posted on May, 5 2018 @ 04:29 AM
Hospital Ships: Flying Discs; UFO's; Alien Spaceships ...
I remember it well. I was driving a fabulous Thunderbird that I'd stolen from a downtown Vancouver rental agency, one night. Plus, I had a
pocketful of cash that I'd burgled earlier from one of those swank, hi-rise hotels. Where all the rich people stay.
And I was off to Calgary. Why Calgary? Why not? Weren't there hotels in Calgary? In fact, weren't there hotels everywhere? Then
money's no object, so let's go. Need a car? Take it. What kind of car? It'll be a surprise, like a gleaming present from daddy on Christmas
And so it was that in the wee hours of a clear Rocky Mountain night, my loyal, hot T-Bird and I were soaring downhill towards the last
stretch of flatland 401 (Canada's Trans-Continental highway) before hittin' the very, very pleasing City of Calgary.
Except I hit something before that.
Or so I thought.
"What the hell?" Did I just run over a moose head, or something?
It sounded---and felt---like a moose head. MOOse head!
It's pretty typical, in such supernatural events, like fatal car accidents: Assuming things which are totally outlandish. The mind 'covers' the
real event with some sort of vivid distraction ---- in this case, the kooky notion that I'd run over a disembodied mooses's head with huge, 12-point
antlers, of all things.
I still think I hit an over-antlered moose's head (which I cannot recall seeing lying on the road, by the way). To this day...though there was no
blood (I stopped the car to look, but I saw nothing unusual)...I'm absolutely certain that the car hit and got hung up bad enough to stop me...on a
bloody mooses head.
But anyway, there was no damage of any kind, so I merely jumped back in and resumed driving.
Whereas ... Whereas in fact, I had just 'died' in what must've been one helluva highway car accident.
Am I making any sense to you? Some people just can't compute this kind of stuff. The stolen Thunderbird that I'd hopped back into was now a phantom
And I had become a phantom, too.
Had there been witnesses, they would've pulled over to try and rescue any survivors from the shattered wreckage. But I---(because I was
supernaturally removed from the tragedy)---I merely would've driven on, oblivious. As I did. Nobody'd be able to see me anymore, but I'd still be
able to see them. I'd still see everything...in my temporary new duplicate world where no one except me really exists, that is.
Are you understanding any of this? I didn't understand it, back then.
No, I knew none of this back then. But the Light has told me, since. Back then, I was all booze, smokes, coffee, lights and action. But what I find
remarkable now, looking back, is how EXACTLY LIKE ME that I felt, even though I was technically dead. It was amazing: No difference, whatsoever.
And if you've ever wondered how long it takes to 'reincarnate', or return to The Land Of The Living after you die (depending on your
circumstances), read on.
It was dark, when I'd hefted that steel tire rim and hurled it through the plate glass window, back at that Vancouver car rental storefront. The sun
could not've been down long, though, when I popped through that jagged glass hole to get those fabulous T-Bird keys. The point is, however, that I'd
already been up and awake for awhile, by that time. And no doubt I had then driven all night, to get to the other side of the Rockies so fast.
I would've been pretty tired, wouldn't I have been? And exhausted after all that criminal adrenaline, to boot, back in The Big Top (my pet name for
So... If I crashed and 'died' in the Rockies, I must have fallen asleep at the wheel. And back then I needed to do at least 70 MPH on the highway at
all times. And so falling asleep behind the wheel at that speed would certainly've been fatal.
So there's me, all dead and stuff after a fatal accident I never noticed... Streakin' down the 401 and not giving the moose head incident a second
thought. When all of a sudden: "What the-!" A little light, off to my left. "God damage!" Tracking me. Maybe a mile away and tracking me. It was
below the horizon-line that the distant tall hills made; I could see it against the hills, so I knew it wasn't a star. "Oh no!" Oh, no, I thought:
Oh, great, aw jeez, UFO's! I was terrified of them because this wasn't my first contact with the little buggers. I hated and feared them above any
other threat I knew.
Well? I didn't know nuthin, back then. Of course I was scared. Still am, a bit. Even though I know now who I am. Nearer and nearer the dreaded
light came --- pacing me perfectly. "Dirtbags!" I panicked and floored the hot 'Bird, reaching speeds well over 100, justa bawlin' anna haulin',
until I spotted one of those scenic view mini-parks ahead. There was a camper parked there. And a streetlamp, or two, too. So I hit the brakes,
turned in and fish-tailed to a smoking stop about twenty feet from the serene, peaceful camper.
I saw the UFO---it was a huge lit up craft, now---just cresting the 15-foot hill on the other side of the highway. My eyes were so affected by the
light and horror and wildness of the situation that the craft (through my eyes) seemed to be jiggling like a brilliant night target dancing and
shaking through the windshield of an F-20 Raptor attacking at top speed. The tourist(s) inside were obviously asleep---the whole camper was
dark---but I ran up to the camper door and pounded away, terror-stricken, anyway. "Ughny- Ya, ya," I heard the guy inside moan, waking up to the
unholy commotion, outside.
And the next thing I knew... All was abruptly still, peaceful and silent. Whoa.
And whereas I had just a second ago been fiercely pounding, scared shiftless, on this poor camper's aluminum door, I was now standing---stalk still
and calm as a department store mannequin---about ten feet away from that very same RV. Still facing the door, yes. But ten unbelievable feet away.
I was awed that I wasn't even thinking in panic-mode, anymore. Like I'd just been.
I was merely standing there, like W.C. Fields confused without his cigar.
Then I thought, Aw crap of all craps, they took me on board. The little ba***rds had got me. Abducted and pluckted! It was obvious. What the hay
was I doing, just standing here, like this? After all that mad-azz activity?
Skeptics analyzing my account will agree that I was sleep-deprived, and that everything apart from the UFO had really happened, as a result of sleep
deprivation. Even the moose head part - merely just the first warning sign of an overtaxed mind conjuring up a non-existent crisis. In hopes that
I'd pull over and sleep, already.
Fair enough. The skeptical POV is the most plausible, here.
Except that the Light of the light of all Creation confirms everything I've just told you.
Which means a lot to you, doesn't it? Well, She Wisdom is our Creator (we are One). It should mean a lot to you.
They are Hospital Ships. Deus ex machina. (Cont'd...)