Part One: The Cube
The events I am about to describe are memories that are recently being unlocked after much delving into three significant “dreams” I had over a period of three nights, when I was about nine years old. They have stayed with me in vivid detail since the morning I “woke up” from them.
I have tried many times over the past forty-plus years to understand whether they were just silly childhood dreams, or if there was a more significant event that took place. After much research and deep digging into my memories, I have come to the conclusion that, like many others, I am beginning to unlock the secret boxes of what I believe were real experiences over three possible timelines. I am coming to realize these were memories of events that took place which, in and of themselves, seem almost unbelievable. But, I can’t discount the vivid details that are flowing through my mind as these visions unfold, nor can I shake the feelings that fill me to my core.
This first memory began with the third dream I had when I was nine years old. The first two dreams were similar, in that they all involved me waking up and standing outside in my front yard and staring at what I thought was a spaceship. To briefly recap, the night/dream involved a ship that was the size of a small city, made of large, tower-shaped crystals of varying colors, each illuminating from the inside. I was mesmerized by the intensity and beauty of this craft, and I have found nothing that even compares to its grandeur since. The only image that comes close was the large alien craft at the end of the movie, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The ship in the image below still pales in comparison. If you were to flip this ship upside down and imagine it covered with hundreds of tower crystals in varying colors and sizes, you’d be getting warmer.
The second night, I dreamed I was returned home at about the same time at night, in the same place, standing in my front yard. This second ship was all white, about the size of a refrigerator. I have no other memories of this event (yet).
The third night was the same as the first two; I found myself standing outside my home at night, but this craft was much smaller, white, square, and had enough space for only me. If I had to guess what this particular craft was, I would say it was simply a shuttle. This is the event that is now unfolding from my previously blocked (wiped?) memories.
A little background before I get into this event – I am a Remote Viewer, and I explore parallel, past, present and future timelines, as well as any place on earth or throughout the Universe that I can imagine in my mind. This term, “remote viewer,” is very limiting in describing the scope of my abilities. I not only see events and places, but I hear people’s thoughts, feel their intentions and so much more. Too much, in fact, to explain in this post. So, I’ll keep it simple for the sake of space and time.
Upon my very first unlocked memory, I found myself in a small, white room, about 10 ft x 10 ft in size. It was square, with no light fixtures, no wall hangings, and no floor tile. It and the few items in the room were completely and plainly white with no other distinguishing features. The room was comfortably- but brightly-lit. I did not notice any sort of light source, such as a lamp or ceiling light, yet it was illuminated throughout. There were no shadows, and it was almost difficult to see even the corners of this room.
The walls, floor and furniture were all made of the same substance, which looked like a slightly shiny, white, plastic-type material. It was very smooth and cool to the touch. I was able to walk around in this space like it was my own home – the gravity was identical, as far as I could tell at the time.
As I looked around this small room, I found only two articles of furniture. Jutting out from the back wall, (adjacent to the entry door), was a white chair. The chair and the wall were all one piece, as if they were made from a mold. The back of this chair protruded about three inches from the wall, where it then dropped about 2-1/2 feet, and then seamlessly formed into the seat. The seat portion of this wall-chair reached to the floor at a comfortable distance to support my body and thigh length. My feet met the floor in a comfortable fashion.
The chair itself was intuitively designed. While it appeared to be made of a hard, plastic substance, once I sat upon it, it formed to fit my body and was quite comfortable. My back was supported so that I could sit slightly forward in order to reach a table, where much of my work would be done. There was no pressure on my skin or bones in this chair. The material felt like high-quality memory foam. Keep in mind, this was in the year 1969. Memory foam mattresses did not hit the general market until 1991. (I believe that our current memory foam mattresses are a product of reverse engineering of this substance, but don’t quote me.)
The table was flat at first sight. There was nothing unusual about it, except that the lack of shadows in the room prompted me to look beneath it to see if it was dark under there. It was not. It was just as illuminated as the rest of the room. I don’t know why, but I found this fascinating. I’ll circle back to this table later.
I felt that this room was my work space. I somehow knew that my job was that of a specialized form of intelligence-gathering, using psionics. Psionics is a blanket term for a group of disciplines which can include telepathy (reading thoughts), clairsentience (feeling or knowing), clairaudience (hearing), clairvoyance (seeing), energy manipulation, translocation (psychically traveling to other locations, also called astral travel), and remote viewing. Although I will argue that in my experience, astral travel and remote viewing are one in the same. These abilities were being used by me and others like me as an advanced and non-conventional means of spying.
The space was deliberately kept sterile of all distractions, so that nothing would influence my work as a psionics expert. There were no light fixtures, as mentioned above, no wall-hangings, light switches of any kind on the walls, no plugs, no ceiling fan – nothing. Even the floor was just as nondescript and sterile as the walls and ceiling.
Back to the table – this piece was intuitively designed; it felt sentient, as did the entire space. The user (in this case, me) would gather information on a target person, place or thing, while keeping the hands on the table. The table, like the chair, formed to comfortably fit the hands. As data, (images, feelings, smells, etc.) was received through the senses, the information was immediately received into the table which, itself, had a consciousness about it. I can’t with any certainty say that it was a conscious being, but it had the ability to receive the information I was gathering through my body and mind, and upload it from my hands into a program, which would be analyzed by intelligence experts at a later time.
For most of my work I did not need a computer. I was the computer, the information gatherer. Yet, there were occasions where I would need a computer and/or screen, which was visible at the beginning of my shifts, and appeared from (raised up from) the top of the table as needed. It was rectangular in width, about 1 inch thick, and had a milky white, glassy substance that could produce information both on the small screen, project images onto the wall in front of me, or create a 3D image in the air space in front of my desk, if I needed to examine something more closely. Again, all this information, all my findings and all my activity were being monitored and recorded by those in charge of my assignment.
My “work clothes” were also all white. I learned this as I found myself looking down at my feet, and I saw them covered with what looked like white surgical foot coverings/wraps. This surprised me, which is how I began to believe these were actual memories and not fantasies I was creating in my mind. The foot coverings were made from a thin, almost muslin material that had an expandable opening which could slide over my foot, covering it completely to the ankle. I was not wearing shoes in this room, but had on a pair of socks with this outer protective covering, presumably to reduce sound and to maintain the sensory-sterile environment.
My uniform, also white, was made from a heavier-weight fabric. It felt like cotton, but it was synthetic; soft, pliable, breathable, and temperature controlling. The fit was impeccable.
And, most surprisingly to me, as this first memory trickled in, I felt I was no longer sitting in front of my house, but far, far way. I felt that I was off-planet.
See Part 2 for more!