How many layers of lies are there?

Have you ever wondered how many layers of lies your reality is based on?

I bet that question gave you a start. I can't give you a number because I have no idea what role you play but I can tell you that answer is staggering.

I am a psychic. I have a led a life most people would not believe if they saw the movie and one thing I can tell you today is, nothing is as it seems and I do not have all the answers.

I remember sitting at a private bar in another psychic's house for a Halloween Party. You have to remember I am 30 some years younger, red hair so long I can sit on it, thin and perfectly Celtic. I am not drinking but it looks like I have a drink. A man sidles up to me and I know I am in for another pick up line. His was a bit unique as he announced he was a CIA agent. Well then, I said skeptically, what are you doing with this crowd. For some reason, no one ever thinks I am the crowd. I guess I look too normal to be psychic. “We keep close tabs on them,” was the answer. I just wasn't sufficiently impressed and if I must say so myself, I do bored very well. By two drinks later, he had managed to get the band to play “Black Magic Woman” for me and was still climbing uphill on the impress her mountain. I had found out who he came with to the party which was a shock in itself. In the last ditch effort to impress me, he leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you every scientific invention we release is at least 10 years old?” I leaned back to him and said, “More like 20 if I remember correctly.” He jumped back so fast he knocked the bar stool over and almost shouted, “Who are you?” My answer was simple, “One of them,” and I gathered up my husband and we left.

The next morning my psychic friend called and said I was not going to believe what happened. Apparently she didn't understand the weirdness of my life. It seems they found the gentleman's car who brought the “CIA” agent in the driveway and searched the house trying to find him with no luck. The mystery was where he and the agent went without a car. Then she started hearing some banging in the kitchen and finally her husband determined it was coming from under the kitchen sink along with some whimpering. They opened the cabinet to find the man who brought the agent under the sink. This was not a big cabinet and they had to pry him out of it. It was several minutes before he could even sit up and he had no recollection of how he got in the cabinet. The last thing he remembered was the “agent” giving him a drink. Oddly, he couldn't remember the guy's name or where he met him and he had no idea why he had brought him to the party. No one ever figured out how the “agent” got away from there unless he had another person waiting for him or another plant at the party. Within three weeks, there would at least as many attempts on my life, one on my friend who threw the party and surprisingly, one on the leader of the band's wife who had played “Black Magic Woman” for him. There were only four people this “agent” came into contact with at the party including the man who brought him and he began keeping a low profile by which I mean, you had to dig him up if you wanted to find him. Three of them now had narrowly escaped death, until one of them arranged to have the so-called assassin beat half to death. It wasn't me.

So why am I telling you this? It is because of a dream or rather my ability to meet people in another dimension. In this dream I met Bernie and the person I really am asked him if he wanted her(me) to take some the stress away. He jumped back and whispered, “Don't touch me,” frantically. Now people do not normally react that way to her(me) so we simply stepped back and told him we would not do anything to or for him he did not want. He was looking at his wife desperately and she sort of nodded a yes to him. He looked at us and said, “Sorry, but no one is what they seem or say they are.” We answered that we were exactly what we said we were, no more nor less. If he wanted help with the stress, it was there for the asking and then we rattled off our credentials. He looked at us and said, “You are real?” We answered yes and asked again as he climbed an all too familiar set of white stairs if he wanted help. He looked back at us, completely beaten and said he didn't think anyone could help to which I replied it was his choice and watched him walk away, hunched over. When I woke, I knew he gotten the razzle/dazzle as I have come to call it from the usual suspects. I know those stairs and know what is in that building and no “normal” muggle is prepared for it.

I was 15, in advanced science courses and looking at a promising career. My father had his own business and was doing very well in the air craft parts resell business. Let me explain that. Air craft parts have what is called a tolerance level. That means they have to be x microns thick on the special coating. The military removes and tosses these parts at y level but the part is commercially viable to x level. So if you have some psychic ability, you can attend auctions where the military sells barrels and huge wooden boxes of aircraft parts and make a nice living but you have to be able to tell which box has junk and which has real parts without opening them. Now that is a pretty good trick for a non-psychic but I once managed to find entire aircraft engine in one, completely assembled and in perfect working order. So, he would take the barrels back to his warehouse, test the parts, clean them up and sell them to airlines at a nice discount for them and a profit for him. You just discovered where some of that Defense Budget disappears. The military throws out perfectly good merchandise and if you know how to buy it, you can make a lot of money.

But sometimes a part cracks. My father had tried several methods of welding the parts but the welded area was always too weak and too visible to sell. That was the number one cause of waste. One day he was approached by two young men who had a brand new method of welding using cutting edge technology called a laser.

So, after school, Dad picked me up and off we went to a very modern building in west Hialeah on what would be considered the fringes of civilization. These young men were trying to find a use for this new technology. This wasn't the first time my father had been roped into one of these schemes but he was a slow learner. I was a very quiet young lady. I sort of blended into the wallpaper or military gray wall in this case and I would sit at the desk and do my homework while I watched everything that was going on in the room. I had learned these young men had this entire building. It was on stilts, with the parking under it and two stories. It required the entire output of a substation when they turned on the vacuum pumps that took the welding chamber down to at least -4 atmospheres. The station across the street had complained about the brown outs hurting their pumps. That is one heck of a vacuum and the pumps took up the entire first floor. The chamber was around an 18 inch perfect cube with lead walls close to one foot thick to keep it from collapsing in on itself. It was a nice military gray. The laser was inside the chamber, controlled from the outside with a joy stick like what you found on the original Nintendo. That toy would not exist for at least 15 years. The part had to be 100% grease free, which took a lot of cleaning. Then wearing white cotton gloves, it was placed in the chamber and “welded” after the chamber was evacuated of all air. That process took several hours so I had a lot of time to observe and look really cute and dumb. Soon, they had to impress me with their prowess so I was invited to watch the process. What I saw was a white light that produced three little balls of light or molted metal that filled in the crack in the part while dancing around in what seemed to be a random pattern. Now the part couldn't be removed because the chamber had to be brought back to normal atmospheric pressure and air mixture very slowly or there was a possibility of an explosion or so we were told. Hence, my father would pick up the part the next morning and lo and behold, no matter what test he ran, there was NO trace of the weld. Aircraft parts have individual part numbers that ID each one in addition to the regular part number and my father even marked the part in a location inaccessible without the right tool and there was no doubt we were getting the same part back.

However, I was in advanced science classes but my specialty was mathematics. Most of the guys were headed for careers in physics and I confided in one of my acquaintances what I had seen. I knew something was off but I didn't know what. The next day he caught me in the stairwell and opened a book for me to read the page. We knew we watched so we had learned stealth as only teens can. That was when I discovered the only lasers in existence were RUBY lasers which emit a red light. At best the so called laser I saw might be blue, but it sure looked white.

I quickly told my father what I had discovered and he happened to offhandedly ask at the next “welding” session what kind of laser this was because it didn't use red light. It was a neon gas laser which I am pretty sure was actually a bunch of hot air. We had to wait until Monday, since this was Friday to get the part back. On Monday we returned to get the part and the building was abandoned. When I say abandoned, I mean everything except the desk I sat at was gone and everything was covered in dust like no one had been in the building for months. It was unlocked and the graffiti was already on the first floor. My father was like a deer caught in headlights. Had we imaged the entire month? However, he had trained me well and way back next to wall under the desk was a wad of bright pink chewing gum I had used to mark the desk. We had been there before.

On Sunday, we had an emergency at the Ft. Lauderdale airport so we had to take the Palmetto Expressway to connect to I-95. The building was visible from the Palmetto as it sat on its very own cleared block next to the road that ran parallel to the expressway. I was looking for the building for no reason when I realized it was GONE. There was no way to turn around as the clover leaf from several dimensions of Hades was in front of us but as soon as we could get away, we headed back to that building.

Here comes the razzle/dazzle. There was nothing there. I mean it was a vacant lot complete with weeds sticking up through the sand like they had been there for years. There wasn't a brick, stick of wood or tire track. So we pulled into the gas station in the little strip mall that faced the lot. We were assured that lot had been vacant for the six months the man had run the station and oddly, all the other tenants had just moved in that week. We couldn't start knocking on the doors of residences whose backyards faced the little strip mall without raising too much attention so we walked over examined the lot. Keep in mind the parking area under the building was concrete and the building was held up by concrete covered steel girders. There was NOTHING left. They even planted the proper weeds, sawgrass and sticker burrs. Those things are very hard to transplant. I can't even imagine how this was done unless the entire building didn't actually exist in this dimension. The phone number never existed. My father charmed a gal at the phone company as only an Irishman can, into finding out. Remember, everything was landlines back then. There were no burner phones. Even a quiet probe into the FBI data base by a sympathetic agent brought back no information. These two men did not exist.

So dear ones, how many layers of lies is your reality based upon? Do you even have a clue? Imagine a poor old man taken to one their “facilities”, placed in a nice comfy chair and on a nice 3D screen shown the future if he doesn't tow the line properly. Everything is so beyond current state of the art, it has to be real! In reality, it is smoke and mirrors. Oh, the probability might be there but what they aren't saying is exactly where on the line of probabilities this possible future falls. It is pretty easy with all this “tech” to even convince you they are gods or at least in contact with ONE god. They can even “beam” directly into your ears alone the message from god. Look it up, the tech exists. They can scare the Hell out of you if you let them. Or, you can accept it is all a game and at some point you will play your part whether you know it or not and spend the rest of your existence thinking there has to be something more because you have a vague memory there was as you get pulled out from under the kitchen sink by two very confused people still in their night clothes. You might even start drinking for real or when the nice man puts his arm around your shoulders and flashes that million dollar smile at you and assures you this is all for the good of humanity, and you, you very special person, you are on board, right? You could flash an equally bright smile and say very quietly, “I plan to destroy you,” and walk away.

It will be at that point your life and most everyone around you's lives, will turn to shit but this is just one level of the game and that three level chess game on Star Trek may have been more real than the world you live in. Check, Check and Mate. You know who you were.