FATHER’S DAY AND THE WALL OF SORROW

This saddest Father’s Day ever, President Trump seeks to shift blame to Democrats for the horrific separation of Mexican children from their families even though his GOP controls both the House and Senate. I’ve channeled my outrage into this fictional short screenplay to help convey the pain of these poor innocents.

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Photo by John Moore

FATHER’S DAY AND THE WALL OF SORROW

By Ken Sheetz

INT. PANEL TRUCK (MOVING) – DAY

TINA MUNOZ, 4 years old, cries deeply into a tattered baby blanket. Her wailing is nearly drowned out by the dozen other MEXICAN CHILDREN.

BETTY, 30s, an overweight American social worker with a kind face, places her pudgy hands over her ears to try to block out the overwhelming grief that fills the panel truck’s interior. Curly Red hair matted to her head, Betty picks up her cell phone and shouts to be heard over the din of the agonized kids.

BETTY

Gods mercy! Still no AC back here! Isn’t it bad enough we ripped these babies from their family on Father’s day of all days?

Betty does her best to listen to the DRIVER, a middle aged Texan, on the phone.

DRIVER (VO/ Voice over)

Ma’am, I swear to God AGAIN there ain’t nothin’ we can do.

BETTY

Pull into a gas station and get this AC fixed!  It must be 120 degrees back here!

DRIVER (VO)

Sorry. I ain’t authorized to make no kinda stops.

BETTY:

Do you want dead children on you hands, Mister… what’s your name?

DRIVER (VO)

Mister none of your damn business! What’s broke is broke! Now, with all due respect, Betty, do your God damn job and I’ll do mine. Get them little brats shut up!

Driver hangs up on Betty. In despair, she looks around at the 13 wailing children and chooses one, Tina, to take into a consoling hug.

BETTY (In Spanish)

I’m so sorry, little one. Can you tell me your name?

Tina welcomes the embrace of Betty.

TINA (In English)

I am Tina. Tina Munoz. What’s your name, nice lady?

BETTY

Betty! You speak English so well little one!

TINA

Mama teached me ’cause we go to America; land of the free.

Betty’s sad expression shows Tina’s words have cracked in her professional demeanor. At a loss for words, Betty strokes Tina’s sweaty hair.

TINA

When do I see Mama and Papa again?

BETTY

I could lie, child, and tell you “soon”. But I want to prepare you for the sad fact I don’t —

A 5 year old boy with a bowl haircut, ROBERTO, faints to the panel truck’s floor. Tina dives to his side.

TINA

Roberto! He’s my brother!

Roberto’s eyes flutter back into his head as he goes into a racking seizure.

Betty’s fingers tremble as she dials the cell phone to reach the driver, who silently answers.

BETTY

(being as sweet as possible)

Driver? Hi.  I am so sorry if I sounded cross before. I don’t blame you for all this. But we’ve got a serious problem on our hands. A little boy, no more than four or five, is having heat stroke convulsions. If we don’t get him fresh air and hydration soon — Hello?

Betty curses under her breath as the driver cuts off the call.

As the panel truck pulls to a red light Betty eyes the side door latch.

BETTY

Fuck it.

Betty punches in her key code access and pulls open the panel truck’s side door. A heavenly breeze passes through the panel truck. Roberto gasps in fresh air, calming instantly.

An 11 year-old Mexican boy darts out the door and, quick as a deer, vanishes into the hedges.

Before anymore children can escape an angry Boarder Patrol AGENT, Mexican/American, 30s, appears at the door, brandishing a submachine gun, impending violence on his face.

AGENT (In Spanish)

All of you! Sit the fuck down!

Agent slams the panel truck door shut in Betty’s face before she can utter a word.

EXT. ARMY BASE GATES – DAY

Betty wipes tears mixed with sweat as the Mexican children, clothes soaked to their beautiful brown skin, hop from the panel truck.

Last off, Roberto leans on Tina. They slowly make their way from the panel truck, the little duo scurry to Betty and burry their faces in her soft but sweat soaked dress.

Agent spins angrily on Betty.

AGENT

I only count twelve!

BETTY (trying not to sound proud)

One got away.

AGENT

You shoulda told me, bitch!

BETTY

I tried to before you slammed the door in my face, you disgusting traitor to you own people!

Agent slightly hangs his head slightly, properly shame.

Driver appears and blows a hocker on the ground in disgust at Betty’s feet.

DRIVER

God damned liberals. You got no part in God’s work.

BETTY

I’ll have you know I am an ordained minister, you Trump loving boob!

Driver lunges for Betty. Tina and Roberto scream.

But Agent restrains Driver in the nick of time.

AGENT

Cool your jets, amigo. She’ll get hers when they find out she let one of the illegals escape.

Driver spits at Betty again, this time in her face, and hops back in his panel truck.

DRIVER

Ha! Got me another load of wetback brats to pick up anyways!

BETTY

That’s right. Help Trump build his wall off sorrow!

Flummoxed beyond words, Driver races off the panel truck in a cloud of dust.

WOMAN WITH PURPLE PLASTIC GLOVES, Black, 20s, kindly gestures to Betty to allow her take Tina and Robert through the Army Base gates.

Betty ignores her and turns warily to Agent.

BETTY

Can I please come with them? Get them settled in?

Agent grimly shakes his head “no” and motions to the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves to get to it.  She manages to send Betty a sympathetic look as she pries the weaker Roberto looses of Betty.

Tina gives Betty a last hug and dejectedly follows her big brother, the only family member she has left in the world, through the army base gates accompanied by the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves and the Agent, doing his best not to show his self hatred.

Betty sobs into her pudgy hands as she watches the kids vanish into the Army camp.

Passing wall she spots a plaque on commemorating the internment of the Japanese in World War II, Betty falls to her knees, her sorrow watering the desert.

BETTY (sobbing at the plaque)

Happy Father’s day…

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THE END

What’s happening today, tearing children literally from the arms of parents illegally entering America, is worse than our cruelty to the Japanese Americans of WWII. Then, at least, Japanese families suffered together.

Please share our fictional account of the horrors being inflicted on these all to real innocent Mexican children, bound to be scarred for life. Only by touching people’s hearts can this American tragedy end.

And if you’d like to contribute a little something to producing this as short film please send your donation to PayPal.

FAIRY GRATEFUL

Coming up for air on Halloween, from a Monday business horror I gasped at the five voicemails missed from my baby brother in Wisconsin. Worried Bruce was going to tell me my 89 year-old mom had passed, my fingers moved too fast to register on the glass of my smartphone.

When I finally calmed down enough to return Bruce’s call, my sister-in-law Marianne somberly let me know my other brother Fred, recently turned 63, had died of a heat attack the day before. Weird thing I told my love Elizabeth I felt Fred was going to be passing soon because of his dangerous addiction game. So I foolishly thought I was prepared, but the news of losing my Irish twin Fred hit me like a mile long freight train full of lead doing 90.

Marianne handed the phone to Mom. Her voice choked with tears, Mom bitterly wondered, “Losing both my husband of 35 years and Fred within only 4 months of one another, what is that about, Ken?  You’re the one who talks to angels.” Deep in grief and shock myself, I told her I’d need more time to wrestle with that and did my best to comfort my mother her second born son Fred’s pain was over.

Soon as I hung up my false bravado evaporated fast as a Sedona dusting of snow, my client troubles put into somber perspective.

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Fred (left) with me and mom

The only time I’d spoken to Fred in the last four years of a tough love regimen came earlier this year when I was helping my mom cope with her husband’s stroke that put him in a coma from which he’d never awaken.  Mom had asked me to screen her calls from the flock of salesman seeking to sell her everything from stairlifts to funeral services.

I picked up for her saying, “D’Acquisto residence.”

Fred croaked in the gravely voice he gets with abusing, “Hey, Ken. Strange times.”

I icily said, “Sure are,” and quickly handed the phone to mom.

TOUGH LOVE IS TOUGH

Doctors warned all of us in the family gathering bedside in 2013, as Fred lay in an induced coma, that he’d die if he ever drank again. Four years deep into the tough love thing had backfired and I never got to properly say good-bye to a brother who suffered a horrible childhood right beside me.  I am having trouble coping with that. The guilt is enormous.

Fred in a coma from ulcer 2013
Me with Fred during his coma from an ulcer 2013 due to alcohol abuse.

 

Elizabeth, who blessedly came into my life in 2015, escaping LA to live with me here in Sedona, has comforted me as best she could after this final loss of my brother from his long drawn out death, which abuse made this a decades long process. I am not much fun to be around right now. Her patience has been epic and I swear I will not let Fred ruin this relationship from the grave.

Like my Sicilian stepfather Nick, I learned there was also to be no family funeral for Fred. No traditional Irish open casket ceremony. So I welcomed Elizabeth’s idea for us to co-create a private ceremony in Sedona to mourn Fred.

Sadly, and the pattern is all too painfully obvious, Elizabeth had lost a brother to addiction three years ago where there was no funeral. So I insisted we add William, along with my stepfather Nick to the our work of mourning their three tragic deaths.

Elizabeth has explained ritual is something of a lost art in our cold hearted modern life. She and I first created and altar for the three souls with a five day candle burning.  We bought Celtic medallions for Fred and William, who had the curse of the Irish in not handling booze well and for Nick we chose an ancient piece of Hopi pottery to represent his place and an elder in the ritual.

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Grieving Puja Elizabeth and I Created for William, Nick and Fred

A week into the grieving, guided by a book Elizabeth read to me each night at bed by Maldoma Some’, I dove through denial into deep anger fueled by client troubles. Troubles getting worse as I was not coping well and messing things up as my patience I normally have for my eccentric and wonderful client in abundance was crippled by my grief.

WHALE OF A FAIRY TALE

A bright spot in all this grief is I’ve been deeply touched by an amazing outpouring of love and comforting by Facebook friends that’s helped me through this. Never let anyone tell you Facebook friends are fake!

I’ve also been comforted by a certain blue whale I connect to in spirit named Robin Williams in a past life whose become a regular in my life and this blog in THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATONS.  Robin volunteered to help guide Fred to his resting place in the cosmos, all the while making wisecracks like, “I can help Fred as one junkie to another that fucked up his life.”

 

On Saturday I decided to take a badly needed break from client troubles and Fred’s mourning and went to a Bruce Lipton lecture. I was hosting the amazing Kathleen Gildred of Gorgeous Goddess Wear and she had offered me one her vendor passes at the Create Your Life Conference she was part selling her cool stuff at.  How could I say no?

What a genius Lipton is!  And so funny.  I wondered — as Bruce made so much clear to us all of the science of love and it’s influence on good health — guiltily about how I knew in my heart Fred would be dying weeks before Mom was frantically trying to reach me while I was lost trying to save my biggest account. Knew it cold.

I regretted amid the conference that I didn’t break my tough love regimen and call Fred Lee Sheetz at least say good bye. It sucks to be psychic sometimes. I brought my overactive mind back to present, laughing at a slide Bruce showed that demonstrated why politicians have no brains.

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Bruce Lipton at the Create Your Life Conference in Sedona

After Lipton’s pessimistic but paradoxically optimistic look at the extinction of all life on earth if we don’t get our asses in gear and shift our collective consciousness to love, I grabbed a Vegan lunch and mingled with Create Your Life event goers. Some of the guests said they were going on a fairy walk on the grounds of the state park behind Enchantment and invited me along.

As the golf cart arrived I was happy to see in the crowd I was not the only guy for once on one of these spiritual close encounters.

Now, ever since 2010 in Mt. Shasta over an argument over spaghetti dinner with a human/fairy – Yes, they exist! – I’ve had many failed encounters with fairy folk.  So I was hoping the walk might change my fairy luck. My Irish grandmother believed in fairies and leprechauns and so I knew the fairy folk might be able to help Fred find peace.

Unlike angels, fairies have egos and can be mischievous.  Which is where I fall down on the fairy connection. But our sweet guide Courtney Long, a human fairy herself, was superb at explaining that fairies like people who recycle and seek the lowest footprint on the planet.  Things I’ve become far better at since 2010.  So I relaxed and began to connect to the faries in the beauty of the Boyton Canyon.

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Human Fairy and Angel Fairy Expert Courtney Long

Wow!  I saw thousands of fairies giggling in the trees lift off in the Sedona sky to meet our group of about 100.  All fairy believers.

The beach-like red sand trail I slowly tread along with our enchanted group hunting faries was dappled in sunlight. A gentle breeze in the pines and cedars sparkled fairy dust everywhere. I relaxed free of client troubles and Fred’s loss when my fairy hunting eye caught sight of a pod in a cluster in bush.

Looking with my third eye, wide open with Courtney’s expert guidance, I saw in that pod a tiny fairy where I saw a newborn fairy. Instantly knew Fred had been born as a teensy girl fairy named. He told me telepathically his new name is Fredwenna.

Robin Williams, a giant blue whale soaring in the sky above the treetops above me, kidded baby Fred doing his funniest NYC accent, “Ladies and gents, I present that most adorable hot dog ever, The Fred Weena!” A few people on the tour wondered what I was laughing at.

My sorrow exploded into joy. Fairies sang a chorus of bliss. Fred was back!

Fredweena

After I got home and reunited with Elizabeth with a tender hug and saw that my amazing client, who has been ill so I had asked the fairies to do a healing on, had called me when I was deep in the fairy land, witnessing the rebirth of my beloved brother Fred.

When I returned the super client’s call we were in tears on both sides that we had been so harsh with each other. We’ve still not worked it out, as it’s royal mess I can’t get into here, of course. But the fairies, in whose care my lost kid brother Fred’s soul rests, tell me it’s all going to work out and not to be too anxious or sad.

Fredweena is happy in the Boyton Canyon fairy world and I am Fairy Grateful.

My next blog will be about how I repaid Robin Williams’ blue whale spirit self for helping my lost brother find the fairy lands in my next coolest ever blog post titled:

“The Ocean is Getting Lonely – The Robin Williams Visitations” 

Look for it soon as writing is my therapy. 

Learn more about events where we can meet plus grab some cool loot from the amazing spirit scientists supporting our planetary healing at CoolestMeditationEver.com

 

 

FRIENDS AND FAMILY MORE IMPORTANT THAN POLITICS

Scratching your head on why Trump is still going strong as he is? Blame our mass media for being not so much as fake as seriously failing to present both sides. If you watch only mainstream media and comedy you really know very little of what he’s doing.

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Photo from the Bloomberg Article that Inspired this post.

Not all Trump believers are racist idiots. I know this firsthand through my amazing Trump fan friends. Take some comfort Trump was elected to do a job of disrupting the status quo by his loyal fans, many of whom are your family and friends. They have not suddenly grown tails and horns. Don’t let yourself be polarized.

Many of his brighter backers are overlooking Trump’s obvious tendencies to racism and misogamy for a higher purpose of a badly needed reboot and freeing us from the deep state. Yeah, and it’s not a pretty sight how he’s going about it. He swims in uncharted waters.

Have some faith this is all going to work out without letting all this hoo ha that about selling soap rob your soul peace.

Extremism left or right is not healthy. Seek balance in all things.

As for me? Well, I’ve disliked Trump since the 1980s for his massive ego. That won’t change for me. But that does not mean I still can’t send intentions in the cosmic field he’ll wake up or love my friends who still back him.

Find the center in meditation: coolestmeditationever.com

Congratulations President Trump and President Hillary

My ET spirit guide Ohom said to me months ago, here on my blog, it did not matter who wins the election, Trump or Hillary. I took it to be a hopeless statement from the usually optimistic Ohom.

But Ohom revealed to me just last week what he really meant by it not mattering  who wins tonight — and in this universe it’s looking like Trump — is quite positive! A lot awakening is coming.  Witness Glenn Beck now praising Obama. Trump and Hillary are both shifting to light too!

Now, I understand a dream bugging me for months now.  In the dream I was Trump’s social media manager for his new presidency.  Trump was young again in the dream and he was listening to me that he had to feed the poor, heal the sick, end war, be a champion for women rights and to stop being so damn mean.  Trump was listening and nodding yes!

I woke up in a cold WTF sweat!  I breathlessly told my love Elizabeth the dream. She hugged me back to sleep. Whoa!  Now I see it.  The shifted youthful new Trump of light in my dream is what we can look forward to.  I know, it sounds crazy.  But awakening has happened to me.  I was heartless Chicago real estate mogul for 20 years.  Chicago’s #1 broker in ’87, builder of Oprah’s Harpo Studios.  I crushed all competition.  And I am living proof, as is Elizabeth who has awakened from a military life of 14 years, Trump will awaken.

So no wringing of hands tonight. Ring the bells of joy! Good times are coming, whoever wins, T or H, for us all.

160421145817-nasa-spots-massive-space-bubble-orig-vstan-dlewis-00000000-large-169This Bubble Nebula NASA spotted is a new universe rippling right for us. A wave of bliss like we’ve never seen! A true victory is near.

Congratulations to whoever wins. Be ready for change, change in your own heart and soul President Trump or President Hillary.

Now I also see why Ohom asked me to build him his own Twitter page ET OHOM yesterday.  Please follow him.  I will channel Ohom directly and he will answer your tweets.  Many of you are going to need the same calm amazing advice he gives to cope with this crazy world of our new president.

In closing, whoever wins tonight in the Quantum timeline T or H.  Relax.  The nastiest elections in history are over.

Full Disclosure

Enjoy a taste of the new introduction I am creating with the help of my love and my new co-producer Elizabeth England.  I am not sure it’s going to work better than my current version; where you meet Ohom, my inter-dimensional guide from the world Nektar in meditation 11.

I am looking for your thoughts about meeting Ohom in the opening intro to THE COOLEST MEDITATION EVER: ANTARCTICA 12.12.12.

Vision of Planetary Eco-Meditation

EXT. OUTERSPACE – ETERNAL NIGHT

We pass through a cosmic cloud. KEN Hi, I’m Ken Sheetz, host and filmmaker of THE COOLEST MEDITATION EVER: ANTARCTICA 12.12. 12. Strange sound/image.

KEN

In earlier versions of this film I worried sharing that my main collaborator on this project — a telepathic space traveler named Ohom, O_H_O_M — might scare some viewers off.

OHOM

Or perhaps you worry a businessman who’s built skyscrapers and Oprah’s Harpo studios who talks to brings from other dimensions might be perceived as a… what is the human term?

KEN

Crackpot?

OHOM

I was thinking more like “visionary”.

KEN

First time Ohom ever bugged me was in a yoga hall in Italy in 2010.

OHOM

Shocked though he was by my 7 foot tall blue skinned insectoid visage —

KEN

Actually, Ohom you disguised yourself as a blue angel.

OHOM

No, Ken.  Your mind was simply not ready to accept my highly evolved  insect race. So your mind chose a comfortable image for me from your childhood memories as a Catholic.

KEN

Yeah, that might have popped my cork seeing you look like a cross between a dragonfly and a 7 foot tall blue skinned human.

OHOM

The Hopi, Egyptians, Indians and accepted us in many blue skinned forms.

KEN

Well, it would take me talking to my friend Barnet Bain, who produced WHAT DREAMS MAY COME and other greats like scientist Patrick Flanagan before I would accept talking to you is a gift not a curse.

END A TASTE OF NEW INTRO.

 

 

APOCALPYSE NOT – THIS TIME IT’S PERSONAL! – PRT 1

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?

2012-TT5-592987Today, 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!”

Ken 2 at Dreamshield

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.

structuresI 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.

Update: Part 2 is Live!

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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