I’ve been wanting to write about the trip out West, but kept putting it off. Every time I thought of the police, the gangstalkers (paid mobs?), the condition of California…..it depressed me, so I put it off.
But here I is, another Friday night counting cobwebs (no date), and I thought, wth, I’ll blog about the trip.
I left here not in the best ways and quite frankly, when I crossed the state line coming back, I half-expected police to be waiting for me at the state line and was surprised when they weren’t there. Nor in this city. Hmmm….
…but never fear, I’ve spotted a black hawk helicopter overhead twice now and one day, when the helicopter was directly overhead, a drone was flying towards the house at the same time! I kid you not. Surreal.
So I went to the Tower in Wyoming when I left here. I stayed in the campground. I had hoped that the gangstalkers would leave me alone…and if you read this and this, you are aware that it only escalated. And if you missed my other post, the woman following me around the Tower was Dick Cheney’s daughter Mary. She thought it was a joke to stalk me and even laughed and waved at me when I turned around and stared at her. Hard to pray when you’re being harassed like that.
So I stayed in the campground, which brought back so many memories of being a kid at camp. There were huge cottonwood trees all throughout the park. You were sheltered from the white radiation passing as the sun these days. The Belle Fourche (Bell Foosh, meaning Beautiful Fork in French) River was nearby. I could tell where the river, in its glory days, once had a stream near the campers. I could imagine before the chicken littles took over that kids were playing in the streams, jumping off of tree limbs overhanging the water…
It also had spring water that I loved. I always say the prayer I was taught by the grandmothers at Standing Rock: We thank you, water; we bless you, water. Very important to give thanks for precious water.
So I went up to the Tower twice a day – in the morning and in the afternoon or evening, depending on when the urge hit. I even went *gasp* off trail!! ::clutches pearls:: And saw other places near the Tower. It was wonderful to be able to pray and connect without constant harassment.
Tell me, who would harass someone praying?? WHO would want to prevent or interrupt someone praying to the Creator? Um, satan?
I was also followed around by the forest rangers. They are now armed, folks, and I mistakenly thought they were sheriff deputies when I saw them, armed, walking through the campground the day after I arrived. Yep. They did this three nights in a row. Again, I ask, what the hell are they being told that they feel so threatened by this unarmed 57-year-old grandmother?
One of them stopped me when I *gasp* went off trail to tell me that I was blocking a fire road (no, I wasn’t, the truck was pulled ahead of the drive), but I didn’t argue. I started to tell him about the harassment and then stopped myself. As far as I have seen, you can’t trust law enforcement to…enforce the law. I did talk to him later, and he went through the motions of being concerned, gave me paperwork to fill out, but something was telling me not to turn it in, so I didn’t.
But, on the bright side, I did have phenomenal connection there at the Tower. Beautiful, beautiful. She made my heart soar! And she IS an ancient tree, despite what the so-called scientists say. More on that later.
So I’d been at the campground for about four days, and something woke me up at 2 a.m. I sat up in the truck, looked outside, and I see red lasers coming from two far off trees!! I was urged to get the hell out of there at first break of light. My instincts have been spot on, so I did exactly that, even though I had one more day reserved in that spot.
I then went to Wounded Knee to reconnect. There’s now a young Lakota man guarding the sacred place. Things are so bad now that people who are coming to pay their respects are being harassed, so he volunteered to guard the place.
We talked for awhile, and he mentioned that there are still many deceased not accounted for, and their remains were scattered throughout the area.
I know this will sound incredible, unbelievable even, but I have been gifted with the ability to pick up on where remains are.
I’m serious. I would not joke about something so serious.
Since the young man mentioned he wanted to find the missing, I told him of my abilities and offered to help. I had already picked up on one deceased while walking up towards the mass burial site. I told him of a family – a man, a woman, and a baby in between them. They appeared to have been shot running up the hill, away from the creek. I also found what appeared to be another mass burial site, but on a much smaller scale, from what I could pick up on.
Yet another area that was practically yelling at me to point it out to him was an area encircled by plants. I couldn’t really determine what was underneath, only that it was significant.
So, at first he seemed interested until his parents showed up. They apparently thought I was a nutjob. Soon afterwards, he started saying that Bigfoot had been seen down by the creek. Did I believe in Bigfoot? I said I didn’t know if Bigfoot existed, but I thought that he should be left alone.
Then he secretly calls the police on his cell.
I would not have even told him what I was picking up on, but he asked, so I told him what I knew. And he calls the police….
So yeah, I don’t know who to turn to anymore. It would seem both white and Native think I’m ridiculous and a little nuts. No. I only started experiencing this recently in the last decade, so no, I’m not nuts, just been gifted by God, and He doesn’t exactly give you an instruction booklet. It’s as if God says, “here you go, have fun figuring it out.”
Okay, so after that depressing experience, I went back to the Tower, with determination to stay a week, regardless. I had to be there. The harassment continued, but I did stay the entire time.
I next went to the Cheyenne Reservation, because the Cheyenne had been the most friendly. At least two of them knew of me and knew that I’m legit.
But the same thing — I stayed for awhile but it was clear that a white lady was not welcome to stay longer than a week.
The truck had suffered an issue with the brakes so I was stuck in a small town in Wyoming. I mean I could not go anywhere because the brakes were barely stopping the vehicle. The owner of the repair shop was very kind, however, and allowed me to stay in his campground until I could find some way to pay for the brakes ($300+) !
This is when things got really dark. I had no way to pay for them. I knew that the moment I got a job the gangstalking sh*t would start all over again where I would lose the job through no fault of my own…things were looking real bleak…
…I seriously just wanted to disappear into the woods never to be heard from again.
They told me someone was hiring so I applied and it looked like my luck had finally changed. She wanted me to stay through the winter, even though it was a seasonal tourist town. I really liked this town, and fooled myself again that I had found people who recognized what was happening and would stand up to it, but that was not to be. The crap started all over again. I cannot get a break from these a**holes. Not only do they continue the gossip from place to place, sending their Nazi SS to spread the gossip, pretending to forewarn people of how dangerous a person I am, but they are actually sending the gangstalkers into the place of employment.
They have made it impossible for me to keep a job, if I am lucky enough to get hired.
So, let’s recap: They interfered with my getting housing here in Indiana; they kept my legal tax refund; they interfered with my phone: a person I was buying something from could not reach me — they were told the phone was a scam number; or they were told the number didn’t exist; and of course, being gangstalked after posting about the pentagram put up in a public park. Blogged here on all of this.
I did manage to keep the job long enough to get the truck repaired. And then I got hired again at the Biker Rally at Sturgis. It saved me because after it happened yet again, I was not in a good state of mind.
And let me preface this with my thoughts on Biker dudes. They’re a mixed bag, just like the rest of society. Some of them are quite spiritual and am amazed at the depth because I had been raised to believe they were all bad people. Nope. I’ve seen big husky biker dudes get weepy because their grandbaby has been hospitalized. They party hard, but they are enjoying life — they are LIVING, and embracing life — not the walking dead who tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death. (Not my words, but boy, I wish I had thought of them).
I mentioned that I met one in particular, an elder who spoke from his heart. I was going to write an entire blog on our conversation, but checked myself. In my enthusiasm, I forgot the bikers don’t like to be so open as I am.
On the flip side, there are some bad dudes. There were gangstalkers who got jobs just so they could harass me, and there was a couple biker dudes who had the freemason symbol tattooed on an arm and made sure I saw it and another tattoo on his head; a skinhead that was looking at a black dude like he wanted to start something. I can’t even imagine what the black dude was thinking at that moment.
But generally, I enjoyed the rally. They are good hearted folks.
So after Rally was over (too soon), I headed to California. I had my Dad’s ashes with me, with the intention of spreading his ashes on the mountain at the Sequoia National Park. My Dad had been raised in California, and we visited there every other year when I was growing up. We leased a plane with two other families, and my Dad was a pilot so we flew there in the Piper Cherokee plane. I absolutely loved flying, but barfed every single time we took off. 🙂
So when my Dad was dying of cancer, one of the last conversations we had he asked me if I wanted to go see the Big Forest. I thought he was loopy from the pain meds, so I played along and said “yeah!” He said he’d get the plane out and we’d go tomorrow. I lost it at that point and had to cut the visit short.
So here I was, taking him back home. To the exact spot where we and my favorite aunt, uncle, and cousins had visited some forty years before…I know Dad was happy. Made me happy, too.
I was a bit shocked, even knowing about the California wildfires, at how much California had changed since the last time I had been there.
After the incident in Utah, I drove across Nevada on Route 50. Wow, what a trip that was! You drive for miles in the desert, in 95 degree heat, no water at any of the parks! None! Then you would suddenly come up on a mountain, drive up to these beautiful heights of incredible scenery. Then more desert.
So when I saw a way to get to Interstate 80, I took it! Entering California, I was awestruck. The big, beautiful fir trees in northern California are absolutely stunning. Just gorgeous greenery all around you while up in the mountains.
Unfortunately, Interstate 80 has become the equivalent to the German autobahn, where everyone drives like maniacs at speeds of 80 mph in heavy traffic. I am not exaggerating. Even people from CA called them maniacs! They were darting in and out of traffic, honking at people they consider too slow, even though they were driving 55 mph. ahem. And I was driving a truck with the Purple Heart on the license plate….Interstate 80 is a Purple Heart highway! So much for showing respect. I really wanted to get out and just admire the beauty around me, but California has signs up all over not to park even though there were looong stretches of wide parking areas that could easily accommodate cars pulled over. I was sad that I wouldn’t be able to stop and truly admire and breathe in the mountain air. It was truly incredible.
So I plugged along. Got lost, naturally. I mean, it wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t get lost at least once during a trip. 🙂
I was depressed at how different CA looked from forty years ago. It was not the lush green land I remember all those visits. The palm trees are not green on top, but this sickening brown. They droop.
They have no grass to speak of.
And as I mentioned before, every time I passed a sign noting a river, I would look down, and there would be no water!! Where are they getting their water?? It was alarming. It’s clear they have been targeted by controlled weather modification with the fires and drought.
I eventually made it down to the Sequoias. With no extra money besides gas and food money, I had to find out of the way places to park for the night. Not easy to do because the Nazis have made homelessness a crime, so anyone who is driving around with crap in the car is automatically deemed homeless and suspicious and up to no good.
So the next morning, I head out to the National Park, and am nervous because of just have a bit of money left for gas and food. I had bought a season pass for the Tower and hoped that I could get in to the Sequoias. Nope. I had to either buy a day’s pass or a pass that allowed me into any national park. I didn’t have extra money, so I turned away, to go think things through. I had driven all this way, not expecting that I would use all of the $400 in gas, but the gas prices were so high compared with everywhere else. In comparison, it only cost me about $150 or so to drive from Indiana to Wyoming. So I thought it would be perhaps $250 to get to CA.
But I couldn’t leave there without taking my Dad’s ashes to rest on the mountain. So I purchased the all-park pass.
No regrets about that — it was a joyous moment to take Dad home again. I’m just tired of always being out of money and things costing so much more whenever I go to purchase something.
So, if you read the last link, you know about yet another Indian reservation asking me to leave even though I was not on reservation land, was not bothering anyone, didn’t ask anyone for money nor did I make the mistake of telling them where their ancestors were….
When I saw the gun behind the Indian police man’s back, I got the hell out of there. The only good thing he did was direct me to a gas station just outside of town. But in a cutting remark, he says “even if you run out of gas, you can just coast down there, it’s all downhill from here…” unreal. (I told them that I didn’t want to drive too much because I was about out of gas.)
I drove in there at night, not knowing if I would be met with hostility or kindness or indifference. Thankfully, I was met with kindness. I explained the situation to them, and asked if it was okay for me to hang out until I got my paycheck. Yes, they said, as long as I was not obvious.
Not only that, but they made sure that I had something to eat every day. It was a godsend because I had used some of my gas/food money to take Dad’s ashes to the mountain, so I would have no food for three days. I thought I could deal with it because I have kept up with fasting once a week for 24 hours, but apparently my blood sugar had dropped quite a bit and my hands were shaking when he brought dinner out to me. I was so grateful.
I offered to sweep floors or mop or clean the bathroom to pay for my food, but they refused. So I gave them a couple rolls of toilet paper for allowing me to use the restroom. They tried to refuse that, too, but I insisted.
They also fed stray dogs that came around and several hungry folks that lived around there. They restored my faith in the world. Very few people are kind nowadays. I think I fell in love for the first time there.
One of the stray dogs appeared to have been abused. She was extremely jumpy. If you raised your hand to feed her some food, she would duck as if you were going to hit her. It was clear that she had been around someone who beat her. But she seemed to trust me, and the day before I left, she finally came close enough to allow me to pet her. And then she came and laid down next to the truck. I was elated. She trusted me. It appeared she had been nursing a pup, so I was happy that she was being taken care of. And I knew that after I left, they would continue to take care of her.
So I got my check after what seemed like an eternity. Oh, by the way, the sheriff cars were coming by every half hour to hour, too. Yep, it never stops.
I headed back to Indiana. Stopped to see the Petrified Forest in Arizona. There aren’t many of the trees around, but the ones there are magnificent. Now, it’s not a forest as in green trees in huge bunches, but an ancient remnant of a once lush forest. The trees have fallen down and the most beautiful colors developed in their trunks.
Apparently, the trees absorbed salt and minerals to create these tree trunks full of color.
And they’re stones now. Which kind of flies in the face of denying the Tower in Wyoming is an ancient tree. Because then they would have to explain why she was cut down. And who did it. Hmmm….
While on my way out of Arizona, I had the treat of a taco prepared by a Navajo (Dine) abuela (grandma). Best taco ever.
The rest was pretty uneventful until reaching Indiana.
I thought on the way back which part was my favorite?
I would have to answer “ALL of it”.