“The Bermuda Triangle got tired of warm weather. It moved to Alaska. Now Santa Claus is missing.” – Actor Steven Wright 1955
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Bill Sheetz 1928-2011
Before we start, the Bermuda Triangle Meditations were done at a time of dark emotional grief over the loss of my father. I invite you to look upon my words as fictional therapy, fact on another plane of reality, or as both.
On the many rescheduled plane rides to attend my father’s sudden funeral from LA to Milwaukee, and then Milwaukee to Miami I’d read a powerful book THE ANCIENT SECRET OF THE FLOWER OF LIFE by Drunvalo Melchizedek, loaned to me by Laura De Leon of MyMysticMuse.com.
The book states :”The Bermuda Triangle… ( a failed ancient alien experiment is) a primary cause of much distortion in the world – the distortion between humans of war, marital problems, emotional disturbances, etc…. What they did in Atlantis was against all Galactic law… it will be solved, but not until 2012.”
Nadia Arevalo, who had so kindly invited me on the Global Information Network (GIN) trip as her guest, hosted a lovely dinner the first night aboard the ship and everyone at our table was so kind about my Dad’s passing. Here were wonderful people who wanted to meditate with DreamShield. So easy.
So wrong. Later Nadia and her friends and I could never coordinate getting together the entire trip. Without cell phones, text and emails people have lost the ability to congregate. We’d use messages on the cabin phones but never saw each other for the next three days. And we weren’t the only friends aboard the gigantic ship, Majesty of the Seas, having this trouble.
So I ended up on my own for the Bermuda Triangle DreamShield, a daunting task. I kept faith in the power of the angels. both earthly and celestial who have worked on solo missions with me for DreamShield in the past, would get the job done. After all we had already had meditations to heal society from 9/11, oil addiction, earthquakes, asteroids, built a new universe,shifted the earth for solar flare protection and took back the city of angels from Hollywood and more. Surely a little old triangle was no match for the angels’ planetary healing powers. But the energy swirling in the sea felt like the cancer that had killed my father and this would turn out to be my most dangerous mediation so far.
I explored the 12 decks of the Royal Caribbean ship, Majesty of the Sea out of boredom and loneliness. I was broken up about losing Dad. I’d been brave for the family at the funeral that ended up coming just a day before this planned event and honored my father’s wishes for an Irish style of a party to celebrate his life. But now I was doing the hard work of grieving his loss in this world. I was glad to be alone with my sorrow now and thanked the angels for creating this privacy for me aboard the packed ship.
I kept traveling upwards through the giant vessel from deck 2, where I was bunked in a tiny internal cabin with no windows, as we steamed deeper and deeper into the triangle.
It was near midnight when I hit upper aft deck 12 and grinned at the site of all the cool and alien looking high tech communication gear. Yeah. As I approached the rail overlooking the Caribbean a man stood nearby, gazing peacefully at the moon reflecting off the waves that the mighty ship powered through.
“Beautiful night.” He shouted over to me over the noise of the sea and radar gear.
“Be more so if we had some beautiful women with us, ” I answered gaining a chuckle from the stranger. I walked over and offered my hand. “I’m Ken.”
“Bob,”he said shaking my hand. Bob had a dreamy look of contentment on his face. “Enjoying the cruise so far?” He asked.
“Yeah, had a great dinner with Nadia Arevalo, who invited me and her pals. Do you know her?”
“Don’t think so. What level in GIN are you?”
“Guest.. I came to check it out and for some R&R and do some work for a project called DreamShield.”
“What’s DreamShield?” he asked.
“We do planetary healing meditation to help bring about a gentle 2012.”
“So the word’s not ending in 2012 like the Mayans predict?”
“The Mayans never said that. Hollywood gave them a bum rap.”
“Figures,” Bob laughed.
“But there will be an end to the world as it exists today when the new Golden Age that we are entering fully takes hold.”
“I like that,” Bob smiled.
A dark cloud covered the moon. Looking up I remarked still surprised by signs this mission gets,”Cool, that cloud is shaped just like an angel.”
“Perfect. Just like the angel that was on my Christmas tree I just took down.”
“This sort of this is my cue to do some work. Care to join me in a meditation?”
Bob smiled and started to leave, “Enjoy yourself. I am going to my cabin to pray. Good luck.”
We shook hands and Bob was gone. I was alone again, the entire deck to myself. Little did I know it would be the last decent conversation I would have aboard this ship. I felt embarrassed that Bob, who seemed so open, did not want to work with me.
I’d read that there are three ruined artificial Merkabahs that are a failed Atlantis experiment that caused humanity’s fall from Galactic civilization. I picked a spot by the deck’s compass. The compass face looked the diameter to the ancient flower of life pattern on the book covered the Laura had loaned me, the building block of all matter in this universe. I placed Laura’s book upon the compass. Sure enough the circle of life was a perfect fit.
Something instantly shifted. I could sense the wild energy of the Bermuda Triangle rise up against me. It was like a hum that rippled through my being, despite my father’s invisible ethereal armor.
The moon vanished behind dark rain clouds. No sign of stars. Just lonely blackness as a wind began to whip up. I called in the angels for the work. The deck was full of chairs and I sensed an angel occupying each one feeding their me blue light power through out stretched hands. One of those angels was may father.
“Thanks for this cool armor you gave me, Dad.” I shouted to him. I felt my new armor glow red as it fully powered up.
“You’re gonna need it, son. This is some nasty shit.”
Using blue light power fed to me through the celestials, I willed the main front satellite ball, about 10 feet in diameter, rocketing of to the north-most point of the triangle where a Merkabah 1 (a 3 D tetrahedrom like the one picture here) was spinning out of control in Bermuda. This I knew from the angels was worst of the three artificial alien Merkabahs. The one that had sunk Atlantis. We used this sophisticated piece of the satellite gear, placed here by the angels for this work when this ship was built years ago, and sent it into Merkabah 1 to draw off it’s wild energy.
The angels, dad and me sent two other hunk of ship’s gear rocketing back to the western tip of the triangle in Miami and ahead to Costa Rico in the east. These were smaller, less unstable so the smaller ship’s radar gear did nice work.
I realized that this work was so intense it it could not all be done in one night. Deck 12, the angels told me, is where I’d be doing meditations each of the three nights. Grateful that my father’s gift of ethereal armor had protected me for this meditation, I went straight to bed.
What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my rug. – Woody Allen
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
12/21/2010 – Hailing from Chicago it’s hard to believe I used to think it was time for short sleeves if the temps got about 30 in the winter. But now all these 8 years later after moving to LA the blood has thinned. So as our dream team walks through the snow for a farm that is home to the Mt. Shasta Pyramid at the base of mountain behind the town, the 27 degree temp cuts through me as does the falling snow.
Our LA group, made up of fellow organizer Dr. Sarah Larsen, angel expert Mica Monet, Mago, and I finally reaches the farm-house and meets the rest of the dream team that’s gathered from across America to do this DreamShield meditation. As we tug off our winter gear, I meet Joy Phoenix from New Zealand, currently residing in San Diego. I feel a fleeting sense of meeting someone I know despite this being our first contact. Same for Jay Frankenberger, world-renowned ET expert, who journeyed here all the way from Arkansas to be here. I meet Fatima, also from LA. She informs me that as a person of Hispanic and Arabic decent that she has been studying the Mayan culture intensely. All in all we are 11 in the pyramid. A good number for DreamShield’s binary work.
The three “Sarah’s”, Saralise, Sarah Larsen and Sarah Wellborn, our guide from Shasta Spiritual Journeys who led us to this place, chatter away as we use the pyramid builder’s rest room before for the final march to the pyramid. Why? There’s no rest rooms in the Mt. Shasta Pyramid. A modest pyramid by Egyptian and Mayan standards, built of plywood 9/9/09 in time for the important New Age work ahead thru 2012 and beyond, it is 24 feet by 24 feet at its base.
The rest stops complete and redressed we sludge our way through the driving snow. I’m feeling mighty glad about the new waterproof boots I bought for the trip at this point. Passing a tall circle of pines that guard the entrance to the pyramid I am reminded of a short screenplay I’ve written about Xmas from the POV of Christmas trees.
Some of the people from this trip like Marta have never seen snow, now they are seeing in abundance!
At last we reach the Mt. Shasta Pyramid. I look up into the winter sky that offers not glimpse of the lunar eclipse, hidden high above the snowy cloud. Anxious to start the DreamShield work. We quickly shed our snowy clothes in the anti-chamber of the pyramid we are reminded once again that no metal of any kind is allowed inside. So much for filming!
By now, 7 months into the DreamShield work, I am used to the fact much of this work cannot or does not want to be filmed. But I do know somewhere in the Galaxy this adventure is getting filmed through our very eyes and all our senses in a way that makes our 3D movies seem primitive. Every human being on earth from the super wealthy to the poorest all have billions of fans throughout the universe.
I meditated a few nights before in bed and asked the spirit guides what would be the best configuration for our group once inside the pyramid. No sooner had I asked than a spirit who called himself Ramses appeared. When I excitedly ask Ramses if he was now one of my spirit guides. He calmly tells me,
“No, Ken, I am guide to the DreamShield team for the great work ahead. Now pay attention, my time with you is short. A pyramid, even one as small as the one you’ll be inside of, is very powerful. For every pyramid you see across the face of this world there is a mirror image pyramid of pure energy, forming the sacred geometry of power. And the circle form your group will take will channel this energy to allow your work to tap into both the infinity at the core of the earth and the infinity of the universe. Do you understand, Ken?”
I nod yes and the awesome presence of Ramses is gone.
As we climb up the ladder at the end of tunnel from the anti-chamber I am happy to see a gorgeous handmade round rug sits in the center of the pyramid. The rug is patterned with circles in a rainbow arrangement that starts with red at the outer edge and runs the color spectrum to the center.
Joy Phoenix
Joy Phoenix, however, is not happy with the how the candles are set at the center of the rug. The group spends a few minutes properly adjusting that and placing the various crystals we’ve all brought along for the work under Joy’s guidance.
I had read, or heard somewhere, that it would be about 68 degrees farenheit in the pyramid but it’s more like 40 and I am freezing. Mica finds me a blanket to wrap around me and I am now able to concentrate. I thank everyone for making the enormous effort to get here from across the country and in the snow and in what remains a bad economy for most of us mortals. I explain we’ll be healing the ozone layer of Mother Earth in this meditation and that this will help reduce cancer.
After seeing how the group accepted her leadership setting up the crystals and candles and enjoying her great charm I choose Joy to lead the meditation. She asks me for my vision. I tell Joy that I saw the colors of the Galactic rug acting like color therapy for the earth’s ozone layer. Joy nods with an inspired smile.
COLOR THERAPYON A PLANETARY SCALE
After an introduction by this trip’s host Dr. Sarah Larsen of what DreamShield is and a lovely opening ceremony by Saralise to the four winds and 11 Oms we are ready for the serious work of healing earth’s ozone layer. I sense four giant angels, one guarding each face of the pyramid, as Joy begins with improvised words that flow like poetry. I see the spin of the galaxy in the rug pattern and know that each nub in the rainbow rug represents a member of the Galactic Federation. Thousands of intelligent worlds are joining in the work.
Joy’s beautiful New Zealand accent recalls to me the narration for The Lord of the Rings. Joy guides us to breathe in the color of each ring of the Galactic rug one at a time and project them each onto the earth. As we breathe the colors onto mother earth, hovering above the candles and crystals, the lunar eclipse is at its peak above us.
Today, 12/21/10 is the winter solstice and this alignment of a lunar eclipse and the solstice will not repeat itself for another 400 years. Looking around by the candlelight I am touched by Sarah Wellborn and her boyfriend Jacob’s young faces. I look to Sarah Larsen, her blissful eyes are closed, as we heal this precious earth of ours.
The meditation winds down, we hug each other good-bye and are once again in the snow storm, slugging our way to the car. Except for a nap I’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours, but I’m oddly not tired. Mica Monet leads the way to the minivan and warmth.
I consider myself a great snow driver and expect to get us onto the road from our parking spot on the back road. But Sarah Larsen’s family minvan is quickly stuck against the edge of the ditch. Embarrassed I turn the wheel over Saralise. With a little pushing from the group she has us moving and keeps us safely on the road on the foothills of Mt. Shasta.
Indeed, when a can-do guy like me turns over the wheel to a woman we are already in the New Age.
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No man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. – From the ScyFy TV Series MERLIN
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
The all night 9 hour ride from LA passes quickly and smoothly on a cloud of joy and love. After a snowy ride into Mt. Shasta and breakfast at the Black Bear Cafe, our 4 person part of the dream team heads over the Woodsman Inn to check in. But the rooms we had booked are not ready because the heavy snows kept the housecleaning staff away.
After checking with the Dream Inn where I had stayed in November we are all set. Dr. Sarah Larsen, Mica Monet and Marta all love the fact we have a floor of a house all to ourselves; complete with a two bedrooms, a full bath, kitchen, living room and dinning room, all filled with spiritual knickknacks.
Mt. Shasta’s pure air fills me with energy. And even after going 36 hours without sleep Sarah and I venture across the street and film this video. Sorry for the time warp in the title. I was going to fix it but I love the fact it’s 12/20/2012, eve of the New Age. A Shasta Vortex adventure indeed!
Filming finally made me became sleepy. After 36 hours without sleep I was out like a light. This was perfect as we were going to be up most of the night for meditation in a lunar eclipse meditation pyramid that was built on 9/9/09, just for groups like our looking to raise Earth’s vibration.
I began to dream about reporting to the Galactic Council in a giant auditorium in a great cavern beneath Mt. Shasta…
M.E.R.L.I.N.
Ben Stiller from The Oscars
The snow storm and cloud cover was doing a fantastic job of hiding our spaceships that had come for this meeting. A meeting of all the worlds fostering intelligent life in this galaxy to take a vote on Earth’s freedom and admission as a protected world of the Galactic Federation.
I am once again Ohom, a 7 foot tall blue being with wings, pleading before the full council of a rainbow of alien races. A few creatures bigger than whales, housed in great tanks, are scattered in an alien crowd that George Lucas would love. I almost wake up to my human Ken Sheetz form at that thought but fight to remain with the council as Ohom.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Galactic Federation Council, I implore you to vote with your hearts. Vote for Earth, not only as protected world, but to lift the veil of forgetfulness from all its inhabitants.”
Grak, my Reptilian nemesis interrupts me, as always, “Madame Chairman! Can we please stop this infernal game? I weary over a program Ohom himself designed, put himself into and forgot he forgot. The cursed MERLIN.”
All eyes of the council turn to me.
“I was Merlin?” I say.
A Lumarian in the front row can no longer contain his laughter and soon the entire cavern beneath Mt. Shasta roars with the thunderous laughter of thousands of beings from all across the galaxy.
Grak glares at the Lumarian who stops laughing along with the crowd, “MERLIN is not a person but a program. A cursed program that you yourself devised to create the veil of forgetfulness. The legend of Merlin was created as a way to help you remember on this very day.”
“Ha. You can’t toy with me, Grak.” I say not sounding very confident.
More roars of laughter before I can open my mouth again. A stab of pain takes me to my knees and the laughter stops. And suddenly I remember…
“Dear God, MERLIN. It wrote the code. M.E.R.L.I.N.: MIND, ERASING, RANDOMIZER, LINEAR…. LINEAR. Too painful. Can’t remember the rest.”
Grak leans over me, his snake like tongue darts out. For a second it’s terrifying but then I see the pity in his orange and black eyes. “LINEAR, INFINITE, NULLIFIER. That last part of the spell, old friend, your spell for confusing the head Chakra of the Earth, has nullified you from seeing all the good my Reptilian race has done for this world and for you.”
“But you killed Cara. Last council!”
My lover, beautiful Cara, stands in the crowd and giggles and blows me a kiss. “Ohom! Here I am!”
“How?!” I shout overjoyed.
“The Randomizer part of your damn Merlin program, it bedazzles the mind with false memories. I’d no sooner kill Cara than you, old friend. Remember our young days in Atlantis? Think!” Shouts Grak into my face while shaking me with his great strength.
A thousand memories flood into my mind in an instant: A young Ohom and a young Grak swimming with Dolphins, playing dice in a casino on the moon, teaching caveman humans to make fire…
“Yes! Grak, my brother! How can I have forgotten?” Now it’s my eyes that fill with tears. Tears of shame.
Grak hugs me to him. He’s nearly 2 feet shorter and his skin feels like a basketball I had as the human child Ken Sheetz.
Grak’s dazzling Reptilian eyes look up to me, “Wanna know the really sad thing, Ohom?” To my fervent nod Grak says,”Come sunrise you forget about MERLIN and we will all Randomize and start this nightmare over again for the millionth time.”
Cara shouts from the now somber crowd. “We are all stuck in an endless jumbled non-linear time loop, Ohom. You must crack the Merlin code to free not just Earth, but the Universe.”
But before I can ask how to begin a sound wakes me with a start that takes away my breath.
KNOCK, KNOCK! BACK AT THE DREAM INN
I awake, back at Dream Inn, Ken Sheetz an aging overweight filmmaker once again. Me.
I stumble around in the dark looking for where the knocks are coming from. Dr. Sarah Larsen and Mica, Marget are nowhere in site. I remember they have headed off for a hot spring. I open the door and a lovely woman, covered in snow, introduces herself as Saralise.
Saralise is passionate about the great work she is doing in Mt. Shasta as she urgently speaks to me. But with only 2 hours sleep her words are not getting through to me. She tries to brief me on Mt. Shasta’s important mission in the New Age to come but she may as well be briefing a brick wall.
Soon the dream team ladies are back and all are chatting with Saralise All this is a blur to me as I write. The dream of the MERLIN Program is more clear and shocking.
“I am crazy?” I wonder in my dream addled mind to myself as the girls chatter. To imagine I was an alien responsible for so much misery on this world caused by our forgetfulness of past life experience is a horrible shock. It’s then I realize that this revelation is more the reason for my disconnect with Saralise than the exhaustion of the 9 hour ride from LA.
We have a little time left for some late dinner before our planetary meditation in the 20 person capacity plywood pyramid and head off for a Thai restaurant in town in the snow.
As the snow whip at the windshield like shooting stars and my dream team of light workers chatter I am happy knowing my life has become more exciting than any movie or dream. It’s the dawn of the new era in human consciousness and we are in Mt. Shasta to meditate on healing the ozone layer.
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My dream is of a place and a time where America will once again be seen as the last best hope of earth. – Abraham Lincoln
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
LINCOLN IS BACK
Last fall, 2009, as a result of the bad economy costing me my VW Beetle, I was looking to carpool a ride to a social media education event in Marina Del Rey. I sent out an invite to a filmmaker group I belong to offering a free spot in the class in return for a ride and Tom Katsis, an actor I met briefly once before in auditions for one of my TV shows, responded right away.
I learned on the ride from Agoura Hills -where I lived shortly before I had to give up my beautiful home in the long hard recession – on the way to Marina Del Rey that the lanky humorous Tom Katsis is, in addition to being an actor of serious late bloomer talent, one of the leading Abe Lincoln actors in America. There was an instant connection between Tom and me as we both are huge Abraham Lincoln fans. Tom and I quickly collaborated right there in the car and later over tacos on a web series we named “Lincoln is Back“.
The moment I got home I began writing the script. Instantly, I felt the words of the great Civil War president flow through me. At the time, before my spiritual awakening spring of this year with the vision of a gentle 2012 in Italy that began all this, I was afraid to say that I was directly channeling Lincoln.
Our greatest president is vexed with today’s politicians on both sides of the aisle and especially in the White House. Yes, I was psychic channeling because in less than 5 days I wrote the entire eleven web episodes, the equivalent of three half-hour long TV shows. I am a fast writer – one of the reasons I’ve been chosen to foster DreamShield – but I am not that fast.
Abe speaks in our web series to America about his fears that a new slavery has taken hold of America, a slavery to corporations. Here’s my personal favorite of the YouTube.com/AbeLincolnisBack series, where Abe talks about the Cornfield Battle of 1862 and the war on obesity America faces as result of too much corn in our diets. Go get ’em, Abe!
For the 12/12/10 planetary mediation to switch America from oil cars to electric cars, exactly two years before what is to be the climax to the planetary meditations work with a huge global 12/12/12 event, I’d been guided to form intimate scale dream team in North Hollywood at the 9/11 monument. I made personal calls to a few people who know the site’s location, happy this was going to be simple.
Tom had been unable to attend the amazing 11/1/10 mediation at the 9/11 monument and Abraham Lincoln’s spirit was upset with Tom for missing that event at the 9/11 monument as it was election eve. Abe wanted to be heard about voting for the individuals, not parties, who oppose, as he did while in office, unbridled corporate power. This time when Tom was called on to be at the monument today he promised to be there and ready for work. I’d already done a Reiki healing on Tom, to help him get over a case of shingles faster, at the site a week ago and so he knew the 9/11 monument’s location well.
HEAVENLY FORMULA FOR SUCCESS
What I was simply not expecting, and angels love surprises, was that all night long, through the wee hours before the 12/12/10 event, I was downloaded with complex chemical formulas. Where these were coming from I simply trusted and accepted as the angels’ work. But the buzz of chemical formulas kept me up most of the night, formula after formula, until I finally I complained, “Guys, I’m only mortal and need some sleep. I’m certainly no scientist. I have no idea of what any of this stuff you are sending me means.”
Then I hear the soft east coast accent of David Angell, one of the lost of 911 from Flight 11, my guardian angel for this work. He chuckles and reassures me, “Have faith, Kenny. You’ll know exactly what to do with all this chemical stuff. We got your back at the monument.”
This makes me happy. “Thanks, David, ” I say in my mind, “I know I am on the right track whenever you are around.”
“Relax and enjoy the chemistry lesson of lifetime, Kenny. Sorry it’s such a gigantic download but we are getting the oil monkey off earth’s back, you know, kiddo,” adds David.
“No more complaints. Keep it coming, angels,” I mutter into my pillow. I relax and start to dream, and lose the chemical data connection, but the clever angels keep feeding data to me in new creative ways. In one dream I am in a business meeting when I notice pencils on the conference table are all grouped together in a chemical formula pattern and I wake with a start, only to get more downloads to angel giggles.
The flowing ocean of information, including machinery blueprints, come in flashes so fast and in such volume that I can only lie still and do my work as a willing receiver. The angelic downloads go on and on until the break of daylight when I finally get some real sleep.
SLEEPY DREAM WORKER
The next morning my bright eyed and bushy tailed roomie, Bradley Quick, rambles on and on about new software and gear while I help the lovable lug to haul in a file cabinet he bought at an estate sale. After the moving work is done I realize time is flying by and cut Brad off mid-techno-babble-sentence and hurry to the park past one of Bradley’s addiction clients who is on his way in for a session with Brad. Today it was my mission to visualize an America free of oil addiction.
After the delays helping Bradley I was ten minutes late at the park’s corner. So I was happy to see Tom already waiting at the 9/11 monument as I hurry past the super tame squirrels in the park’s trees, who chatter and beg for treats.
While we waited for an actor/producer pal of ours, Ramon Govea, one of DreamShield’s top dreamers, who only said he “might” be joining us, I used a solar reflector that I normally use for actor lighting to light up a crystal I’d borrowed from Bradley and placed upon the monument. The site is so activated by all the work we and the angels have already done here that it all comes to life for the planetary mediation quickly.
Soon it’s 12:12 PM and time to go to work. Just Tom and me, but there are many people around the world tuning in on this work, helping from afar with rainbow bridges, a term used for remote work. It makes our little dream teams very powerful.
VOLUNTEER ANGEL
Just last week I did a spur of the moment meditation at the monument with Nadia Arevalo, a volunteer for our 10/10/10 event, where there were 200 amazing people participating in LA, not counting Greece, Italy and Nashville. I’ve run many big projects in my life, from skyscrapers to Oprah’s studios, but nothing has taken off as fast or as international as DreamShield has.
Dr. Sarah Larsen, who hosted the LA event, had put together a crackerjack team of volunteers, including the super competent and delightful Nadia. Nadia met me at the NoHo Coffee Bean to take the guest list from 10/10/10 and turn it into an email list for us. As the biz meeting ended, I invited Nadia visit the 9/11 monument as it’s become such a key site for DreamShield Planetary Meditations. It’s never the same twice and always amazing.
After a short ride to the park I walked Nadia through the sacred geometry of the 9/11 site and introduced her to the vortex tree. We grabbed hold of the top of the triangle’s solar light panel and began to mediate. Suddenly a odd looking runner with a mop of curly red hair broke from the running trail and asked, “Found any keys?” We shook our heads “no”, a little stunned someone would ask two people in meditation, grabbing onto a solar light pole, for keys. The odd character sprinted off without another word.
Nadia said to me, “That guy was a sign!”
“You’re right! Let’s turn this light pole in our minds as though we have keys to unlock a tumbler in the earth!” Nadia and I slowly shuffled our feet until we reversed positions around the solar light pole, while seeing it turn like a great key of light in our minds. Whoosh! A colorful explosion of swirling pinwheel beautiful psychedelic energy, running at ground level beneath the DreamShield, raced around the world! It looked so cool, something like this picture to the right.
As Nadia and I left the park I could see the rainbow energy filling the world with color, light and love for transformation.
OIL TO ELECTRIC CARS PLANETARY MEDIATION
So by, today, 12/12/10, I have full confidence that Tom and I will see miracles here at the monument, a beautiful sunny day where it is 80 degrees versus the blizzard back home in Chicago.
For such a small event, in human scale, the downloads and guidance were incredibly complex, including a science lesson that came when I was told to turn on the TV at a precise instant for useful info. And what do you know a science show popped up on the TV that was on about electromagnetic energy transmission through crystal to power flat scree TVs! That info is why I borrowed Bradley’s crystal, a big beauty of a orange crustal, which I set atop the 911 monument.
See the orbs in this photo upon one of the three solar panels that form a triangle of powerful clean energy? This showed up a few days ago in a my pre-visioning work. I take thousands of photos for my work at BuzzBroz and I’ve never see light glare form orbs like these. That’s a square box. Not a series of flood as it appears.
As Tom and I take up our 12/12/10 12:12 planetary mediation positions I tell him about the power of the trio of lights like the one to the left photo that handle the 911 monument and the many more solar lights, scattered around the rest of the amazing park that also has a statue of the lost pilot Amelia Erhart.
I say to Tom, “It’s no accident, here in this park for the lost, especially the lost passengers of flight 11 on 9/11, lost to what is a losing battle over dwindling oil, that the solar power panels are here to help the work of today.”
I tell Tom about the happy pinwheel of glorious and energy that Nadia unleashed, that there is nothing be sad or angry about this sacred place any longer. The grieving is done and the angels of flight 11, headed by David Angell, want America to move forward again as the last great hope of the earth, as Abe once said and has never been more true or needed than today.
Tom and I “ohm” 12 times in honor of the date and time. I tell Tom exactly what I am visioning so we can share a dream of a better tomorrow free of oil addiction, “See the triangle of lights rise behind the monument to form a gold transparent multi-dimensional pyramid. The cars of the busy 170 freeway flow north and south through the gold pyramid.”
We listen to the steady hum of traffic from the 170 Freeway and direct an “ohm” up at a jet that passes above the vortex of love tree at exactly 12:12. “That jet is filled with Californians no different than the ones with us here today, lost on 9/11. The lost angels of 911 and thousands of angels that stand in a formation that extends the triangle of solar lights out to the churches along Tujunga. The angels feed energy through you and me, Tom, and through the golden pyramid before us to the cars on the 170.”
“Yes,” says Tom as we finish our “ohms.”
I tell Tom, as we are now deep into the vision,”See the black energy of the cars of the 170 freeway floating past? They look like those little black soot sprites in the film SPIRITED AWAY. These are the spirits of dinosaurs who died in tar pits and over eons became the oil of today. But this oil, which at first was raised from the earth by hard-working Americans from our own part of the earth, and was therefore spiritually pure, has sadly become tainted by greed, theft, wars and countless lives lost.
The oil sprites are suffering from this taint of evil. They are tired of being pulled from the earth and burned up, where they pollute our atmosphere and cause all manners of cancer and global warming as a karmic retaliation for our insensitivity.”
“I see it!” Tom said, his eyes still closed. “And the cars are sad. Saying to us,’Get the tainted oil out of me. I want to be solar-powered and fueled by solar filling stations!'”
“Yes!” I agree, Tom’s vision amplifying my own. “Now let’s see the enormous download of all the engineering drawings and chemical formulas flow, that I kept me up most of last night, flow into the cars of the 170, carried along to the 101, up to the Washington State and across the highways of the Northern states, down along the Great Lakes and over the Northeast, down the eastern seaboard through Florida and along the Gulf Coast, through Texas and above the border with Mexico until it joins us here again. See the angry oil sprites calm and welcome the ocean of information and network that data from the ring of highways about the country, flowing inward to every highway and street. ”
“I see it. Like veins in America’s body” Tom says with a nod, his eyes still shut tight.
“Now, Tom,” I say. “See the oil sprites take all that data and desperately seek their freedom and freedom for us all. See the sprites seek out engineers, inventors, venture capitalists, politicians with courage, designers, experts of all kinds, to accept the divine guidance of the angels to bring about a complete rebuilding of America’s car industry over to clean solar-powered electric cars. All to ensure a gentle 2012, free of pollution of not only our earth but our souls.”
Tom says, eyes still closed, his Lincoln-like face turned up to the clear blue sky, “The sun is abundance. Free, clean, unlimited power the greedy corporations must stand aside for progress.”
I smile at Tom. I can see Abe is here now, speaking with and through Tom and me,”Tom, people want ease of use for electric cars. See the inventors coming up with simple solutions where a driver pulls into his garage and the car begins to recharge automatically. So much cheaper and simpler than a smelly gas station.”
“Yes,” Tom agrees.
“Now see the black oil sprites first replaced by gray sprites in hybrid cars and finally… the transition is complete. America’s roads team with a white sprites, pure electric solar-powered transportation. ”
“Yes,” says Tom, “The cars and the drivers are happy. No more road rage.”
“Now America’s arteries, its highways, streets and alleys, flow with pure with white energy that overflows her boundaries. Electric solar-powered cars leave our shores on great ships, refilling our hollow economy, bringing jobs back to our shores. The electric cars reach billions of customers in China, India, Europe, Asia and all the world. ”
“Amazing,” says Tom, voice cracking with emotion. He lets out a deep breath.
“Hang in there, Tom. Almost done. See the oil derricks shutting down, collapsing in piles of rust, welcomed back into mother earth. Take another deep breath, Tom. There’s only one last thing you must do. I want you to speak for Abraham Lincoln, our mutual spirit guide. What does Abe have to say to the American people?”
Tom takes a deep cleansing breath and seems to get taller and says in the voice I’ve heard before in our videos, Abe’s voice that echoes over the 9/11 monument…
“The people of America must stop feeding on the oil made from fossil fuels of decaying dinosaurs or we shall become as dinosaurs as a nation.”
“Right on, Abe,” I add.
At that moment I hear David Angell lead the other angels in thunderous applause that brings tears to my eyes. “Told you that you’d know what to do with the downloads, Kenny. You had faith. Nice, kid.”
I don’t see him, but I feel Abe clasp his big hands about both our shoulders and say, “Good work, boys. Yes, very good work indeed.”
With the help of Abe and the angels, Tom and I lower the golden pyramid, close down the planetary meditation and leave the oil sprites to their important mission. A mission of finding the minds and talent who will receive the celestial downloads that I was blessed to receive and transmit.
Tom and I pack up the crystals and gear and happily head for a celebration lunch to a nearby little hamburger joint that sits on North Hollywood’s Riverside and Tujunga, beneath the buzzing 170 freeway.
Lunch never tasted so good and the freeway never sounded so mystical.
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“There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know I am mad.” – Salvador Dali
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
As you can read in the last blog post, VOLCANIC VISIONS AT MT. SHASTA , getting our three person dream team to the dormant volcano meditation spot at Mt. Shasta turned into an ordeal like a comedic AMAZING RACE episode. For the first time on these angel guided events I am late for the 1:11 binary planetary meditation appointment at a volcano, worried if the angels are still here.
Out of breath in the thin mountain air, I scramble onto the cracked asphalt plateau and hear angels laughing at our misadventures. My stress fades into hoots of joy. Cali and Chris hurry up the trail to join me.
We place the last of the sacred objects, that Cali and I had each been gathering for decades without know why, upon the old ’91 Saab. Cali pours water we had taken from the Soda Creek into three depressions on the rusty turned over bottom of the car. At last we were ready.
Chris, Cali and I join hands and begin to meditate, to call in the angels. As soon as the first “Ohm” leaves our lips I see two powerful angels spin the heavy old wreck like it’s light as a feather. Faster and faster the angels spin the old Saab. The wreck begins to glow as it bores into the earth. The drill the angels have made of the Saab cuts through the earth like a hot knife through butter. In less than a minute the angel drilling team reaches the earth’s core.
Three beautiful female earth angels, that seem Native American, protect each of the human dream team with a shield of golden energy that crackles and sizzles in the fresh mountain air. Glowing white steam of shoots from the Saab’s drill hole, bursting through the clouds and intersecting with the rainbow.
As Cali, Chris and I raise our arms the steam column hurtles for the edge of outer space. Now the steam column turns bright orange, feeding magma energy for the DreamShield — the spinning circles of bright energy that ignited my first angel powered vision in Italy back in May — releasing volcanic pressures all over the earth.
A great chorus of angels sing what sounds like a Native American chant to keep the energy flow going. The heat is so enormous I see the volcano shimmer in the mountain air. If not for the three angels shielding us our dream team would evaporate.
Satisfied, the angels reverse the spin of the old Saab, raising it up and away from the earth’s core, upwards though the layers of rock, crystals and oil to the surface where this all began. The angels release the ancient wreck from it’s mighty task and vanish. Our “ohm” chant ends and the column of magma turns to steam once again and sucks back into the earth with a loud rush of air that almost pulls me into the vortex as the vision fades and reality returns. I am cold I realize.
Our team breaks hands and I take a deep drink of Mt. Shasta water from my bottle. “I’m beat. Usually I feel energized after this work,” I worry out loud.
“That’s because we are not done with the work!” says Cali, eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun.
ENCORE FOR THE ANGELS
Cali plucks stones from the wreck and jams them into fissures in the reddish purple asphalt looking plateau. I help her place sticks and flower petals into the wounded surface. Chris is gazing at the volcano’s top that swirls with clouds. The mountain peak looks from this angle very much like the profile of the old Native American who had led us on a wild goose chase earlier.
Chris, cynical about New Age stuff, seems to be doing all this work to please his spiritual wife Cali. But, showing signs of awakening, Chris has been surprising me all day with the angel imagery he spots. And Chris surprises me once again when he suggests we fan out in a wide triangle.
Chris perches himself on a mound of earth. And, looking a bit like Moses in the fading sunlight, Chris reaches out his arms to Cali and me below. The connection I feel between the group re-energizes me.
A triangle of energy forms between our three person dream team that flows with the same blue angel energy I was first flooded with in Italy. The triangle is nature’s strongest geometric form and our trio’s triangle now pulls energy down from the DreamShield spinning high above the earth.
I’m stunned as a pair of red triangle frames form over my eyes to aid my vision. The heavenly spectacles allow me to see earth from space. I gasp as a healing tremor ripples across the entire planet in a triangular shimmering blue wave. Fissures slam closed deep within the earth. Unbridled tectonic energies, visualized in movies like “2012” to rip the planet apart in 2012, are slowed to normal. The blue triangle spreads out, overlapping upon itself to heal the weary earth.
I look up a Chris on the mound, the non-believer still looks like Moses his arms outstretched, giving us his all. And then, as Chris lowers his arms the work is done and the vision fades along with my heavenly spectacles. But I know these magical glasses are an angelic gift I’ll be using many times in future planetary meditations with the angels.
“Wow…” was all I can softly say. I stand tall, completely re-energized and let loose a “Yahoo!” that echoes in the mountain air.
Later, over lunch at the Black Bear Cafe in town, Chris seems to have returned to being the cynic. He’s mildly annoyed by Cali and I recounting our spiritual adventures of the day. Since we are only half done with the Mt. Shasta planetary meditations, still two more to go, I am still hoping Chris will realize everything created on this planet starts first as thought, including us… for what is love but a thought? And are we not all born from that moment our parents first met and thought, “Wow, I really like this person!”
My cell rings before we can discuss this further. It is Lee McCormick, a country western singer out of Nashville and head of Spirit Recovery, a DreamShield sponsor. In fact, Lee’s being in Mt. Shasta on these dates is the reason we took this trip in the first place. Chris asks to be dropped off at the Dream Inn to catch up on emails, this was a week day after all. So after we let Chris off to do some biz, Cali and I head over to meet the musician and spiritual guru, a powerful shaman, the amazing Lee McCormick and his dream team from Nashville.
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I like dreams of the future better than the history of the past. – Thomas Jefferson
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
Our successful angel-powered earthquake meditation, facilitated by our tiny three person dream team working beside the gurgling Soda Creek, still buzzes in my head. I bounce in the back seat as Cali navigates the SUV up the bumpy dirt road, shaken to my core about the majestic planetary scale of the angels’ work growing giant white trees all the along the San Andreas fault to save the planet from the tectonic 2012 nightmares. I am so honored to be doing this work that I fight back tears of joy.
Despite the urgency of reaching the volcano meditation site, we have yet to scout, by 1 PM I cannot resit asking Cali to make a quick stop to take pics of a gorgeous temple beside the pot-holed dirt road. The small stone temple dazzles with a fountain at it’s core. But the temple is fenced off so we must take our pics through the chain links. I notice one of the fence posts is the stump of a once mighty pine. It’s bark is crushed by rusty cables. I gather Cali and Chris to take my hands and we take a minute to pay our respects to this once mighty pine. Then we are off.
Back on I-5 a cloud formation that looks remarkably like an atomic bomb’s mushroom cloud rises above the mountains. I’ve never see anything so perfectly like the mushroom clouds that haunted my 1950’s childhood when it seemed life could be snuffed out at the sound of an air raid siren. The night before leaving I was sent a fantastically paranoid sounding article about a nuclear bomb getting planted this very day on the San Andreas fault by extremists to launch a massive earthquake and I share the story with Chris and Cali.
The couple looks a bit shaken at this nuclear fear, fear that sounds too much like Lex Luthor’s battle with Superman in the first Superman film for me to take seriously. Work with the angels allows me to let go of fears of a nuclear war that have troubled me since The Cuban Missile Crisis. I blessedly know now that the angels will only let us go just so far before they step in.
And perhaps this angels work about saving us from nuclear war has already happened. As we search for a road to get us to the volcano I tell the Rossens the amazing true story how for six months President Clinton simply had lost the nuclear launch codes. Imagine that, the most powerful nuclear power on earth unable to make nuclear war for six months because the launch codes were lost.
Could anything show how simple it would be for mischievous angels, who seem to love misplacing my house keys for fun sometimes, to stop a nuclear war?
Sure enough when I would return home from Mt. Shasta there would be the 24/7 fear machine of our modern media speculating on the North Korea tensions escalating into a nuclear war with China. Seriously? China nuke the biggest consumer of their products, America? I sigh as I type this, glad to know the angels don’t even need to handle something this silly.
The white SUV finally reaches a road that looks promising at the base of a dump and I feel this is the route to reach the planetary meditation spot. But Cali stops to ask an old Native America man for directions.
“Does that road lead up to the volcano?” Cali asks.
The old Native American gazes at the road downhill from the dump and seems to take forever to say…
“No. That road is a dead end.”
It seems to me the old fellow is a trickster spirit but I hold my tongue in the backseat.
The old Native American squints into the sloping winter sun, past the dormant volcano, points and speaks very slowly,
“Get back onto the I-5 and take the first exit, there are some tourist viewing spots on that side.”
I check my watch it’s 12:50 PM. If these directions are wrong I worry we’ll be late for the 1 PM meditation. Despite my better instincts I keep my mouth shut as Cali heads onto the 5.
Sure enough, as I suspected, we seem to be on a road to nowhere. There are no tourist spots apparent to us. We try backtracking to a rainbow of multi-colored semi trucks beside the road at the midpoint between the exit to the dump and the north side of the mountain.
Tension rises in the SUV as 1 PM comes and goes and we not getting any closer to the volcano.
“Back to the dump! ” I instruct Cali a bit harshly, angry with myself for not checking that road myself for this important volcanic meditation.
As we reach the exit for the dump it’s 1:11 and we are all stressed. Just then a rainbow appears leading to the dump. A sure sign my instincts had been right. I’d done my homework and as it turns out there is a low level turf war going on between the New Agers and Native Americans over the very spiritual Mt. Shasta. Perhaps this is why we were sent on a wild goose chase.
I am annoyed as Cali stops the SUV to take a picture of the rainbow. Cali is trying to get the perfect photo when I tell her time is running out.
I shout to be heard over the whipping wind,”We have to roll! Angels have no concept of time and they need these binary dates and times to synch up with us. We might miss them!” Soon as I say it I laugh out loud and add, “Man, if you’d have told me I’d be worrying about angels making appointments 6 months ago I’d have said you were nuts!”
Cali still resists moving on, trying for the perfect photo of the dazzling rainbow.
“Cali, let’s go!” I shout to no avail as Cali seems transfixed trying to photo the rainbow. Looking back on my own diversion at the stone temple I begin to think we are all being blocked somehow.
Chris finally coaxes his wife back into the car with a simple, “Cali…”
Finally we’re off, racing for the rainbow above the dump, not knowing if the untested road is going to get us there. I’ve never been late for a planetary meditation with angels before and I feel me blood pressure pound in my ears.
I point to a road. “There, that’s the road leads to the dump!”
“No it’s not. The we want’s road’s further up, ” says Cali, still sounding peeved about my rushing her rainbow shot.
“Humor me. I’m willing to bet you 100 bucks this is the right road.” I grouse, starting to sound like a grumpy Larry David.
Cali sweetly complies. I should have kept my mouth shut and let Cali drive as we are shortly in a dusty rock quarry. Another dead end. My watch shows 1:20 as I groan, “You were right, Cali. I don’t get what’s holding us back. I never get lost! I owe you a hundo. Take us to the dump your way.”
Cali cracks a victorious smile to Chris and takes the SUV up the correct road. The old Native American is long gone as we head through the dump for the back road I wish I would have tested a half an hour earlier.
I look up at the majestic volcano we can’t seem to get closer to, like an invisible force field is holding us back from the work.
This sleeping giant is one of 4 dormant volcanoes in the area. The inn keeper where we are staying, The Dream Inn, explained over breakfast that the volcano blows every 1,000 years or so. And since it blew about 100 years ago we are safe. That last blast was so powerful it was seen by ships out on the Pacific a hundred miles away.
Turns out the old Native American was both right and wrong about the road. It does dead end about half a mile above the dump for car travel, but there’s a path I spot that can be easily hiked on foot to the volcano.
I check my watch as I hop from the SUV. We are late but still within the binary 1 PM hour. I scurry over the buckled lost road, well ahead of Chris and Cali who are unsure about all this. I reach a plateau at the base of the volcano, topped with reddish purple asphalt, as if perhaps a vast long forgotten tourist attraction parking lot once stood here beneath the volcano.
Chris and Cali hurry now, close behind at my excited shout, “Whoo hoo! We’re in business!”
But before we can meditate with the angels we mortals all need a rest stop. So we each head into the brush in 3 directions. I am zipping up as I hear Cali’s squeal from the brush.
“Chris, Ken! You guys have to see this!”
Chris and I hunt for where Cali’s excited shouts are coming from, and lo and behold there stands a grinning Cali beside an abandoned ’91 Saab. Cali’s bullet riddled discovery has been here forever from the rust. It sits upside down on it’s roof, trunk pointing at the volcano.
Cali, who has been remarkable this whole trip with her insights, has brought amazing stones with her that she found in Italy 10 years ago when she saw miniature angels in a wrestling match with dark spirits. We quickly place the amazing stones around the wasted Saab along with some sacred objects I’ve brought along of my own; a small glass paperweight of the world, the only object I took from my home in the divorce for reasons I did not understand at the time, and a palm print of my daughter’s hand that her grandfather carved for her from a 200 year-old oak plank.
We invite in the angels. They are laughing, happy we made it in time.
Well, let’s let the video do the rest of the talking.
“Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions.” – Edgar Cayce, American Psychic 1877-1945
Dream Blogger – Ken Sheetz
November 10, 2010. I awake in Mt. Shasta City, in Northern California, after a night of amazing “downloads”, as Reiki master Dorothy Donahue calls them. I’d been doing social media via my BuzzBroz.com service for 6 months for a show called LIFE CHANGES with Filippo and in exchange was blessed to take some amazing trips — no drugs Dorothy simply uses her awakening gifts, LED glasses and drumming — on her couch.
Dorothy’s light induced trance journeys began the awakening of my higher self that’s been revealing itself now for 9 months, culminating in the vision in Italy and all the after visions of that have become DreamShield: Planetary Meditations for a Gentle 2012.
It was on Dorthy’s magic couch that I began to see the codes of many cultures, pyramids, spinning DNA strands and decks of alien spaceships that have filled much of my nightly dreams to this day and propelled this 58-year-old former real estate exec with over $1 billion of experience into the New Age head-first.
Night at the bed and breakfast, discovered by Cali Rosen for our three person dream team, is pleasant to say the least. My soft king sized bed is far more comfortable than the hard tiny twin I sleep on at a charity client, The Cool Change Foundation, that I donate social media in exchange for rent for in North Hollywood.
I rub the sleep from my eyes as I try to process scores of amazing dreams that I had channeled in the clear crisp Mt. Shasta night air at this B&B aptly named The Dream Inn. The air is so fresh my smog abused lungs are thrilled with every clean breath.
As I shave I look at the spiritual guy in the mirror who I barely recognize from my old corporate self. A corporate self that caused me to doubt for many months the angelic mission I was sent on in May of this year in Italy at a SoulDrama group meditation. An angelic mission that asked me to honor the dates of 10/10/10 with a global web celebration.
After months of putting it off I finally got on the job and DreamShield 10/10/10 became a huge success with live coverage from LA, Nashville, home of sponsors Spirit Recovery and Princes Know it All and Greece, plus a non-filmed 3 day event in Italy
Conferring with Dr. Sarah Larsen, my lovely co-host for the LA event that had drawn 200 guests, I told her of my hopes that I’d not be called to do more work for DreamShield until 11/11/11, the next huge binary code date. But here I was waking up over coffee at The Dream Inn, about to do 4 more planetary meditations over the next 2 days with Hollywood power couple Cali and Chris Rosen and the angels.
Over breakfast I ask Dave, keeper of the B&B, if he’s ever seen a UFO. He chuckles “No!” and we learn, despite his place looking so heavenly, that Dave does not believe in any of the legends of Mt. Shasta. Though he shares with us the New Age legend that Mt. Shasta is thought to have once been part of Atlantis, back in the Pangea era. The grounded Dave Ream is a great host and the place is named for him, D for David mixed with Ream, his last name, makes the “D-ream” for the Dream Inn.
Dave and Chris hit it off best, as Dave believes, like Chris, that none of the UFOs or spiritual stuff said to happen regularly on the American mecca of a mountain is true. Including a tale Dave shares of Mt. Shasta being the Native Americans’ Garden of Eden where the first Native American was created by God, stepping down from heaven onto the great snow capped mountain peak.
This doubting Thomas of an inn keeper is clearly not what I expected to find at Mt. Shasta, but I somehow find it grounding in this fantastical place. Chris’ spiritual and ET doubts, however, I am well prepared for having gotten to know Chris over the past few days. Chris shares, over a course of grapefruit, that he has never in all his hundreds of hours air time, as a jet pilot and vet, ever encountered a UFO. I realize as I write that this is perhaps a big part of what makes Chris cynical about DreamShield’s ET/angel work.
In spite all Chris’ doubts, he has come along to support his wife Cali who loves the work. So it’s amazing that time after time later, on this three person DreamShield excursion, that it will in fact be Chris who notices the angel signs we are on the right path.
On the gorgeous 9 hour drive up to Mt. Shasta I had gotten an angelic message that Castle Crag State Park is to be the site of the first Mt. Shasta meditation. Dave’s wife Lana tells us about a dirt road where we can get into the park the back way and save on Park fees. We are grateful given we are all filmmakers on a tight budget. So we finish up our Eggs Benedicts and we’re on our way, Cali at the wheel.
Exiting the 5 onto the narrow paved road fronting Soda Creek, it quickly becomes little more than a dirt goat path. One wrong turn of the SUV and we are in for a crash. But Cali holds the course until we reach a dead end about 5 miles in at a place, not kidding, called Dream Ranch. There are so many “No Trespassing!” signs that we have no choice but to turn back.
But on the way to the dead end I had fortunately spotted what looked like a cool meditation spot beside the fresh rapids of the Soda Creek we turn back for. Driving slowly, we wind our way to a small clearing nestled nestled in the pine forest beside the Soda Creek.
The circle of rocks sitting squarely at the center of the clearing seems the place to meditate. When Cali suggests we perch upon the rocks I’m a little wary. Last night’s light snow has left the rocks slippery. But I manage, as you can see in the photo at the top of this post, to overcome my old corporate conservative ways and climb atop the rocks.
We gaze up into the little forest clearing to the blue sky and invite the angels to do the work, work which they actually started in LA at the other end of the San Andreas fault line in Tujunga Park begins…
VISION FOR TECTONIC PLATE ACTIVITY REDUCTION
I am blessed on this project with an angelic editor who was a great TV writer in life, he’s telling me to let the video do the talking now.
ANGELS SHUTOUT DOOMSDAY!
After we finish the planetary meditation to reduce tectonic and earthquake activity I am so moved by the work that I am nearly in tears. This angel powered planetary work is so pure and powerful it cannot be described in words. The closest I can come is the feeling of a million invisible Super Bowl fans cheering you on.
The angels love this DreamShield work and I love what they are doing for our world to ensure the negative 2012 visualizations we are having crammed down our throats by the mainstream media daily are totally canceled out.
Yes, in the end, come 2012, DreamShield’s success will be measured by the things that never happen, from asteroids not hitting us to nuclear wars that never occur.
A hard thing to measure, that which does not happen. Easy thing, in fact, to say nothing was done at all if you are a cynic.
I’m glad I don’t have to be a cynic anymore. My faith in the work, experiencing it’s magic first hand, has transformed me forever. I’d really be a fool for it not to. I am blessed to have my faith in more than what meets the eye restored since the vision for a gentle 2012 in Italy took over my life.
In the world of angels there is no such thing as time. 2012 has already happened and the angels’ work, facilitated by humanity, has succeeded. There is no need or place for doubt or fear in this good work. And DreamShield I am happily learning is but one player in many such positive meditations happening on the binary dates all over the world.
But back on Mt. Shasta as the meditation’s vortex where the Soda Creek was diverted to cool the earth’s core is closed, unlike some of my other DreamShield meditations, I am sad I am not seeing visions of angels. No sooner do I utter those words to Cali when some distance out of earshot Chris points out angel shaped flying clouds over our meditation spot!
And there would be more signs like this photo to the right and top of the blog that I developed at few days later where angelic orbs we saw in the visions can be clearly seen.
“Moisture from the snow,” the skeptics will say.
Ah, but my new self answers, “Does it really matter if the angels made that moisture appear at just the perfect angle on the camera’s lense to see the image of an angel?”
There’s no time to ponder doubt at Mt. Shasta on 11/10/10. Our little dream team of three must now race to a dormant volcano some miles from the Soda Creek back road we are on and we must get there within the hour of 1PM!
As we hurry to the SUV I spot at piece of plastic tape with magic marker letters scribbled on it that seems to hold an angelic message for Chris. More on that next blog “Volcanic Vision at Mt. Shasta.”
Hey fellow DreamShielders. I’m back from the New Age mecca of Mt. Shasta with lots of visions and dreams to report.
I am delightfully exhausted after the busiest day of DreamShield 2012 work so far this 11/10/10 evening. Today, with the help of angels, our small dream team of 3 from Hollywood, Cali and Chris Rossen and me, all three of us filmmakers, meditated at Mt. Shasta on countering 2012 fear to: #1 Reduce Earthquakes and Tsunamis, #2 Reduce Volcanic Activity and #3 Invite First contact with a tiny race ETs known as Nanonites to seek their help protecting us from asteroids and comets.
Yes, a very big day. So I am ready for a great night’s sleep and more gentle 2012 dreams. Cali, a superb actor/producer, found the team a charming bed and breakfast for the mission’s 2 night stay, named appropriately the Dream Inn. My cozy room a short distance from Cali and her writer/web guru hubby Chris’ room, where their two adorable, if rambunctious, dogs, Emmy and Ricki,are also nestled in for the night, has a breathtaking view of the volcano north of the town. A volcano that last went off in 1840 with enough explosive force to be viewed by ships in the Pacific over a hundred miles away.
I thank the angels for the great work our dream team facilitated today and I begin a sleep meditation to reach the Galactic council beneath Mt. Shasta. I visualize myself as Superman, my hero since childhood, boring through the earth with ease.
DREAM AT THE DREAM INN
There’s a security field around the secret base 3 miles beneath Mt. Shasta. But I’ve been told in advance by an ET expert from Arkansas who prepared me for all this important 2012 dream work to dispel fears of Earth’s destruction, that I will be allowed to enter the secret base by holding positive thoughts. I am buffeted by mild current surges designed to disrupt my dream field, but I shake them off moving deeper in to the earth along the 3 miles journey deep beneath Mt. Shasta to confer about with the ETs about DreamShield’s important mission.
Soon, I am deep in a conscious dream state. My secret alien self slips from sleeping my 58-year-old human body. I tiptoe for the closet, careful not to wake my human self. Invisible until I touch it, I gather a boring standard-wear Galactic Council tunic from hiding and slip into it.
The veil of forgetfulness lifts like a cloud from my alien mind. I am Ohom. Sneaking from the Dream Inn, I am happy no humans are outside at this hour. No need to hide the fact I am over 7 feet tall and blue, not unlike the creatures director James Cameron channeled in the movie AVATAR. Except we Telosians have wings that cause primitives like my human self to often describe us as angels. With a graceful leap I soar into the starry night sky over the peaceful little town of Mt. Shasta City.
As I fly for Mt. Shasta I recall that it is one of the last volcanic remnants of Atlantis, back when there was but one continent and my people, the Telosians as we are sometimes called, first started visiting Earth. Unfortunately, we were not the first ETs to find this blue world, already teaming with primitive life. The Reptilians, clever to a fault, sent a robot ship here about a million years before us to plant their flag.
After countless years of bickering and threats of war that almost tore the fragile new Galactic Federation apart, the council caved in and deeded Earth to the Reptilians as a farm and gold mining world. Modifying the DNA of apes, the Reptilians created a sentient aggressive gold driven worker species that remains to this day unaware they are but slaves. Lizards love war and strife, so that was also tossed into human genetic engineering.
I check my star watch as I glide the cool night sky. It’s 2:59 AM Pacific Earth Time: 11/11/10. Unless there’s an emergency, our Galactic Council meetings take place on binary code dates on this world for the 49 of us who comprise the Earth Supervisory Sub-Group.
I land in the marsh at the base of the mountain. A startled heron flaps off into the night. Pressing stones and twigs in a secret sequence I activate a hidden stairway.
Hurrying down the granite stairs I hear the secret passage ratchet closed behind me. Reaching the crystal tram that leads the 3 miles beneath Mt. Shasta, I am greeted with a hiss by GRAK, ambassador for the Reptilians,
“Ohom, what nonsense waits tonight’s council?”
“The welfare of billions of life forms, ‘nonsense’?” I say, realizing talking to this snake, with a Cobra-like head, is foolish of me. But our rivalry runs too deep for better judgment to prevail.
“Life forms my people own!” The Reptilian spits in my face, a slimy hand slithering for his holstered ray gun.
Cara, a pale green Illumion of great beauty, enters the tram car with a greeting, “Morning, Ohom, Grak.” Cara’s beautiful voice is music enough to calm even Grak and we settle in for a truce on the short ride on the super fast tram.
A short while later in the council room, I chuckle to myself how unspectacular this place is compared to imaginings for such settings in earth’s film world. There are countless such secret meeting places across the galaxy and no budget for fancy facilities except at the vast and ornate giant meeting hall at the galactic core, headquarters to the Galactic Federation.
The officious Aquas, a fish person who wears a space helmet filled with water to breathe, drops the gavel. “Agent Ohom, you psycho-texted for the floor.”
I stand to gaze over the eclectic group of races from 49 worlds.
Before I can say a word Grak leaps from his seat, “I move this meeting be adjourned.”
“Again, Grak?” groans Aquas.
“Aquas, with all due respect, it serves no purpose to rehash a million years of Ohom’s bleeding heart for our supposed cruelty to these human creatures! Creatures the Reptilian’s created and own free and clear!” blusters Grak.
“I am here to call an end to your “free and clear” domination of this world, Grak.” It’s my calmness that most disturbs Grak.
Aquas pounds the gavel, “Make your case, agent Ohom, and none of your usual showmanship. My helmet water needs changing.”
“To the point then, Chairman Aquas. ” I click a remote and a projector rises from the table that throws a section of words on the screen.
“What fine print are we looking at, Ohom? Your human self’s bankruptcy papers?” clucks Grak as a few of the council laugh along.
“Magnify,” I say and the words become crystal clear. “Sub-paragraph 2012: Earth treaty of the Pangean Era.”
Grak says putting his ugly feet up on the the conference table as he tries his best to look in charge, “Fool. The treaty reads clearly: Any Worker Species created through genetic engineering by a Master Species of the Galactic Federation for any purpose, such as planetary mining or experiential enjoyment, are the complete and total property of such Master Species.
“Yes,” I say with a grin, happy Grak has taken the bait, “But further on paragraph iii B. also clearly states: However, when a Worker Species evolves to harness the power of positive visualization on a planetary scale, then such Worker Species reaches Protected Status as a “Developing Intelligence.”
“Humans, a “Developing Intelligience?” chides the lovely Cara to the admiring looks of all. “Do you have any idea how destructive the humans would be if Grak and the Reptilians did not keep them confined to Earth.”
“You honor me, Princess Cara,” bows Grak.
I feel the sting of jealousy. “Human spillover emotion!” I worry to myself that my human form and Telosian form are merging. I quickly say before my thoughts are read,”That’s changing. I’ve been testing to see if the human mind can access Telosian thought technology.”
“Not only dangerous, but Impossible for a Worker Species,” laughs Grak.
“Not dangerous. Not impossible.” I say.
The group murmurs with excitement.
“With only a small sample of 17 humans, myself and three other Telosians we activated a planetary DreamShield in Italy.” I exclaim as a view of the Earth protected by the DreamShield spins on screen.
“Trickery!” shouts Grak, needing to be restrained by our giant security robot that looks a lot like a black bear.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Galactic Council’s Earth Supervisory Sub-Group, I assure you this planetary DreamShield, which appeared first as a giant cross of energy bands on May 6th 2010 over Puglia Italy, is 100% genuine.”
Brainwave charts appear over the faces of the humans in a yoga hall in Italy.
“Wait!” shouts Grak. “Back one human.” The view on screen slides back one human to me, Ken Sheetz.
“Is that not your human form, Ohom?” chides Cara.
“Changes nothing.” I say feeling the loss of Cara and the group’s confidence.
“Your findings are tainted, Ohom,” adds Cara.
Grak’s reptile teeth flash me a triumphant grin.
“Cara, how many times have I’ve pleaded with the council to lift the Veil of Forgetfulness for Earth?”
Aquas checks his monitor screen with a watery chuckle, “Over the past 5,000 years alone, the longest we keep records on file, there are 20,000 requests you’ve made to remove the Veil.”
“None of which have been accepted, my brothers and sisters. I was in pure unaware veiled human form in Italy. — See? My brain activity is no different that the other humans until my three Telosinan brothers and sisters fill in the empty yoga mats.”
Nods and smiles become applause as the group watches the Italy footage.
Cara sings as she dances for joy, “Incredible. A Worker species evolving to Developing Intelligence status has no precedent!”
I add, riveting in the good news of hope for humanity, “Paragraph 11.11.10 concludes: Such Developing Intelligence through planetary visualization wins total sovereignty and complete freedom from said Master Species and the full protection of the Galactic Federation.”
Grak storms for the door and shouts without a gaze back, “You’ve not won Earth’s freedom yet, Ohom. This requires a2/3’s vote of a Special Meeting of the Galactic Council. All the worlds of the Reptilian Quandrant will side with us!”
“Sound like you’ll only have 25% of the vote to me, Grak,” I gloat gathering a disgusted look from Aquas.
Outside in the marsh, as the sun begins to tug at the horizon, Grak hides in the reeds as I exit the portal arm in arm with Cara.
Cara caresses my cheek, “Sorry I was opposed you all these eons, Ohom. How can I make it up to you?”
“A kiss?” I say with a coy smile.
Cara leans her head for a kiss. I move a tentacle from her forehead when a green beam from the reeds blazes. Cara’s people have super speed and she takes the shot meant for me.
“Cara!” I sob as she slumps in my arms.
“Save the humans…” Cara’s beautiful golden eyes close.
My rage makes the marsh lands tremble as I race for Grak. A saucer beams Grak away before I can reach the evil Reptilian.
I leap from the marsh and soar after the ship when…
I awake back in human form, in my bed at The Dream Inn in Mt. Shasta, vowing to never let the Veil of Forgetfulness fall again.
But as I lay in bed, heart pounding and unable to get back to sleep it all begins to seem like a dream. Then Cara’s musical voice assures me,
“You are not the mortal you seem to be. Awaken the planet. The DreamShield cannot fail…”
SKYLINE
I am off to see SKYLINE tomorrow. The premise of the movie is that SETI contact brings a hostile alien race to capture us. Yet another of the 2012 doomsday film visions that are an increasing part the media’s unwitting participation in manipulating humanity into visualizing its own destruction. A loophole in the Galactic Federation treaty? And just look at this ad’s negative message “Don’t Look Up”.
But fear not! DO LOOK UP to your rightful place among the stars! The DreamShield dream team is on the job for positive planetary meditations leading to an assured gentle 2012. And we hope you’ll join our website DreamShield.org and Like us on Facebook to learn of Gentle 2012 meditations coming to your part of the world. Join us as we become a one billion member planetary dream team by 12/12/12.
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Before we start, the Bermuda Triangle Meditations were done at a time of dark emotional grief over the loss of my father. I invite you to look upon my words as fictional therapy, fact on another plane of reality, or as both.
So wrong. Later Nadia and her friends and I could never coordinate getting together the entire trip. Without cell phones, text and emails people have lost the ability to congregate. We’d use messages on the cabin phones but never saw each other for the next three days. And we weren’t the only friends aboard the gigantic ship, Majesty of the Seas, having this trouble.
I explored the 12 decks of the Royal Caribbean ship, Majesty of the Sea out of boredom and loneliness. I was broken up about losing Dad. I’d been brave for the family at the funeral that ended up coming just a day before this planned event and honored my father’s wishes for an Irish style of a party to celebrate his life. But now I was doing the hard work of grieving his loss in this world. I was glad to be alone with my sorrow now and thanked the angels for creating this privacy for me aboard the packed ship.
We shook hands and Bob was gone. I was alone again, the entire deck to myself. Little did I know it would be the last decent conversation I would have aboard this ship. I felt embarrassed that Bob, who seemed so open, did not want to work with me.
I’d read that there are three ruined artificial Merkabahs that are a failed Atlantis experiment that caused humanity’s fall from Galactic civilization. I picked a spot by the deck’s compass. The compass face looked the diameter to the ancient flower of life pattern on the book covered the Laura had loaned me, the building block of all matter in this universe. I placed Laura’s book upon the compass. Sure enough the circle of life was a perfect fit.
I realized that this work was so intense it it could not all be done in one night. Deck 12, the angels told me, is where I’d be doing meditations each of the three nights. Grateful that my father’s gift of ethereal armor had protected me for this meditation, I went straight to bed.
Media, Meditations & Musings 