I used to hypnotize people.
Take others deep into their past lives, and more. Many would come to my home to have me do this, in car loads. Part of the allure was because I was fairly good at it. Another was because I never charged a penny for my time.
What I learned during each hypnosis was payment enough. I love history, architecture, archeology, sociology.
I love learning about people. Hearing of real moments from lives long ago, moments that otherwise would be lost in time, was more than fulfilling. Memories of little moments would be shared with me from long lost life times. Attitudes that were common back then that have since been forgotten in history. Foods that were eaten, how special events were celebrated, how good times were shared and serious problems responded to.
I learned so much. Even beyond memories of past lives. I learned where we go when our bodies go to sleep. Who comes to visit us while we are asleep. Who is around us all of the time. And, is the physical universe within our immediate vicinity all there is.
Quite often “beings” would converse with me, through the person who was hypnotized. Spirit guides, their loves ones who were not incarnate during this life time, even a child who was about to be born while inside their hypnotized pregnant mother.
One such “being” that came to chat with me one night was an alien.
This alien was nice. Very civil and polite. Even had “a job”. A job that actually involved all of us.
Their “job” was to listen to us. Not just what we talk about, but also our thoughts.
Our thoughts, apparently, broadcast. They are easily listened to. Even recorded – by those who have vastly superior capabilities technologically, mentally – in nearly every way, over us.
This one described their self as having a type of “office”. A setting that floated just outside our atmosphere. Invisible to our technology, unseen by our radar. But this alien, and others that are similar, are always close by. Listening to everything. This particular fellow did not listen to each and every one of us. Even that, I suppose, was too large a task for one little alien.
Many others who worked with this alien shared this responsibility, so that everyone of us on this planet is being listened to by some being all of the time. With all of our thoughts recorded.
This alien was friendly enough. Even chatty. I guess because I was “broadcasting” that evening via an open person who was “under”, and they had little to do at the moment, perhaps on their fifteen minute coffee break, they decided to “drop in”.
I got the sense, an impression, like this alien was sitting alone in some cubicle in space, similar in concept to our offices down here on earth. Somewhere just up above us, doing their job all day. Or maybe their’s was the night shift.
Years ago, while working in New York for a major media and film company, I designed a film set to serve as a background for a prominent news analyst to offer a filmed discussion. Searching to find the right set pieces I visited an office on Fifth Avenue somewhere in the forties. I took the elevator up to an older looking floor that was filled with office cubicles. There I sat with a pleasant man. But I could tell that he was lonely, sitting all day in his little cubicle.
He had a phone, a computer, some catalogues, and a framed photograph of his adult daughter. I inquired about his daughter, just to be friendly. He smiled and perked up when he spoke about her. But then a sadness came over him. He was forlorn, because his daughter had moved to a coastal town in Alaska and had cut off all communication with him. He no longer heard from his only daughter.
His story was even more significant to me because I recognized the name of that Alaskan town. This was during the epoch of when Reverend Moon was prominent.
The town in Alaska where his daughter had moved to and had cut off all communication with her father was well publicized as being a setting where disciples of Reverend Moon, otherwise known as “Moonies”, had taken over the fishing industry.
I knew, hearing this man’s story, that he would not be hearing from his daughter again. Looking at his life, his solitary setting in this tiny little cubicle in this older office on this forgotten floor in this older building in New York on Fifth Avenue close to 44th Street, abandoned by his daughter, all I felt from him was loneliness. In his life he had nothing but his job. Which was not much more than his modest little cubicle.
The alien that I was speaking with this evening, although quite friendly, and even chatty, reminded me of that man I once met in New York, all alone in a solitary workspace.
This alien spoke with me for quite some time. Explaining their daily responsibilities to me of recording all of the thoughts of certain segments of our human population.
I had read prior to this of the Akashic Records. A permanent recording of all human thought and emotion.
It’s just that, when I read of it, it never occurred to me that the recording devices used for the encoded Akashic compendium was being manned, and then stored in vast warehouses in our atmosphere, by aliens.
It gave new definition to the phrase, “Stored in the clouds”, or, “iCloud”.
Before saying goodbye, this alien described many of the alien cultures that were interacting with our world. How they had been involved with our planet for a very long time.
Many, I was assured, were friendly. But some were not. I was then informed of the names of those we must be careful about.
This alien said goodbye. I brought the person who was hypnotized in front of me back to full alertness. And have wondered, ever since, just how free are we, all of us who live on this planet? Are we making our own decisions? Determining our own destinies? Are we, really, free?
In conclusion, let me just say “Hi!” to my little alien friend, who is up there somewhere in the sky, tirelessly working at their job. Watching us.