PRAYER FOR PROTECTION, LINING UP THE SOULS, AND A HINT OF AUDIO

I get the feeling right off that there are people waiting, several of them, and that it’s going to be a pile of people, and I wouldn’t know what to do with that. It has not much if anything to do with anything great or even good I myself can do,- because I can completely make them out,- or hear what any say that much. Maybe, writing this, come to think of it, - I can ask to see more beyond their faces, - like what is in the background if anything is there. Is it different every time? Is there a background. Would it be a real background or one just for some mise-en-scene, for aesthetic reasons? I don’t know yet or know that I will know. 

 

Well, I stop the whole thing right there, for two reasons, or to do two things first:

1) I pray to Jesus Christ, and God, and Arch Angel Michael, - for the protection. That is paramount.

2) I say to the others, - One at a time, - not one iota different than you would if you were running a carnival ride at a fairgrounds and people were looking to enter a front gate, - or giving away coupons at a table in a grocery store and there was a bit of a crowd if not commotion with p-people trying to get through to you.

Black lady with ‘bulbous eye’. This time talking, not so much talking, but telepathic communication, but it’s no big deal- she is saying,- look at my eye,- can you believe it?- it’s so malformed, so bulging,- and she is upset about it. She is sitting down it seems, - thinking about it. Other than that, - there is nothing wrong, - like blood, or something. I tell her to go up to the train station, the light.

There are others. A man who is brown skinned, and looks like perhaps somewhere from the South, but I don’t know where. Maybe a lot like the people of DR. He is nice enough, but there is no big connection with him. He is about thirty. I tell him to go, and he goes. He was wearing a cap, had straight hair, and there are regular colors to his clothing, - blue jeans, white shirt, like that.

Then thirdly, - there is an interesting man. Not for what he looks like but for what he seems to do then. He is forties, I guess, maybe older,- white, a bit wrinkled,- plain looking, nice,- like someone who works in the rural parts of a county,- and knows the areas,  and is happy with them. He is showing me through quick flashes a sort of picture of himself as a kid of about ten, maybe twelve even, - in similar clothes, and in the outdoors, - or rather outside, - and he is saying, telepathically, - that he made it, that it was an accomplishment to live and thrive in his own way, - to get the job and style, (whatever it was), that he felt fit him. I agree wholeheartedly but don’t see the point here right away, though I should, - for it’s a tiny bit of an, if not afterlife review, - then quick afterlife footnote or snapshot. But it’s not the time for that with me, - but who am I to say? So he goes, - good, - and that’s it.

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