Ready, Aim, Imagine

Summary: Effect of the zero point energy field on guns; how belief governs whether outside force has affect and how this relates to being shot at or shooting another in the higher dimension where dream experience resides; reference about an underground movement; questions about the nature of the soul.

Night of March 26/27^th 2013

I’ve been contemplating much on the gun control issues being pressed lately after Obama’s State of Union speech. Galactic channels (Beth Trutwin, Suzanne Lie, Galactic free press) explain our higher dimensional neighbors/relatives will be setting up a force field around Earth that will prevent weapons from being fired to herald in a new peace for our planet. I’m writing a fictional representation of how the public galactic announcements and landings will affect the state of affairs on the Earth and how humanity will respond to the disclosure of truths. In writing this, I was exploring how people will respond to the permanent ceasefire between our peoples. It is a confusing technology to grasp. Will the use of blunt weapons still be possible? Does the field disable based on the intention of the user? Would a slingshot still work? When this field is set in place, how aware will humans already be to its effects? 

What’s key to the changes that will come is the flooding of energy into our physical dimension that will raise us to a fifth dimension where mere imagination manifests as the reality (technically already how our current matrix works, but with primary creationary control being out of fear and doubt). The laws of physics will fundamentally change. So how do chemical reactions change? Do guns not fire in imagination? In all my dreams, looking back, guns never reacted the same as how they do in the physical reality. There’s a click, there’s a perception of it being fired, there is intent to harm or protect or defend or kill, but the result is based on belief, not on reaction to a physical bullet hitting a body. I am drawn to this puzzle. It must hold a clue I have yet to understand. 

In last night’s dream, guns were set as the focus. Trapped in a hotel room with two access doorways, a few girl friends and I are engaged in battle. We are hiding in this room, trying to keep the doors closed as two – four male gunmen try to push their way through, firing at the doors. The feeling of my group is that of timidity and fear. Why are we not fighting back? We have an automatic, why is Kate not using it? Our philosophy is to not use violent firing weaponry. We are armed with knives or some small instruments. We try to invoke them to set us free with our firm words. They are getting through, stray bullets are catching us. I am hit in the arm. 

I ask why she is not using the gun? She is fumbling with it. I take it and swing the door open to stare the gunmen in the face. We are firing at full yield, like five rounds a second directly at one another.

As we stand there shooting, I am made aware of his expression. A strong empathy is exuding from me without my effort, as though unconsciously I am recognizing the pain in his face. He is a broken man, emotionally pained, confused, lost, acting out with aggression against the want to shrivel into a fetal position and cry. I do not know what has caused him to be this way. 

Some time has passed where we are just shooting each other at point blank. Why are we not both dead? Why are we not reacting? Why are the bullets not penetrating? I see and hear the firings, but don’t register impact on either of us. Just as I feel panic that with how much he has shot at me I should be getting hit, I feel a hit in my left side, then again in my neck. But then he is also down. We fended them off, which I am glad for, but feel disappointed that it ended this way for him. 

Next scene, I was guided by a male leader to an underground clinic. Looked like a back alley makeshift clinic. Very dark and unsanitary. But we were a resistance group that had to conduct our affairs in secret locations. It felt like the entire world was in a war. Felt like we lived in occupied Poland during WWII. If anyone loyal to the empire got wind that we were members of an underground plot to remove the dark forces from power, we would compromise not only our lives but potentially set back the plot itself by revealing strategic bases. 

I had to wait in the lobby because so many people were needing operations and healing. I am holding the fleshy, swollen wounds at my lower abdomen and right side of my neck. Strangely, little blood is flowing out, if any. I observe the wounds and feel relieved that somehow I had halted the bleeding, which meant I bought myself time while waiting for a doctor. But I knew my wounds were fatal. I pressed my male guide to help me get into see his doctor friend sooner. I barged into the back. A metal table is dimly lit with blood splattered across it. The doctor was just finishing and hadn’t cleaned up yet. It looked like a horror film. Who was this sketchy doctor? 

I explain it has been a miracle I have managed to wait this long. My guide explains what happened, that I bravely confronted a gunman; I was some sort of hero, but I felt my time was waning. My vision started to fade. I said he’d better get started, because I reached the extent to which I could wait, before blacking out toward the table/bed. 

I awoke with bandages, not feeling any physically different, but feeling mentally healed. It must have all been in my mind, the expectations based on the physical reality determined my reactions and occurrences in the fifth dimensional reality of imagination. 

Arrive at a safe house during daylight. A broken down house, but safe. Friends are there. I am welcomed with hugs and questions about what happened. My guide speaks with praises on my behalf. I am told of other shootings that have occurred. I am greatly concerned, disregarding all praises and questions to inquire about who all was involved. Anadelle, a Spanish guy my girlfriend just broke up with was shot in the stomach. I am gravely nervous for him, demanding details, asking where he was and if we had word of his condition. He shows up in good health without any indication he had been injured. I run out to meet him and embrace him. [Funny since I always felt this guy was not good for my friend. He was being dishonest with her. I didn’t connect with him much other than the fact that despite his deceit, he was a compassionate and loving person who lied to try and protect her. Not cool, but on a deeper soul level maybe I respected his willingness to love.]  I said to him I thought for sure he was dead. He said little, just observing my reactions.

Ben, an old crush from middle school came in after Anadelle, whom I greeted with an equal relief to see him okay. [I have not thought about Ben much in years, and certainly not how I reacted to him]. I held him longer than Anadelle. I felt closer to him. One of our group members in the house came up to us and asked if I missed him like romantically missed him. To her amusement, I wrapped my legs around one of his to suggest her assessment was correct, but really I was just indulging her. I did not have romantic intentions with him, but I did enjoy his presence and was glad to see him okay. He performed some kind of delivery or document task for the group, like sensitive mail service, or publicity. 

Further analysis - What was this all about? I read on Suzanne Lie’s site http://suzanneliephd.blogspot.com/ that humans believe in the concept of kill and be killed, which is nonexistent in the higher dimensions. You only ‘die’ if you believe you die. It’s about what you absorb. The strongest personality in these higher dimensions is one who has almost arrogant confidence, strong faith and ability to shift any obstacle into their favor. They do affect the physical bodies we use though. Is the missing link that with the influx of new energy from our higher dimension relatives, we are bringing /evolving our physical bodies, the human type vessels, into compatability with the higher dimensions. Would other souls then have the right to borrow the vessels? The souls of human beings have been building a vessel series (human bodies) with which to experience the universe in a different way. Our mission has been to help ascend the Earth that fell into the lower dimension. Was it deliberately fallen by our side as a nursery for the new human series? Or was it forced down by the dark forces? 

In one dream, my soul was pulled out of my body by my lover’s kiss, but my perspective remained in my body. Was that one expression of my soul? How many layers of the soul are there? What does each layer mean or represent?