By Ray Wilson
My missus tells me about a young mother she knows.
“That young mum is being coerced; her baby-born premature is almost a year old now, and they want to stick four injections into the poor little mite—two in each leg—we are dealing with monsters.” She is exasperated. “If only more people could see these psychopaths for what they are!”
They are monsters, and they need exposure.
New preventative vaccines are being pushed, so the alarm bells should be ringing and the warning beacons flashing. Did anyone notice the massive adverse effects of the COVID shots, including death? No? Of course, it wasn’t discussed on TV, radio, or in the newspapers. Andrew Bridgen tried to get Parliament to at least recognise the enormity of the damage being caused to the population, including exponential increases in stillbirths and child deaths. So now leading children’s doctors are urging the government to introduce a “game-changer” vaccine for respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) to prevent hospital admissions and alleviate NHS winter pressure. The Joint Committee on Vaccination and Immunisation advised ministers to proceed.
We have parked the combination in the Needle Makers carpark—once a place for surgical needle makers—and want to get under cover after the torrential downpour en route.
The flea market is busy, and the hound likes nosing around the niches. Old fire tongs and wrought iron fire guards, above an old set of traffic lights flickers changing in sequence red-amber-green, reminding me of lockdown shopping, with a clockwork phonograph perched precariously beside it on the shelf. We rarely visit a supermarket now.
“I wonder what dear Mr. Pulce has today?” My missus rummages through crates of ancient records.
Glass cabinets, some tarnished jewellery, others with surgical equipment from the 1850s—a neonatal resuscitation unit still in its original box. Weird and wonderful items—an electric guitar and vintage garage signs—line the walls of the market with a fanciful display of various bicycles—tandems—trikes—french dutch—all dangling like facinators by chains from the ceiling. The atmosphere is a delightful mix of nostalgia and curiosity as customers browse through the eclectic collection. The hound’s tail wags excitedly as he sniffs at a display of vintage toys, hoping to find a hidden treasure. A cabinet contains military medals and US military intelligence insignia. I am fascinated by the night vision goggles looking right back out at me.
My mind flashes back to the late 1960s, when my dad talked about the Vietnam War and the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which had the grubby fingerprints of government orchestration all over it. There were stories from returning soldiers about heavily drinking and using marijuana and amphetamines. These stories painted an indelible and vivid picture of the chaotic and challenging times that soldiers faced during the Vietnam War. There was a story that stuck in my mind about a military officer involved in groundbreaking experiments aimed at introducing night vision goggles to helicopter pilots and gunnery personnel using the red spectrum.
The experiment resulted in unexpected consequences. The red pixelated display created unsettling effects on the users, leading to self-destructive behaviour among some military units. The distorted images perceived through the red goggles triggered a series of incidents, with gunners firing wildly at perceived threats, ultimately disrupting the harmony of military operations.
What unfolded during these experiments went beyond technological glitches. The users reported encountering surreal creatures—flying demons with wings and claws. These apparitions, visible only through the red goggles, instilled fear and paranoia among the military personnel. The red spectrum seemed to provide a gateway to an unseen dimension, blurring the lines between reality and the ethereal. The goggles were quickly withdrawn from service; the replacements operated on a different wavelength. The incident was attributed to substance abuse and was forgotten. I am deep in thought on autopilot as we leave the busting flea market.
“Thinking about your New Year’s resolution?” My missus nudges me: “I am starting new things, not stopping old ones.”
“Still thinking about it—see you at the same time, same place,” I reply.
The hound and I are headed to the water meadows, and the missus is meeting up with her friends.
Auric lenses to detect psychopaths, I wonder? That would be something. I trudge through sodden fields, a phalanx of birds overhead. Luckily, the hound knows the way.
I light the fire as soon as we are home and do a bit of research while the missus makes the tea.
Walter John Kilner, a medical electrician and electrotherapist, served at St. Thomas Hospital in London from 1879–1893 and later in private practice in Ladbroke Grove.
Kilner experimented with a dark blue chemical dye called ‘dicyanin’ in the 1920s, which enabled him to detect a person’s aura. Dicyanin is no longer for sale to the general public. Even with the special security code, government chemists were refused access to dicyanin dye, although the code permitted them to acquire substances such as LSD or heroin.
Dicyanin dye is a one-of-a-kind chemical with “special” qualities, allowing anyone to peer through a window into the Astral World. Because it has a higher security rating than heroin, it might be used to demonstrate the presence of another plane of reality and expose lies and deceit, and that knowledge must be hidden from the masses.
“Do you remember the film “They Live”?” I say to the missus as we sit by the fire.
“That’s the one with the sunglasses, isn’t it?” She replies.
“I didn’t know, but it’s based on the story ‘Eight O’Clock in the Morning’ by Ray Nelson, written in November 1963. I wonder how many of us will awaken all the way.”
“In the story, the fascinators are your ‘alien’ supposed friends, but the normies are not awake and don’t see them.”
How many of us will disconnect the TV? How many will disengage from the system? Or will they just obey the government? Will they do anything for the government or their agencies, without question?
“We don’t need glasses to see these monsters, do we?” She jabs the cauliflower with her fork.
The hound half opens an eye. She stretched out on her dog’s bed near the spluttering log fire.
“When I was ill and close to death, the beings of blue light surrounded me. I felt a protective calm envelope me; I wasn’t afraid,” my missus smiles. “Angels, maybe—I don’t know.”
“That nurse spoke to you at night—the one who saved you—did she see them?”
“I am not certain—she confided in me. Her friend, a nurse at another hospital, had recently committed suicide; she said that she was also reaching a point where she could no longer cope with what was happening—patients pummelled by ventilators had little chance of surviving.”
“The hospitals were forcing staff to restrict the use of oxygen and budesonide; although there was no shortage of end-of-life care drugs, there was plenty of midazolam and morphine.
The NHS ‘National Homicide Service’ had money available for that.”
My missus pauses and then continues softly. “I remember being told that the ratio between bright, dim, and dark auras in human activities is consistent, with a 60%–25%–15% ratio. When the woman visited a prison, she noticed at least half of the prisoners had bright auras. What does that tell you? She says auras are not visible to her in photographs.”
“I have only observed two strange events in my life,” I begin, “the strange synaesthesia I experienced—vision becoming discordant sounds—it happened at Vimy as well as when we toured the war graves on the Somme in 2018, and in 2021 that blue orb I saw just before you had recovered enough to leave the hospital.”
“And the hovering ball lightning in the 80’s; what about that?”
“We both saw that—we actually felt its energy as it passed by us—that was weird.” I say.
We know that this is a spiritual war waged on many levels, some outside of most people’s perception, and by virtue of this fact, it simply does not exist for them. If there are angels, there must be demons. Kilner Screens, containing an alcoholic solution of blue coal-tar dye known as ‘dicyanine A’, were used as filters in “Kilner Goggles,” which were worn in conjunction with lights to train the eyes to perceive electromagnetic radiation outside the normal visible light spectrum. After such training, one might do without the apparatus. Even with all our technology, we only have access to an infinitesimal speck of everything that is. We have all felt a seismic shift in our awareness over the last few years. For many, it’s simply all BS, and they just don’t see it; for many, it’s just an uneasy feeling that something isn’t quite right. For others, they have experienced events they would never have dreamt of, and many immutable certainties have been turned on their heads. This shift in awareness has led some to question the limitations of our current understanding and explore alternative ways of perceiving the world. It is a reminder that there is still so much more to discover and comprehend beyond what we currently know.
“So, there’s no time left; have you decided on your New Year’s resolution?” My missus finally asks.
“I will put on the goggles and look first in the mirror, then turn around and try my best to look the world—along with all that comes—squarely in the eye,” I say at last.
- A for Antivaxxer
- The Dream
- Buckle up friends … Chaos Incoming
- Vaccinated Children Have Far More Medical Conditions Than Unvaccinated Children
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