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A tapping, delicately, on my back. I am sitting up on
a table, feeling gentle taps on my back, watching a series of images; myriad tables receding into infinity, like
two mirrors facing each other.
Farmers milking cows; on each table, a person is sitting up and examined by a small, slim, white, intent, fragile,
large eyed creature. Their fingers probe lightly, gently, purposely, like playing a piano.
They are milking Chakras or Kundalini nerve centers, seven along each person's spine. Their touches stimulate hidden
DNA sequences as well as retrieve and store data and information along the length of the spinal chord, along a
library of nerves.
Like ants milking aphids they spend careful time and effort, gently, delicately, fingering each spine in a long
sequence of tables, like marionettes playing human harpsichords.
These manipulations of spinal nerves initiate secret, as yet unbidden DNA sequences, which dangerously age and
disease and trouble the somatic body and mind of an abductee. After an incident my finger and toe nails have to
be trimmed twice every day; early sequences causes acceleration of aging and growth of certain cells. There are
horrible psychic and emotional results from activation of these spinal sequences too quickly as well. Interdimensional
leaking occurs; one senses other wordly creatures and flirts with the beast of madness, itself.
What is subtly being programmed, stored and retrieved In our spinal chords? We are Manchurian candidates of stellar
proportions.
Interdimensionl bleeding through into our dimension? Pranks predominate. Objects disappear to return days later
in strange places. I entered the back of the house, passed by enormous four foot wide, four foot tall flower pots,
each weighing as much as a man, blooming red with tropical ten foot tall canna plants.
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