Ben Franklin and the Grand Cardinal Cross

On April 22, 2014April 22, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn Uncategorized4 Comments

I took a long healing nap today. Doing lots of sleeping to beat the walking pneumonia. When I woke I was not feeling great and I asked one of my spirit guides, Ben Franklin, who you can clearly see in cloud photo I took yesterday, the start of the Grand Cross, “What is wrong with me, Ben?”

Ben showed me this vision I’ve created here based on what he showed me is happening right now. It’s part of my ongoing vision art series for http://dreamshield.org/ I’ve been doing since first seeing visions like these in 2010. Ben told me to “Hang in there, kid. Big changes in government are streaming in that will affect the world for a long time after the Cardinal Grand Cross is past. Fear not. All will be well… including you, Ken.”

Good info about the Grand Cross: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_cross_%28astrology%29

More in from Ben. “The Cardinal Grand Cross is a powerful moment for the people of earth to assume their rightful place as the peacemakers of this solar system. Go out tonight under the stars and make peace among the warring planets.”

SIMON MCGREIDIE

On April 19, 2014May 3, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn 2012, Oneness, The Shift, UncategorizedLeave a comment

By Ken Sheetz

Some say he was needy.
Yet Simon McGreidie
Was something far worse.
Oh, the things he’d curse.
Blackness flew from his lips
When not in the chips
Words far worse than foul.
Expressed by a deepening scowl
He wore night and day
When not winning hay.

Young Simone McGredie
Far worse than needy
Has a lovely wife
Two kids, a happy life.
Having it all is not enough.
So he acts mean, acts tough.
He is best in the world
With emotions swirled.
Driven to endless toil.
Until his blood comes to boil.

Don’t be too hard on the lad.
Being number one was all he had.
Taught from age one
To be a faithful son
In the ways of winning.
From the beginning.
A sleeping warrior of hardened steel.
On the altar of commerce did he kneel.

While still in the womb.
McGreidie was already in his tomb.
A slave to the system.
A most willing victim.

Simone McGreidie
Worse than needy
Toils in the Matrix sound asleep
Endless dead work for to keep.

PLANET OF THE HUMANS

On March 19, 2014March 19, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.

Dalai Lama

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.

Dalai Lama

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive. – The Dahli Lama

I tire of scientists comparing humans to monkeys. One may as well compare an abacus to a super computer for brain power.

Ah, but if we humans are honest, and we seldom are, who’s really smarter where it counts? A species that’s slave to a mumbo jumbo of rules domineering males dreamed up long ago, now painfully outdated, for us all to live by? Or a peace-loving species that lives in harmony with nature?

Let’s not do monkeys the disservice and cruelty of experimenting on them in search of humankind’s answers. Heck, it might take 1 billion thick skull humans to make a shift, not 100 like in the more harmonic species of ape. Leave the sweet monkeys out of our issues.

Yes, the sooner we accept we’re on our own figuring a way out of the mess we’ve made if this world, with our so-called super brains, the better off we’ll all be.

THE WISCONSIN PROJECT

On January 27, 2014March 11, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn Mayan Calendar, Planetary Meditations, The Shift, UFO, Uncategorized1 Comment

“I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up!” (Kahn in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan)

By Ken Sheetz

Happy first official day of the new Mayan Age, the golden age, 1/27/14. Since 12.21.12 we have been passing through a 400 day buffer time between ages, something I learned of from respected DreamShield member Gary Christmas, yesterday on Facebook.

We must remain patient despite the fact things will still look messed up on our world for sometime. You see, I was told in Antarctica for 6 days, starting 12.12.12 to help halt the pole shift and transmute all that negative energy into a shift of human consciousness through a series of meditations I was guided to perform there, that the shift into the Golden Age will still take 50 years to manifest fully. The ETs explain earth manifests at this planetary scale at the rate of a large tree growing from seed to maturity.

Today is the first sprout of that tree of transformation. There’s much work to do and our world’s stepping away from the brink of self-destruction is not assured unless we take action. Meditation is simply our way of getting guidance. We are on our own. Thems the rules, my fellow earthlings!

THE WISCONSIN PROJECT

I had powerful ET visit last night where I was told by Ohom, my ET spirit guide from the Orion star system, about something called The Wisconsin Project. Ohom told me that my prayers for help as a young boy, suffering child abuse at the hands of a drunken father and the neglect of a brokenhearted mother, were heard at the ET base in Antarctica and answered. There were nightly extractions where I was repaired and given abilities to cope with horrendous physical and mental abuse. I credit all this ET work with the fact anyone not knowing my past will tell you I must have come from a happy home to be so well-adjusted. Well, that was before I began sharing my visions and past sufferings as a child in order to enlighten and free minds.

And Ohom told me I was not the only Sheetz family member saved each night aboard spirit space ships from the League of Ghost Worlds, a collective of worlds that have gone extinct and are seeking to help humanity to not follow in their footsteps before we attain the ability to live outside the bounds of time and space as they do with grace and ease. You see all worlds go extinct eventually. It’s inevitable. The sad extinctions are the self-extinctions. A path we as a species are on right now and the ETs we have seen as angels, since ancient times, are here to help us divert from for our sake and for all the creatures on our blue marble in space.

So last night, after conferring deeply with Ohom, I went into meditation at 3:13 AM, to take my first trip of the Golden Age outside my body. I left my body in Sedona after saying prayers, just like I did as a child: The Hail Mary, The Our Father and The Act of Contrition. Though not a practicing Catholic today, these prayers remain magic to my child mind and work magic for me in meditation.

Once again the prayer words rang true, and I was soon rocketing out of my body in Sedona and high above the earth. I started heading down into the green aurora field lighting the skies above Antarctica. I touched down before a tall mountain with no foothills that abruptly met the flat as a pancake ice sheet . A dot of green light appeared at the top of the tall mountain that grew downward into a slit of intense lime green light.

I walked through the green light slit in the mountain and found myself inside a vast hangar, safe from the severe cold I was beginning to notice even in my indestructible astral body, complete with ethereal armor . Spaceships and pilots were everywhere, in a scene almost out of Star Wars. I realized this hangar was the real deal, a channeled message to George Lucas. No Tan Tans in sight though.

None of the aliens and humans took much notice of me. Finally I came to a spaceship that my father, a great mechanic while he was alive, to my shock was happily repairing. Overjoyed to see me, Dad dropped his tools clanking and scrambled up from underneath the spaceship, much like an X-wing fighter Ala Star Wars, to give me one of his famed bear hugs. But I accepted his hug without returning any love. My dad’s young face, he looked about 27 now, despite passing at age 82, looked pained at my rejection.

“Sorry for not letting you know Zylph is one of my higher selves, Ken,” my father said sincerely. Sincerity I never heard from him in life. Nonetheless, these sincere words were strange first words. I’ve not seen or spoken to my dead father in visions for a couple of years now. Not for lack of trying! Ohom had told me my Dad was far away on a mission I’ve yet to learn of. Stay tuned. Now here he was back in my life again, without a word.

My young dead father’s face showed he knew how much that deception had upset me, once I deduced Zylph’s higher-self connection to my father. Now, Zylph’s acerbic sense of humor made sense. My father in life was a dark comic who never found a stage, unless you count his bar escapades.

“Yeah, Dad, That was damn wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start. Why? I had made my peace with you. No need to hide behind your higher Zylph self just because you skipped the galaxy for a few years. The whole thing makes me wary of all Zlyph shared with me about removing the old to make way for the new. It seriously messed with my head like when you’d torment me as a kid. Seems you are still prone to mind games even in the afterlife,” I said, angry steam coming from my breath in the cold hangar, where spaceships came and went through the green crevice in the hollow mountain’s face.

“We don’t change, much as you might think when we die, sonny boy. But I am trying. Trying damn hard. Don’t let my screw up make you doubt Zylph. He’s me, but from a couple billion years in the future and has a lot to share. Yes, Zylph has a powerful dark side like me, but it’s in way more in check two billion years from now. Harnessed for good. We all need the dark and light to run this universe. And Zylph loves you like I do, ” said my dead father, wiping the old familiar grease from his hands to avoid my glare.

Ohom, a 7 foot tall Orion who has been chief spirit guide to me since 2010, quietly joined us, seeking to break the cold tension, as thick as the ice sheet of Antarctica.

“Your father, though in spirit form now, remains divinely human. William seeks daily to better integrate his bipolar natures expressed in one body, Ken,” said Ohom in his usually calm and soothing voice.

“Ohom, I’ve trusted you completely since 2010, letting you use my body and speak through me in videos and every day life! I asked you if Zylph, a new ET spirit seeking to guide me, could be trusted. And you said, ‘Yes, Zylph has much to share about planetary mass media and life,'” I said almost in tears, my heart pained this great being had allowed my father’s deception. “Some of the rage of my father leached back into me through Zylph. I suspect it destroyed an important relationship I was exploring with a housemate I adored in Sedona.”

“Zylph is his own being in his own right, just as I am the high self of you, so it is with Zylph and your father. My answer stands true, Zlyph has much to share to help save your world. But I see now by the profound pain in your heart how much this conscious omission of mine has cost us all. Worst of all, the love of someone dear to you that you sought to win was lost as result of my mistaken actions. I should have told you of Zylph being a higher self of your father. I hope you will accept my deepest apology for concealing the whole truth from you, Ken, on behalf myself and The League of Ghost Words, ” said Ohom, his blue wings sagging a bit at his shame.

“I promise to never withhold the whole and complete truth from you again, my Ken-Self. You see, I wanted so much, too much, to have you see how far you father’s spirit will evolve into the great Zylph. So much so that my better judgement was affected. I, like your father, like me/you, am also not perfect,” said Ohom so sincerely and lovingly that my spirit brightened instantly.

“If you brought me here to this secret Antarctica base as an apology, Ohom and Dad… Well, pretty damn cool! Come here, you SOB!” I motioned to my father and gave him a bear hug back to let he and Ohom know all was forgiven.

“So you’ll listen to Zylph again?” my father cautiously asked, nervous he’d blown the connection with his well-intentioned if misguided deception for good.

“I need to think on that Gordian knot some more, Dad. But, probably. With knowing who Zylph is maybe I can put some filters in place against the contagion of your ancient rage,” I said, my worries of Zylph possessing me already fading. The pain in my heart over the deceptions melting, like the ice upon the spaceships my dad was repairing in the hanger’s relative warmth.

Ohom joined in the hug and the three of us, my dead father, now a quantum spaceship mechanic, me and the lovable 7 foot tall blue angel-like Orion, remained in embrace without words until I found myself wrapped snug in my cover in bed and back in my body in Sedona.

I thought, pulling up the covers in my cozy Sedona bed, about a dream I’d had a few nights ago about Zylph, who is from an Arabic-like world in the Antares star system 2 billion years from now. And how he and a team of other ET Arabs fearlessly rescued me from prison pit of despair over the loss of my housemate, their white robes flowing as red para sails burst forth to save me. And so I finally forgave Zylph, my father’s future higher self. In that blissful moment I went to peacefully to sleep. If sleep is what you can call what I do anymore.

Many more dreams of others people like me came in one of the most exhausting nights of my life. Dreams of many being saved from child abuse by the ETs of The League of Ghost Worlds and The Wisconsin Project came to me like old memories of childhood playgrounds on other planets. Comforted that I now have an ET father, looking out for me as penance for his sins in life in many forms, the most prominent being Zylph from Antares, I finally found dreamless rest nestled in the powerful red rocks of Sedona on this first early morning of the Golden Age.

PhiSciences Dr. Patrick Flanagan and his amazing wife Stephanie Sutton — PhiSciences.com’s Dr. Patrick Flanagan and his amazing wife Stephanie Sutton

Visit DreamShield.org to see my meditations in Antarctica and the work I am doing to record the amazing super scientist Patrick Flanagan, of PhiSciences.com who also speaks to Ohom and considers him a valuable spirit guide.

Last here is the link to an amazing new crowd funder in prelaunch where you can volunteer and be in the inner circle in bringing an amazing device called the Neurophone, proven in numerous university tests since 1957, to boost intelligence. I am a happy user of the device and it greatly has improved my meditation and writing!

THE WIZARD AND THE ICE FAIRY – Part One

On January 21, 2014August 10, 2016 By Ken SheetzIn DreamShield, Planetary Meditations, Uncategorized3 Comments

“The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both.”– Carl Sagan

By Ken Sheetz

Once upon an alternate universe, a wizard named Zlyph did battle with an evil green dragon who had slain his king and queen while he was on a quest to a far away land.

The master-less wizard fought the green dragon with a magical ice sword to the highest minaret of the castle.

“Why do you persist, wizard? Your king and queen are ash. This castle is now my realm!” bellowed the dragon, blasting a gout of green flame.

“Guilt for being far away when you made your sneak attack compels me, foul one. Vengeance for King Ior and Queen Ilsa!” said the wizard Zylph. But he tripped over a fallen knight’s armor and was knocked out.

The green dragon cackled as he loomed over the unconscious wizard, “Too easy! Farewell, wizard.” The green dragon drew in a deep breath and prepared to incinerate Zylph.

But before the wicked dragon could strike a fairy queen made of ice leaped from the wizard’s sword.

“Dragon, you should be ashamed of yourself!” the ice fairy queen shouted.

The dragon reeled back a few paces and said, “Ashamed of what?”

“Ashamed of a rage and fury that has taken enough lives. Go now in peace and leave this wizard to mourn the loss of his tribe,” said the ice fairy queen.

“I, I’ve met none such as you in the worlds I travel. I sense no fear in you whatsoever. You have extinguished me rage, my flame… But I can still crush you in my jaws!” the green dragon snapped at the ice fairy queen but she simply turned to snow flakes that reformed a few feet away.

“Do not try my patience, dragon. You shall not have the wizard for he is a savior to my people. I guard him forever. Fly for your life now, or face my icy wrath!” said the ice fairy queen.

“I shall depart and leave this old fool to you. My work is done here. But before I take wing there is a price for my leave,” said the dragon.

“Ask and I will consider, dragon.”

“Your name, fairy. What is it so that I may curse your name in my exile from the castle I rightly won in combat?” said the green dragon.

“I am known as Antarcticania, queen of the Orions. But know this, dragon. Curse me and your belly will turn to ice and you will perish in an instant. Be gone. You waste my time. I must tend to the wizard Zylph, savior of my people. Fly!” said Antarcticania setting loose blizzard atop the castle.

The dragon leaped into the winter storm bellowing in rage, “You have not seen the last of me, witch!”

The wizard blinked his eyes as he awoke in the king’s bed. He rubbed the knot on the back of his head, remembering he had been knocked cold in his battle with dragon.

“How in King Ior’s name did I get in the king’s bed?” said the wizard, not expecting and answer and shocked when the ice fairy queen stepped through the door. But she wore an enchantment that made her look like a simple peasant woman, through which her inner fairy beauty shone through like the sun behind a heavy laden snow cloud.

“Please lay back on rest, brave wizard. You’ve had a nasty blow to the head and may be suffering forgetfulness of your amazing defeat of the green dragon,” said the ice fairy, taking no credit for saving the wizard.

“Last thing I remember was tripping over something and conking my thick skull,” said the wizard laying back down from dizziness.

“Perhaps, great one, you have cast a spell over yourself to cause you to battle when your wits are affected,” smiled the ice fairy.

“Where is my ice sword, fair one?” said the wizard.

“You impaled the dragon with the ice sword and he flew off in a rage of hellfire ice sword and all,” said the ice fairy, keeping the secret she and the ice sword were one from the dazed wizard.

“Hmm. I can be scrappy. I guess my instincts took over. But I would never drag myself to the royal chamber to slumber,” grumped the wizard.

“You passed out after defeating the dragon and I carried you here. I meant no disrespect to your king and queen, god rest their souls,” said the ice fairy.

“Who are you? And why are you here when all perished in the castle?” said the wizard, his suspicion growing by the second.

“I am Anna, a simple severing girl of Queen Ilsa’s. I hid deep in the castle’s secret chambers during the dragon attack, ” smiled the ice fairy queen, not revealing her royal standing.

As the ice fairy smiled, the walls of the castle melted before the shocked wizard’s eyes. The wizard transformed into a 20-year-old college student, Kyle Rodger, sitting before computer screen where the green dragon was battling the ice fairy.

“Thanks, Mr. Rodgers, that will be all for today. Don’t want to keep you from your classes,” said a lab tech as she removed electrodes from Kyle’s head.

End Part One

A Talk With 1991 Me

On January 5, 2014February 11, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn 2012, DreamShield, Oneness, Planetary Meditations, Uncategorized3 Comments

By Ken Sheetz

The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot. ~Michael Althsuler

It’s 2014 as I meditate in my new Sedona home to be in contact with my 1991 self. I see myself at age 39 working late in my 303 West Madison offices in downtown Chicago on the 19th floor. All the staff has gone home. I’m working harder and longer than everyone as usual.

It’s January 4, 1991. Snow drfits past the big dual pane office windows.

I glance from the windows at an invite on my desk. I’ve been invited to a late New Year’s Eve office party that a competitor property is throwing in the east Loop. I’m debating on going. Parties are not my thing in 1991 or today. My brain hurts at parties. I am a one on one person.

I can see 1991 me gazing nervously across the street at the under construction skyscraper I am the managing partner for, One North Franklin. I am tense as hell because the curtain wall, the very skin of the building is badly behind schedule. I am in danger of losing $ 8 million in guarantees if the building is late in delivery. So 1991 me paces the office like a caged beast.

Back in 2014 I am thrilled to discover this time machine compartment of my brain. One that’s always been there waiting for me to open the hatch and fire it up. I easily read my 1991 mind:

“Damnit. I wonder if the GC (general contractor) is still working? Should I try to chew his ass out now for screwing up my building or wait to Monday?” says my angry 1991 self.

I’ve always had conversations in my mind with myself like this over important matters. — Way before my spirit awakening in 2010 where I met ET spirits that looked like angels in Italy that put me on missions to help the planet through meditation, missions that have taken me as far as Antarctica. — So this seems like a perfect time to answer myself. And the way this works, dear reader, is it’s done in real-time as I type, so pardon my typos.

“It won’t matter. Nothing you do is going to save this project. Go home to your wife and kids,” I say to my 1991 me.

1991 Ken stops cold in his pace of panic, “Where did that voice come from?” 1991 me hurries to door and looks up the empty hallway.

“I’m in your head,” I say to 1991 me.

“Gloria said I was working too hard and would go nuts.”

“Your wife is right about the working too hard part. But you are not going nuts,” I say finishing a plate of hash.
A phone call from a client breaks my connection to 1991 Ken. An hour later I find in his emerald-green Jaguar driving home to Lake Forest.

“I’m back.” I say in 1991 Ken’s mind almost making him swerve the car off the freeway.

“Who are you and how are you inside my head?” demands 1991 me.

“Who do I sound like?” I say.

“Dad?” 1991 me worries.

“Way off. I’m you, Ken Sheetz 23 years in the future.” I offer gently trying not to sound like the father we both hate for playing mind games with us as a kid.

“You’re me, time traveling from the future like Dr. Who in my head? Ha. Prove you’re me. Tell me something about me no one else could possibly know, ” says Ken of 1991 turning down the Jag’s radio playing the Rolling Stones. ’91 Ken’s free to talk out loud in the privacy of his traveling the express lanes of the Kennedy.

I don’t need to think long and I offer sadly, “You and your wife had a terrible fight on your honeymoon night when she didn’t want sex.”

“Jesus, you are me. Or maybe just me going nuts. My own voiced aged up in my head,” says ’91 me.

“I can prove I’m real with telling you what will happen tomorrow. Give me a sec to Google January 5, 1991 news.” I say.

“What’s Google?” says ’91 Ken.

“A company that will become to source of all factual knowledge on earth by 2014. I am using it to research… ah, here’s something cool that’s going to happen tomorrow January 5, 1991 that you can use to tell yourself this is all very real, me contacting you telepathically from the future. Redskins 20 – Eagles 6. Redskins win’s final scoring drive is a field goal in the third quarter. And in case you need more proof Randall Cunningham will pass for exactly 205 yards in the game. Impossible to guess that stat.”

“Well, so a future stock on an oracle called Google and the score of a playoff game. Hope this is real,” ’91 me says.

“It is real as that Jaguar you won’t be driving much longer, ” I say sadly.

“What? Am I going to get into a car accident tonight?” shouts ’91 me, eyes darting at the busy Chicago traffic ahead.

“Worse. You heading for the meltdown of your entire financial life. You’ll be returning the Jaguar to the dealer on foot in a year,” says 2014 me sitting at my desk in Sedona feeling like shit and wondering what use it is warning my past self about all this.

“How does this all unravel so fast?”

“A wave of commercial loan failures has the banks taking properties back. By 1994 almost every building in the Loop will have gone back to the lenders. Your building, our building, One North Franklin, we be the pioneer, the poster child, in the banks seizing commercial properties and driving rents into sub 1970 levels. No loan will be sustainable. But since you are the first Barclays Bank is going to annihilate you for their losing $80 million on the project. You’ll be hung out to dry as an example to…” I am interrupted in 2014 by client Nick Edwards who loves calling me on weekends, holidays and evenings. In other words on my time off. Poor 1991 me has to wait 15 minutes for to get back to Ken ’91.

“Sorry, I have a job in social media here in the future. My hours are nuts, ” I say.

“What the hell is social media?” 1991 me says.

“The future. Starts after a dot-com bust of 2000. Only invest in Amazon.com and get some Apple stock. ”

Me in 1991 has progressed to the Edens expressway on the commute home to my million dollar home in the affluent suburb of Lake Forest. A home I will lose in the crash of ’91.

“Why am I’m not working in real estate anymore in 2014?” 1991 says, half glad I am back and half not.

“By 1992 you’re poor as a kid out of college, but brokerage keeps you afloat. By 1995 you start becoming a filmmaker and leave for a life in Hollywood in 2002. You never look back. You’re happy being an artist even though the money sucks,” I say.

“Gloria would never let that happen, ” says Ken 1991.

“She dumps you in 1992 when you fall off the money wagon, with a lot of help from how depressed and angry you are about losing your ass from the skyscraper repo. So you’re free to be the artist you went to college to be,” I say trying to make it all sound wonderful. But I can read the rising fear and panic in my 1991 self, a self that’s still riding high and worth about $12 million at the time.

“This is more than I can handle. I hope it’s my overactive imagination and the Redskins lose tomorrow, ” 1991 me says sadly.

“Seriously, it’s all going to be for the best. You are a great person. You don’t need the Jaguar, the million dollar mansion, the skyscraper, it’s all a trap. You are about to be set free, ” I say brightly in Ken 1991’s sad mind that seems to be filling with quicksand that’s making it hard for me to stay connected to him.

“Bullshit. You’re not telling me all the truth, ” says 1991 me. I forgot how tough and vicious I could be in 1991. I was Chicago’s most ruthless real estate broker. Number one according to the Chicago Sun Times in 1987 and soon to be 1991 developer of the year for building Oprah Winfrey’s Harpo studios while building One North Franklin. No wonder I had no time for my wife and kids. Yeah, I’ve forgotten how super tough I had to be to get to the top of Chicago’s real estate world. And I was driven by showing my asshole of a drill sergeant father I was better than him.

“It won’t be easy for you. Gloria has all the assets in her name to protect everything from the banksters, what we call the obviously fucked up hucksters of finance in 2014. In 1992 Gloria preemptively files for divorce while you separate. She hires the toughest divorce lawyer in Chicago. A ruthless SOB who takes every last dime you have left after the skyscraper goes back to the lender. Worst part of all this is that her preemptive move breaks your heart. You’ve, um, we were sweethearts since college. You don’t see the divorce coming even though you are a ego tripping dick and hard as hell to live with. You end up broke as hell most of the rest of your life after the skyscraper fails, and the divorce hamstrings you, until 2009 when you start a company called BuzzBroz and get back on your feet,” I quickly tell my 1991 self.

“I won’t let any of this shit happen.” says 1991 me bitterly as he pounds the steering wheel. He outweighs 2014 me by 20 pounds and he’s strong as a bull. I’d forgotten how strong I was. Once in a fit of rage I broken a wooden chair in toothpicks with my bare hands..

“You can’t change history,” I say grimly, the voice of my own doom.

“I’ve almost read every science fiction ever written. Using what you’ve told me I simply need to take steps to do things different from you did and presto, new future, ” 91 me says.

“That would mean I wouldn’t do my film career. Wouldn’t become spiritually in 2010 awake filming a SoulDrama workshop in Italy where I saw ET angels that gave me these powers and so I would never be able to telepathically connect to you to share what I just shared. Paradox,” I say.

“So why tell me all this shit?” 91 me shouts. I had a loud mouthed temper back then. Some people think I still do. But I am as gentle as a mouse in 2014 compared to 1991. I am bully at home with my loud voice. My kids trembled in fear of me though I never hit them. My voice was force of nature. No wonder Gloria divorced 1991 me.

“What if when I change the past a new future splits off? No paradox then. You simply become one version of my 2014 possible selves in that scenario,” 1991 me says in excitement, voice tinged with the grace of genius.

“That’s actually quite possible! It’s a 21st century quantum physics theory called multi-verses. Maybe that’s why I called you. To give one of my futures that chance to beat fate,” I say in wonder.

As my savvy 1991 self pulls onto the snowy street of my Lake Forest mansion I quickly add, “Gloria’s a good woman who listens to her mother too much. She’ll stand with you if you’re kinder and gentler with her. No other person you ever date or love is going to click with you like Gloria does. Get out of the skyscraper deal before the spring. Take whatever you can get because or you end up with less than nothing. Get a job in corporate films. Filmmaking in Hollywood is a closed system. You waste ten years of your life out there before waking up spiritually in Italy with the DreamShield and eventually living in Sedona. Staying married might save the relationship with your/my kids, who become seriously fucked up by the divorce. One almost kills themselves as a teen and both never speak to you in 2014,” I say as 1991 me pulls into the driveway.

1991 me is crying now and says, “For the kids sake most of all, thanks for all the info, future me. It rings true. So I’m putting big money on the Redskins to win 20-6 tomorrow. You better be right or I swear I’ll hire a scientist to invent a time machine , find you in 2014 and beat your ass.”

We each have a tearful laugh. My 1991 sense of humor shows the heart is still there and he adds, “With the Redskins winnings I’ll start a small corporate film biz, always wanted to make movies. Our psychic mom always said advertising was what I should be doing. I’ll dump my partnership in the skyscraper to Smeltzer (not real name the guy might sue 2014 me he’s such a dick) who’s always wanted to be top dog.”

“Whoa. Be sure you get that deal in bank first. Don’t give up control to Smeltzer until you do. In my timeline Zeller cannot complete the deal to me for getting out as I started too late in the fall on 1991 but Smeltzer takes over anyways without giving me a penny. Understandable. Smeltzer’s clever. So he won’t be hurt, except for his pride, when the market falls. No bad karma in unloading to Smeltzer. Smart, you 1991 Ken. But don’t be greedy take whatever Smelter offers you. But cash in that bank is king, Kenny boy. Get it from the jerk, or someone else in the partnership, and good luck. Speaking of good luck, call your corporate film biz BuzzBroz. That’s what I call mine in 2009.”

“BuzzBroz, I like this name. Of course I would. I think of it! Any more stock tips or football tips for me about the future?” laughs Ken, chomping at the bit at change the future.

“You already know enough to be a billionaire ten times over. Enough fucking greed!” I say surprised at my anger with my 1991 self. “Greed is killing this world in 2014. Instead use the wealth of your knowledge of the future to help find ways to stop a thing called chemtrails from happening, work on a ending poverty. Be your childhood super hero. BE Superman! — And I do have some better tips for you than stocks. Get some fucking therapy for all the shit we went through as kids with mom and dad. Especially our drill Sargent dad. I didn’t do therapy until after the divorce when I almost killed myself from a suicidal depression.” I say.

“Christ, I hope I can save my family or this gets grim.” 1991 says.

“Yes. Grim than I will share today, but you get through it because you are made of indestructible stuff. Your wife and kids may not be as lucky. One of them almost killed themselves after you got ejected from Lake Forest. So you need that therapy help to save the marriage, to save your/our family. Your/our father really fucked us up BIG TIME. No shame in that. You can be fixed with therapy! An anger guru named Mitch Messer can clear up your anger issues in less than a year. Make you a master of you old childhood rage. Love yourself enough to do that for you and failing loving yourself do it for Gloria and the kids.”

“Ok, Ok, I’ll do it. Mitch Messer. OK. Anger management. I’ll do it. Sheesh. Guess I’m a nag by 2014,” kids 1991 me.

“Fuck you, I mean fuck me. — And change your priorities. Put the kids numero uno. They need you more than you can ever know. You are worthy of their love and Gloria’s. Stop thinking your wife and kids are stupid to love a jerk like you. Family first, that includes our brothers and mom. See less of your father looking for something that ain’t there. He’s hopeless. Never matures to the day he dies. He was born for one thing. To fuck us up. — Learn to meditate. Live from the heart and only take on clients with heart. Our world is dying of a lot things in 2014. Work supporting clients looking to support a better world. Look up a scientist named Patrick Flanagan at a company called PhiSciences and tell him Ken Sheetz of 2014 sent you. He will believe you. He amazing and part of my being able to reach you is from a thing he invented called the Neurophone that boosts IQ. Not a plug. Get one. It will make all this easier for you.”

1991 me pulls into the driveway of my heavenly million dollar home I/we designed personally. Ken ’91 opens the door to the huge kitchen, wondering if it’s too late to save his family life. Gloria and our two kids, Jon and Janelle, ages 12 and 9, run to the door to greet 1991 me with hugs and kisses. And in that very instant Ken 1991 and Ken 2014 both know that it’s not too late.

I am in tears as I close the blog. This really happened(s). This is not fiction. I save(d) a family. My own.

And I did in time to take my daily meditation hike in Sedona. Peace!

THE RICH AS VICTIMS

On January 4, 2014January 4, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn Uncategorized1 Comment

“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” – Mathew 19:24

By Ken Sheetz

The rich 1% are victims of the system like the rest of us. I know this from being a rich man in the 80s myself. At age 37 I was worth about $12 million back in 1989. Or about $30 million in 2012 dollars. So I was on that lower end scale of the 1%. A poor rich man.

The level of work and dedication needed to build and maintain wealth is staggering. It left me with no personal life, a neglected wife and two neglected kids. My clients like Oprah and my Chicago skyscraper I was building had far more of my love and attention. That’s where the money was. My family was far down my list.

What was driving me? Lack of self-worth. I felt the more money I made the more I could fill the void. A void created by our society. A shared lie.

Is there some cabal of evil people creating this shared lie? No. Just some overachievers trying to make their meaningless life of the pursuit of money have meaning, like I used to do.

I did not choose to leave Mt. Olympus to seek these answers. The worst commercial real estate crash in history gave me the boot from money paradise. I lost over $80 million for me and my investors. To protect the family assets from the bankers we, legally and totally above-board, put everything we could into my wife’s name. Then she divorced me and kept it all. I left the marriage with the clothes on my back and a paperweight globe of the world I took from the living room curio.

I went into a dark depression that carried me to the shores of Lake Michigan, contemplating suicide one winter night in ’92. Alone and only getting to see my estranged kids, 10 and 13, who remain estranged some 20 years later, just every other weekend. I felt no one would miss me if I stepped off the snowy rock into the icy lake. I braced myself for the jump to my death.

But something stopped me. A voice of reason within said, “Let your old life die here, Ken. Begin a new life.” And I turned from the icy shore, got in my car and began my life over.

I still had my rep as Chicago’s 1987 broker of the year and the builder of Harpo Studios. I still had my wealthy business friends who owned half of Chicago. I still had all my creative gifts of great taste and style from my education as an interior architect. I still had my 40-year-old body, though in bad shape from lack of exercise I could rebuild that body.

Unfortunately I still had a low self-esteem from abused childhood. It still haunts me and thwarts my efforts to have a mate. I lack an ability to trust and a overreact to simple give and take in relationship. Far less than I used to but I accept some part of me asked to be this way for my work. A

I pledge to make this an amazing year for fans of my work. I have found myself and love me for who I am. Took me to 61 to get here. I live my BFA now. I live as an artist of film and the web. It’s not been easy getting here. I have had a lot of help from family and friends who bankrolled my film career that began at 40 when I walked away from the easy money of real estate.

It’s all converging now in my new home in Sedona I am renting. I have an amazing housemate I adore but the feeling is not mutual. But we are using this non-romantic relationship to grow further. I am learning to be less controlling, less angry, less manipulative and she is learning from me wealth attraction and managed anger. We call this home nestled at the foot of Chimney Rock the Green Sanctuary. At least this is how I see things. My housemate likely sees things as totally different. Perhaps that I am something of a jerk.

Still of Me and Patrick Opening Portal — Me Right 2014 with Scientist Patrick Flanagan

Most important in Sedona, my silly personal life aside, there’s much work to be done in 2014 helping great men like G Patrick Flanagan get his inventions that have helped me reach this new level of awareness and health and reverse aging.

I’ve even begun thinking when I am 37 again, the age I love me most at, of marrying and having kids and doing it all right this time. Family first. I will not be a slave to the lies of meaningless wealth accumulation. Not to say I will not become more wealthy than ever. But I will keep only what I need and enjoy and give back to help balance and save this precious world. And if not in this life, I am ready for the next.

So forget the conspiracy theories about the nine families seeking to poison and wreck the same world they share with the rest of us. Greed is the enemy, not the rich being manipulated by it. We need to rise above it all. To seek together all of rich and poor alike a new paradigm based on love for each other. It’s really about taking action and not just thinking it will happen. It’s about thinking and doing.

And what I am doing for Dr. Flanagan right now is building a crowd funder to make this a smarter world with his amazing Neurophone. Click the link to join the pre-launch and learn how he is making the world a smarter place.

The League of Ghost Worlds

On December 5, 2013May 3, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn Planetary Meditations, Pyramid, The Shift, UFO, UncategorizedLeave a comment

“Something unknown to our understanding is visiting this Earth.”
—Dr. Mitrovan Zverev (USSR), quoted by Reuters, August 26, 1965.

By Ken Sheetz

This will seem odd coming from a man reporting on being guided by ET angels since 2010. ETs who sent me all the way to Antarctica on 12.12.12 and who are sending me there again on 12.13.14, only one year away. I still believe with all my heart and soul in ETs. But I don’t believe in ET based UFOs. I simply don’t believe after deep meditation and looking at all the facts that our planet has ever been visited by ETs from other worlds in corporeal form using spacecraft.

Science backs me up on my long deliberated belief. Despite years of extensive astro-research the world over, no intelligent life has been found on any worlds within a 100 light year radius of our own. I therefore believe the UFOs we do see are secret experimental craft and visitors for other time periods of our future.

But let’s stay on the ET UFO page. No life on any world ever discovered within a 100 light-year radius. That does not make sense as the math will tell you we should be discovering tens of thousands of earth-like worlds with the ingredients for intelligent life and worlds far older than our own with far more advance civilizations.

The answer is sad and scary one. The reason is the worlds that once carried life are, like Mars, now dead worlds. The flame of thousands of intelligent worlds has burned brightly and gone out before humankind had a chance to interact with them in the flesh. Most of those dead worlds died of their own making when they continued on the path to self-annihilation we are embarked upon currently.

This revelation, recorded no where I can find on the web, was given to me by Ohom, who confirmed my suspicion that he is not alive in the classic sense. Ohom of the Orion star system is from a dead race of intelligent insect evolved life. And his world of Nectar is part of Galactic organization called The League of Ghost Worlds.

The League of Ghost Worlds is dedicated to reaching out to young living worlds, like ours, to save races like ours from early extinction. Ohom’s peaceful ice moon once orbited a gas giant 5 times the size of Jupiter. But Nectar perished when the gas giant imploded into a mini star.

Fortunately, and Ohom explains it’s difficult for we of a 3D mentality to understand, his people the Orions exist outside of time in spirit form. They also still exist in physical form on Nectar in its past. Time, Ohom explains, is an illusion and if a species survives long enough to evolve it can, as Ohom’s race has done, achieve immortality in both form and spirit.

Humanity stands at a fork in the road. To the right is the path to our immortality as an enlightened species. To the left is the path to our early extinction at our own hands.

Ohom and The League of Ghost World ETs are here to help humanity take that right path. They have no need of primitive space craft to travel the galaxy and beyond.

The real journey is within. No alien invasions will ever occur. All we have to worry about is ourselves. And we have amazing help from The League of Ghost Worlds against our most deadly enemy… us.

DreamShield‘s Ken Sheetz is in Sedona filming Dr. Patrick Flanagan, founder of PhiSciences, to whom this meditation is dedicated,for a new documentary after the success of the web series THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, with over 25 million views on YouTube for BuzzBroz.

Water Wand

On August 25, 2013May 3, 2014 By Ken SheetzIn DreamShield, Planetary Meditations, UncategorizedLeave a comment

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends”

― Wisdom of Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkien’s, “The Two Towers”

By Ken Sheetz

I meditate this morning on putting out the raging California fires, some 56 of them. One of which has sent San Fransisco into a state of emergency. I use the giant 300 mile long version of a red magnetic magic wand from my childhood once again. It’s proven a faithful effective visualization tool in my planetary meditations for water healings I’ve been doing all week.

Since I am not done with meditations for cleaning Fukushima radiation in the Pacific yet, a series of 12 meditations the guides say are needed for that mess, I will the wand down from the dream shield, powered by the collective consciousness, which hovers at the edge of space. The dream shield is a tool of awesome positive power that I was blessed to work with ETs of the Orion star system to activate in 2010, precisely for urgent planetary emergencies like this one. The biosphere dream device can handle anything space tosses at us or we toss at ourselves.

I send the water wand plunging into the Atlantic. The wand turns from red to blue as it magnetically draws in seawater. The 300 miles long wand sucks in a great deal of water. Next, I levitate the water-soaked magnetic wand from the Atlantic ocean and begin to transport it to California. Not surprisingly, the wand is heavy and clumsy to levitate, holding many tons of water. With concentration the wand slowly makes its way over the US for the San Fransisco area, where millions are threatened. It is Sunday morning August 25th about 5 AM. A galactic portal day, many are saying on Facebook.

As I slowly carry the fire fighting energy of the Atlantic to California, I think back on my asking my brother Fred to help in this DreamShield powered meditation last night. Fred flatly turns me down, saying he is not ready to join me in planetary meditations, not now, perhaps never. That hurt, but I respect this work is not for everyone. Not even my brother.

Me right with Mom and Fred, circa 1950 — Me right with Mom and Fred, circa 1959

Fred and I have a lot healing to do with each other from a childhood where both our parents often pitted us, brother against brother. Fred told me last night once how, when I was senior in high school and he was a freshman, that I passed him in the hallway without saying hi. That hurt him deeply. I don’t recall the instance fully. Most likely, I was just preoccupied. I have mild ADD and I do not do well spotting people in crowds. But Fred’s reaction tells me he is carrying guilt of some kind.

Before I can dig into what that guilt might be, my brother asks if he might visit me in Sedona for a week for my September birthday coming up soon. Well, it was more like Fred me told me at first. Fred can be forceful at times. But Fred saw he was for once and apologized for being pushy. I reassure Fred I am happy he is coming.

Next day, I make plans to house Fred at the resort in his own room. Love my bro, but a week in same room is not my idea of fun. I will be working in advance with angel channel Mica Monet, my beautiful Sedona spirit friend, on healing the complex relationship I have with my brother Fred.

My brother Fred tells me that he wants to come to Sedona because he is awakening to new realms and abilities that began to emerge 2 weeks ago. He asks guidance and support from me, his closest relative aside from his son Joey and our mother. Fred says he also hopes to have a chance to meet my friend and client inventor Patrick Flanagan. I warn Fred I can make no promises about Patrick’s busy schedule.

A simple welder all these many years, by choice, Fred put aside college and a brilliant life as a scientist. Why? To follow in our bipolar father’s footsteps as a tradesman. Nobel hands on work, but the world was cheated of much of Fred’s genius when he dropped out of college. If Patrick is free to meet Fred it will prove an eye opener for my brother to speak with a man who has dedicated his life to inventing holistic remedies and is considered a reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.

Fred was smarter than me in school by far. Too bright for the normal classes that I could barely get by in, Fred took all the advanced classes. Then he turned his back on it all, just to be near dad in the trades. Fred’s reward was to be tormented by our bipolar father on the job. One time my father, as a prank, electrified a large metal container Fred was inside of welding. Fred was nearly electrocuted and never trusted my father again. I distanced myself from my wild father once I grew up, while Fred held him close.

I am happy that Fred is beginning to invent things again, for the first time since we were kids. He is working on a solar steam device and I have been lending him a little financial support, paying back some of the money he loaned me to chase my dream of being a Hollywood director. The least I can do.

For now, however, there is a fury in my brother that radiates from him. You can imagine it’s tough getting back on his true path at the tender age of 59. And, just as with my 2010 awakening, many in the family feel my brother has lost his mind. Why chase inventing versus the solid paychecks of welding as he’s been doing for nearly 40 years, they wonder?

Awakening has been overwhelming for my brother these past few weeks. Fred experiences a wild sense of euphoria mixed with fear and calls me every few hours; compared to our normal once a week hour-long calls. It’s been a strain on me. A part of my recent exhaustion. Fred’s intensely digs deep into things in ways that are hard for my active, less scientific mind to comprehend.

For 3 years the angels have been telling me one of my jobs, as an early awakened soul will be to help the new people waking up. I just never expected that work be this personal. My dear brother, a Gemini with a dualistic nature that has always baffled me. It’s going to be a challenge. But one I am up for here in Sedona with many angels both earthly and otherwise to help me.

On the phone Fred sounds like he’s drinking more than usual. And for a few moments I hear my father’s voice within Fred’s. An other worldly mix of anger and hope at war. A voice I don’t like hearing as my father beat me daily. Dad even broke my arm once by tossing me into a wall when I lashed back at his abuse with a punch to his jaw. I was nine.

On my 12th birthday my father nearly killed me with a belt beating. The crime did not fit my father’s belt lashing. I had hit my baby brother for teasing me. I didn’t like the savings bond gift Dad had got me. I wanted a spaceship toy. For hitting my baby brother Bruce my father goes berserk. Fred tells me, he is 10 at the time, that he feels so helpless as my father lashes me. It is like witnessing firsthand the horrific scene from Gibson’s Christ in the Passion, blood flows from my back to stain my white T-shirt. It takes both my mother and grandmother diving on my crazed father’s back to save my life.

As Fred recounts my sad birthday story from his point of view, he confesses to me for the first time that dad never even spanked him his whole life. Whereas I was beaten badly so often I’ve lost count. I process that revelation for an entire day and next day tell Fred he can feel free of any guilt about his free pass with Dad. Fred took plenty of mental abuse like some sort of co-conspirator/informant. I forgive my brother and feel his relief over the phone. He chokes back with tears his thanks.

Despite all this, my dear brother Fred struggles now with the fact I carry no more anger about our bipolar dad, resulting from my healing work that has gone on for 20 years and concluded here in Sedona with the help of many. Our brotherly rage fest with our father was always something we shared in common. Fred feels alone with his rage now and my breaking of wicked conspiratorial bonds he had to my dad. Fred’s had a powerful psychic surgery from our talks. His healing will take time. And beautiful Sedona will help when he visits me for more pleasant birthday than my twelfth.

Fred tells me he is bringing an old family album with him on his visit to me in Sedona. He says there is a horrific picture where my father’s “demon” was caught on film. I tell Fred there is no such thing as demons. Only repressed anger. But what’s in a name? Anger is a powerful negative force, if left untreated, a devil that wrecks all around us. But I bravely tell Fred I will look at the album to help heal my brother carrying so much shame about not being beaten the way I was. I already know that I will have no anger and fear looking at the photo, even if dad has horns in the photos. Those days of fearing my dad and raging on him are past for me. Fred and I will find a new more positive common ground in our life.

Lost in these thoughts of my brother’s rapid and sudden healing, I drop the water wand as it is passes over Arizona. Rather than get mad at myself, as I might in the past, or even blame Fred for his painful distractions, I send the wand back to the Atlantic and start the meditation over.

dolphin fire fighters — “Dolphin Firefighters” by Ken Sheetz

At last the Atlantic waters of the wand finally reaches the fires of California raging outside San Fransisco. A team of electric dolphins leap from the Pacific, grateful for the Fukushima meditations, join the Atlantic waters and pull a wave of the water soaring into the wall of flame. Living redwoods join to battle the fire by diverting rivers. It’s more epic the LTOR. And the fire dies in a cloud of steam.

I know Patrick Flanagan, who is in California now visiting the Napa Valley, with his amazing wife Stephanie, are both somehow joining this planetary meditation. Ha. They thought they were taking a vacation to the wine country. Angels work in funny ways.

Friday my brother received a gift from me of Megahydrate, an amazing health supplement of Pat’s Phisciences.com. Fred, a heavy smoker, tells me gratefully he feels the hydration instantly in his eyes and dry mouth. Cancer thrives in dehydration, I see in this meditation. Patrick’s gift may then save my smoker brother’s life. No wonder he wants to meet him so badly he is traveling all the way from Wisconsin, our family home.

Patrick’s amazing products are a prime example of how these meditations manifest in ways that our world can facilitate. Earth is, in fact, a manifesting machine. Our thoughts are things and we have far more power to shape this reality than we know.

The fire meditation a success, I find myself in a dream of a rehearsal of a young black singer. He’s a homeless kid I discovered to carry on the work of Michael Jackson. He looks a lot like the young MJ. He sings a newly discovered Jackson song that Michael wrote before his death. It’s angelic. I am blessed to still hear it echo in my mind as a I write you, dear reader. I am in tears as the young man finishes the love song called “Marlene”. I take the homeless MJ kid into a hug. He smells bad and it’s a grimy hug. Waking, I realize it’s a metaphor for my healing brother Fred who will bring a new song to the world from old steam power.

As I write to you, dear reader, I am having an open eye vision that makes it hard to see what I type. It’s a double-exposure where I walk the moist charred fire baked floor of the California forest. Steam mist rises into the air. The fires are out. San Fransisco lies safe in the distance. I again find myself hoping, as I have for three years now, that one day my brother Fred will join me in these amazing, if exhausting, meditations.

And then the ET angel Ohom of the Orion star system asks me to get out of bed and walk to the window of my Sedona area room here in Cottonwood at a cozy B&B called the Desert Rose. It’s time for some confirmation my meditations are real Ohom kids me, knowing I still harbor some doubts. I throw open the little bedroom window. I laugh at what the water wand dropped here from the Atlantic. It is raining in the desert. The first morning rain in my six month stay. Rain soon to visit California.

Enjoy my meditation video about healing fire with the amazing singer/actor Lynda Valliche. It worked here in Arizona, it will work for California.

WINNING A GREEK GOLDEN GLOBE

On August 18, 2013October 10, 2019 By Ken SheetzIn Conscious Media Reviews, DreamShield, The Shift, UncategorizedLeave a comment

“O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!

To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!”

– William Shakespeare, “Midsummer Nights Dream”

By Ken Sheetz

Sunday morning meditation 8.18.13. Sedona Arizona area.

I lay tucked in bed in my cozy room at the Desert Rose B&B, up for the day and doing my daily morning meditation. I have no idea I am about to have the biggest vision since the launch of DreamShield in 2010 when I saw 7 foot tall blue skinned ET angels.

I feel called off world and I astral project myself from the resort in Sedona and quickly rocket into space. In no time at all I am past the moon. I will myself to greater speed. Faster than I have ever traveled before in meditation or dreams, I break all laws of physics. I zip past galaxies faster than any human has ever traveled, an impossible one billion times the speed of light.

I come to stop and hover outside the universe(s). It’s a gorgeous vast tangle of galaxies, resembling the human brain’s trillions of neurons, majestically spread before me to infinity.

Now the galaxies shift into a pattern of symbols. A mega “download”. — A somewhat annoying New Age slang term for compressed wisdom transmitted from the spirit world of the ETs. One day we’ll have a better word than the robotic sounding download for these amazing transmissions of so much loving knowledge that takes up so little human drive space in our brains.

What I witness in this epic download is a mixture of Reiki symbols and new alien symbols never seen before by human eyes. I make a mental note to use hypnosis to recall them at a later date. Recording them using the pen and paper on my nightstand would end the vision before I could copy down more than a few of the 77 dazzling symbols made of trillions of galaxies floating before me.

All for later to recall this and share it. Or perhaps not at all as this may be a simple relay job for me. Much of my vision work is like that. Another reason not to disturb the vision by jotting down the amazing symbols formed of all the galaxies. I see now, like our Gaia, galaxies are living creatures. The galaxies have flown into these patterns, like a flock of birds, for me to see this message that will transform me and our world in ways we cannot even imagine. For now, laying peacefully in my bed, at my Sedona base of operations for DreamShield meditations and the incredible day job of filming THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, this cosmic majesty is more than enough.

TRAIN IN THE RAIN

I reflect on the night before, where I took the stars of the new hit web series with over 25 million views, Patrick Flanagan and his wife Stephanie, as my guests on the Verde Valley train ride. It rains the whole train trip, from heavy to light. I tell the amazing couple I am sorry for the rain blocking out the stars and moon. But as long-time residents of the desert, both are happy for the rain.

While the rain and rocks of the Verde river fly the windows, Patrick is lost in his virtual lab. An inner sanctuary where he perfects his inventions before bringing them out to share in this world. Stephanie and he have a passionate relationship I have been lucky to catch on film. Neither pulls any punches debating the Shift and their roles in it. And a little wine and champagne sets off another of their brush fire talks.

As always, I am amazed these two can argue so heatedly like this and be hugging and kissing five minutes later. It’s something I would enjoy to a smaller degree in my next relationship. They purge and a process oceans of male and female energies like nothing I have ever witnessed.

A big part of the train ride is spent coaching Stephanie on dealing with the criticisms of friends and strangers about her part in THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS. These superb videos have been her first direct public exposure before the camera. I teach her that many people have hidden agendas and petty jealousies when they make comments. Extreme caution must be taken when listening to feedback. Truly honest and tasteful feedback people are a rare commodity.

Frankly, when Patrick told me he wanted to share the spotlight his wife Stephanie, who had never been on camera before, I was against it. But I listen to genius, one of my exceptions, and so I filmed Steph. I was blown away with her deep knowledge of the ancient Mayan calendar and how its’ still very much alive. I’ve learned from her the Mayan calendar didn’t really end on 12.21.12 like we all thought. Kind of embarrassing for a guy basing his whole life preparing for that date for three years. Click here to see Stephanie’s brilliant interview on the new Vimeo channel I am building for Patrick.

Patrick wants to stay in the first-class indoor car to keep working on his new invention. He literally creates electrical diagrams in his mind first before placing pencil to paper. Stephanie ‘s disappointed her husband is lost in thought and I escort her out of the train car into the rain. We have the outdoor viewing car mostly to ourselves, except for a worried old tour guide from the east coast who frets about us slipping on the wet deck. Stephanie and I grab a spot out of the direct rain under the awnings, normally meant for shade from the hot Arizona sun.

Here in the freshest damp air I’ve ever breathed, I teach Stephanie a bit about the Hollywood School of Hard Knocks skills on how to listen, sift what may be useful from viewer comments and move on. This hard-won skill took me years to develop. So I advise Steph to be patient with herself as she grows a thicker skin for her vital work as a new web celeb.

As the train winds through the rain-soaked desert, the smell of wet sage fills my lungs. It’s then I realize helping Stephanie overcome this negativity and other negativity that bombards her sensitive soul, is one of the reasons I’ve been brought here to Sedona.

DreamShield is uniquely positive in its mission. Wildly positive in the face of epic negativity. All will be well in the end no matter how bad things may look is its simple yet potent message of hope. I see in Stephanie’s face a lifting of the veil of the negative forces keeping her down. My heart soars as we sip our champagnes while the rain-soaked train steams past ancient Hopi ruins carved in the rock mountains.

The rain lets up and I coax Patrick to take a break, from inventing god only knows what, to venture out of the luxury train car onto the open air platforms where all the majesty of the desert surrounds us. Light rain pelts me and I now get why the dynamic couple are happy about the rain. Patrick rejoins his wife of eighteen years with hugs and kisses. No residue of their little argument remains.

Patrick, who has been in the public eye since the 1960s when LIFE MAGAZINE featured him as one of the top ten scientists to watch in the world, reinforces what I am teaching Stephanie about ignoring and filtering harsh comments of strangers and loved ones. I realize this new stress of being exposed on the web is Stephanie’s the source of physical pain in her leg that she complained of as our train pulled out of Clarkdale.

With her permission and Pat’s support, I give Steph a train ride Reiki treatment. I picture a globe of water energy soothing her cramped leg and send all tension down into the train tracks to be crushed. Soon as I finish the healing, Stephanie hops from the bench and starts dancing on the train car deck as PEACE TRAIN plays on the PA. I say to Patrick, “Wow. My best Reiki healing ever.” I only do these healings for friends, even though I constantly get heat from my Reiki teacher Dorothy Donahue in LA to hang up a shingle.

Patrick looks worried Stephanie is hopping around on the hurt leg so soon on the slippery wet train deck. I simply shrug in amazement.

As the train ride nears its end, we pass through an old slag heap from when this scenic train line used to carry copper, not sight-seers. The train track cuts through the heart of the slag heap. And the old train conductor explains, with his thick east coast accent, that the slag is has just been bought by a mining company to sift gold, silver and other raw minerals from it. Bought for 1.5 million dollars. Not bad for an old slag heap from 1911 when this train line was first built.

I hold forth my hand at the slag heap as the trains passes through the carved channel. I will the slag heap to send a healing surge into all aboard this train, pulled by an eagle painted engine car. A sign for yours truly who has an eagle pattern as a natural tattoo in his head from seeing angels in Italy. I see the sparkles of gold float into all of us. Another download.

WINNING A GOLDEN GLOBE

Back to the next morning meditation where I travel beyond the universe: The moist desert air from the train ride with Pat and Steph has done me good. I woke rested from my best sleep so far in Sedona. Usually, the dry desert air and my sinuses issue are a serious problem I battle here in Sedona all night long. Guess I am adapted to a lifetime the humid climates of Lake Michigan and the Pacific.

I record the epic sight of the universe(s) condensed to code with a mental snapshot to review later in hypnosis. I turn from the strange new symbols formed from galaxies to find myself standing at the front entrance of a small shop. I look up at the sign and it says “Golden Age Curiosities”.

A shop bell chimes as I enter the magical little store. The golden light of the shop is something you can feel as well as see.

A young goddess with sandy red hair looks up from her golden cash register. “Welcome to our little shop at the end of the universes. What reality can I help with you, Mr Sheetz?” she says gesturing to golden shelves filled with various realities held suspended in crystal globes.

“Cool,” I say, “I’m looking for something peaceful for Earth but not boring.”

“We don’t do boring, ” says the goddess shopkeeper, taking me by the arm. She guides me a few paces from her counter to browse new realities contained in beautiful globes lining her store’s golden shelves.

“May I suggest our Grecian Reboot model?” the goddess says with a dazzling smile. “Perfect thing for worlds like yours that need major overhaul.”

I am a power shopper in real life and I know when I’ve found the right thing, so I say, “Sold! What’s your name, miss?”

The graceful goddess lifts the Grecian Reboot globe from the shelf as she says, “Helena.”

“Wow. As in Helena of Troy?” I wonder.

“Just Helena,” she giggles, casually boxing my purchase of new reality for earth. Just another day’s work for this goddess.

Pardon my brief detour from recounting the meditation vision of Helena’s store. But as I write this I blog I just researched on Google, our modern Oracle, and I see why Helena giggles at me here in the re-telling of the epic vision. #1 it’s Helen of Troy. #2 Helena is a daughter of Zeus. Some references cite Helena, not as daughter but as a consort to Zeus. Yahoo says Helena was not a goddess of any particular thing. Not anymore.

I also just found the Shakespeare quote top of the blog, all found post-vision and note how amazing it is that it’s from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” here during midsummer in Sedona! All these clues are meant to show me and you, dear reader, to take these vision as real on another plane of reality. This globe of change is real that sweet Helena has gifted us.

I peer into the Grecian Reboot globe and see the Parthenon of Greece, restored to full glory, operating in energetic lockstep with a mock Parthenon in Nashville. A fit to all my recent visions of a Greece that never fell. A lost timeline of a Golden Age that never ended that we are rejoining .

“Will this really do the trick for my messed up world, Helena?”

“We guarantee all our new realities, Mr. Sheetz.” Helena says with a smile that fills my heart with golden light.

The dazzling vision of Helena’s shop fades. I lay contented in bed at the resort in meditation a while longer, awaiting more wonders. Then I realize I am being greedy. How the heck do you top a meditation about a golden globe given to you by the goddess Helena at the end of the universe for rebooting your home planet?

Eat your heart out, Hollywood. No wonder I don’t bother with TV or movies much anymore. Why with the wonders that lie within… free and easy to access? Just a little good breathing, some concentration and, zoom, your off the stars!

I chuckle at my old Matrix greed that lingers and hop from bed a freer man. Time for a bike ride in the desert and then coffee to blog about this while all is fresh in my mind.

Here’s my video about rain in the desert from 2005.