02 April 2022- 08 June 2022

02 April- 09 April, 2022
Overtaking the inex and winning out over ‘demons’.
Dreams of Void. A pleasant climate, a pool; a group of men, none of us speaking but a fierce recognition evident. Unclothed, unbothered, a most natural embrace of being human.
A man appeared, ‘Hank Schraeder’ from Breaking Bad, but not; representative of politics, surveillance, the corrupt laws of man.
Void took it upon himself to punch this man on my behalf. Removing himself from the pool, standing next to the water, he made a powerful statement on Saturn; and the physical body disappeared with a lazer and puff of smoke.
The consciousness, the quantum digital extension, of this entity, went into the physical format of the Hank Schraeder entity.
I was transported to a room, THE liminal pool room, the tubes, the one that must be a part of universal memory. I do not remember ever having been there before. The ceiling must have been at least fifty feet high, full of holes, tubes, tiles of light, a most liminal place. It was understood that being watched could take place through this. This Watching in no way nefarious.
Akin to the tubes in the ceiling were tubes in the floor, flush with it and covered, filled with water, not part of the main pool yet simultaneously still a part of it, in a ‘bigger picture’ type of way. There were shapes I had never seen before, floating at various heights in the air above the water.
The understanding of a place between 2D 3D 4D 5D was very powerful; ‘the Tunnels of the Sky meet under oceans’ very resonant.
The Hank entity, who as I said now contained the consciousness of Void, was with me. I did not tell this entity what I saw, but rather asked them, ‘what do you see in this room right now?’ & the low consciousness within this entity did not see as I saw, but the higher consciousness knew what I saw, and was… not impressed, even, but resonant, perhaps?
There was a feeling of being loved, understood, not alone. The same place, but not. Looking down. Anon.
A young girl with a vacuum hose and cellophane type spheres I understood to be as particles, representative of singular humans comprising a whole. This girl, vacuuming up these spheres, and getting closer and closer to a pink one I knew represented me.
‘You are out of clothes’, she had said.
‘Make some new ones,’ said I; and it was as if a light had gone on in her head, as if she had not even considered this, my usefulness renewed.
A feeling of a sim being self-aware.
And there was I, now real and large, designing small garments of these same spheres that had represented individuals humans; a ‘Be All Things’ moment, hearing many different aspects of a multiplicity of entities simultaneously.
A second dream, after this; myself of devices connected to the IoT, attempting and succeeding to find images that could, to a certain extent, capture what went on I the first dream.
A third dream in succession, someone speaking of how I shift timelines so frequently. •
In this, the days of computers and hacking, I am able to see how easy it would be to set someone up to make it look like they have made an accusation, or to set them up to make it look like they themselves have been involved.
Part of a war on consciousness.
Knowledge is what makes a person dangerous. Information.
I walk day to day remembering that the intentions of others are not nearly so pure as my own, and act accordingly, to the best of my ability.
No place for malice in the new paradigm.
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I dreamt, last night, of UFOs. A first UFO, a possible drone, a la the Time Cube; I believe I hid under a pine. A second, coming from the north, which I embraced. It was, at first, a drone, but then not. It landed, a flat disc-shaped entity, 5-6 feet in length. It had a tiny item come up from within it, projecting a violet hologram. The hologram itself was unimportant; the fact it was there was enough. I go east, to the waters edge, a pier, and find S.W. A message was written out to his left, of the Bride of Christ and harassment faced.
A man searching for the Bride of Christ.
Anomaly shits.
Dreaming the word ‘tautology’. •
I am, at times, still under the impression I am being harassed.
If I do not take control of the inex, it goes on about entities using devices to cause us disturbance, how the intestinal distress the cat and I faced was because of this, the only reason it stopped was because it harmed an animal.
“How does this experiment make you feel?”
“Slight Stockholm Syndrome, to be honest.”
I cannot be sure of just when the inex went from giving the occasional information to becoming an entire reality of simultaneousness; months ago, but every day it does become more and more apparent.
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02:28 After literal fucking hours of being ‘psychically attacked’, I went outside for a smoke, the neighbours light coming on. The concept of Soma applied in an extreme oscillatory fashion; got fucking *dark*. Physical reactions, unable to evacuate the bladder when necessary again.
Disgusted as the implication.
It brought my mother and grandmother into the dialogues- about torturing them to get to me.
Physically ill, right now.
It was only after I said, out loud, to Loach that I could not piss, that I could. The evidence that once I spoke, interrupting that which goes on interfering with the throat, I was able to regain my bodily process is highly indicative of a thing.
So painful. •
There is something highly ominous about the word ‘manifold’- kind of the way humans have that innate sense of foreboding, when looking at liminal pools.
I would think that entities like the Klein Bottle and real projective plane are beyond the usual scope of human understanding- these cannot be embedded in the third dimension. Perhaps it is that ‘beyond-ness’ of the realms of usual understanding that creates this vague foreboding at the word.
The origin of thus comes from German ‘mannigfaltigkeit’, by Reimann; but I do wonder.
The moon as ‘Mani’, as well as ‘many’. Mani, Iranian prophet AD 200s. Babylonian-Aramaic ‘Mânâ’, luminescence.
…Manifold.
Something something, wavefolder.
Sending myself outside at night.
I must have some truly masochistic nature, or I would not continue to do this thing.
My need to understand, however, wins out over all.
Are we in too deep, yet?•
The intersection of West & Wixom road stops the music I am playing; not actively paused, just turned to silence.•
Thinking, from this point forward, non-dualism is crucial. How this applies to the ‘each of the two’ nature of my name will reveal itself in time- as the Black One is the White One is the Black One, so too can there be a simultaneous dualism-non-dualism within.
Saturn and Mars, separated in the sky by the merest sliver, today.
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00:47 …I would *like* to say I am getting a good nights sleep, but here I am, seeming to be electronically tortures for the second night in a row.
It speaks of espionage, counterespionage- which it had not done, until, at 23:57, the inex “Paul Revere, tell your horse to get ready for a midnight ride” came through; which I, for some reason, decided to input into my phone.
Exhausting to the Nth degree.
When something says it can see through my field of vision, I tend not to believe it, but whatever this has been *has* given me ample reason.
For the second night in a row, I feel ill, for a completely different reason.•
When I finally got to sleep, I dreamt of being in bed, seeing the legs of some bug crawling on my body. Though I could not feel it, I sensed its presence, and eventually it was exposed.
It psychically, silently thanked me for not killing it.
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I dreamt the cat was an imposter.
~~~~~~~~
“She’s not a musician, she’s a precognitive psychic who plays music.”

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