dreamwalkerdiaries.blogspot.com
By Dreamwalker
This was in 2004 or 2005 that I had this dream, a very different dream from anything else I’ve had.
I confirmed my spirit line with a friend. I recall it was her because of a woman she mentioned connected to Jesus, that was a part of her spirit line.
This list became part of an open letter to the “Illuminati”. The letter provided specific instructions to them to cease all operations; the lineage was something they recognized, no other lineage would suffice, except I had included several others they didn’t know about. They were to collect up and leave all property and funds, vehicles and bases to me, in care of humanity, and cease operations. They were also to provide all access codes and instructions to use those access codes, as well as instructions to disable any security measures. I did not tell them how to contact me since they already knew who I was. They had 30 days to comply. If they did so, they would be be forgiven the karma they had accumulated during their lifetime. If they refused, they would be given a penalty of four times the karma they had accumulated.
About a week or two from the date of the letter I received an address. I can’t remember where it was, but it led me to a place with marble walls, floors and ceilings, red carpet, black marble columns, white marble trim. Gilt framed paintings, high white arched ceilings. At the end of a hallway, an oval waiting room with a display case on one side of an oak door, on the other side a potted fern.
A tall muscular man was standing there, bald, wearing sunglasses. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything to me, but I was still terrified of him because I knew he was a killer, and had killed many times. In the display case was some of his handiwork, a severed head of a man who had gotten this far before me. It was a week old and hideous but fortunately didn’t smell. An impostor.
I was called into the inner chamber which was the same large oval shaped room. A desk was there with a man standing in front of it waiting for me. Two other bodyguards were there with him, and the man in the waiting room had come in behind me. The man standing in front if the desk was clearly the leader and told the bodyguards to leave, which they did.
This man had full black hair, a goatee, and was wearing a dark suit with a red shirt. Mid sixties. Several gold rings with rubies in them. He looked a bit like the actor Brent Spiner. He shook my hand warmly (I was still somewhat terrified). He said that he just wanted to meet the one who was bringing an end to all this, and wished me luck. He told me that a week from now I would receive a key in the mail with everything I needed. He said, don’t let me delay you further. I shook his hand again, thanked him, and left the room.
In a week as promised I received a key in an envelope with an address and some instructions, also plane tickets to somewhere in England.
I then found myself in a large old mansion with my family, and several other families were joining us to live in the mansion. The energy of these people were some of the people I know now, from the “lightworker” community. I think Steve Beckow might have joined us as well. Mike Quinsey, maybe. (In 2005 I knew none of these people; February of this year 2011 was when I started my “journey,” and it was only then that I became aware of these people.)
As they arrived I instructed them on the task that lay ahead. It was simply to re-distribute the wealth to areas of the world with the most need. Somalia, Palestine, Iraq, etc. Everything was accessible by computer from this mansion. So for several months we coordinated the distribution of these funds; it was an exercise in money management and responsibility on a large scale. In a way it was like the movie Brewster’s millions except it was trillions of dollars of wealth. I recall having to make several difficult decisions. All of us buckled down and selflessly carried out this task, we worked out of the mansion, kids still went to school. My mom and dad were both there, enjoyed the work, and were good about maintaining order and being there for me to lean on when I needed them. While there, they also enjoyed traveling around England.
Near the end of it, one of my colleagues betrayed me by accusing me of doing something I didn’t do. By that time most of the funds were gone anyways, but it really hurt because this was someone I respected. He wanted to teach me a lesson. The dream ended, but as I came out of the dream I knew that money would soon be phased out, so what we were doing was somewhat pointless from a money standpoint, but valuable as a lesson to learn for us both individually and as a group.
And that was the end of the dream.
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Notes:
Hard at Work in the Dream State on Selective Historical Memory By Steve Beckow
