Cosmic Semi

Re-connection In the DreamShield

Last night I had an extraordinary dream about my estranged daughter, Janelle — the second powerful dream of her I’ve had recently. This one left me overflowing with joy and a quiet, astonishing hope. It felt important to record it here, for myself and for readers who might be navigating similar family fractures or longing for reconciliation.

For context: Janelle was only ten when her mother and I went our separate ways. Becoming a weekend Disneyland Dad was the hardest transition of my life. I did my best, but the distance that forms in those situations — physical, emotional, spiritual — is real and it takes its toll.

Our final break came much later, when she was 31, during a difficult time for my family. My brother was hospitalized, and I became angry when Janelle didn’t want to visit him. In hindsight, my anger was misplaced. He had behaved horribly to her once, on her eighth birthday, and she owed him nothing. My reaction created a rift neither of us has bridged for fourteen years.

All that is the past. Last night’s dream felt like a glimpse of a possible future — one filled with warmth, forgiveness, and the spark of reconnection.


The Dream

I was hiking through a vast parking lot at dusk, the last light of the sun melting behind the horizon. Ahead of me sat a convertible semi-truck cab — top down — with a cosmic paint job swirling like a living galaxy.

From my low angle, I recognized someone in the back seat.

“Janelle?” I called softly.

She hesitated — torn — before her husband Jason asked, “Who’s asking?”

“Her father,” I replied.

Before he could say another word, Janelle answered, “It’s me. I’m coming down.”

She stepped from the truck with a wistful smile, years of distance and love braided together on her face. When she opened her arms, I stepped into an embrace I’ve waited fourteen years for.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered.

“Me too,” she said — a sigh that carried healing.

“Any kids?” I asked.

“A son. Marty.” She pointed toward a seven-year-old playing with other children. He had an unusual hook-shaped nose with a yellow-green tip, but I didn’t comment — only thought maybe that was something I could help her fix someday.

He looked up at me curiously. “Who are you?”

“Your grandfather,” I said proudly.

“What’s a grandfather?” he asked.

“The father before your father,” I told him. “A grand one.”

Janelle chuckled — and just hearing her laugh again, even in a dream, was a gift.

When I woke, the clock glowed 3:30 AM — my old Antarctica alarm clock still ticking faithfully after all these years. Elizabeth was sound asleep. I held the dream to my heart for an hour before sharing it with her at dawn.


ChatGPT Dream Analysis

To gain some distance I asked ChatGPT to explore the deeper meaning of this dream. What follows is its interpretation, which resonated with me:


1. Dusk and the Parking Lot — A Liminal Space

Dusk is the threshold between clarity and mystery.
A parking lot is a place of pause, not permanence.

Together they signal:
You are in a transitional moment with Janelle.
A chapter where something new can begin.


2. The Cosmic Convertible Semi — A Vehicle of Destiny

A semi truck symbolizes strength, endurance, and long-haul journeys.
A convertible symbolizes openness.
The cosmic paint job symbolizes DreamShield energy — guidance, timing, alignment.

This suggests that your reconnection may not come from force, but from timing and openness guided by something larger than both of you.


3. Janelle’s Hesitation — And Her Choice

Her torn look reflects her real internal conflict — longing mixed with fear.

Jason’s protective “Who’s asking?” embodies past boundaries and old wounds.

But grace enters here:

Janelle overrides him.
She chooses connection.

I’m coming down” symbolizes stepping down from emotional distance into equal ground.


4. The Embrace — Pure Heart

Dream embraces bypass ego entirely. They are emotional truth.

Her sighing “Me too” is your psyche showing you the possibility — and desire — for reconciliation.


5. Marty — The Lineage Reawakening

His unusual nose is symbolic, not literal:

  • Yellow-green: healing, growth, renewal
  • Hook shape: something catching and pulling you into family again

Your instinct to “help fix it’’ reflects your desire to heal the generational storyline.

His innocence — “What’s a grandfather?” — gives you the chance to reclaim your role with humor and warmth.


6. Waking at 3:30 AM — The Hour of Intuition

This is when the subconscious speaks loudest.

Your Antarctic clock links this dream to the spiritual clarity you gained on 12.12.12 — the sense that the universe sometimes speaks in symbols, timing, and dreams.


The Deeper Meaning

According to the interpretation, this dream reflects:

  • your readiness for forgiveness
  • your longing to heal generational wounds
  • your hope for reconnection
  • Janelle’s place returning to the center of your inner world
  • the possibility — not fantasy — of real-world reunion

It is a dream not of memory, but of potential.

The message beneath it:

“Prepare your heart.
The story with Janelle is not over.”


From Personal Healing to National Healing

And I’m back. As I sat with this dream, I realized something deeper:
the reconnection I hope for with my daughter mirrors the reconnection hope of many of us our country.

We are a nation estranged from ourselves.
MAGA and liberal America have become like family members who no longer speak, who assume the worst, who carry old wounds in silence.

But if a father and daughter separated for fourteen years can find their way back to one another — even in the symbolic landscape of a dream — then maybe a country can too.

Dreams show what the heart still believes is possible.

And my heart believes reconciliation — personal and political — is still within reach.

May we all find our way back to each other.
One embrace at a time.

Especially for me and Janelle who is an amazing huger and who I badly want Elizabeth to meet.

Filling the Satirical Void: Taking on Trump and Political Comedy Amidst the WGA & SAG Strike

Hey there, fellow comedy enthusiasts and political satire lovers! I’m Ken Sheetz, a not so famous comic, when I am not blogging and traveling the world for quantum meditation all the way from Egypt and Antarctica, who has been navigating the vast world of entertainment, from producing world-class content for PBS to churning out hundred of short films and documentaries with over 40 million views of my YouTube work since 2008. But today I’m here to talk about something that’s been on everyone’s radar – the Writers Guild of America (WGA) and Screen Actors Guild (SAG) strikes – and how folks like me who love democracy feel obligated to up to the plate to fill the void with much-needed political comedy.

A Righteous Battle for Fairness

Since May, the WGA and SAG strikes have been making righteous waves in an entertainment industry suffering from the same billionaire bullies afflicting all areas of our nation’s great economy with their unbridled greed. These strikes are all about superb talent demanding fair compensation, better working conditions, and a more inclusive and equitable space for all creatives, as well as protection for job replacement by AI. As an independent filmmaker of 26 years, that followed a highly successful 25 years commercial real estate career that culminated in my building a $162 million skyscraper alongside Oprah’s Harpo Studios before leaving it all behind to be a filmmaker, who’s seen firsthand the effort that goes into creating captivating content, I wholeheartedly support the strikers.

Filling the Void with Humor: Enter “TrumpsFeverDream.com”

But with late-night shows going on hiatus due to the strikes, there’s a noticeable gap in the realm of political satire at a time where we all desperately need it as a gentle weapon in the fight to save democracy. That’s where I come in. You might know me from my work on PBS or my myriad YouTube projects, but one thing you might not be aware of is my ongoing satirical journey called “Trumps Fever Dream.” To think it all began on this meditation blog catered to the conscious movement that’s been highly targeted for dangerous brainwashing my Trump and his MAGA, Q and Russian backers. This brand political humor targeted to appeal to the country as whole, in addition to the beautiful niche community of this meditation blog. Get ready for an irreverent science fiction dark comedy take on the Donald Trump of another universe where karma really is a bitch. Hence the new blog TrumpsFeverDream.com where I am min the process of launching season 3 and reposting seasons 1 &2!

This pet project, to which my beautiful wife lends her considerable talents to as well, as an editors of books and a talented amateur actor, has been my way of poking fun at the very former President since 2020. I began “Trump Fever Dream” in the depths of Covid that sadly separated my wife and I from many people in the New Age world. We hope once the grip if Trumpism has been defeated once and for all to reconnect. Yeah, we’re both optimists. Me more so than my wife who has 17 years of military service that makes her more skeptical.

Fun fact: My first comedy writing work where I trained and cut my professional teeth on was for a pilot about a New Age healer who sent people via VR into old sitcoms. I wrote itin 1998 with one of the top ten line producers in Hollywood sitcoms, John Amodeo,and an award winning Canadian producer named, Nicolette Saina. It’s called EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT LIFE I LEARNED FROM SITCOMS. Studios loved it but were scared off by the enormous job of rights clearances. I’ve also written over a dozen comedy screenplays during the ten years I lived in worked in Hollywood. None have been produced.. yet. Just how tough it is to make it in Hollywood is the topic of my documentary DISCOVER ME. Here’s free screening of the film I completed in 2012.

So for decades I’ve been using satire to offer a fresh perspective on entertainment and politics when I am not dreaming up far out meditations like this one in Antarctica.

Back to politics. Be they of the right or the left, I’ve skewered all politicians fequally for well over a decade. But in 2015 when Trump glided down the escalator to spew racism my satire took a more urgent turn to fight against a corrupted and the dangerous right-wing fascist movement Trump has fostered. Then in 2020, as tens of thousand of Americans began to die needlessly I redoubled my efforts with the birth of my absurd story of the Trump of another universe. The episodes are no longer available here on this meditation blog they were born on because I want to stay focused on the coolest meditations ever here.

Introducing “MAR A LAGO PRISON”: A New Season in Satire

And now, I’m excited to share a new episode in this satirical journey. Drumroll, please! Tune into our new YouTube.com/@trumpsfeverdream channel today at 5 PM, and it’s called “MAR A LAGO PRISON.” Season 3 promises you even more out-of-the-box political satire that offers an alternative lens through which to view today’s political landscape. Something we’re all missing during the righteous WGA and SAG strike.

With the strikes causing a pause in the usual comedic routine as we miss the work of the greats like Colbert, Kimmel, Meyers and more, it’s important for smaller comics like me to step up and keep the political conversation going through humor. It’s not about replacing late-night shows, I could never offer that without a pro WGA writing staff or SAG actors, but I am dedicated to adding my unique voice and the voice of my love and partner in all things Elizabeth England to the web’s mix and continuing the tradition of political satire that we all love. and need to cope. Indeed, laughter is the best medicine against Trump’s bad leadership that causing so much tension in this nation and this world.

Conclusion: Laughter, Reflection, and Moving Forward

So, mark your calendars for 5 PM today, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive into this new chapter of political comedy. Your support means the world to me, and together, we’ll keep the laughter flowing and the discussions alive. Listen to MAR A LAGO PRISON right here and subscribe on YouTube to get more of season three. We’ll be posting new episodes twice a month!

Farewell, Sweet Lioness

My sweet yet tough mother Georgiana, who passed just a painful 24 hours ago, loved her me, the oldest, and my eventual two brothers with the courage of a lioness.

My Korean War veteran father was a wonderful man most of the time, but he was born of an era where men were encouraged by the Catholic church and an unchallenged white patriarchy to rule the home in sometimes violent ways. But always, after retreating to safety of her sisters where Mom could lick her wounds, she would return home to care for and love us all, Dad included, unconditionally.

She repeated this feat of love many times for 30 years until all three of her sons were raised and then she swiftly divorced my father to begin a new life with my stepfather Nick, a kinder gentler man, who passed before her 5 years ago. They would enjoy three happy decades together until a terrible stroke took the Navy WW2 vet and her fellow lover of Vegas life.

For the last few years of her 94 years on the planet, Alzheimer’s began to rob her of her memory, but with a bit struggle, Mom always knew who I was and loved hearing from me. On what would turn out to be final call few weeks ago, I am glad I told her I loved her, as I’d done all through her hospice, and that if she passed before our next call now much I appreciated all she gave me in this life.

Yesterday, I felt the urge to call Mom in her Wisconsin nursing home, where she was in hospice, on a weekday, when I normally call on weekends. And the gently nurse told me Mom had just passed an just hour earlier. The sweet nurse spent time telling me how much the staff and patients had come to enjoy Georgiana; always quick with a joke or an affectionate poke.

Mom lived to see me happily married to my amazing Elizabeth, at the tender age of 67. She loved Elizabeth like a daughter, always asking me to give Elizabeth a hug for her even to our last phone call.

My mother will be missed terribly by many. I sometimes wonder why she clung so desperately to life in the twilight of her battle with Alzheimer’s and would even ask her what still gave her the will to live on in what was a strange agony. She never could pinpoint an answer for me. But my beautiful mother the lioness loved and cared for her cubs to very end. Perhaps that was enough.

Farewell, sweet lioness and welcome back to the unborn.

The Great Snake of Earth’s Timeline

In 2011 Don Miguel Ruiz, best-selling author of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS invited me to join him at the pyramids of Teotihuacan Mexico as one of 18 handpicked students to learn Toltec wisdom. The invite happened at a time in my life where I was chilling on the workaholoic thing and bartering for room and board. So I was low on cash. But Don Miguel felt it important enough I attend that he paid most of my expenses to be on the journey. I am forever grateful.

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Me and Don Miguel Ruiz atop the Pyramid of the Sun

What was most remarkable about Don Miguel’s teachings was walking the spine of the snake of my life to trouble points where I retrieved lost personal power. I spent hours beneath the tomb of Quetzalcoatl walking over my visualization of the feathered serpent.

Last night I had a visit from one of the giants of spirit I met at Teo. I was shown the snakes, scientifically know as timelines, that weave together to create our multiverse. And astride the great snake-like strands of DNA stood a giant goddess responsible for maintaining maximum health for the snake of this world from it’s beginning to its end, Gaia. I saw that every world, big or smaller has a bundled timeline snake like Earth does and that it is the giant guardians’ job to protect it.

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I spoke telepathically to our planet’s timeline guardian, “Gaia, our world is beset by a gravity wave crushing down our planetary IQ. The result is a negligent stupidity that could lead to the death of all life on this world.”

Gaia pondered for a bit and answered, “I will not let life on this oasis perish. But I need help from the people of the world to lend me energy to help shield you from the gravity wave. This can come in the form of prayer or meditation. Send me your love.”

I was touched that Gaia did not seek to shame or blame we humans for all our antics. We are after all her creation and more powerful than we know as co-creators of this amazing world of earthly multiverses. We are also more affected by cosmic energy than we know. This world will of course eventually die. It is as inevitable as our own deaths. But we can join our energies with Gaia’s to make life on Earth as long as diverse as possible.

Longer life for earthly multiverses gives us all a bigger selection of lives to reincarnate within on this oasis in space time and to live infinitely within the great unbroken snake of space time.

AHO.

EXPO HEADS UP

Elizabeth and I are back to our beloved base in Sedona catching up after the enormous work of speaking, presenting our film about the recently passed beloved scientist Patrick Flanagan and hosting a booth the Conscious Life Expo for CoolestTechEver.com, which carries many of the doctor’s amazing inventions. There’s still another week  left to use coupon code EXPO to get special pricing.

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At the Sphinx with Elizabeth waering the abundance field enhancing Sensor V medallion by Dr. Flanagan offered at CoolesttechEver.com

THE MEANEST THING ANYONE EVER SAID TO A KID

By Ken Sheetz

FirefoxScreenSnapz028It is 1960, Bay View Wisconsin. Our fuzzy miniature grey Poodle named Lacy, licks 8-year-old me, giving me love like a crazy. Lacy already has some tumors.  She dies sadly, years later, taking on the cancer of our family. A poodle Jesus. But for now I am basking in her very lively lick kisses. I can’t contain my little boy giggles and shout, “Lacy loves me!”

A dear relative, who will remain anonymous, one that never likes seeing me happy, like happiness is something to fear, says clucking their tongue disapprovingly, “Ken, Ken, Ken. You think that dog licking is love?”

“Um, yeah,” I say already dreading the meanness that I know is coming.

My dear relative grins, like they are addressing the village idiot, and looms near my little face, their breath wreaking of cigarette smoke, and says dryly, “Wrong, Kenny boy. Dogs just lick people for the salt on their skin.”

“Feels like love to me!” I say, tears welling. Lacy feels the tension growing in me and tries to lick away my pain.

My dear relative smells my pain and laughs crazily as they deliver their words like a death blow, “Love? From a poodle? Ha! Animals don’t have souls, so they don’t love, except salt. Dogs love salt! Ha ha ha!”

Eight-year-old me has no words. The dear relative sickly relishes the shock on my little boy face. I begin to shake with sorrow and rage at what’s been stolen from me, the love of every animal on planet earth. A word knife is lodged deep in my heart. I shove Lacy off my lap and run bawling to my room to the taunting laughter of the dear relative.

Well, it’s 2014 now. I am a lot wiser. I call bullshit, dear relative. I feel sorry you could not feel love and found it needed to shut my heart like yours. For decades you succeeded. Today I am grown now, awakened and grown wise in the power of love.

POODLE POWER!

So in today’s meditation I send you, dear relative, loving Lacy doggie licks. Lick, lick, lick. Back across time and space, straight to your frozen heart. I see the licking love of our tormented brave family dog Lacy upon your heart. She is a brave furry little hero who your inner guardians are helpless against as she scoots between their legs, effortlessly dodging swords.

You are stunned, dear relative. Penetrated to your frozen core as Lacy runs about your ice caked heart. The poodle darts so fast her grey fur ignites with the flame of love. Barking and licking, she flies so fast she is a streak of fiery love. Crack! The ice about your heart is helpless as the polar ice caps today’s neglect of humanity is wreaking our world. Your heart thaws rapidly. Spring dawns in your wintery soul.

Your hateful side is stranded on a iceberg in an azure ocean. You are a red polar bear trapped by Lacy’s love. The iceberg becomes too small and you fall, roaring the last of your hatred as a new inner ocean of Lacy’s bliss and love drowns the last of your bitterness.

Tugged to safely to shore by the impossibly strong tiny soggy poodle, dear relative, you stagger to your feet on the beach of love, new color in your face. Lacy, job happily done, barks good-bye and zooms back into to her tortured 1960 body and returns to licking the eight-year-old me and you say in wonder…

“I am so sorry, Kenneth. Forgive me. Yes, doggies love salt on our skin, but I see now – oh how I see – that’s their reward for giving love so freely and selflessly!”

You run to join us on the couch, kissing me with love as Lacy licks us both.

THE END

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