer’s trounced Detroit on the old tube style TV. Soon the moment I’d suffered an 8 hour Greyhound trip and put up with the casino was here. The bird was perfection. Mom’s stuffing was great. All was heaven at last except for one thing that was missing: Mom. She was still in the kitchen cleaning up and missing the whole meal.
Then Fred did something that rattled my ego. As Nick came to the table Fred slid the chair for him. He even adjusted Nick’s gravy bowl to give more table space for Nick. And all my spirituality from the night before vanished. I was angry at Fred’s deference to this guy who made my visits to my mother such a hell.
Then Nick and Fred just dug in and started chowing down without waiting for Mom.
“Mom, I came all the way here to see you and have turkey,” I shouted to mom, cleaning up the kitchen like a mad woman.
“Yeah, come and eat, Mom, ” Fred chimed in, mouth full of turkey.
One possible answer to this mystery would come this morning as Deb, the BushWillows owner where I am staying observed about Mom’s odd behavior in her crisp South African accent as I dumped off a fresh load of compost, “Might be your Mum was cleaning up so she could get out of the house right after the turkey and resume gambling.”
Had my mother’s passion for gambling, some would say addiction, now eclipsed her time for dinner? Who knows? When she finally sat down when were all nearly done with her feast I tried to grab a picture of her only to be shouted at, “Don’t take my picture with my mouth full!”
My brother chimed in, “He did the same shit to me.”
I spun to Fred, camera in hand, “Shit? You call me taking your picture shit?!”
Mom sighed, “Boys, it’s Thanksgiving. No fighting.”
But I was furious and had to leave the table. I’d wanted to share my adventures surviving in Hollywood over the past year, my adventures in social media, my spirit project. And here I was fighting at the dinner table with my 58-year-old brother like we were kids while Nick shot my Mother a, “See?” look of satisfaction.
Later, I apologized to Fred and hugged him about the shoulders. He shared he’d been not having a good time this trip. Mom and he had been fighting the whole time for reasons he really could not put into words.
Soon as the second NFL game ended it was off to the Orleans casino again and the family disconnect. I saw two more movies, HUGO, one star for having a boring plot and bad child acting, and THE MUPPETS, of which I give zero stars and could barely keep my turkey down through.
Friday morning the alarm had been set for 8AM to get me to the station by 10AM but once Nick started to dress he did not slow down and I found myself on the way to the horrible station far too early. Mom tired to sit in the back seat with me but Nick would have non of that. He barked at my mother like she was a convict to be disciplined, “Get in front with me so you don’t have to jump out at the bus station!”
I patted Mom on the shoulder from the backseat as Nick sped for the station and she held my hand. Arriving 15 feet from the curb Nick parked in the middle of traffic. I came to the window and kissed Mom good-bye. She grabbed my hand as Nick raced the car off, until Mom’s soft fingers pulled away from mine.
As I finally shuffled my way onto the hour late bus I was an hour early for, the Asian Greyhound attendant who gave me such a hard to for my simple question about when the bus was coming kidded to the bus ticket taker. “Don’t let this guy aboard. Troublemaker. Probably drunk.”
I smiled sadly in agreement, I’d beem drunk on family rage and rage with myself for not ascending as Laura De Leon had so brilliantly realized was the mission of 11.11.11. I was stuck in my ego and not operating from heart.
But as I have written to Laura, when she sang like an angel on 11.11.11, something did shift in me. A small spark deep in my heart. The fact I can even write so clearly of my painful thanksgiving and feel compassion for Mom, for Fred, for me, even for Nick and his little inner boy from the Great Depression, gives me hope Laura’s spark is growing and that I am ascending and so is the world.
Long as the visions keep coming I promise do my humble best continue to report the angels work to you. I don’t profess to understand what they are doing or if I am really seeing them or if it’s all some amazing lucid dream I’ve been having for 18 months solid or it’s something they are putting in the drinking water these days. If you like my reporting please go to DREAMSHIELD.ORG to help me help with the work of manifesting a gentle 2012. Thanks, Ken Sheetz.
Now enjoy some Nelson Riddle about Route 66 which I traveled on for this Thanksgiving saga.