I am not free yet to discuss what I saw and who I met after this light speed journey but it's a whole lot more surprising than our wildest guesses of what the future holds. Though my mind was tattered and the return journey to what you might call sanity, I had risked all in the pursuit, but my journey had been successful. I have seen what is to come, I know what must be done. Travel back found me in several time zones, some pleasent but most hideous. Worst I can recall was a day glo space shifting box room where, back in my body but not fully reintegrated, my legs would grow, long and angular, left may stretch to seventy o eighty metres whilst my right leg simultaneously reduced to action man like prportions. My other limbs similarly shifted in size and length for waht seemed like days. To make matters worse the room I was in was on the edge of a landfill site in America where television, day glo sextoys, fake fur and other oil made products, constantly impinged. The walls of the room would elongate then shrink forming lozenges, parallelograms, triangles, rendering the room U negotiable. My body, in its grow/ shrink rapidity was frequently cramped and caught and though I tried to escape all I could do was fall over. Even if escape had been attained I would have been in landfill future America. It's basically all the products of rubbish as far as the eye can see, broken hovers in bright plastic tones, fake rubber, a fly tipped world entirely devoid of plant or animal. Just a landfill site of all those electrical goods you are buying. Though history will make the term white goods seem some minimalist joke as colour and form of every possibility will be tried out on new designs. Ultimately all break and end up over there. Awful, I tell you.
Once reintegrated with my body and able to walk I took to the streets of frome, sadly it was a frome of medieval Christian superstition. Being shaman I was clearly, in the mobs perception anyway, a witch. Over hill and field, down street and alley they chased me and Dook whose help was invaluable. Under sacrament one easily sees he is not entirely of this dimension. His breeding is something of a mystery and yes, he is part husky, part Alsatian but part unicorn or elf. I use these terms but only as I don't know his true animal but it is of that ilk. A magical beast who understands me under sacrament fare better than when fully in this dimension. His resplendence of shimmering fractal lights, the tiny ever shifting coloured lights that surround shamen are far more multitudinous. A shimmering swarm of psychedelic pattern without whom I would without question have been lynched or burnt alive by the baying mob.
Steering me away to find dark corners, crows in vast number would seek us out shouting 'Skree, Skree' or 'Dook'. Each time our position was revealed to the baying mob of locals, many armed with pitch forks, polls, hoes and other more vicious farm tools, scythes and sickles. Yet, with DOOKS help I managed to escape their hatred and murderous intentions. From hereon I should have known to leave frome. Though now in modern times the same mindless group hatred, presumably how the Grey were back then, still lingers. I've never since trusted a Froman fully. The mere set of time slips could see them witch hunting again.
I have made reference before to Jesus and Catholics indoctrinated from birth have suggested messianic self perceptions are the precursor to purgatory. Firstly, I am not suggesting I am any kind of messiah. If ones aim is to save mankind clearly one can see where they can form such misguided ideas. Secondly their religion is so badly broken and mutilated their God has no interest in the hierarchical structure of paedophiles they became. Even now he's not going to forgive you for be spoiling his name with crimes so evil catholisism, certainly in its organised form, became more of a luciferean bastard cult. Satanic not godly. And, thirdly and most importantly, Jesus was not the messiah, ask the jews. Yes, he was a very powerful shaman, yes I agree with virtually everything he said, but he was working in opposition to hierarchies. His message was one of poverty and perceived retchednes. He told you he wasn't the son of any God. He told you not to think money or material posessions were a good way. He told you not to be a cunt to others unless you wished to be treated as a cunt. He flew high to the wind, became a bit of a loud mouth and the Grey did for him. But there are literally thousands of us, generation after generation who take up the mantle. We are mere men, as Jesus was, often woodworkers but it's conceivable a checkout girl could be shamanic. As you hear your beans, eggs etc pinging across her laser board she could easily enclosed in a myriad of tiny lights. Jesus was a man. We are all equal. Some, many, most choose the Grey. Be it the drudgery the, the inability to conceive of a better world or just selfish laze, but most stop drawing by five years old, stop tripping ( if they even started) by 18. Fully Grey by their mid twenties. Yet, each generation has small numbers who say NO. There is more to this. More colour, more love, more beauty, and they seek this out. They seek to spread it. For sure, often they are persecuted, most live in poverty like Jesus, but once committed to the new glory, the new wonder, be it through jesses underworld or any other means, usually psychedelics are necessary at least at points. We are not special, just see the sumptuous beauty, the resplendent colour of life. So, no more of this messianic none sense. Keep such clap trap for your broken churches that can't even transmit prayer properly anymore. Go to the woods, go to the sea, go to the fields, but keep your hierarchical assumptions to yourselves. And stop calling me a junky as I am not one.
Yes, return from my three week vision nearly killed me. I took various soothing substances to salve the ensuing psychosis I endured. But to travel that far you go in knowing permanent damage is possible. But the information gleaned, the lifeforms I spoke with, it was orthwhile. So, consequently I was addicted to opiates and benzos. But I doubt anyone could have done this any other way. And I saw no one else ready for the journey. So I took it on. The retreat for shamanic recovery is a doddle compared to what I risked. So less of the insults.
Jesse's Commin'.
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