In early February, 1994 I moved to Vancouver from Toronto; it had always been my intention to do so. Chiefly, I did so because as an art collector, of Inuit and First Nations art, it was easy choice. Unlike Toronto, I could pay less for the same art and attend multiple pow wows in summertime. This exactly is what I did that first summer. Here, then is a suite of dreams had on Friday, February 25, 1994 whilst the Moon then transited Virgo. At the time as my West End apartment was being custom painted, I was staying at the home of Kenneth Baulk and Les Karpinski. The former was the heir of a string of southern Ontario local newspapers, whom I don’t believe ever worked a day in his charmed life – an extraordinarily beautiful human. Les, of course, by his surname was Polish nobility. He was the chief librarian at the University of British Columbia and was prominent in Vancouver choral societies. We loved going to the symphony and opera together.
Dream one. I saw a skier in a white suit; he was considerably tall and skeletal. Off to my right and across the street, there was a ski lift chair behind him. There was a manmade ski jump mountain behind him, as he stood there holding his skis in both hands. He wore a dark-visored helmet such that one could never directly see his eyes or face. Instinctively, I knew that one of the reasons for the disguising helmet was the fact that this man was not natively human.
He was a cool calculating individual. This man stood there, with a deadly gaze fixed on me. I knew, too, that his right ski was in fact, a marvellously camouflaged weapon. He was telepathically sizing me up. There was nothing that one could do to prevent him from entering the mind. Besides, it made more sense to be submissive rather than allow him to become impatient and possibly violent.
I kept on moving pretending, by response to his being there, that he was yet another human and not a threat. Nonetheless, with lightning speed, I instantaneously flashed a ray gun which I carried and shot him with three quick bolts of lightning-blue rays of light. Simultaneously, I made my body pure white light and left the scene thusly without him being able to retaliate. He was completely stunned. Tall and angular, he looked of Nordic stock. I knew, though, that beneath that helmet his face was not going to be the most human of faces.
“No thank you,” I thought, I had no desire to be manipulated or coerced so sought to defend myself – he did after all enter my mind uninvited.
Eagle Looking at Eagle Serigraph 1992 Robert Davidson 56/64
Dream two. I would then come across a very badly beaten up, forklift driver, of whom I was passingly acquainted in Toronto – he was a neighbour in the Beaches. He was outside of red double doors, which had glass panels in them. They led into an industrial plant that was fairly large, seemed more so like a car manufacturing plant, than anything else. Laying on the floor, he was quite badly beaten up. He was in a dazed stupor for having been so badly beaten up.
There were several broken bones in his face. Black-eyed and bruised, truth be told, he was quite a mess. He was ungainly trying to get up but was much too winded to have successfully managed it. Sheer survival demanded that he struggle his way to his feet. On getting to the door before him, I progressed inside, where I saw that there were lots of coat racks, some four feet across from the red double doors.
These racks, which were to the right of the entrance, had lots of dark, heavy-looking winter coats. On the left were lots of machinery – mostly computers. Several tracks were on the floor, in this very large place, where motorised carts could take processed goods from one place to another. To the left, and beyond the machinery, Nathan Milhaus, who is Black, came and stood there, barring my entrance any further.
Blocking me from progressing any further, his arms were outstretched. He told me that I was not to go any further and insisted that I go back. Taking him at his word, I turned back and headed through the red double doors.
Coming Together Serigraph 2022 Susan Point 22/80
Dream three. Next, I found myself at nighttime in a high-rise. It looked due south, towards and beyond the Burrard Inlet towards the West End. It also looked beyond to Vancouver proper, with Kitsilano, Jericho Beach, Point Grey, and Spanish Bay area clearly in sight. My vantage point was that of being on Sentinel Hill in West Vancouver, right about where Mars Cruickshank’s house sits. I stood out on a large-enough balcony where it was dark out.
Here, there was that beautiful grey light, which nourishingly overwhelms. There was perpetual light rain, which does more to soothe the spirit than not. Below was an immense cruise ship, with its stern closer to my north shore location; I was up on the tenth or more storey of the high-rise. It was quite a broad ship that was at least eight storeys above the main deck.
But more than that, the great beauty was Stanley Park, a beacon of enriched negative ions, which simply recharged my energies for looking at it. It was quite soulful indeed. My perspective was such for being up on Sentinel Hill, that I felt as though hovering in a flying dream.
Raven in the 20th Century Serigraph 1979 Don Yeomans 68/150
Dream four. Later on, I’d watch as some speed skaters would get into a scuffle. They were racing on a short track. The result of the mix up was that one of the Canadian skaters went crashing into the boards, suffering massive head and spinal injuries; another reason why I never look at episodic television.
*To the say the least, this bit of dream activity was inspired by the fact that at present the Winter Olympics in Norway, have been part of my recent waking state experiences. I’ve been quite moved by Oksana Bayul’s artistic beauty and her great lyricism. She’s a real Russian swan; though she could evolve into a real caricature, if she’s not careful.
Dream five. I was acutely aware that I was laying here in bed at Mars Cruickshank’s Sentinel Hill home, which is where I had slept after dinner and prior to heading into work.Though I tried to sleep, I was being kept in between states, the waking and dream states, by a massively excruciating pressure at both temples. The cosmic hum was excruciatingly amplified, becoming almost nerve-rackingly paralysing. The crisis for me began as the pitch’s octave began increasing higher and higher, to the point of being arrestingly explosive.
I felt truly as if I were about to experience a catastrophic aneurysm. Soon I began experiencing Time itself slowing down. It simultaneously was the most amazing revelation and experience. My motor control at this point warped to a near grinding halt, as I now experienced everything in perfect slow-motion. Next, I began slowly experiencing the elongation of my skull in an upwards direction. I felt as though my skull was becoming not unlike that of Akhenaten – the monotheistic heretic pharaoh and, of course, spouse of Nefertiti’s.
My head became conical; indeed, my head was now egg-shaped. I had a pointed skull as the cosmic hum’s frequency slowly escalated to greater and greater octaves which, until now in this dream, I had never thought possible. There was no getting around the fact that there was a definite physical intrusion into my skull, which the escalating frequency affected. One of the other interesting things, too, was that I had no sense of place here. There was a distinct impression of these beings – of presences being about the room. In place of the wall at the head of the bed, where I slept in Mars Cruickshank’s ground floor, there were definitely three beings.
Somehow, it seemed that I was simultaneously in another room, where the bed’s head was located some four feet from the wall, unlike in the waking state. The only way that I can describe what was being done to me was that these three beings were serving as facilitators, as I was being birthed. More to the point, I was being operated on, as my head and spine became warped and slowly elongated. I was definitely in traction, while my spine was being slowly stretched. This was the most excruciating sensation and, as a matter of fact, I did so feel cetacean-like. It was as if I lost my sense of humanity, for having had my spine so elongated.
As it were, I had become as if very serpentine. In a bid to end the maelstrom, of what I was undergoing, I decided to try and get up; my intention was to, as it were, leave the operating table. I just wanted to move but first, in a bid to make out these beings, I wanted to throw open my lids and look about the room. Willing myself up and opening my eyes was no light affair. I did, though, manage it. As I got up, my vision returned with me finding that I was now in a large room alone and on a bed. There were large stone columns that ran along the length of the bed; the room’s walls were a vibrant yellow.
The shape of the room was oval; too, there was no discernible break in floor to walls to ceiling and the entire thing was the same invigorating yellow. This was a most soothing, healing yellow. A most beautiful, radiant, almost Zen manifestation, of what this colour represented, this was. Quite simply, this was something, which cannot be adequately put into words. Being here, inside this womblike room, was like a little bit of nirvana encapsulated, in which I felt that I was being birthed. The most interesting thing about the walls was that they were, in some way, alive. They hummed and gave off a most soothing frequency which, after the excruciating pain of what I had come through, was a drink of pure light for the soul itself.
Then I noticed that there was a splattered glob of pink organic matter on the column which was parallel to the left foot of the bed. The glob was some 6.5 feet up the column and was about three feet square. As I tried sitting up, all the way, it became obvious that my body was still partially motor-paralysed. It seemed as if I was trying to pick up a body, which now no longer weighed 130 lbs. but 320 lbs. instead. Still there was an aspect of my awakening; as though I were snaking slowly out of a leaden body, as if a cicada abandoning the shell of its former self. I went to turn around, so that I could get a look at the presences at the head of the bed but was impeded. Instead, I was forced back down into my leaden body.
There was no mistaking the fact that they were using their minds to will me back into submission. Using their combined efforts to overpower me, they were thinking as one. Quite frankly, I was not supposed to have seen who they were. I did, though, have a sense that they were high beings or extra-humans. I think in this case, however, what one would assume to be EHs are in fact souls in their discarnate states. So alien is the soul sans body that we’re left to conclude that it is indeed extra-human. There was a distinct impression that all of this was taking place, as a result of a warping of dimensions, which enabled the astral and physical planes to co-exist.
With that, my vision of the yellow room was lost and I was left to experience an onflow of the cosmic pitch again. This time when it began escalating to the point of being unbearable, I awoke almost instantaneously. It was more so as if, I’d been willed awake, that is to say that the three beings in that room elsewhere, had sent me back hurriedly into wakefulness, here in the safety of the physical plane. My willfulness was so taxing on them that they had had to cut short their observation of me, returning me to the safety of my senses. The yellow-walled room was a massive place, wherein more than 75% of the room lay before me beyond the foot of the bed.
Mini Pool Party Oil on Canvas 2026 Dorette Pollard
*Interestingly enough, I’ve never slept before in this house – Mars Cruickshank’s. In addition, there is a large rock, on which much of the house sits, and instinctively on seeing it, I had a strong psychic reaction to it. I had the sense of it that the hidden part of the rock which progressed down into the Earth was easily fifty times larger; in that sense it was much like an iceberg whose below surface mass is infinitely more voluminous. There was a strong vibrational register to this rock, and I had a sense of it that it contained some life-force, as if it were a camouflage for some sort of life-force which was in an observation mode.
Alas, why pray tell could this not be the case? What better way than for EHs to come planet side, remaining camouflaged such that they are rendered imperceptible. What better way to achieve this end, than for them to be ensconced in large rocks, most of which lay buried below the surface and for those which do break the surface, the greater parts of their area being hidden below the surface.
In any event, I had a strong impression of the rock at Mars Cruickshank’s that it was much larger below the surface of the ground and served as a beacon-cum-conduit. Within the protective shell of this innocent-looking dense medium, were hidden EHs who were here on Earth observing humans in their natural state as opposed to humanity after so-called ‘Contact’. A very intriguing thought, but this was definitely the sense impression that I got of this entire experience. Too, I’m inclined to believe this, because in the initial dream, the exceptionally tall, helmeted, unusually skinny white-suited skier was clearly not human.
There was something different about him vibrationally, which his hiding behind the ski helmet only made that much more discernible to an astutely attuned extra-sensitive mind, such as mine. For being awakened in the dreamtime, I was able to completely tune in to what was going on here in Vancouver in the waking state, albeit clandestine. His cool calculation of me suggested that he’d become aware of my knowing his true identity, which undoubtedly meant that he’d possibly have apprehended or even killed me.
For that reason, I would strike the first blow, as it were. Clearly, I’d only have to encounter his kind later on, when I was subjected to this excruciating mind probe, observation. Was the pink glob some matter, which they exorcised from me, it seemed to have been violently expunged from me. After all, there was no one else remotely human in the room but me. I thought that the exorcised pink glob was from me, as it could not have been something that they’d put there. Was it something from my corporeal or ethereal body, which they’d detected and removed?
In that sense, these spiritual beings served as psychic surgeons. This is not to say that they were necessarily therefore EHs, though one cannot exclusively rule this out. But I’m definitely inclined to think that they were definitely extra-human in origin. Here was I, a newcomer to this part of the world, where if there are EHs stationed, they’d need to take a look at me, as it were. Knowing as they do that I can ‘See’ beyond the veil, all the more reason to seek me out and perform some sort of psychic surgery that would render me ignorant of their being ‘there’.
Of course, if this were indeed the case, that is, were there EHs among us, across whose path I’d crossed, their efforts to wipe the knowledge of the ‘Contact’ free of my recall was unsuccessful. Then too, this could well have been nothing so outré, but rather the experience of being in the company of astral plane-focused high beings, who were performing some form of healing spiritual, cleansing energy work on me. Frankly, the sceptic in me would sooner come down on the side of the most likely, than opting for the fanciful, EHs notwithstanding. Occam’s razor is the mean in this circumstance.
I must say though that on awakening here in this room, where I’d never slept before, I was quite surprised to find that its walls were not indeed yellow. -In addition, I must point out that on awakening all the electrical discomfiture, which has plagued me since moving here to Vancouver was totally, as if evaporated. The purpose of the experience was seemingly to have cleared my energetic body of all blocking, which was symbolised by the massive pink glob that was splattered on one of massive columns in the room.
All the pain in my neck, through to the left arm, has dissipated. Naturally, I’ve been concerned as to whether this is cardiovascular in origin but have been repeatedly assured by EKGs that my heart checks out perfectly fine. This is a real acute, stabbing pain, which seems to be triggered by where I am in this city. I’ve noticed that for going on long walks alone, in Stanley Park the tension becomes completely dissipated.
There seem though, still some areas of intense electromagnetic tensions, which my finely tuned body innately picks up on. Adversely, it does have the tendency in this case to be of a wearing nature physically. I’ve never experienced such excruciating pain. There are, of course, moments of relief, when taking to the pyramid, but then I noticed that shortly thereafter, I become as if totally electrified. These mountains – coastal mountains, I fear, contain a great buildup of electromagnetic tension. Too, they just might in conjunction with the waters of the Pacific be the location of a giant Extra-Oceanic colony or colonies of extra-humans of one or more species.
**Indeed, the more that I think about the dreams that I had while living in Vancouver, I’m inclined to believe that this dream was extra-human in origin, rather than being about high astral plane beings. END.
Rollins, Sonny 7/9/1930<O>25/5/2026
Michael: This fragment was a seventh-level mature artisan –third life thereat and likely last. Sonny is in the passion mode with a goal of unmitigated growth. A realist, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type was Venus/Mars.
Sonny’s primary chief feature is greed fixated on accomplishment and the secondary stubbornness.
The fragment Sonny is fourth-cast in the fourth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence five. Sonny’s entity is seven, cadre four, greater cadre 1, pod 129.
Sonny’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion is a sage known to him.
Sonny’s three primary needs are: communion, expression and power.
Sonny has been a musician in 12 past lives.
There are 8 past-life associations with Arvin and 14 with Merlin.
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Two rats during the course of eighteen months produce one million offspring. You’ve long transcended being a cultural infestation; you are a fucking plague and Karma, that most vicious of cunts, will yet dispense with you!
This dream, set in dynastic Egypt, deftly betrays what a powerfully focussed and strong woman Harella was. The dream was first that day.
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Iman still from Michael Jackson video Remember the Time.
I was sat on a wonderful divan in a beautifully opulent place. Instinctively, I knew that this was in Egypt. It was during the height of pharaonic Egypt.There were two stout women here with me who were light-skinned. Hard to tell whether they were Mitanni or light-skinned Blacks. They were cooks and were fussing over me asking me to eat up.I ate from a plate which had these different shoots on it. One of them was papyrus shoots, some bamboo shoots and a wild Nile delta mushroom. It was strictly vegetarian fare.As well, there was a purplish tuber like baby eggplants. I ate with a fork which was very heavy-looking. Clearly, I did possess some rank at birth. I would point out the items I wanted to eat next and would then have it fed to me by either woman.
At one point, I was told by one of the women,“Yes, you even remember what your favourites were last time.”
Catch of the Day. Drawing. 2008 Arnaqu Ashevak
At this point, into the room walked a tall Black woman of Ethiopian features and complexion but who was not too dark. Definitely, she was from the Upper Nile region.I can’t quite do justice here as to how supremely regal this woman was. She was quite simply the most regal and powerful creature imaginable.The two eyes that this woman wore were large, brown and soulful. You felt her soul itself looking out and into you.I did not think of her as having been Merlin in a past life. However, it is quite possible that this woman’s soul I knew quite recently as Merlin during its last incarnation.When she entered the room, the women looked at each other and one of them said in a sotto voce,“Ah yes, she’s brought him with her.”
The Iconic Iman
There was a Black man, who was a little darker-complected, there with her. Seemingly a relation or priest, perhaps, he might even have been a eunuch. He remained in an outer room. She was quite simply the Queen, the Pharaoh’s wife.On entering, she began walking around us and speaking. She was very stylised in her movements. She wore a tunic of gold thread and strips of gold filigree.In places, her dress looked metallic. In its sparse, linear, understated opulence, it seemed not unlike something that Cynthia McFadden would design.The dress throughout was festooned with the designs, all in gold, of open papyrus leaves. They were very tiny and sat inside of little squares.In one square there would be a papyrus applied, such that it would be very iridescent, whilst on the next square it was very dull with a matte finish look to it. The resulting effect was one of row after row, square after square, of papyruses.Each square was exactly half an inch square. The detail on this dress was absolutely golden. It was supported by half-inch-wide straps which, of course, had the same square papyrus design.
Blue Bird, Drawing 2009 Kenojuak Ashevak
Next to her flawless complexion, she was simply statuesque. Her neck was easily six to ten inches longer than the infamously long neck of Ann Cokossi, Princess of Togo – the regal lady’s neck was longer than Iman’s. Iman was clearly descended from the same stock.It was not Iman. She did have long hair that was finely braided in the fashion of a Maasai male’s. The hair was swept up off her face and into a very intricate arrangement.There were several beads throughout her stylised hair and some of them were cowrie beads. There were other shells and some precious stones as well.Her makeup was exquisitely applied and clearly was a several-hour affair. The eyes, of course, were the most detailed.I really did not get a sense of it being the famous Nefertiti Akhenaten. However, the man that she was with was undesirable and totally untrustworthy.I got the sense that it was someone related to me, as in myself, in a past life. Her companion male never did enter the room.Whilst speaking with the woman who sat there on the chair feeding me, the queen kept on slowly gliding about the room. This woman was like the Queen Mother or, perhaps, the dowager.
Four Eyes and Groovy, Drawing 2025 Michael Massie
Whilst she spoke, I was beginning to become refamiliarised with the palace intrigue.Throughout the salon, where we sat, there were a whole series of spies. Soon enough, I could discern the holes throughout the walls so that the spies could get a good command of what was going down.There was a great deal of subterfuge here. There was a whole caste of spies. There were spies who were in the service of the priesthood. Spies of the Queen’s and still there were spies of the Pharaoh’s.Still there were spies of the harem among which were a subclass and more powerful caste of spies for the eunuchs. In addition, all the different levels of the royals had their own battery of spies.All about the room, every one of those holes had a designated spy who reported back to his dynastic figurehead in the hierarchy.This was a very brief dream, I must add here. However, it was very lucid, real and totally lived-in a dream.I had a sense of being there in time. It was not just an observer dream. I was really in the body of that royal child who could have been no more than six years old.
Arctic Assembly, Lithograph 1996 Kenojuak Ashevak
This occurred at nighttime and it was somewhat damp in the room though simultaneously briny from the arid desert air. The whole language was about intonation and innuendo.As a matter of fact, the whole language was so ritualised and stylised that it was more slow and subtle than is movement in the Noh theatre of Japan. This was all about gestures and the myriad gestures that could be implied from the relations of one gesture juxtapose to another.It took me awhile to get the knack of it. However, I became totally lucid as to what was going down.It all came back to me. Indeed, even at the age of six, I was already quite proficient in the nuances of this very complex court language.As she spoke, the Queen’s arms and other parts of her body would be perpetually in motion. It was danced – this language. The whole language was codified and layered beyond anything wildly imaginable in this day and age of superficiality.This was deception on the order of high art. What was spoken was mere camouflage. The spoken word was not even an nth of the layered language.Along with it, what her body was doing and the subtlety of movements indicated what was really implied by what was said. More to the point, it was what was not implied by what was not said.
Birds and Foliage, Stonecut 1970 Kenojuak Ashevak
By comparison, the most sophisticated Parisienne would be considered a primitive communicator.This was all very complex court politics, indeed. Then, at one point, the Queen went and stood thereby freezing her movement and this is what one had to try and discern.This was because the every placement of every limb and muscle, on her body, carried great impact by way of what was being communicated. This was very much so an African tongue being spoken here.At times, it was slow whilst at other times dizzyingly sped up and rapid fire.
*It seemed more closely to resemble Jazz vocalesing à la Betty Carter sophistication though, truth be told, even Betty Carter’s skills were primitive by comparison. I can’t impress enough how truly complex was this language and mode of communicating. END.
Yet I got the complete picture of what she was communicating. The Queen was speaking of the child – my six-year-old former self. I feigned ignorance at the time though it was obvious that I was the subject of discussion.This had to do with the care of the child.“How was the child coming along?” she had inquired.I could very well have been her child. It was obviously the custom for royal children to be separated, from their mothers at birth, the higher placed they were at birth.I was here in this dream, of a past life experience, in the care of two women who were as if wet-nurses/governesses to me.
Flower Bird, Stonecut 1970 Kenojuak Ashevak
At another point, the Queen had produced this papyrus fan from beneath the delicate folds of the heavy-looking dress.It was a plain fan made of papyrus. However, it was covered in hieroglyphs. This was also a very ancient fan which she had inherited.The fan was being strategically used, as part of the deceptive code, to foil the spies all about the room. When coming closer to us, the Queen had smiled a very bland smile in my direction.This was, of course, so that nothing whatsoever could be read into it by any of the spying factions. The Queen slowly leaned in to look at the food that I ate.Inspecting it, she offered the gesture of showing her trust in the cooks by taking a piece of shoot from the plate to eat.This was all theatre for as she had slipped the food to her mouth she waved the fan over her mouth whilst saying, in rapid-fire sotto voce, a couple of very strategic sentences. It was absolutely sublime.It was directed at the dowager Queen Mother who, for being more practised in the art, feigned utter ignorance of anything so paranoid as subterfuge. It was priceless!This was clearly the height of late young soul to early mature soul intrigue. Though she could never have been overheard in saying what she had, the fan was placed to prevent the visiting Queen being lip-read.These spies, after all, were very expert. I do recall one man having been seated across from me earlier. He was a spy and basically he was visiting to learn the every minutia of my mouth mechanics during speech.It was all very subtle, though very archly shrewd and deadly, the way in which he came to do his job and record my mouth’s every idiosyncrasy during speech.The queen had performed, in that one gesture, such a winning sleight of hand. She was letting the Queen Mother know that she trusted her by actually tasting the food that she was feeding the child – me, in that past life.It seemed, after all, to be an impromptu visit which means that the food could well have been laced with poison for unsuspecting me. I suppose that if it were necessary, I could have been eliminated by the dowager Queen Mother or the Queen herself.
A Birthday Bull for John from Bill, 1990 Drawing Bill Reid
When she had directly stood in the centre of the room, earlier, the Queen had picked up her right foot off the floor. She had very subtly managed not to have shifted her weight or allowed for any movement whatsoever in her upper body.The Queen then began doing what seemed a predecessor of the frappé and began horizontally waving her foot from the ankle. The movement betrayed a gesture akin to ‘no’. This, of course, did not in the least betray everything that was going on elsewhere in her body.As there were so many items of furniture about the room, it was obvious that from where the holes were placed in the walls that one could not make out the codified foot movements.This was so mind-bogglingly delicious. The foot being incorporated, in the language, was a most clever invention.The moment at which she picked up her foot, it was as though I had sat up awake in bed. It was that vividly recalled from past life experience.‘Yes!’ I thought to myself and laughed a small breath which the dowager Queen Mother, to my side, immediately stifled with a sharp intake of breath.One clearly did not laugh in the Queen’s presence. The subtleties of the language here, in this point in dynastic Egypt, were phenomenally stratospheric.This was communication taken to heights unheard of since, in any court life, on this planet.There were times as she slowly moved about the room that the Queen had ritually placed the fan to her beguiling face, to fan herself, whilst letting out little phrases for us to hear.
Electric Raven, Stonecut 2019 Quvianaqtuk Pudlat
On one occasion, her back was to us and her arm in back made a series of quick gestures that were not unlike sign language. Meanwhile, the fan was to her face giving us a double stream of code to simultaneously decipher.To the point of being frightening, the Queen was very deceptive. It was hard to ever see her eyes. The Queen used language such that the eyes could never have been seen.More could be read from her eyes adding to what she was saying. For this reason, she almost exclusively kept her lids such that it kept her gaze cast out and down to the floor.Her head, of course, was never lowered and the rapid eye movements which she employed were also very strategic. When she spoke, one was never to make eye contact with her.It would imply too much simply because we were being spied on. This was indeed a very restrictive existence.There we were, in a fish bowl of sorts, being spied on by sharks who completely surrounded us waiting their turn to hungrily make prey of us. Since she was the Queen, one could never look at her eyes.However, I was possessed of more than my six-year-old self making me a very probing and curious soul. The Queen picked up on this and was acutely made uncomfortable by it.It was as though there was now some new development in my maturation which spelt trouble. Naturally, you just knew that there was any number of long discussions to come as to what to do with this ‘one’ meaning my poor, possessed self.It was as though, for having stepped into my former self’s six-year-old body, I could have spelt his very untimely and not accidental death. Regardless, this woman and I were deeply connected.
Mother and Cubs, Lithograph 1977 Kananginak Pootoogook
I could sense from her a real familial, maternal even, bond. The Queen was very much so in tune with me. There was an element of this communication which was low-level telepathic.Indeed, there were times when she had thusly engaged me. It was chiefly done for putting me at ease. It was also how she had to stay bonded to me for having had me taken from her, of custom, at birth.What was really interesting here was that the concept of reincarnation was definitely fully accepted and religiously incorporated in the schemata of dynastic life. The dowager Queen Mother and governess, too, were both convinced that I was someone in the royal family who had reincarnated.My choice of food favourites were validation enough for them. I was very much so favoured by the Queen. She was warm towards me.However, she never physically expressed this. There was always, however, a very strong psychic fusion between us with most of the energies coming from her to me.She was connected to me – this much was unmistakable. I never did see the eunuch who had accompanied her, however, he was very powerful an influence in their lives.For this reason, more so than the placement of the spies, the Queen never once was demonstrative of her feelings towards me. She did let up on reaching towards the plate of food.One had the sense, of the eunuch who had accompanied her, that he was the one person who had connections to all the spying factions within the inner royal circle. He waited outside in the antechamber and his presence was more closely being paid attention to, than even the Queen’s, at times.There had also been musicians about the room playing music. This was simply to drown out the conversation being heard by the battery of spies. The musicians were placed along all four walls to really drown out the conversation. This then precluded conversation from making it to the periphery of the room and the spies just beyond its walls.This was a very palatial suite. It was dimly lit and sparsely decorated yet in the finest style. A very comfortable and socially elevated milieu it was. A most elevated dream experience.
Miriam Gone Home, Oil on Canvas 2002 Dorette Pollard
*As it is the forty-fifth anniversary of Merlin’s birth, I had asked prior to sleep in a lengthy meditation, to become opened up to experiencing aspects of a past life experience between Merlin and me.I asked only that it be of a positive nature and that it be in no way an unpleasant experience. The last thing that I wanted was to have some dream which mirrored the less pleasant aspects of Merlin’s end-of-life experience.Voilà, there it was – a most vivid, awakened dream experience. I have no idea which person here could have been Merlin.I fully identified with the six-year-old and, indeed, I was experiencing the dream inside his body and, at times, from a detached perspective. Then, too, I did identify with the much-feared eunuch outside the door.So I don’t know if he was me or, perhaps, even Merlin. The very loving energies of the Queen Mother could more easily have been Merlin, in a past life, than the Queen herself.
**The musicians about the room, against the far walls, were all distinctly Nubian. They were exquisitely beautiful and the quirk that they each had was that they were, for obvious reasons, each of them both blind and deaf.This, of course, did not detract from their stellar musicianship; at times they did sing. However, for being both blind and deaf they could not be expected to be picking up on any of the codified language and body signals that formed this most layered of spied-on, palace intrigues in dynastic Egypt.I should think, too, that this was at the heights of the Middle Kingdom before the advent of Akhenaten’s ascension. This sort of intrigue, and frankly rut, is precisely what he was likely sick of and seeking to escape when initiating his monotheistic religion.Of course, with so much centuries-old intrigue, clearly he would have been seen as the ultimate obstruction – a heretic who had to be annihilated at all costs and things righted in his demise. This, of course, is precisely what did take place.Again, despite the vogue since the nineteenth century to make a truly African civilisation anything but, everyone one and everything here was distinctly African: the music, the looks, the sense of fashion, styles and hair styles.The Queen’s eyes were not only phenomenally powerful but her head had that distinctly African/Black high-foreheaded look. The Queen’s neck was almost giraffe-like.
PBS broadcast of The Gershwin Prize for Popular Song to Sir Elton John and Bernie Taupin. I will pay any money to drink the elixir from this glorious human’s chalice in concert. Fly! This man’s interpretation of this song has trigger more than a few flying dreams. Sang!
Two rats during the course of eighteen months produce one million offspring. You’ve long transcended being a cultural infestation; you are a fucking plague and Karma, that most vicious of cunts, will yet dispense with you!
Nothing is more healing and empowering than laughter. Always, whenever in Merlin’s presence, laughter erupted from deep within my very soul. This next dream marvellously captures the essence of the bond that we shared and how laughter was an energetic bond that we readily indulged and transferred.
The dream occurred, on Tuesday, October 26, 1993, whilst the Moon transited both Pisces and my tenth house. The dream occurred during the B or second sleep cycle that day.
Some three hours after going to sleep, it was the first dream recalled on awakening. Incidentally, I almost never sleep more than four hours each sleep cycle.
I was standing on the premises of the Boys’ School in The Alley, Sandy Point, St. Kitts. A car came down and stopped when out came Isabella da Braga who proceeded to lock it up. On looking like quite the eccentric loon, she carped on about being there to do some business – not that I had asked or cared. In any event, keenly aware that the persons all around were suspiciously eyeballing me, I went and opened the door. They seemed to have known who I was but they were not, any of them, vaguely familiar. There was a definite tension in the air which was exacerbated by the fact that the place was caught up in the midst of a heated, election campaign.
Isabella had pulled up in a white car that was fairly stylish-looking. Using my keys, I opened up the old school house that was closer to the road. When going up to the second storey landing, I opened up the windows on the landing that faced due south. Afterwards, I asked Isabella to wait a while for me to return to the store and get something. I told her that I needed some sort of candy or fruit to eat. En route there, to the west of the road, I passed the first house that was past the school and right next-door to the school. This, of course, whilst heading southwards in the direction of Cleverly Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.
Long abandoned, in the waking state, the old stone building was now turned into a gorgeous workspace for a furniture maker. On display were several of the beautiful, small round tables that he produced. They could comfortably seat up to four persons but no more. Since most West Indian dining rooms are not especially large, this made perfect sense. Much of the furniture was painted a light blue. He was a local, light-complected man who was not White though of mixed blood from centuries earlier. It was clear that his White part of the family had been on the island for at least two centuries. The place was quite crowded with some chairs stacked whilst tables and chairs hung from the ceiling.
Love at First Sight @dorettepollardart Oil on Panel
A busy, accomplished artisan he was. Some round tables, stacked high, had just their central pole and no tops as yet. All of them had their central leg splayed out into four radial bases that were stylishly detailed. It was very impressive workmanship here. After having taken a while to drink in the sweet bouquet of this artist’s creative expression, I then moved on. Eventually, I came on a building which I entered.
On the inside was a large display area with tons of antiques. Lots of things here were from colonial times. Beautiful lithographs were everywhere harkening back to another age. Over in one corner, there was a group of lithographs exclusively depicting cats. Others were of several species of dogs. Still, others were of various clocks with some merely being detailed portions of clocks. All in all, a unique, intriguing discovery this place was. Every one of these antiques was distinctly West Indian in vibration. A group of lithographs depicted White women, from families during colonial times, living in the Caribbean. All these women were very strong-featured persons.
They seemed as if early photographs that were sepia-toned rather than black and white. When pouring through them, were I to have decorated someone’s house, I thought that some of them could be used to give a sense of history to the space. They seemed as if early photographs that were sepia-toned rather than black and white. When pouring through them, were I to have decorated someone’s house, I thought that some of them could be used to give a sense of history to the space. The dogs were very European-looking. Obviously, they had been brought out to the colonies centuries earlier. However, having long ago become mongrelised, it was clear that precious few of these stocks now existed.
Matchbox with Reflection Drawing George Hawken 1981
There were black and white dogs that looked like Rottweilers. These were dogs which were all very common to the British Isles and the long tradition there of canine culture. A most strange though pleasant dream experience this was.
I had taken my leave of the place when a gaggle of loud, aggressive, big-boned Whites, with dangerously unhealthy, dark tans, showed up in the store.They proceeded to noisily pick through the store’s contents. They were truly as if a herd of elephants in a China shop. Excusing myself from a couple of women, they were both objectionable, I said that I had been looking for prints of cats and since these were of dogs that I would have to go look elsewhere. With that, I promptly took my leave of the shop.Going into another of the rooms of this complex, left me in a truly spectacular, large, cavernous room. It had all these wonderful strings hanging down with rock crystals attached to them. There were also glass-beaded orbs hanging on strings and all of them were transparent and magically reflected the room’s soft light.
On the way into this cavernous room, there was a tiny room off to the right which I opted not to take. Still there was another room filled with Blacks who were, for the most part, Rastafarians.There were some among them who were distinctively continental Africans; these men made wares which they sold here in the bazaar-like space. Chiefly goldsmiths, they were expert jewellers whose workmanship was very detailed and of the finest quality… very nice indeed.In the other room were some of the most incredible, vibrationally magnetic crystals. Here there was a great deal of energy work taking place.
Baby Don’t Go Rod Mireau Photography
Here, too, the place was much too filled with greedy North American Whites; they were racially predatory in behaviour, surveilling my every move, as though I were about to steal something of theirs.Immediately, I turned around taking my leave of the space; I simply couldn’t abide this sort of senseless bullshit. A truly cavernous room it was and with lots of blue in the ceiling.Coming back from the room, I passed the room in which the Black artisans were displaying their wares. This time, I warmly greeted them which they absorbed and gratefully repaid in kind. Then I ventured into another room where I found a little woman.
Too, there were two very dark-skinned, Black men present in the room. Everything was here kept in heavy-looking, black velvet. There they made a great deal of jewellery; it seemed to be made of pewter: bracelets, chokers, necklaces, et cetera.In addition, they worked with that sublimely beautiful, blue-green gemstone, turquoise. Lots of long, cylindrical, turquoise earrings were on display. Everything here was exceptionally blue.At one point, I was looking at the crystals that the Black men sold in the store which was adjacent to the large display space. There was a stout White woman working there, she was the salesclerk, whilst both Black men worked in the atelier in back producing the goods to be sold.
It was hard to tell, whether she did the designs or, if they were the artisans responsible for executing her creative ideas. The guys sold a great array of crystals.One, in particular, really caught my eye. It was exceptionally beautiful. It was on sale for in excess of 100$.Another which I had been keenly studying and thought would go for around 40$, however, it was going for 90$. They were all set out in beautiful, black velvet pouches with their points piercing up and out from the folds of the fabric.They were sensibly kept out of reach of the public being able to walk past and stealthily grab a few. The energies which these crystals gave off were simply awesome. This left me feeling completely energised.
There’s Work to Be Done Around Here Rod Mireau Photography
I was zinging with a life force whose vibration was simply sparkling. I felt greatly elevated to have experienced their potency. I then returned to where Isabella had been, thinking that it was all rather sad, because there seemed no real reason for Isabella to have been there.I then returned to the place again, this time, who should be there but Merlin? Laughing aloud for joy, I said, “Oh god, Merlin! Good to see you!”We greeted each other clasping both hands and shaking rather energetically. He was very pleased to see me as his eyes beamed whilst they directly looked into me. I could feel his very soul, even.
Both our hands soon became clasped as we stood there longingly looking into each other. There was so much energy being bled between us.“You know why she’s here?” Merlin asked whilst looking at Isabella, “…It’s because she’s afraid of ‘de jumbie an dem’…”
*Jumbie is patois for ghost. END.
Under Smoke and Starlight Rod Mireau Photography
I couldn’t believe that Merlin had just spoken in a perfectly authentic, Nevisian accent. Squeezing his hands, I threw my head back and riotously howled for joy.It was so very good to see Merlin.My goodness, this encounter was so lucid and real. I could feel his muscles really tensing, as we clasped hands, engaging in some conscious energy transference.He was quite funny, clever, witty and playful. What a blast it was to have seen him. Isabella had laughed of embarrassment knowing that he was right.
He was pointing out that the only reason why she had come down from Nevis, to Sandy Point, St. Kitts, was the fact that she was bored stiff being over in Nevis.Said he, she did not want to be living alone where all she ever did was perpetually talk to herself. She also felt that the house that she was living in, over in Nevis, was haunted.Merlin, however, pointed out that it was not so much that the house was haunted as that Isabella was simply afraid that she was going to become haunted by her own demons – as per her talking to herself.
Merlin here was giving Isabella a psychological overview of where she was at. There was nothing in the least mean-spirited about any of this.Isabella was being very self-deprecating, sublimating, if only because she was quite lucidly aware that this was Merlin and a very valid, astral plane encounter with him.These two had always gotten along rather well. Their relationship was bested only by that of Merlin and Pandora’s – with regards to my siblings’ relations with Merlin.
While You Wait Rod Mireau Photography
This was a very wonderful experience. I rather liked seeing her and being with Merlin. Merlin then went and sat to my far right with her to my immediate right.Grounding myself, by being energetically harmonised with his very soul, I looked across at and into Merlin. There was another guy about who was Black whom I did not recognise.He seemed to have been familiar with Merlin. Perhaps, he is a trusted old companion – from multiple past life connections – who is currently also on the astral plane between lives.
I don’t think that it was Mel Frazier, Merlin’s teacher friend and ex-lover, who passed of AIDS out in Vancouver in December 1986.That aside, it was so very good to have seen Merlin – to have touched his very soul, yet again.
Isabella da Braga, my darling sister, recently passed. String band music was her favourite music. She was passionate about her music. There will be string band music at her funeral. Sweet and blissful dreams my darling Isabella. She enjoyed a great relationship with Merlin and they always visited in our back garden as she was never comfortable around cats and we had at one point four cats. Nice to know that they can hang out again.
Two rats during the course of eighteen months produce one million offspring. You’ve long transcended being a cultural infestation; you are a fucking plague and Karma, that most vicious of cunts, will yet dispense with you!
So much of what happens in the waking state is smothered by fear-based strictures like tribalism, classism, sexism, racism et al which results in one being preyed on – one’s very life threatened. Sadly too many proceed through their lives impervious of the Maya that effectively leaves them blind to the ties that bind us all together as souls incarnate in the human experience.
Being as awakened when awake as when asleep and dreaming, gives one a greater appreciation of the beauty of life and the beauty of all humanity. This awareness also allows one to see across the illusion of time.This sensitivity and awareness affords one the ability to perceive and appreciate the gift of persons known and loved along the way – from lifetime to lifetime.
This visionary dream not only spans the rifts of time but it also gets to the heart of the love that binds all souls together. That love that endures regardless the strictures of the waking state and the perceptions of those involved.The dream was rather magically and lucidly experienced, on Tuesday, January 9, 1996, whilst the Moon transited both Leo and near-conjunct the cusp of my fourth house.
*Prior to sleep, I meditated with crystals in the pyramid. I then focussed on being able to astral project, during sleep, to specific points on the astral plane where desired experiences could be had.I opened myself up to, requested of my soul itself, pleasurable experiences with persons whom I have shared multiple past life experiences. Most of all, I was clear that the bonds had to have been predominantly of a positive nature.
Thus, I fell into sleep open to whatever laid ahead.
Buster Asleep in Pyramid
In the first dream, I was having a phone conversation with both Isis and Isabella. In some way, this involved much discussion about Pandora.I had been concerned afterwards that I had not upset Pandora for having overly spoken of her. This is an area, her private affairs, which Pandora never treads into with anyone.There was real pressure here, on both her siblings’ part, to see to it that Pandora went out and got herself a job. Both were furious with Pandora and claimed that she was not putting any effort into finding a job.
Concerned for Pandora, naturally, I thought of how possibly I could help her get grounded. I thought perhaps to phone Maddox Pool and see if he could not get her work in I.A.T.S.E.However, I really did not think that Pandora would be able to adapt to such a work environment. Besides which, realistically, my connections to the place precluded her being able to get her foot through the door.Since Owen Hawksmoor knew Pandora and her connection to me, I knew that Vikram Srinivasan would definitely not approve of her getting work there.
Officine Renault Oil on Linen 2007 Alessandro Papetti
The next dream then found me in an incredibly far-off land. This is the only way that one can best describe this place. Here, it was nighttime out. A black capsule, in which one was able to sit, was being prepared.An additional person could sit on one’s lap though it was basically a single-occupant capsule. It was shaped not unlike the lunar modules, which returned to Earth and landed in the ocean, during the Apollo missions to the Moon at NASA’s heyday in the late 1960s to early 1970s.However, this capsule was conical. There were exceptionally tall men who wore black clothing that covered them from head to toe. Their faces were kept hidden by black visors. The capsule door was opened and closed by these same men who seemed like sentries.
At this point, when sitting in the closed capsule one would seemingly travel to distant places without moving. Of course, this was the astral projection that I had coveted during pre-sleep meditation whilst in the pyramid. Nonetheless, I became highly suspect of this capsule’s true purpose.A couple was there with a young child. They wanted the child to sit in the mother’s open legs whilst she was already seated in the male parent’s opened legs. The three members of the family wore thick saffron robes.For whatever reasons, the little girl tugged free of her mother’s embrace and began running away. Immediately, the sentries were hot on the heels of the child in a bid to apprehend her.
Of course, as it only validated my reservations about the true nature of this machine, this I did not find very reassuring. Opting out of taking a flight aboard the capsule, I shoved off instead and began flying.I left the large hangar-like structure behind me and flew out into the outdoors. Next, I was beneath the awning of the building; the awning extended from the building for about fifty yards. It was a most massive structure!The architectural proportions here were inordinately massive. The scale here was on the order that things appeared in that dream of Merlin, on July 9, 1993, which was truly astral… truly colossal.
I thought that I shouldn’t stay too close to the building – any of the sentries could come around the corner and apprehend me for having left the queue to the capsule.I then held on to the awning’s beams whilst inverted much as though I were a fly on the awning’s underside. I then went to the right, of the far left corner, where persons were way below me who busily walked about on the sidewalk and in the infrequently trafficked street.No one had noticed me. I did grow concerned, nonetheless, at being spotted from below thereby drawing unwelcome attention to myself. As I crawled along the awning, it gave way inside to the ceiling of a very noisy watering hole.
This bar was jam-packed with high-spirited persons. Not liking the energies here I crawled, still inverted, back into the large complex from which I had fled.From inside I peered outside, beyond the awning, where I saw a large craft. White and massive, it made the Boeing 747-400 series look like a compact glider. The craft’s nose, however, more resembled that of the Concorde aircraft.Thinking that the sentries were perhaps on the inside of the craft, I let go of the awning beams. Of course, these beams were the typical dark woods of the astral plane.
With that, I had resumed flying. Whilst still inverted, I flew from just inches below the beams. From time to time, I held on to a beam to get my bearings. At such times, I looked over my shoulder below and behind me.I then went in through a proper entrance to the building which I used for crossing over to another section of the noisy bar. With that I then did a half-tumble, rolling over, to now face down to the patrons in the bar below.Slowly and effortlessly, I floated down and alighted. I had not made too much of a spectacle of myself as there was a major disturbance happening in the bar to which everyone was noisily focussed.
A Hispanic man and another, who much reminded me of Diego Lunamas, were being especially rowdy. The bartender decided to maintain order and left his post to show them to the door. He was a large burly man.The door, through which they had been ushered outside, had a view to the outdoors. The natural pathway from the bar led to a large tropical-looking growth beyond the complex.Soon after they went outdoors, there was a sudden outbreak of light flashes. Basically, they had had a run-in of sorts or had been apprehended by the sentries who were clearly extra-humans. Soon after they had left the bar, I also headed outside.In search of the Hispanic with the uncanny resemblance to Diego Lunamas, I had gone flying through the air. I had remained, when airborne, between ten and fifteen feet off the ground. My flight was slow; my flight was languorous. This was clearly astral projection.
The growth here was very thick. Enjoying the purity of their energetic signature, I flew through the trees whilst simultaneously revitalising myself in the process. This soon gave way to an opening, in the thick growth, beyond which was the most breathtaking vista. These were by far the most beautiful trees imaginable. They were simply colossal. Each arboreal’s trunk was about fifty feet across whilst they towered up at least a mile. I momentarily hovered whilst my entire body quivered throughout at the powerful vibration that they exuded. This was a truly humbling experience for me. Right away, I was reminded of the ecstatic epiphany that I experienced on Boxing Day, 1972.
One tree snaked from the ground and rose up into the air. It leaned against the right side of a tree that was incredibly immense. It seemed a mile-high astral plane baobab.Flying over, I landed on the trunk of one tree. This tree had two leaves that were frond-like but incredibly oversized. Whilst I stood on the trunk, a slight man – he looked Amerindian though likely Balinese or even Fijian – approached me.
*He seemed from an earlier age in human history. Of course, this was likely owing to the fact that he was yet another humanoid, extra-human species. END.
He suggested that I look at where the growth began. The vine-like trunk was some fifty to seventy-five feet in the air; it extended at an incline to a great distance far away. It was a truly fantastical tree.There were the beginnings of the two frond-like leaves close-by. He told me that he used them to get milk. He said that the milk derived from this rare arboreal genus was used in all manner of applications.
He was a shaman. He was a true, innate dream magus.
I then noticed an indigenous ladder that they used to climb up the tree. Here it was nighttime. The frond-like leaves grew side-by-side and curled over. The leaves looked, as a matter of fact, not unlike umbrellas. It was these trees to which the locals came to harvest the vine-like tree’s milk.I then began moving down the tree trunk growing concerned as the much-feared extra-humans were expected to return soon. They seemingly appeared at set intervals and their intentions were generally adversarial.
With that, I flew away and returned into the clearing. As I flew back, where there was now a large open area below, I saw a Black man who was an agricultural engineer. He carried a wheelbarrow of earth. He had placed the earth over a trap of some sort which employed a cord system.They apparently also captured cicadas. When I came off the inclined vine-like tree, I had briefly landed on the ground before taking flight again. To my amazement, I had landed in a patch of a few hundred cicadas.They were exclusively on a tree which seemed the very centre of the growth. This central tree gave off a definite hum. All the cicadas were on the trunk of the same unique tree that seemed, by its vibrational signature, to be a life-sustaining energetic magnet.This tree was not a member of the pine family. Rather, it was a tropical tree which made the Sitkas in Vancouver’s Stanley Park or the redwoods in northern California look like seedlings.
I remained motionless for the longest while. I was magnetised by the tree’s vibrational hum. It was hypnotic. There was nothing but love radiating from this tree. It was a truly humbling encounter.The cicadas had swarmed onto its trunk to become harmonised with its vibration. As I flew off and looked back, I realised that the cicadas were being caught by the locals as they had proven themselves a nuisance.The cicadas were not in the habit of eating the crops but there were so many of them that their noisy song made the locals devise a plan. The locals simply captured and relocated as many of the cicadas as they could.I realised that this bit of drama, being acted out in the clearing, was also a metaphor for the larger drama back at the cosmopolitan complex.
There the extra-humans were laying traps, by way of the oval-shaped black capsule, for capturing unsuspecting humans. However, there was also another aspect to all this symbology that was not lost on me.I knew, though many of the cicadas were still alive, that the ones who had left their empty shells behind represented two things. The symbol of the empty cicada shell was that of being astral-projected out of the shell of the sleeping body.Secondly, the other symbolic reference was that, each discarded cicada shell represented a lifetime already concluded. They were as if totems of past lives. This was validated by the fact that here was I visiting, as it were, a remnant of a former life.It was a life that was lived in Southeast Asia. A life it was in which my spirituality was closely connected to the strong bondedness that I achieved with the all-encompassing beauty of nature.
This was validated by the ectomorphic loin-clothed Balinese – Southeast Asian – who had come from his little thatched hut to greet me and serve as a guide to me.He was, if not me, then definitely someone whom I have known in this lifetime but with whom I have shared multiple past lives. I can’t say, however, that this was Merlin in a past life.He was quite familiar and was more than likely an entity mate of mine. I was similarly reminded of Diego Lunamas in his fey sweet-eyed beauteousness.
I then flew back through the growth where I saw the Hispanic man who had been kicked out of the bar. He was standing outside a thatched hut.This man was so exceptionally good-looking. He no longer looked like his Hispanic self when at the bar. Then he had had a striking resemblance to Diego Lunamas. Here he seemed now Balinese, possibly Sumatran, though on the outside chance he could have been Filipino.He held something in his hand that looked like a knife. However, it was not a weapon as such. As he stood there, his back to the hut, he was unaware of the intense light flashes taking place inside his hut.
This to me suggested that the extra-humans were inside the hut. It was possible that this man had alternately just died and had emerged from the hut, his final astral projection, though not yet aware that he had died.I then moved inside the hut where I was able to get a handle on what was taking place. The door to the hut was a drape of green banana leaves that were regularly replaced.Lots of bamboo shoots were used to anchor and set the frame of the hut. The slight man had been desperately trying to cut through the door of leaves in a bid to get outside.
Each time that he would cut his way through one drape of leaves, to get through the door, another would manifest beyond the other that already existed there. He could never seem to cut his way free fast enough. It proved a futile attempt to get out.Each door was made of a different type of leaf and reed but all of them were green. The hut was eight feet square with a conical roof. As a matter of fact, it was more so pyramidal.I floated close to the ceiling of the hut as he desperately tried to break out. I am not at all sure that most people were able to observe me in any of these giddy dream experiences.
The loin-clothed local did not quite comprehend the nature of the shiny object that he used to try and cut his way free. Soon enough, the hut was burnt-out with a few burnt-out frame beams standing.The remaining beams were charred with black ashes everywhere. It was obvious that in his bid to escape he had not made it out.Here, it seemed as though I was experiencing a series of vignettes – vignettes into past lives – all of which were interconnected. A very intense experience of soul journeying these dreams would prove.
Again, I saw the man who much reminded me of Diego Lunamas. I flew out to the tree, with the two frond-like leaves, on which I had been earlier.I, soon enough, came down off the tree on seeing these green gourds that were cut open down on the ground. From the inside, a thicker version of what looked like coconut milk spilt out.The milk was being bled into appropriately placed containers. On closer inspection, I realised that the gourds were grown below the surface of the ground. The liquid looked much like cassava root milk.
From there, I flew ahead to another section of the great arboreal growth. Now I came to a clearing which was set in Japan. I intuitively knew that this dream occurred in Japan.For me, this was readily discernible owing to the strong past-life resonance that I experienced for being in this locale. There I saw a series of cultured rivulets that were part of a water fountain. The fountain was part of an extensive irrigation system.The cultured rivulets were stone affairs in which flowed green fluid rather than the clear transparency of water. As I had flown over this site, I saw from on high that everything was completely white.
The trees and every aspect of the landscape were completely white. I knew that it was not a snow-covered landscape. Rather, this was the result of some sort of attack from the black-clad and visored extra-humans with the conical, black space capsules.This I knew meant that they would soon be returning to the area where I was. Closer to hand, I hovered above the Japanese village.
I saw here lots of Japanese women who were performing a ritualised dance. They ritually sang and danced using fans. As they danced, they were a study in grace and reserve.From there, I decided to fly on in search of the source of the oddly green river. I rose in the air as I flew by following the incline to where the fountain began. This led me in flight into a hilltop complex where the fountain began.It was a large compound which included a temple, shrine and living quarters. Here there were more women who, though not ritually dancing, carried fans and were just as reserved.
At once, I alighted hurriedly moving through the compound. I was as if possessed. I knew at every turn which corridor to follow. On my arrival, I let out a cry upset at what I had found.I couldn’t believe what these people had done. They had desecrated this important bit of their culture and heritage.Of course, this was an astral projection to a past life milieu. Everything was at once familiar. My sense of smell was acute. All the writings I fully understood though they were in Kanji and Sanskrit.In that past life, my former self had had a hand in establishing the temple and its shrine. Now some time later, however, they were performing these rituals in appeasement of the new overlords.
Of course, the new overlords would have been the extra-humans. I was really upset… I was really hurt. They shook the fans as they danced and this was supposed to have mimicked something about the extra-humans’ culture with which I was not familiar.To atone, the Japanese humans had set up several altars to the extra-humans. Truth be told, they worshipped the extra-humans as their deities. The reserved women had the same milk-like substance which I had earlier seen being harvested.Said harvesting area looked to be in Bali more than anywhere else. The harvested milk-like drink was stored in very ornate vessels that were decidedly Japanese and examples of ancient Japanese pottery.
In particular, there was a large dark-wood altar – Butsudan – that captivated me. Inside the Butsudan were several wooden carvings which were in the likeness of the visored extra-humans.I grabbed one of the carvings, enraged, and began banging it against the other carvings. In short order, I had desecrated the imposition that the extra-humans’ presence represented.I began furiously yelling at the Japanese locals for having sold out. What really surprised me was just how enraged and powerful a persona I possessed. I was intensely warrior-spirited.I seemingly was a member of a Samurai sect which meant that there was fierce pride and honour at stake here. This was such a gross betrayal.
“Where was their loyalty to traditions and history?” I rhetorically asked.As I bashed away at the carvings, I heavily panted. I felt rather passionate, on my return, about the fruits of my past-life labour having been defiled once left behind on my passing in that former lifetime.I addressed them in Japanese, no less. It was quite something.
*It much reminded me of that dream encounter with ‘Francesca,’ on January 1, 1989. I had then encountered the fiery redheaded Briton who had been a former life of mine.I was quite the strong-personalitied dramatic woman who was quite sparkling-personalitied and with great presence. END.
In that former Japanese life my body of work was clearly dear to me. I couldn’t conceive of how these people would turn their backs on the efforts made on their behalf.With that I took leave of them and went rushing into the shrine’s private apartments. I ran up the stairs then stopped and walked along the unusually narrow hallways. The proportions here were decidedly Japanese.On the walls were engravings that bore inspiring words and poems. All of the art was spiritually focussed. Too, there were lots of long narrow rugs on the wooden floor of the hallways.
An extremely ancient Butsudan sat in the private apartments where once I had lived in that former life. The Butsudan’s two silver latches were complicated to open.In fact, they were not readily opened based on the way that they appeared. Nonetheless, from memory, I effortlessly opened them on the first try.The shrine was so immediately familiar. I couldn’t believe that it still stood there. My fingers actually trembled as I made to open the latches. The Butsudan was also covered in wooden engravings.One set of the latches ran across the midsection of the Butsudan. Still, the other latch system came down vertically at the bottom. So excited was I that I began levitating whilst opening the Butsudan.
I first opened the one at the midsection, then the other, after which I flung open the door excited to once more see the Butsudan’s coveted scroll.Just inside the door, there was a dark-brown leather flap with engravings on it. Raising the flap finally led the light to be cast in on the most time-yellowed Gohonzon imaginable.It was truly antique and I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. The structure was so very powerful. On realising what it was, I shuddered and began quivering throughout.Immediately, my connection to Buddhism in this lifetime was being validated. Of course, having seen Diego Lunamas in the environs of prior dreams made perfect sense.
He had also been on the palatial grounds of the temple as I had hovered in the air. On opening the shrine, I alighted and collapsed on the floor in lotus position before the Gohonzon.I keenly focussed on the Gohonzon though mindful of the fact that the black-clad and visored extra-humans would be returning soon. Here in this most awakened of dreams, I began chanting Daimoku. I cannot stress enough how intensely lucid a dream experience this was.As I chanted, I became aware of my vibration rapidly intensifying. I remained reverential before the ancient Gohonzon, with hands clasped, yet I found it hard to believe that I was having the experience.More than that, the flow of energies from the time-yellowed Gohonzon to me was as real and intense as the intense light flooding the tiny private apartments – an apartment where once I had lived in a former life when Japanese.
There was the sillage of sweet sandalwood incense ghosting the air. For some time, I chanted aloud then concluded with a long, slow, piercing utterance of Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo.With that, I shot to my feet and fled from the room going down the hallway and turned to the left. In my haste, I had left the Butsudan opened with the Gohonzon exposed.However, there was a strong sense that it was to have been left opened. The light and energies from the Gohonzon needed to be obstructed no more.I then arrived into the large palatial living quarters that were quite open. There was a low mat, a futon actually, to the left of the door on entering the room.
To the right of the door, half of the wall area opened up to a view of the beautifully terraced gardens outdoors. I knew that whoever presently lived there was coming.I could sense the person’s approach down on the grounds to the right. With that, I floated down to the ground level and effortlessly moved through the pane of glass.I simply upped my frequency and willed myself to become light-bodied. Thus, I was able to effortlessly move through the thick floor-to-ceiling pane of glass.I went to the left of the building, slowly moving through the night air, on the terraced grounds of the temple compound. At that point, I noticed that there was a man approaching.
About my neck, I still wore a brown scarf that had covered the Gohonzon. On opening up the large Butsudan, I had removed and placed the scarf about my shoulders.As I flew with the scarf, I realised that I could be apprehended once spotted with the unique telltale scarf. The man waited for me around some large wooden pylons that served as the opening in the fence.It was, in fact, a gate system. It led from the private inner courtyard to the outer courtyard where others could gather.There were several wooden stools on which one could sit and reflect on the beautiful gardens. Architecturally, this place was simply inspiring. It was truly Zen here and was both uplifting and conducive to serenity.
On coming around the pylons, the man turned out to be none other than Kaarlsohn Frieden. From above in the air, I was stunned to have both seen and found him here and excitedly beamed down at him.He wore only a large top that fell to just below his arse. Floating down, I alighted whilst the brilliance of a full Moon night seemed to magically shift to intense daylight.The lighting here was truly ethereal. The energies here were wonderful. Here on the grounds of this compound, the energy was very densely negative-ioned.
Way down the hill, whilst in flight, I had noticed several children playing. They were all Japanese. I had landed by a series of stone shrines that had been strategically placed about the gardens. A stone table sat close by that looked several centuries old.I simply couldn’t believe that I was having a dream encounter with Kaarlsohn. Here was I so lucid and he was so real. Truly, this was an astral plane encounter of the highest order.On ambling over, I warmly greeted him. I chose not to try and get rid of the scarf. I was, though, concerned whether or not he would be mad with me for being there.
He called me over. Kaarlsohn’s stubby thighs were strong and athletic-looking as though he were in his twenties. Understandably, he did look older than when I knew him.On the inside of his right thigh, I noticed a large thick vein. As he looked at me warmly smiling, I stood to his left. Kaarlsohn was so warm but, more importantly, I couldn’t get over how real an encounter this was.As he was only wearing the large unisexed top, and nothing beneath it, I got a good drift of his sex’s strong musk. It was a bit overwhelming but I kept focussed on his clear smiling eyes.
Looking into his eyes, I spoke to him making sure to be simultaneously telepathic – there is greater power of persuasion when thus focussed,“Oh my god, Kaarlsohn, I’d give anything to be alone with you. To be intimate but not necessarily sexual, mind you.“I’d do anything to relax and recline with you, sensually. I’d really love to laze about with you… caressing.”At that point, I placed my arm about his lower back whilst we unflinchingly looked into the other’s eyes. He smiled sweetly blushing. I then caressed his arse and felt its firm roundness beneath the sheer light fabric.
Then Kaarlsohn surprised me by saying, “Well, I like to do that, from time to time…”He slowly, suggestively arched his brows high up his forehead. It was a gesture that was reminiscent of Merlin when he wanted to be intimate. What was really telling though was Kaarlsohn’s enunciation when he had uttered those words.By ‘time’ he meant reincarnational time and not time relating to his present incarnation. So that he meant at the level of soul, he did not mind having a same-sexed or bisexual focus ever so often when incarnate.
I looked at him and was blown away by his mischievousness. With that, we both playfully laughed at his teasing winsome handsomeness. Here his voice was not as strong a bass as his voice is in this lifetime.Beyond all that, the level of love, warmth and intimacy between us was astonishing. It was a rare pleasure to be so genuinely intimate with another soul. This depth of openness and acceptance simply blew me away.Then as if all that weren’t revolutionary Kaarlsohn initiated sexual play. He fondled me whilst undoing me with the most sensual kisses all over.
By this point, we were now sitting down on the table in lotus position ravenously groping each other. From time to time, he would stop kissing me to directly look into my eyes.On those occasions, it was as though time itself stood still. My senses were so heightened that I thought I would simply die of joy during the dreamtime.Kaarlsohn’s eyes were so real and focussed. His eyes’ intensity was only distantly frightening as they were so potent.Lips passion-reddened, moist and apart revealed his quivering tongue. He quickly breathed in shallow breaths in between groaning. His groans were filled with yearning and called out to me.
Truly aroused, he seductively invited me to come out of myself to join him in ecstasy. His hard, firm hands were tightly wrapped about my throbbing cock slowly kneading and massaging it.What he was doing was not sexual. Rather, he was performing energy work. With each groan that called out to me, he was inviting me to do the same for him.So I did in kind. Kneading, gently and just as painstakingly slowly, I massaged his thick, large, foreskinned cock.There was nothing more potent and shamanic than the energies that passed between us. It was electrifying. It was magus.
I did sense that there were a couple of bruises on his cock which I had passingly noticed. I thought that, perhaps, they were from an outbreak of herpes.He then said, as my cock grew more tumescent,“This is a really nice cock, you’ve got…”As he gently massaged me and pulled back on my foreskin, my cock kept stabbing into the centre of his cupped right palm. As I danced and flew without moving, in spirit, a more sensual solo variation could not have been danced by Evelyn Hart. Indeed, he was as if David Peregrine to my Evelyn Hart – in the sensually exquisite pas de deux, Belong.
At this point, I lucidly became aware of my intentions prior to sleep. I had specifically meditated asking to have memorable experiences, on the astral plane, with those whom I have shared positive past life experiences.Whilst I looked hypnotised into his large clear eyes – which here were a brownish-green, I recalled having shaped my dreams.The light here was so intensely brilliant. Much of the light here was being initiated by the love that this man’s very august soul was imparting to me. A truly energising magus dream experience this was.
*What is most phenomenal about this soulfully intimate experience, of all the people I know, Kaarlsohn is the least homoeroticised. He is also the most macho of men.Too, I had neither spoken to him in ages nor had I recently thought of him. Yet here was this major totemic encounter. It truly proved healing and insightful a dream encounter.Whilst in the midst of our intimacy, I let out a sigh and suddenly found myself being slapped back into my body. At having had my astral projection aborted, there was weightiness at my solar plexus as I suddenly awoke.I had been slapped awake by the shrill cries of raccoons outside my opened bedroom window. They were having yet another nasty fight. They had come out of Stanley Park to forage for food.
I had been terrified on hearing the grunting and screeching, whilst in the midst of my potent astral plane encounter with Kaarlsohn. I had assumed that it was the sound of the extra-humans advancing on us.Now, I realised that these so-called extra-humans were, in fact, astral guides. Rather than being a negative force, the sentries were there to assist with proper astral protection.I had been projecting the disturbance outside the window onto the visored and unseen astral guides. Raccoons are visored, as it were, with their distinctive black band across their faces at the eyes.As was the case, the raccoons had been fighting for some time and continued fighting for much of the night. In fact, they fought till daybreak. They prowled the West End in search of food before scurrying back to Stanley Park at twilight.
**What’s really interesting about these astral plane rendezvous was that both Diego Lunamas and Kaarlsohn Frieden I met during my stay in Winnipeg. With both men, I had enjoyed an ease of communication and instinctively knew that we had had past life contacts.Diego I had introduced to Nichiren Buddhism. Kaarlsohn had already been practicing when I started. Kaarlsohn proved a good companion with whom to chant Daimoku.Rarely have I felt this satiated on awakening from the dreamtime. Though understandably aroused as all hell, I cried for joy at the beauty that I had just experienced and chose to remain lying in repose within the pyramid.The reason for some of the cicadas having been alive was that they represented the ever present “now” of the soul which does not experience time. Initially, the cicadas had all been alive but then some flickered out of existence.
Those cicadas that remained were quite a few. They surely represented the potential of future lifetimes. However, the remaining cicadas that were still alive were not in the majority.The cicadas initially were all alive because to the soul they were being experienced simultaneously – past lifetimes, future lifetimes and this lifetime.The sum totality of my lifetimes, as symbolised by the cicadas, was a swarm of creative energy which was magnetised to this great arboreal giant. Of course, the arboreal giant represented the soul to which ultimately all cicadas – in order that they may experience transformation, reincarnational metamorphosis – are anchored.The tree to which the cicadas were anchored also represented the physical plane. A physical plane into which the lifetimes of the reincarnating soul, as symbolised by the cicadas, had to manifest in order to become self-actualised and fulfilled both spiritually and creatively.
As much as the arboreal giant represented the soul quality on the astral plane, simultaneously, it represented the physical plane into which the soul was reincarnationally focussed.Since I was on the astral plane whilst dreaming – where time as such does not exist – the cicadas were all-extant. The totemic cicadas represented every lifetime’s dreamer self which is never extinguished.Thus the dreamer self forms a conduit, like the black teleportation-like capsule, to having connective glimpses into past or even future lifetimes.
I suppose too that, at the start of this lyrical dream adventure, the black conical capsule in which one sat and travelled was a symbolic icon of my pyramid. Of course, when lucidly dreaming these truly marvellous dreams of uplifting adventure, I was sleeping in my pyramid.This was a truly illuminating dream experience. To have experientially undertaken this astral awakening was very rhapsodic, in each lucid moment, as it swept me along.A sensory feast this was. A feast on which my very soul was made pleasurably besotted. A truly magus dream odyssey this was and one which validated anew that dreams truly are the poetry of the soul. END.
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Late last month, October26, 2025, I attended the final evening of concerts in honour of Oscar Peterson’s centennial. It was simply glorious. At the end of part two, Cécile McLorin-Salvant sung the most haunting rendition of Hymn to Freedom, which above is performed live in 1964 in Denmark by Oscar Peterson and his trio of Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen. Sweet and blissful dreams ever be yours ennobled Sir.
‡This blog is a return of a dream blog shared more than a decade ago. I am adding it here rather than my usual focus on principals of the House of Windsor and the evolving relations. I have chosen to take a break this month as I am working on a more detailed blog for next round. Besides, after the animus from last month’s blog, “To Be A Princess, You Have to Be Born A Princess.” I am so wary of predominantly Americans having decided that Meghan is Princess Meghan, Duchess Meghan et al. Why must Americans always decide that they must put their take on everything, because as it was – in this case royal styles and titles – of course it was all wrong until they decided to fix it.
THR Prince William and Catherine, the Prince & Princess of Wales, September, 2025
Let me take the time to share this photo that left me brimming with joy. Never before has Catherine, HRH The Princess of Wales looked more glorious; furthermore, William wore the Windsor uniform and has his left hand on his wife’s waist. Someone chided me because I posted this image on my Instagram; they wanted to know how I could do so when I hate them. Firstly, you can hate no one. I will never forget how my lips trembled and I grew teary as Catherine stood there in her Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen wedding dress, at the foot of the aisle. She was in closeup, looking at the dean of Westminster Abbey and smiled her earring matching her eyes sparkle. You can never eclipse a winning wow moment like that. Heck, everyone told me to be quiet as I began yelling at William and telling him to get up and sit properly but to remain standing until his new bride was sat in the landau. Then Meghan came along and they proved themselves far too human and myopic without realising the gravity of their roles. Meghan could never be a threat; they are both in their destined role as further King and Queen Consort/King Mother as was the case previously when William was then King Henry IV and Catherine his first wife, Mary, who died young. As Meghan was Margaret Beaufort and thus no reincarnational pushover, boundaries clearly had to be set and the current arrangement is the best way to have establish one’s self-respect and dignity and not be subjected to a insufferable, racially predatory degrading work/life experience.
These next dreams occurred on March, 26; however, rather than 1995, they occurred in 1998. I was then resident in Montréal. What’s more, the day was Thursday and at the time, the Moon transited both Pisces and my tenth house.
It was a rather long, involved, operatic dream and it was an encounter with an extra-human (ET) species never before encountered in the dreamtime. Hey, you want to believe that Mary lay down and gave birth without once having beautifully made love like every other woman and that the universe was made simply for unimaginative human dolts to gaze in the sky and praise their made up deity, knock yourself out.
The purpose of being incarnate is to explore intellect or else we are merely nothing more than semi-feral simians over-breeding and out of season at that… That having been said, the purpose of being awakened in the dream realms is so that one can awaken to the personal truth that all of life is experiential.
It is not for you, dear reader, to project and read into what the dreams shared herein are about, any more than it is good work to go crossing to the other side of the street, more firmly clutching your handbag, at the sight of me – Black male – approaching; I don’t want your fucking handbag… you pigeon-toed dolt…
After having read the next dream, please try and fathom the futility of trying to ‘read’ the signs of dreams. Experiences in the dream realms are as real, at times even more so, as the regurgitated maya-saturated dreck we daily drudge our way through oftentimes somnambulantly…
Why do I dream as I do… choice, of course. I chose to thusly be focussed in this incarnation. I do not nor have I ever done drugs; no shrooms, DMT, Ayahuasca, no LSD, hell, I do not look at television, do not own a television… it is mindlessness… the last time that I watched television was to look at both inaugurations of President Barack H. Obama and between those events, the royal wedding of William & Catherine – so beautiful when any two souls find each other in this vast universe – and you know that I’ve watched it repeatedly on DVD since… I choose being focussed in each moment of being incarnate whether awake or asleep; and trust you me with the amount of fear and bullshit in the waking state one needs the grounding and fluidity of the dream realms to repair the spirit. Of course, being focussed in the dreamtime is a function of being a sixth positioned, late-mature artisan; if I don’t like what’s going down on channel one, I’ve got four other options – who needs TV, seriously? Of course, why do drugs when crystals, isolation tanks and pyramids can do wonders for harmonising and focussing the mind, body and spirit to afford the unfoldment of intellect – especially when focussed in the dream realms… imagination is everything… besides, as a sceptic, it did not take too long before I realised that choosing the easy route in life looked like no end of ennui…
Now before you dismissively sniff, let’s move on to the reason why you are here, to be richly inspired by my spirit’s light as it manifests when in the dreamtime… there is negligible growth in fearfulness… pay keen attention to how I chose to respond to the dream experience as it unfolded; I’d be honoured if it inspires you…
Here, in this the first dream, I was lucidly awakened. Night-time found me with a friend whose sex I am not now certain of. The person was about my height and seemed energetically to be a man.
As we walked on a wide boulevard, up ahead I noticed that the street dead-ended. Beyond it was an empty lot. Here it was bright out though not necessarily a full Moon.Here the energies were strange, just a tad off. The buildings all around were made of red brick, like those buildings at Ellis Island New York where Eurotrash descended like feral jackals in the last century.
This place left me feeling as if I were in Brooklyn, New York City. The buildings were reminiscent of Brooklyn brownstones except that these were six to eight storeys tall.Set back a bit from the road, these were though rather colossal buildings. What was weird about it all was that the entire area seemed to have been long deserted.
Something about these houses just didn’t seem right. Sure enough, someone headed down the street towards us. Finding the place a bit on the creepy side, we had only noticed him for having turned around to check out the lay of the land.Swarthy, he had a full thick beard with a look that was not readily discernible. He could well have been North African, Hispanic, Jewish, Arabic or even Italian. His look was a mélange of so many ethnicities.
He wore a parka which struck me as odd as it was not cold out; neither, for that matter, were we dressed for cold weather. Joining us, he began speaking to us warmly with energies that were nonthreatening.I had been the one to have initiated dialogue. When heading down towards the dead-ended street, he had joined us in the middle of the block. As he walked, I encouraged him to walk between us.I pointed out that the buildings seemed like those at Ellis Island which were featured in the film, Brother From Another Planet in which Merlin’s friend the actor, Noëll Saltmarche starred.
As I had never been to Ellis Island, I added that I couldn’t be sure that it was as much. Perhaps, I speculated, it was that part of Brooklyn in the neighbourhood of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.However, he shrugged off the suggestion; he seemingly was more confident of its location than either my friend or I were. As we progressed, I asked why exactly we were headed towards this dead-end in the boulevard anyway.So we turned around and when I went to look up into the face of this burly brawny man to smile, I noticed the sky just beyond his towering face. He was a warrior-spirited man with a great deal of Jovian energies to his body.
Here, there were a phenomenal number of intensely bright stars in the night sky. One constellation caught my eye but left me confused as to whether it was Orion or Pegasus.I pointed out its odd formation in the sky but the stranger pointed out that it was nothing really. He seemed much too casual about it all. Clearly, he was trying to distract me from cluing into what was up here.
Right away, I grew wary of his motives and wondered what all of this was about anyway. My friend looked up and confirmed that this was not the heavens as, in the waking state, we perceived them from Sol local.Absently, he said aloud that there was something weird about this which there was. In the sky was white light in the shape of an arrow which led from what was clearly Orion off to another constellation.I remarked that there were never arrows in the sky before, either from Orion or any other constellation. Obviously, there was something about all this that was not Kansan in the least.
It seemed highly improbable that there would be any manmade objects in orbit that would be in the shape of an arrow. With that I suggested that we walk back rather than proceed any further. Artfully, I claimed, wanting to go explore the other streets.I said that I wanted to explore the architecture in the neighbourhood which I describe as being charming. Though the buildings were mostly red brick, there were some architectural signatures which were of pale sandstone that nicely set off the red brick.They were, however, far and few between. The colossal buildings here tended to have clock towers on them for the most part. The taller the buildings rose in the sky the more they receded ziggurat-like with towers of impressive neo-Gothic spires.
My keen sense impression was alerted to there being something odd about these buildings. To my way of thinking, they seemed merely façade for something else entirely different.Most of all, I knew quite lucidly that I was dreaming – which is to say that, at any time, I could collapse the experience by tuning vibrationally away from this place. Yet my curiosity was piqued by the outréness of the place.This is why I had been keenly observant of the stranger’s energies. For this reason, so as not to awaken any alien and possible inimical response in him, I had been warm and engaging with him.
Even his parka seemed so much cover, hiding god-only-knows-what outréness about his physique, which would prove alien to humans’.In a friendly but dismissing gesture, I went to place my hand on his arm – to affectionately pat him – pointing out that it was good to have seen him and hoped to see him around some time. I again touched him, this time just beyond his wrist, only to feel a skin that was covered throughout with large knobby clumps.For the life of me I couldn’t tell whether these were clumps of his hirsute hairs forming into little dreadlock clusters or the fact that he was diseased. If the latter, perhaps, it was his reason for wearing the parka. Either way, it just didn’t seem all that right to me.
It was as if the skin of a crocodile or at least as one would expect it to feel. Though it was most bizarre, I kept direct eye contact with him; I chose never to betray dread or fear in what sinister extra-human this could possibly be.Saying that he would stay behind to study the stars, he agreed to say so long. As we headed back trying not to do so, too hurriedly, I looked off to the right and noticed a spectacular array of stars in the sky.Both of us stopped to marvel at the beauty and intensity of the stellar concentration. It was as if being close to the hub of our galaxy, it was quite fantastic.
Just then, I noticed yet another arrow streaking through the blackness of interstellar space; this one considerably longer than the one which streaked from Orion.From our extra-stellar perspective, both Orion and Pegasus seemed to have collided several million light years earlier and left an amalgam of both. It was all very strange.The head of the arrow, plus a bit of its stem, had been protruding from Orion. Now with this newly discovered arrow, its light was made of black light.
Even against the blackness of interstellar space, it was a discernibly black light. It was considerably longer than the white arrow. To my right, its point was headed away from the street on which we stood truly spellbound.It was at a fifteen degree angle to the deserted street. Since there was something much too weird about it all, we decided to turn back. What’s more, the man was no longer with us. Though extra-human he may be, it was good to have had anyone rather than no one.
On turning back, though we had only taken a few steps, the man was no longer anywhere to be seen. Certainly, he couldn’t have entered any of the buildings as they were far too removed from the sidewalk for him to have dodged into any of them.Quite simply, he had vanished into thin air. My companion said matter-of-factly,“Oh well. He’s definitely an extra-human and has beamed up.”Even if he had leapt into the sky to take flight, we would have at least seen him aloft, yet he was nowhere to be found. There was definitely something afoot here.
I told my friend that we had to make ourselves as scarce as possible; thus, walking briskly to the point of being on the verge of jogging, we took off.However, looking as menacing as one would expect sinister extra-humans to be posturing, two other men had immediately come from the buildings up the road.Again, they looked pretty much of the same stock as the disappeared, parka-clad extra-human did and were also just as abundantly hirsute. They were exceptionally tall, close to seven feet, and seemed as if hobos.
That, of course, was all part of their camouflage. However, it was not their true identity. I told my companion that we simply had to split up, to confuse them, he agreed.
With that, I pushed off immediately and took to flight. Now I was flying, at great speeds, veering off to the left though I had been on my companion’s left.Going along a street after having sped across a row of identical, red-bricked colossal buildings, I flew on ahead. As I flew on, I looked after myself to find them standing there on the ground. Surveilling me keenly, with an intense fixed gaze, they stood there on the street below.It was as though, by means of telepathy, they were recording my flight to transmit it live elsewhere. I then noticed as I flew overtop the city that there were never any persons on the streets.
However, from time to time, one would see the same kinds of people like the hirsute stranger who in his charming way had at one point had his arm around us whilst directing us ahead. Had we not been aware, he could well have captured us.What was of concern to me, rather than their camouflaged, none-too-convincing human disguise, was how these persons looked in their natural state. Who knows what their agendum was?Were they here to hurt us? Did we represent nothing more to them but food? Were we dispensable collateral?
Were their interests solely in seizing the planet for their species and as such Earthlings were like Africans, squatting on valuable resource-rich, real estate, are perceived by the rest of humanity?This left me thinking of how very vulnerable we are for being here isolated on this planet. We are as if truly alone in this sector of the galaxy.Of course, like any individual long isolated, we humans have been a deeply troubled fragmented tribe. How pray tell would we fare if we were to be visited by an aggressive species of Extra-humans?
One rather suspects that they would care little about who was who on the racial pecking order but see us all as dispensable. We are not a united species and for that there would be no way that we could prove anywhere of a threat to any species with designs of a hostile intervention on this planet.These people walking about in human camouflage were quite Wotanesque in stature and looked very healthy indeed. Clearly, neither Earth nor humans posed an inimical proposition for their agenda however sinister or otherwise.Following the streets below, rather than staying over any of the colossal buildings, I kept on flying over the city. Too, I remained not too high as I didn’t want to be tracked by the Extra-humans.
Besides, who knew if there was some ‘cloaked’ spaceship of theirs hovering invisibly just above the rooftops. This would leave me vulnerable to being readily attacked or apprehended by them.
Eventually, I flew on ahead and came to an area where more of the same buildings enclosed a square. Here the buildings were ancient and were built such that it was reminiscent of being in Lower Manhattan, where that part of town was built during the early part of the 20th century.On arriving at one building, I hovered above the courtyard or the back thereof. Just as I was about to alight on a ledge, I looked for an open window. I discovered an open window so slowly began alighting towards it.Before touching down, I saw a young Chinese woman inside it who looked like a student. I remained hovering in the air outside and slightly above the window observing her as she paced neurotically about the room.
She was speaking to herself and was noticeably upset about something. Exasperated, she sighed heavily saying,“I just can’t take this anymore. I have to do this…”With that she came and stood on the ledge of the wide-open large window in what seemed like an industrial-building-turned-loft-space.She squatted on the sill, wearing black pants which revealed her wide-hipped with a burgundy-coloured top over top that. She would have been in her early twenties but very intense.
Hers was a cramped, very beautifully laid out apartment which reminded me of my tiny apartment at 425-1915 Haro Street in Vancouver’s West End. Even down to the walls, they were the same cream-coloured affair as that apartment of mine.Before I knew what next, she pushed off and began falling straight down to the ground. Never once did she make a single sound. She landed hard with a thump that had a massive sonic impact on the environment.This I think was because of the gravity of what she had just done. Definitely, there was no way that she had survived this fall. In an old building with high-ceilinged floors, she had been more than five storeys up.
She fell into the courtyard where it was damp below. At the time of her suicide, there was no one about to witness her violent exit. I then landed on the same sill just after she pushed off.I had no intentions of trying to stop her as it was fairly obvious that she was determined to carry out her deed. The whole thing was much too massive, karmically, for me to have tried intervening.I didn’t know the score – what was motivating her to do what she did. Like all suicides, what she was doing carried too massive a psychic burden for me to have become entangled with her.
Since I needed desperately a place to hide out, her place seemed ideal. Her untidy, selfish exit was all very convenient for me. On entering her just-vacated apartment, I began exploring it.The place was a very scholarly-looking dwelling. There was no getting around the fact that this woman was a Scholar Soul. She was quite a well-organised student.Off in one corner was a kitchenette where she clearly did like to cook. Lots of seasonings and drying herbs were stuffed everywhere in the kitchenette. Though a tiny space, every nook and cranny of it was perfectly laid out and compartmentalised.
Taking the time, I tried to get a good appreciation of her just concluded life. To that end, I went pouring deftly through every square inch of the place. I absorbed all the clues to her life and emotional makeup as exhibited by her dwelling.One had the sense that this woman was so tightly strung that suicide would seem to have been a most logical solution to a major crisis. I tried not to leave fingerprints about. To that end, I had grabbed a piece of fabric from the kitchen that was green and white though not checkered.I used it to pull drawers and items open as I poured through the place. All that I wanted to know was where the devil was the door from her tiny apartment that led out to the hallway.
Each time that I opened a door, the cloth in hand covering the knob, it would lead into yet another well-stocked, cramped closet. After having cautiously opened yet another door, only to find no such thing as a door to the hallway, it became a bit amusing.One door, which I was convinced led to the hallway, led right into her bathroom which was fragrant-smelling. To say the least, it was quite nicely stocked and ladylike a place.The kitchenette was beautiful with a wonderful rack system in which she kept all her fresh vegetables. There I saw spaghetti squashes, on one shelf, whilst above that ripening tomatoes. Still below the squashes were onions, garlic, shallots.
Interestingly, she used the slat-filled crates in which produce was shipped to stores, converting them into a drawer storage system in which her produce were stored. In that way, they were able to breathe without growing mold and going bad.This was so beautifully organised that it was quite good to have seen. I was saddened that she had had to choose suicide rather than seek some other resolution to her crisis whatever it was.I thought that for having experienced her dwelling that she was a beautiful person which only made her passing that much more tragic a loss. I was saddened after having taken a tour of the place.
In all honesty, it had never been my intentions to do any such thing but in the end that’s what happened as each door led me to anywhere but the hallway.I wanted to be able to leave the apartment unobserved without, having disturbed anything, giving the impression that I had been an intruder. From there I had planned to go downstairs, and take my leave of the building, so as to blend in with the locals.Off to the left of the window, on entering, was a door which originally I had assumed was a broom closet. In the end, it would prove to be the apartment’s front door but there were no demarcations on it to suggest that it was such.
The bathtub was a tiny affair which couldn’t have accommodated anyone other than a child. Adults would have to stand up and take a shower rather than attempt taking a bath therein. The whole style here was decidedly 1930s, in the deco style though not exclusively.The student had a laptop computer over on a desk on which were, piled high, all manner of books. Rather a beautiful space, this place. An old faded rug dominated the central living space which was not especially large.The main room was not square as over in one corner the lines were broken to accommodate the bathroom area. Diagonally, was the alcove which led to the front door, next to the single large window which flooded the room with light.
The window was a sliding affair whose bottom half slid up to open. A lone futon was the only signs of a sleeping area which I suspect she customarily never had time to open beyond the sofa position.The desk with laptop was directly across the room from the large open window. Off to the left, beyond another alcove, and across the room was the door which led to the kitchen.Once inside, there were tiny, white, quarter inch square tiles covering the kitchenette floor. Intentionally faded, the look was caesarean Rome.
In back of the sofa, there was a wall of bookcases. Every square inch of each crammed, of course, plus there were lively, healthy hanging plants cascading from on top. One didn’t get the sense that she owned a pet besides which I didn’t see one.The bookcase unit created a partition of sorts around which she could retreat to get undressed. Obviously, this woman did not entertain. A very studious woman she was.Wondered as to what could have caused her to have snapped. It didn’t seem as if she were the type to become caught up in some intense amour fou ménage à trois, in which she was betrayed and lost out in the end.
More than likely, she had probably failed miserably on her exams. Or perhaps she had been found out cheating in which case the only way out for her was suicide rather than be expelled and dishonoured.I really did feel for her loss. Going to the apartment’s front door, I slowly pried it open cautiously. Before doing so, listening to see if there was anyone outside who would possibly see me, I had stood there a long while.Seeing that it was the dead of night, I thought better of being so overly cautious as there was likely no one outside. Indeed, hearing that there was no one outside, I slowly opened the door only to have discovered the bathroom. It was hysterical indeed.
Eventually, I did find the nondescript alcove through which one entered and exited the beautiful little apartment. Sure enough, this was the apartment’s front door. The large window was the second to last from the end of the building; however, there was a stairwell close by as soon as you got into the hallway.She was in the back of the building and looking to the courtyard; once outside in the hallway, the building was laid out confusingly. There was a large, grand square formation staircase in this wing of the building which led downstairs.
Looking below it was quite the drop to the bottom which was a marble-tiled affair. A long-haired White male student had just left his apartment and heard when I closed the door to the Oriental’s.His was dirty blond and parted in the center. Familiarly, he had called out to her, calling her ‘Junko’ which is definitely a Japanese name. On seeing me, he became immediately concerned… understandably.He knew that she almost never had anyone in her apartment. Even more awkward was the fact that I couldn’t tell him that his friend had just committed suicide.
More than that, there was the matter of her apartment window being open with her dead body below in the courtyard. This did not look good for me at all.He naturally had every right to assume that for having seen me leave her place – a total stranger – that I had been an interloper who, once confronted, had shoved her to her death. It was the only logical thing to have concluded and race had nothing whatsoever to do with that conclusion.Junko, a loner, wouldn’t have had a stranger there. Seemingly, this was a student’s residence connected to some university or other. Naturally, he would have known that I was not a resident in the building.
Since I was clearly out of sorts there, I doubled back on myself. Only further implicating myself, I made my way into a tiny, narrow wooden fire escape.This was, of course, inside the building itself. On leaving the building, in a bit of a rush, I noticed two women standing outside. Wearing outfits which made much noise when they walked, these women were unusually dressed.There were tiny squares of bronzish-purple colour which were made of pliant hard plastic. They stood at the foot of a wonderful old European cobblestone bridge that spanned a river; it was not as wide as the river Thames is at Westminster Abbey.
All the fixtures here were beautiful, rich with black art nouveau lampposts from a bygone era. Their lights cascaded over, like hanging plant in bloom. They were on the left side of the bridge when looking towards the city’s other bank.Standing there, they solicited by handing out flyers. I for one didn’t want to get too involved in the crowd that they were attracting. Then again, I didn’t want to make myself conspicuous by snubbing them.Instead, after having taken the flyer then feigned reading it whilst hurrying away along the bridge, I pretended to be in a hurry. Here, as I crossed the bridge, the sunlight was beginning to come up.
The first thing that I noticed on crossing the bridge was that all the buildings here were like those first seen which reminded me of Ellis Island. Something was quite so off about this entire place.Seeing a table close by, I decided to go there to sit and get my bearings. There were already three women seated at the table. Approaching them, I asked if they would mind my sitting there. It was a large round table at an outdoor café.It wasn’t until sitting down that I noticed in my hand the same dish cloth, so as not to leave my fingerprints lying about, which I had been using back at ‘Junko’s’ apartment to handle everything.
Discreetly, I placed it on my right thigh to make it look like a napkin. My back was being bathed by the rising sun behind me as I drank in the energies all about me.The women were visiting warmly, laughing and enjoying themselves. These were genuinely happy persons. Not wanting to intrude on them by doing or saying anything, I ordered something to eat.They told me not to mind them as they visited and I assured them that I would be quite okay keeping to myself. The next thing that I knew, however, some undercover cops showed up.They apprehended me and placed me under arrest. Feigning ignorance, I asked what they were talking about. Yet deep within I knew that, my having been in Junko’s university residence and after having been seen by her long-haired friend, I was a prime suspect.
Of course, no one had shoved Junko to her death any more than Junko had willed her way to her death with great forcefulness. They told me to stop pretending because they had gotten a good description of me from a key witness who had discovered Junko’s body.Apparently, many persons living in the complex had seen me leaving. Basically, they had pieced together a scenario not wildly removed from what I had long concluded: that there had been a struggle between Junko and me when I broke into her apartment.Naturally, being larger than her, I had been able to shove her through the window of her apartment to her death. They told me that one of the witnesses had heard Junko scream.
This I knew was bullshit as I recalled distinctly Junko never once having made a sound as she violently tossed her body to her death. Needless to say, this was not what had happened but naturally this made sense as they made a science of pinning me with her death.The officers then instructed me to look to my left as further proof of my having been the perpetrator of Junko’s demise. There, I noticed that the wall was a reddish-to-sandstone colour which looked like fired clay.Nicely camouflaged against it was a ladder which was of the same material and colour. Its purpose was for getting one up to the building’s fire escape system. This, of course, only further cemented their case against me.
They accused me of having used that ladder to make it onto the fire escape. As it turned out that building though on the other side of the river was part of the same complex in which Junko lived.That having been the case, it stood to reason that after having murdered her, I had slid down the fire escape then sat there at the table taking a meal. All of this conjecture when I didn’t even know the women with whom I shared a table. True enough.This definitely did not look good. They got me up, carrying me to a low-riding yellow transport. A lone Black woman stood there looking on at me with a look of deep anguish warping her face.
To protect its passenger, the yellow transport had flaps on it. There was little room inside as I sat down low to the ground – the flap covering me up from being made a shameful spectacle whilst being transported.Soon I was joined by a Black female officer who came inside the already crowded transport. Before I knew what next, she began groping me being really aggressive about it too. More than that, she was really squeezing on my balls. Ouch!Forcefully, without missing a beat, I began violently kicking at her and told her to fuck off. Kicking her aside, I shoved aside the flap and bolted from the transport.
As it travelled, seemingly on autopilot, I had been sitting with my back to the front of the transport as it travelled. My transport was part of a long caravan of similar transports. Obviously, the other cars were filled with other convicts whom they had already picked up.I intended not to be part of their daily catch. As the others were quite prepared to be hauled off to some holding cell or other somewhere, I had no such ambitions. This was much too ridiculous. Escaping, by not running but simply soaring high into the air at fantastic speeds, I simply took my leave of the place.My destination was back to the complex where Junko had committed suicide. If only to somehow right an injustice, I wanted to return to the scene of the crime. I wanted to see if they had already removed the body.
I alighted onto the sill of the open window which was opposite Junko’s across the courtyard. Naturally, this apartment was set up differently as it was reversed to Junko’s.I entered, only to find a young White woman there who was all skin and bones, definitely she was suffering from anorexia nervosa. As a matter of fact, she was so skinny as to look otherworldly as though an astral plane habitué or an extra-human.On closer inspection, I noticed that her complexion was definitely not human rather she was yellowish-white. Not unlike the extra-humans in the, Ron Howard film, Cocoon, was she.
Throwing water on her body, she was seated in the quarter-sized tub. Further scrutiny revealed that she hadn’t any hair on her oversized cranium. This was not a situation where she was bald for having undergone chemotherapy rather she was void any hair whatsoever.Clearly, I had long flown the coop which is Kansas. There was no escaping the fact that this woman was an extra-human. It took a while before she noticed me and when she did she fixed me with jet-black oversized eyes.Quite simply, she was bizarre-looking. Depending on her moods, thoughts or emotions, her skin seemed to glow at varying intensities. There was a yellowish hue to it but not as if she suffered from jaundice.
In that sense she looked as if made of time-yellowed old ceramics. My initial thought was,“Well I’m definitely not going to want any pussy off you.”
With that I didn’t even waste time making for the door, I simply tuned out; thus, I effortlessly moved through the wall of her apartment and went into the hallway.On this side of the courtyard, the building was set out differently than at Junko’s across the courtyard. From there, I went to the apartment where Junko had lived until recently.On entering, I was stunned to find that it was completely gutted and as if having been ravaged by a fire. There was not a sign of furniture anywhere.More than that, the man whom my companion and I had originally met on the street, the brawny, Wotanesque supra-hirsute, was now there. Clearly, he was there to capture me.
With him was an old man who was quite tall. Toothless, the man was at least an octogenarian with a briskness of energies which was reminiscent of Isadore da Braga’s. This, of course, would leave me to believe that this mercurial man was a priest soul.Furthermore, he was the quintessential ‘Dark Priest’ archetype. There was a fanatical zeal about him which was unmistakably priestly. As far as he was concerned, I was the enemy and to that end I had to be captured if not eliminated.He came to get me. At that, I flew up and went beneath a steel staircase where I held on to its underside. Looking like a fly on a ceiling, there I hung upside down.
Both men had been outside on a fire escape a few storeys below where I had been in Junko’s former apartment. They had looked up and seen me there because on this visit much of the building was now gutted, not just Junko’s former apartment.Remaining where I was, I waited for them to enter my wing of the complex. As soon as they did so, I flew out the window from beneath the staircase’s underside. On noticing me, sounding pretty much like a cave filled with bats in heat, the priestly accomplice furiously screamed.Flying close to the building, I dropped down a few storeys and then dodged back inside the building through another of its windows. Once I had alighted, I set off running at full speed through the building’s cavernous labyrinthine interior; thus I tried to lose them in my wake.
I managed to have eventually made my way outside where I saw them again. Much to my surprise, they had already captured the other human with whom I had originally been.Presently, they were torturing him which was not the most pleasant of sights; nor was it anything with which I remotely wanted to have become familiar. He was being fisted by these truly sadistic men with the old dark priest man really getting off on the torture.I shuddered as I watched them reach in and pull out his innards. This was serious shit. Literally! I was immediately reminded of my youth in Sandy Point, St. Kitts when I would go to the market on the weekends and watch the animals being gutted. It was truly grim.
There was definitely something wrong with this image and it had to be stopped. I simply couldn’t abide that being done to a friend. What next happened was truly amazing, I saw that there were lots of pigs in a clearing in a slot.This looked pretty much like one was on New York City’s 5th Avenue going down towards Amsterdam Square. They stood there in the open area of the abandoned street, in the equally abandoned city. There was a great deal of pig feed everywhere. Looking very white and on the hideous side, all of the pigs were shaved. Presently, they were in a feeding frenzy; the look and sound of them being truly gross.
One of them I noticed had been neurotically twitching. Closer inspection revealed that its arse was exceptionally fat. It seemed as if it were trying to either have a big dump or even give birth. Quite bizarre!The stuff which started coming out of its arse was basically the pig’s innards. Right away, I realised that there had to have been a connection to the companion of mine who had been fisted to the point of having the life, literally yanked out of him by way of his innards. Clearly, these pigs were totemic animals for what few genuine humans there were among this culture of disguised extra-humans; though, as in the case of the female bather, they were not all in disguise.
I thought that, perhaps, they were doing this to the human as this was the way that they achieved a sexual high.It then dawned on me that, perhaps, the pigs were more so representative of the extra-humans rather than being totems which the extra-humans had fashioned of their human captives.
With that in mind, I got a torch and approached the twitching pig’s body setting it ablaze. I figured that it was connected to my companion or the persons torturing him.True enough, I could hear cries of protest from the next block away where the human was being tortured. The other street was off to the left whilst facing the pigs.When I attacked, the pigs were feeding in a tight frenzied cluster. Definitely, it was the extra-human with whom my companion and I had been speaking who screamed aloud as the pig burnt.
The pig was more than his familiar. They were both connected and such that his response was a simpatico psychic phenomenon which didn’t need for them to be in close quarters for the extra-human to have experienced the terror which the squealing pig did.It was definitely his voice. Then and there, I knew that I was on to something. Immediately, I began setting all the pigs afire. Enraged the extra-human stopped screaming and headed in my direction to exact his revenge.Obviously, these pigs were further-disguised extra-humans which were more so in accord with their true nature than not. What was telling about these pigs was that they were the same yellow-white colour as the lone extra-human female whom I had seen taking a bath – in the apartment across the courtyard from Junko’s.
Indeed, it was on seeing the pig’s complexion that I was able to make the connection to the humanoid extra-humans which was more disguise than not. Closer inspection made me realise that the pigs were not feeding exclusively but were rather engaging in group sex.It seemed that they had at least two sex organs in the rear and possibly one or more close to their hideous faces. So their eating was for the most part a sexual act.Their large exposed sex organs in the rear could have made it look as though they were being disemboweled; however, they were in a state of arousal. Truth be told, the pig behaving neurotically was more accurately in the throes of orgasm.
Their bodies were shaped differently to a pig’s. Truth be told, these creatures did look from their long-backed selves more like a greyhound’s or even an upright creature which had reverted to walking on all fours.This was so confusing when initially I had assumed that the twitching neurotic pig was going into labour; rather, it was having sex. The pigs were having sex because their humanoid fellow extra-humans were having a sexual high for torturing my companion.Obviously, both these extra-humans had a symbiotic relationship of some sort. After having discovered their weakness, I set about to destroy the pig-like creatures who were having an orgy disguised as a feeding frenzy.
Whilst doing this, so that together we could suppress the extra-humans among us, I screamed aloud calling for help from other humans. As the other pig-like creatures were being set afire, they were so obese that it was hard for them to have taken flight. Meanwhile, no humans had appeared on the scene to come to my aid.Soon enough, I noticed that there was an outflow of extra-humans from all the abandoned-looking buildings on the street. They were all the same tall, Wotanesque supra-hirsute types as the original extra-human who had befriended my companion and me.They looked truly enraged – deadly even. Without exceptions, they all wore parkas. I do believe that the parkas were to maintain a certain body temperature and to block out as much natural sunlight as possible.
Too, there seemed to be some parasitic culture to which their bodies played host and which needed to be protected by the parkas. Indeed, the parkas were more than likely their space suits as it were.Sure enough, the two extra-humans – who had been looking at me, when I initially had taken to the air – I saw again coming down the street towards me. I was quite aware that though they never took flight, any of these extra-humans, that they were quite capable of doing so. I had seen them do as much. Earlier, when escaping the two back at the abandoned complex where Junko lived, the unusually tall octogenarian-seeming zealot had come flying after me whilst screaming much like a pig so enraged was he.
As they came towards me, they began screaming as if their bodies were afire. They pleaded with me not to do as much to them. The more they tried to come closer, the more their progress became laborious – to the point where they could no longer move.They were arrested by fear and by a psychic terror that was crippling. Their bodies in conjunction with the burning pig-like creatures experienced immolation. Though they were not on fire they were being burnt.As the pig-like creatures’ bodies burnt away, the extra-humans’ bodies correspondingly simply began disappearing. It was as though they were being erased or being made invisible, in patches, throughout their bodies.
Indeed, perhaps, these Wotanesque humanoids were merely holographic projections. Quite frankly, I had the upper hand. Though they wanted me to stop, I told them no way.They had already unleashed their sadistic terror on humans, therefore they deserved just retribution. Before I knew what next, there appeared above them in the sky a massive flame. Blue, it looked like the flame from a gas range.It was a square formation rather than the quintessential flying saucer shape of conventional human extra-human vehicle wisdom. Hovering there, it undulated whilst spewing out little red charges of flame.
The flame was a live entity which immediately began speaking. It did make biblical references to ‘Jeremiah’ and to Christ having been murdered.Telling me that it was wrong of me to have attacked the extra-humans, of which it was obviously in favour, the flame was speaking to me. I didn’t, of course, see his Flameness anywhere in the sky, pontificating whilst my companion was being fisted and disemboweled.The energy given off by the blue flame entity were extremely intense. I was convinced that the flame had appeared to retaliate against me, in the extra-humans’ defence; instead, he was there to deal with the extra-humans.
What I could gather from what transpired here was that the flame was an extra-human bounty hunter; he, the flame, was on the hunt for fugitives which in essence is what this colony of sadistic extra-humans represented.As the extra-humans were afire, this created a tear in the fabric of their cloaking devices which made it possible for the fugitives to be detected. As a result, the flame was – so to speak – beaming up the fugitives who were suffering immolation.Though they feared being on fire, it was clear that they didn’t want to be captured by the flame. For being in distress, they set off the signatures which allowed their pursuers to locale them across Space.
Clearly, these extra-humans had the ability to jump space and possible travel cross time. The voice from the flaming entity in the sky had a booming strong resonant voice which was reminiscent of the actor, James Earl Jones’s.The booming voice made several references to human history – all of which were fairly accurate and impressive. With that, the flaming entity in the sky started consuming the pig-like creatures which were screeching whilst on fire in the middle of the street.As it consumed the creatures, it was clear that they did not relish their fate. There were no illusions as to the fate of these extra-humans. They were being relocated elsewhere and it was definitely to their home which was nowhere on this planet.
I then realised that the buildings, which all looked like they were out on Ellis Island, actually were the extra-humans’ spaceships which were artfully disguised.All the buildings were on dead-end streets which likely had not existed before. This entire neck of the woods had been artificially made. The whole affair had been plunked down in the middle of nowhere yet made to look like part of a large metropolitan area.It was a factory of sorts. By that I mean that, the captured humans were brought there and subjected to various forms of the hunt. Afterwards, they were captured outright and subjected to sadistic torture sessions in which the extra-humans sexually got off.
Quite intriguing, most especially since the real extra-humans were closer to being like pigs than humans.
*This blog was originally published in October, 2023. In light of the recent discloser, July 2025, that Catherine’s stylist, Natasha ‘Tash’ Archer has departed with her being exposed as having stalked Meghan and all her inner circle friends and influencers’ Instagram accounts, this does validate my observations that Catherine has used clothing to be racially predatory of Meghan by cannibalising most of Meghan’s looks. Do enjoy anew!
Jealous Peggalicious Preys Whilst Scorned Ekaterina Deliberately Flirts with Thespian & His Beard
Well, of course, the Venus Flytrap-pussied broodmare is damn well going to flirt after having been brushed off days earlier at the Polo. So there was she, patron of the All England Lawn & Tennis Club in bitch-dominatrix green – perfect colour for a woman with energy body of 9, reigning at Wimbledon. Just for the cameras, Ekaterina obstinately flirted with actor, James Norton. So what if he is Queer, all men are dogs, after all, it’s just a matter of time before they sniff each other and start humping seen or unseen. Ekaterina, the world onlooking, just wanted to get under the Pegged and follicly challenged boor Wilhelm’s skin. Of course, the fact that both senior Waleses are task companions only adds to the complexity of the War of the Waleses.
Poor Peggalicious Desperately Fails to Cock Block
Ekaterina’s Reason for Devoting More Time to The 1851 Trust than Any Other Charity? Big Ben
With the recent departure of Elizabeth II, the snivelling palace sycophants have been reinventing fabulist gossip and tales to make of the Waleses and Windsors that which they have never been, Olympian. These are crass racist charlatans and little else. So after having been outed as a racist boor both on the Oprah interview in March, 2021 and in Prince Harry’s SPARE, along comes snivelling bottom-feeder Valentina Pas-Haut with a revised edition to her specious tome, adding more storeys than the combined felled Twin Towers. Ekaterina insisted that ‘Recollections May Vary’ be kept in because it was important that History judge them correctly. Chile please! The Fleet Street parasites have no control over either facts or opinions outside their cultist island kingdom.
Bitch Get Off Me… Don’t Make Me Slap You. Ekaterina Brushed Off at the Polo.
Well, indeed, it seems that the tide has drastically changed. Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted has come out, fighting that is, and with Elizabeth II off the stage, he can damn well do as he pleases and is. No more time to waste on spilled milk; living separate lives does seem to be the order of the day.
HRH Prince George of Wales – The Spook in the Window
I don’t know about you, but that is just not normal behaviour. There was a point at Trooping the Colour 2023, on the Buckingham Palace balcony, George was speaking and his father, Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted, snapped at him. In that moment, George became frozen, standing there on the Buckingham Palace balcony and his right arm began involuntarily twitching.
Trooping the Colour 2023. Incident Occurs Between 02:56:00 and 02:56:30
There are a number of times when Prince George tries to get the attention of either parent and instead either parent favours Prince Louis or Princess Charlotte. George has a number of odd twitches and much of them are likely due to being around mercurial parents, who shout at each other lots. Prince George’s numbers do not leave him in good stead next to either parent’s numerology; they would incite a considerable degree of discomfort and fear. Prince George: 22.7.2013 Year of the Snake 4.2.8 = 5. That 5’s placement spells sexual scandal down the line; the 8’s placement means that the family’s fortune potentially may suffer massive setback(s). The 2 mindset means that he is innately creative and his parents are a mystery to, and some degree of distress for Prince George. George has only one number in common with his mother, Ekaterina, 4; he has two with his father, Wilhelm, 2 & 5. 5 represents excess, kink, unorthodox sexual appetite. George, however, with the mindset of 2 may end up being a fantasist rather than indulger and may end up being a collector of erotic art, along the lines of Shunga, Kangra, Chinese, Persian, Arabic, Islamic & European erotic art, books, sculpture et al. 2, also, rules two-spirits, a pronounced feminine principal so that coupled with 5, George may well become genuinely bisexual in nature – what he does in private when an adult, is no one’s business – provided it won’t be with minors. More than that, 2, represents genius level creativity. In George with such strong-willed ‘loud’ parents, his 5’s excessiveness apart from leaving him potentially quite tall, will act out through food, thus, he may end up being rotund for eating to excess, the opposite of his paternal grandmother, Diana, Princess of Wales’s, bulimia.
Trooping the Colour 2023. Famille Wales: George, Louis, Ekaterina, Charlotte & Wilhelm
There is a great deal about the firstborn which is marvellously camouflaged. All the more reason, why they allow the little freak, Louis/Damian to act out, thereby taking the spotlight off George’s spectrum markers. Alas, not everyone chooses to see nothing! George’s softness lends credence to the rumour that George was preceded by an older illegitimate sibling. Indeed, have you not heard about Happy Valley, the Sequel? It isn’t just the alpaca-faced chatelaine in Norfolk, who is a baby mama; indeed, George simply lacks the alpha vibration of a firstborn child. Even within the brood spawned by Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss. By far, Charlotte is more dominant of the three. Queer indeed it is that the Horse Guards Parade photo of George: the spook in the window, has been completely scrubbed from the internet – indeed, they’ve got something to hide. Also of note whilst stood on the Buckingham Palace balcony was Prinz Wilhelm’s animated coughing as though he were rudely saying something to the perpetually rictus Ekaterina, as she kept trying to have her left arm touch his right arm whilst stood side-by-side.
As Happy as a Truly Rictus & Gurning Loon
Just look at her, the blasted gurning loon. She is like an engagingly fascinating coffee table book cover that turns out to have not a single page between the covers. Blithering, inarticulate, quite the mumbling loon, Ekaterina. This past spring, I was at a Sunday brunch when the hosts wanted me to explain the finer points of numerology; it was an exciting gathering that lasted into early evening. At that time, a guest there had been familiar with Jian Ghomeshi and was fascinated to learn how his numerology explained his fall from grace for being caught up in a legal sex scandal. My take on the whole affair – Google is your friend – is that there would have been a great degree of consensual relations. Jian’s numbers are 9.6.2 = 8. First and foremost, all persons with energy body of 9 are all about control; they will always be abrasive and given to being smothering, manipulating – controlling. The one thing that is marked by persons with energy body of 9, is that they are given to ritualised sex that is chiefly consensual and either would be dominatrix or sadist but never masochistic.
Ekaterina at Wimbledon, 2019. Meghan Is Being Verbally Assaulted. Meghan Is Stunned.
In 9 energy body persons dealings with others, they often attempt, usually successfully, to bully and make subordinates their ‘bottoms’ – this chiefly is the dynamic of Ekaterina with Wilhelm and also what she sought to establish with Meghan. Obviously, she failed to break Meghan or the Sussexes would still be in the UK. Look at Meghan’s expression in the preceding photograph and tell me that that is the face of a bully. Look at the optics of that photograph, Ekaterina’s lizard lips are shaped in the same hostile ‘O’ that chimpanzees make when making screaming shrill calls at an opponent.Meghan is sat there before the world, knowing the optics of being ‘on’ and is both stunned and exhausted at this mumbling, inarticulate, crazy bitch, fucking with her and trying to break her spirit. Bitch in what world is Meghan supposed to take shit from your dumb, lazy, leg-spreading, racist ass? The racially predatory Ekaterina just couldn’t wait to have Meghan fully captive, minus Prince Harry, and before the entire world. Sat was Meghan between Ekaterina the dominatrix and her flat-arsed sister, Pippa. You just know, too, that there was a 99.9% likelihood that Ekaterina was all liquored up and in peak bitchy, sarcastic, bullying energy body of 9 mode. Hands down there is no way that Meghan would ever privately describe Ekaterina as pleasant. Ekaterina knows damn well that even if she spat in Meghan’s face, whilst sat there in the royal box at Wimbledon, the whole world would say that the reverse happened or that Meghan spat on her first but it was not caught on camera.
Shunga Print Provenance: British Museum
Alas, Vanilla sexual relations are not the norm for 9 energy-bodied persons as was clearly the case with Ghomeshi. As 9 energy body has to do with ritualised sexual control, obviously, at some point that dynamic corrupts the dominant partner and abuse can ensue. Think of the animal dynamism of sexual play in the 2015, Doug Liman film Mr. & Mrs. Smith, starring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie – that is the order of sexual play with 9 energy body persons.
Damian: the Possessed & Damaged Spawn’s Coming Out
Okay then, said the striking red-maned Ethiopian with the most strikingly beautiful eyes – in town from London, England by way of New York City, for a wedding, please explain what the hell is that, as she turned her phone and showed us a clip of Prince Louis at the Platinum Jubilee Parade in June 2022. We all hysterically howled. Obviously, the child is crazy and there is nothing cute or adorable about behaviour like that, said she, to which I enthusiastically agreed. Louis/Damian: 23.4.2018, Dog, 5.9.2 = 7. Like his paternal grandmother, Diana, Princess of Wales, this very disturbed individual runs the very real risk of being murdered to be rid of the nuisance that he proves to either his mother or possibly father under duress – either way, he would be rather readily disposed of, and the island kingdom’s somnambulant would think nothing of it. Louis has three numbers in common with his father 2, 5 & 9 and one with his very controlling powerful mother, Ekaterina, 9. Ekaterina was sick to death of him and livid that he was proving a thorough embarrassment before the entire world. Let’s then look at the machinations, of which the then Cambridges were the obvious chief architects.
November 2016
A Statement by the Communications Secretary to Prince Harry
Published 08 November 2016
Since he was young, Prince Harry has been very aware of the warmth that has been extended to him by members of the public. He feels lucky to have so many people supporting him and knows what a fortunate and privileged life he leads.
He is also aware that there is significant curiosity about his private life. He has never been comfortable with this, but he has tried to develop a thick skin about the level of media interest that comes with it. He has rarely taken formal action on the very regular publication of fictional stories that are written about him and he has worked hard to develop a professional relationship with the media, focused on his work and the issues he cares about.
But the past week has seen a line crossed. His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment. Some of this has been very public – the smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments. Some of it has been hidden from the public – the nightly legal battles to keep defamatory stories out of papers; her mother having to struggle past photographers in order to get to her front door; the attempts of reporters and photographers to gain illegal entry to her home and the calls to police that followed; the substantial bribes offered by papers to her ex-boyfriend; the bombardment of nearly every friend, co-worker, and loved one in her life.
Prince Harry is worried about Ms. Markle’s safety and is deeply disappointed that he has not been able to protect her. It is not right that a few months into a relationship with him that Ms. Markle should be subjected to such a storm. He knows commentators will say this is ‘the price she has to pay’ and that ‘this is all part of the game’. He strongly disagrees. This is not a game – it is her life and his.
He has asked for this statement to be issued in the hopes that those in the press who have been driving this story can pause and reflect before any further damage is done. He knows that it is unusual to issue a statement like this, but hopes that fair-minded people will understand why he has felt it necessary to speak publicly.
In November 2016, Prince Harry released a statement in support of Meghan, defending her against the racial undertones in the media that attacked her integrity. Naturally, by this time, the then Cambridges would have been upset that Harry had chosen a wholly unsuitable ‘girl’ – good god just imagine what the kids would look like. Ekaterinawith an energy body of 9, would by now have become livid and seethed at Meghan possibly marrying into the RF. She is Black. Most of all, she is infinitely more charismatic and articulate than her – Meghan is her Kryptonite! Do not underestimate the power of a 9 mother, like a bear and her cubs, Ekaterina, as are all mothers, is extremely protective of her cubs. Ekaterinadid not relish Meghan and her biracial kids, close in age to her own kids, coming on the scene. Imagine a ginger, afroed Archie and Lilibet, who by their mere exoticism, would garner greater press coverage. A wholly unacceptable proposition for Wilhelm and, in particular, Ekaterinathis proved.
March 2017
Harry & Meghan, Montego Bay, Jamaica. Tom Inskip’s Wedding
March 2017, Montego Bay, Jamaica, Meghan joins Prince Harry as his date for friend, Tom Inskip’s wedding. At the time, the rumour mill and every Karen’s livid little blog, insisted that Meghan had crashed the wedding and was stalking Prince Harry; after all, they knew to be fact that Prince Harry had broken off their relationship in early 2017. All this in a narrative of their own delusional making. Well, all the Karens were sure that the Queen was suffering dementia and Caligula II had to step in and provide greater security for Prince Harry as he was being stalked, harassed by the crazed actress whom they had irrefutable proof was a yacht girl – The 1851 Trust notwithstanding. Just look at how miserable Prince Harry looked at the wedding and how she clawed all over him, touching a royal prince! Never mind, the braying racist masses, but Ekaterinawith an energy body of 9 and Wilhelm with a mindset of 9 – defender of the flame and does not like anything that is not traditional or deemed unconventional, were secretly hissing at how Harry was doing this to them, to the family; it was betrayal, plain and simple. The then Cambridges would not have approved of Harry being enamoured of Meghan.
May 2017
Pippa’s Wedding to James Matthews
Pippa’s wedding to the son of a wealthy – though guarded – paedophile, was Ekaterina‘s chance to start publicly fucking with Meghan. Ekaterinawhose control of Wilhelm is thorough, laid down the law; however, like all dimwits, she left herself open to unflattering scrutiny. According to the rules, if a woman was neither engaged nor married, she could not attend the wedding ceremony at the church. That being the case, Meghan was relegated to the wedding reception, which was well out of the view of the paparazzi. So there was PrinzWilhelm arriving with Prince Harry to kill any rumours of Prince Harry attending alone and if that meant that it was over between him and Meghan better yet, even though everyone here in Toronto in the know, knew that Harry and Meghan were still very much so on.
HRH Princess Eugenie & Lover Jack Brooksbank, Pippa’s Wedding , May 2017
Then the most marvellous thing occurred, HRH Princess Eugenie walked to the church ceremony of Pippa’s wedding, accompanied by Jack Brooksbank. At the time, Eugenie and Jack were neither engaged nor wedded; thus, the whole rule of ‘no ring, no bring’ ordained by the rather sooty – not to be confused with snooty – classist boor, Ekaterina, exposed her animus towards Meghan and proved Ekaterina to be not very bright and frankly stupid – receipts matter. Nonetheless, the deed was done, Ekaterinahad given her marching orders to the Fleet Street abattoirs, herein after referred to as FSAs, to begin the campaign of deeming Meghan a most unsuitable girl – straight outta Compton, indeed.
July 2017
Cambridges, Poland, July 2017
During or just after their July 2017 royal tour of Poland & Germany – neither of which happens to be a Commonwealth nation, though all importantly not predominantly overrun by Blacks – well , the 9 centric Cambridges like two slithering angry snakes, drunkenly writhed, hearts filled with hatred and scheming… Could she not wait to return home and run off to be further aroused and consumed with passion at The 1851 Trust? Was he, sat there looking bored and witheringly disdainful, lusting to be returned to Norfolk and attend to the alpaca-faced chatelaine and favoured baby mama, not to mention the other baby mama in Happy Valley in the sequel to White Mischief? Whether Big Ben or Pegged Wilhelm, either way, she was soon to be with child. A child it was whose nine months of gestation were passed with its host, ravaged by hatred, racist dread and obsession with Meghan and most likely a few too many glasses of drink those forty weeks.
November 2017
Harry & Meghan BBC Engagement Interview
Well past her first trimester, Ekaterinapositively cramped with rage at watching the charismatic, emotional intelligence of Meghan in her BBC engagement interview and increasingly her racism and hatred were being transferred onto the little gestating monster, Damian in utero.
BBC Engagement Interview for Prince Harry & Meghan
The articulate, smooth delivery, charm and eloquence of Meghan’s master number 11 on display, would have proven infuriating for 9 energy body Ekaterina. She must be stopped, Ekaterinaand the world’s every racist Karen seethed. Ekaterinawas dead set on ridding the kingdom of this interloper, this vile blackamoor imposter. How she must have smoked and drunk more heavily at this time. Ekaterina& Wilhelm would have looked at this interview and felt immensely threatened. You simply cannot underestimate what an affront Meghan in that interview posed to Ekaterinaand by extension Britons. Here was someone the product of slavery and the enslaved being so articulate, successful and able to leap into the heart of Britain’s classist inner sanctum. Britons have a pronounced inferiority complex towards Americans, owing to their defeat and loss of the colony and the fact, most of all, that America and Americans are so much more dynamic than they are. This though does not stop Britons from copping hauteur, that god-awful horrid accent of theirs and lording it over the ‘Yanks’ that they do not have a monarchy.
Samantha Markle Before Kensington Palace Payoff aka Financial Lobotomy
Here is Samantha Markel on Good Morning Britain just after Harry and Meghan’s BBC engagement interview. Soon, her tune would radically change as Ekaterina & Wilhelm waged war and had J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz start paying off and grooming the Markles on what to say and do to sabotage the upcoming wedding of Harry and Meghan.
December 2017
Princess Michael of Kent Wears Blackamoor Brooch + Harry & Meghan at Christmas Day 2017
What did Ekaterinacare? Elizabeth II was old, cancer-stricken and as Elizabeth II never favoured her, why should Ekaterinacare what she would think? Naturally, the mother of Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted’s minor royal drug dealer, who’s really proud of her Jewish daughter-in-law, would gladly accept the dare to wear a blackamoor brooch. After all, she had called her two black sheep, Venus & Serena; Baroness Marie-Christine der Blackamoor Brooch would definitely go along with the racial harassment of Meghan. How Ekaterinaand her bullied, pegged bottom, Prinz Wilhelm must have howled for joy at that golliwog, Meghan, being openly attacked before the whole world. Of one thing, Ekaterinawas certain, sooner or later, she will be able to get the Fleet Street hacks to turn on that damn Yank… that damn Black thing. Ekaterinastill cramped with racial animus for Meghan, likely drank more heavily over the holidays than is usually her wont. Of course, Ekaterina& Wilhelm would have been egged on by the likes of handlers like Ben Goldsmith and those of his rarefied chosen ilk.
February 2018
Royal Foundation Interview: Harry, Meghan, Ekaterina & Wilhelm
Here is the fabled Fab Four Royal Foundation Forum interview at which all four principals were present including pregnant Ekaterina. The dynamic between both women is rather telling and it is clear that Meghan was acutely uncomfortable, for being in Ekaterina‘s presence. I cannot state enough that for being an artisan soul, Meghan inputs on 5 channels, which leaves her inordinately attuned to spiritual undertones which are more than meet the eye fare. Meghan’s master number of 11 is supra-sensitive to subtle vibrations and energy, which for being energy body of 9, Ekaterina radiates with laser-like focussed animus. 9 energy is very circuitry-jamming by nature. I might also add that as both Ekaterina and Wilhelm are Warrior and Scholar souls respectively, both soul types only input on one channel. This gives them singleness of focus, but it also leaves them with far less subtlety and sophistication than Sages and definitely Artisan souls who respectively input on 3 and 5 channels – Meghan’s five channels of input would be just as baffling as Artisan soul Diana, Princess of Wales’s did for Warrior soul Caligula II and Scholar soul, Milonia Caesonia. Both the then Cambridges, for being senior royals, were dead set against Meghan being in their midst and that they readily telegraphed. Ekaterina here is in her final trimester and passively aggressive, hateful and bullying as any raptor, racial predator can be expected to be. Meghan, of course at the point of the interview, was acutely aware of this and was by then getting the lion’s share of verbal abuse. Can you just imagine the hyper-criticism Meghan would have gotten from the then Cambridges, both possessed of fault-finding, shit-disturbing, bullying 9 energy as they are?
April 2018
Prince Louis’ Christening, July 2018
Prince Louis aka Damian was born less than a month before Prince Harry and Meghan’s wedding at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle. As the preceding photograph reveals at his christening in July, 2018, Prince Louis is damaged goods. Those are the eyes of a child on the spectrum and one who has already proven not the least bit stable. Louis was born 23.4.2018, Year of the Dog (same as his father). Also, like his father, PrinzWilhelm (21.6.1982 Year of the Dog 3.9.2 = 5), Prince Louis has 9, and 5 in his numerological makeup; this is usually the mark of someone whose mercurial disposition is not readily disguised. Unlike his father, Prince Louis (Damian) will have a harder time disguising his lack of emotional intelligence. Louis’s numbers are: 5.9.2 = 7. Louis, as previously stated, has three numbers in common with his father, PrinzWilhelm (2, 5 & 9); he is a dead ringer for his father, Prinz Wilhelm‘s, very well camouflaged nature.
Damian, El Diablo Muy Loco & His Psycho Mama
Make no mistake about it, in due course, Louis is going to be the source of astounding royal scandal. Stop making excuses, neither George nor Charlotte were ape batshit crazy at aged four. Louis has same mindset of 9 as his father, Wilhelm; Damian’s father is a sadistic bully and archly unorthodox in his views, so likely will his possessed son be. Furthermore, Damian’s 5 is his energy body – think Tasmanian devil. He sucks the oxygen out of any room and is not remotely sane. This combination of 9 and 5 means that S&M will be his preferred sexual outlet with a gross predisposition towards kink. Anything odd, bizarre, including persons will fascinate and leave him readily obsessed. The 2 speaks to the childlike/autistic wonderment and a sense of infantile and or developed feminine principle. Lastly, that 7 in the fourth position has seen highly placed royals bumped off when they proved themselves a nuisance, liability: Lord Mountbatten and Diana, Princess of Wales. 7 in the fourth position almost always means the murder of an individual in the public eye. Either parent or both would readily have him murdered if he proves too problematic. Of course, as far too many Whites do not assume culpability, Ekaterina and Wilhelm will always lay blame at Meghan’s door. They will rationalise Louis’ predicament, resulting from Meghan having come into the family and causing all this upheaval – god only knows their racist terrorisation of Meghan could not have had adverse consequences for them. Tant pis.
May 2018
Royal Wedding of TRH The Duke & Duchess of Sussex
May 19, 2018, what a gloriously sunny, picture-perfect day it was. As we have since learnt both in the Orpah interview in March, 2021 and from Prince Harry’s electrifying memoir, SPARE, all was not as it seemed. Of course, much of the tension afoot was more readily discernible than others.
Royal Wedding Prince Harry & Meghan, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex
Start looking at the 03:35:00 mark of this version of the BBC coverage of the Royal Wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan. As the couple begin taking their vows, Ekaterina spends her time exclusively looking down at the programme in her lap rather than look at the couple; this betrays her disapproval of their marriage and more importantly, Meghan becoming a member of the royal family. One thing of note is that this recording is a copy of the BBC coverage. The original BBC version has since been scrubbed from the internet; if only because a year after the wedding and the time at which the BBC version was scrubbed, it had been viewed more than 30M times; however, to that point, the BBC’s 2011 coverage of The Royal Wedding of PrinzWilhelm and Prinzessin Ekaterina had garnered less than 15M views. Today, 2023, that 12 year old video sits on the royal family’s website and has garnered over 49M views; obviously, that is a combination of Meghan haters and the royal family aggressively jacking up the numbers. Of course, there is a ten-year old ABC (American Broadcasting Corporation) coverage of the now Waleses’ wedding, hosted by Barbara Walters, Diane Sawyer & Robin Roberts, which has just passed the 500k mark. The royals lie about everything, just as their Instagram page always artificially had a higher following that The Sussexes’ now defunct Instagram page. You can never underestimate how utterly petty, TRH Prinz & Prinzessin of Wales are. Prince Edward, like Doria Ragland, Ben and Jessica Mulroney and others were there to witness a marriage and looked at the couple throughout as they exchanged vows; not so, Caligula II, Wilhelm and Ekaterina.
Now jump ahead to 04:00:00 on the same video of the Sussexes’ wedding, at this point, having signed the registry, both Caligula II & Doria are returned to the quire. As the gifted cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason starts the final of three pieces, Wilhelm, Caligula II, Milonia Caesonia and Ekaterina commence throwing shade at The Sussexes and Meghan’s culture. This they openly did before Elizabeth II, the world; moreover, this they did to the very shrewdly observant film industry professionals, who directly sat opposite them. Again, the senior royals quite arrogantly have neither couth nor awareness. Caligula II, Wilhelm, Milonia Caesonia and Ekaterina behaved at Harry & Meghan’s wedding not as persons who were concerned about Meghan being a bully. By their open ridicule of Meghan, Harry and Meghan’s culture, they betrayed to the world that they did not care for Meghan and were already having great fun at Meghan’s expense, along with bullying and racially harassing her.
Baby Mango Man Goes Full Crazy Town
All that hatred, predatory racism, bullying from Wilhelm and Ekaterina against Meghan, resulted in Ekaterina‘s bilious womb, serving as stowaway for a rapidly reincarnated soul, likely overdosed in the immediate past-life as crazed crackhead, Louisa, straight outta Compton. There is no greater winning argument in prosecuting the case against Ekaterina as the dominatrix, bully, racial predator than the fruit of her womb as she waged psychological warfare against Meghan for being a Yank, a self-made strong woman, to say nothing of a beautiful and articulate Black woman.
*When first I saw this display, I was horrified. However, at Trooping the Colour, 2024, I saw little Louis doing his little dance and I had an epiphany. I have a data base of hundreds of historical, famous, political and persons known to self’s numerology. As I have not done Prince Louis’s Michael Overleaves, his numerology had entered the data base at his birth and that was that. As he danced his little heart out at Horse Guards Parade, I suddenly thought to look up his numerology. Everything that I said of him at this blog when originally published in October, 2023, flew out the window. This is a child with 5 energy body. They are adrenalin junkies and in that moment, I fell in love, becoming his biggest cheerleader. Think tennis ace, Cameron Norrie, gymnast Simone Biles and many other athletes. They never stand still and are the most intensely focussed kinetic energy in a human body. Of course, he was not going to quietly sit there at The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee parade; he was being overstimulated by all the colour, music and excited humans. I cannot begin to fathom what it must be like to be an expectant mum with a five energy body incoming baby in utero. Louis is a joy to the world and I certainly hope that he fares well in such a rigid institution which also happens to be a family. END.
Ekaterina: 12 Years a Fail But Oh So Soused
Ekaterina was threatened and had the tacit approval and complicity of Wilhelm in a campaign to destroy Meghan. Very telling, too, was Wilhelm‘s remarks at the first annual Royal Foundation Forum summit, of which they would be only one, as he faced inwards towards Meghan and hawkishly preyed on her, ready to scream at her after the event behind Kensington Palace walls. Like her open animus towards Meghan, there has been the one constant: Ekaterina with a drink in hand and not just for show. This, precisely, is why Damian emerged the liquored up monster.
Wilhelm, Explosive Bully. Prince Harry Ever Wary of Wilhelm’s Deceit. Wilhelm Blissfully Unaware
That interlude also graphically demonstrated how groomed and hamstrung Prince Harry, in his role as spare to the arrogant, racist, ignorant Wilhelm, had become. Wilhelm it was, who remarked about being focussed on mental health and specifically suicide, more so male suicide. All that was cover, what he was in essence doing, was mind-fucking Meghan, letting her know by way of suggestion, and before the world I might add, that he wanted her to suicide… to get out of their midst. Wilhelm is after all the father of lunatic Damian. In the preceding photographs, Prince Harry looks exhausted from being bulldozed by Wilhelm & Ekaterina. At the time of his marriage, Harry still held out hope that his pa and brother would come around and accept Meghan. No, Meghan called it correctly, that was no environment in which to bring up their children. Indeed, it was not an environment in which Prince Harry should keep on living if he was to be a true father and husband to Archie and Meghan.
Meghan Gaslighted, Suicide Ideation, Racially Preyed On
Imagine that, Meghan lays bare what racist terror she experienced, at the hands of the senior royals and their lackeys, and for that, she was gaslighted and racially preyed on with even greater frenzy. The one thing racist non-Blacks, in particular Whites, cannot admit to, is that they are racist and that racism towards Blacks is not just sport but is physically, mentally, emotionally and financially damaging. Gaslighting Meghan was about having her stay and take it; goodness me, why ever would she want to leave a life of luxury, the life of a royal? But fuck it all, she flipped the script on the now Waleses. Just look at Meghan in the royal box at Wimbledon in 2019, she is looking at this inarticulate, dumb as fuck monster and thinking, whilst still breastfeeding Archie, “Bitch, I am not putting my child through this shit!”
Ekaterina was damn confident about having her own little Prissy to slap every chance she got, to say nothing of her damn unwanted half-breed kids. No one laughs harder than a master numbered individual. Abigail & Meghan born same day, same year truly are blood. Nothing master-numbered 11s love more than laughing hysterically at damn fools. “Can you imagine? Mousy, inarticulate, dumb broad, trying to make me her bitch…” followed by the loudest gales of laughter. For an artisan soul with master number 11 like Meghan, that moment in the royal box at Wimbledon would have been like having to communicate with a mentally challenged idiot, trying to form a sentence. It took inordinate grace for Meghan to have endured all that shit, but that she did. Meghan like a strong bear had to not only secure her cub, Archie but she had to break the mindfuck that held Prince Harry captive to two of the meanest, pettiest, most pernicious dumbasses imaginable. What else can fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot do but shapeshift into Meghan’s outfits; yet the bitch still can’t do more than mumble & fumble attempts at working a mic.
Buster Tripping the Light Fantastic Across the Cativerse
*At aged 20, Buster effortlessly passed when put to sleep at the vet’s. Just as he appears in this photo, he looked us over one last time, placed his forehead down as when blissfully dreaming, waited and like that, he slipped away in February, 2024. Sweet and blissful dreams darling, Buster. END.
Grooving & Upping the Frequency via Crystals & Music
In the near 50 years since being spiritually focussed, which has included crystals, pyramids, mediums, past-life/reincarnation exploration, I have never once met a White male or female, who has stated that they had a past life in the Americas and West Indies during slavery and were a White slaveowner – god only knows they would never possibly have been an enslaved Black. It is always the reckless abandon of lives lived in opulence in Egypt, at court in Europe or exotic locales, which may venture to China, Japan and India but never Africa where there have always been in excess of 1000 royal families and also never the Muslim Middle East.
Kerry Washington, Kelly Rowland, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex at Beyoncé Concert
Meghan is as hated as she is, because most Whites are loath to have to address the fact that they are racist boors. More than that, most Whites are not prepared to accept, much as with Donald Trump and his devotees, that Ekaterina could be a racist White boor, which they innately know to be true.
George, Ekaterina & Wilhelm, Berkshire, 2013. Ekaterina & Elizabeth II & Elizabeth II May, 2016
The earliest outward signs that Elizabeth II was mortal appeared just after her 90th birthday. Back in 2013 at George’s birth, Wilhelm who could not then have cared less about his father, Caligula II, decamped with his new family to Berkshire and set up court at Ekaterina’s family. Ekaterina was flexing her fist; the moment that she gave birth to George, she was now the most powerful woman in the kingdom; Milonia Caesonia would never be King Mother as she Ekaterina was destined. Furthermore, Wilhelm secretly hated Milonia Caesonia. With Elizabeth II’s demise, Ekaterina knew that she would be unstoppably powerful. For now, they avoided Caligula II and afforded him little contact with his first grandchild, George. Two things then occurred, Elizabeth II’s cancer was diagnosed and Harry met Meghan. First outward sign of Elizabeth II’s cancer appeared in May, 2016, a month after her 90th birthday. Straight away, Harry pressed The Queen for her blessing to marry Meghan and knowing what vile pieces of works, Ekaterina, Wilhelm, Caligula II and Milonia Caesonia were, Elizabeth II consented and rushed them along. Elizabeth II knew that neither Caligula II nor Wilhelm would sanction Harry’s marriage to Meghan, if she did not speed up the process, owing to her rapidly deteriorating health.
Caligula II & Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted
Before her cancer could become stage 4, the marriage of the Sussexes was planned and in the books; not before, of course, Ekaterina & Wilhelm went to war on Harry and Meghan. Meghan’s life was made a positively hellish racist nightmare that drove her to suicidal ideation, which no one gives a damn about when you are Black. Outed on Oprah, suddenly vile, lizard-lipped Ekaterina was wounded by something so base as to be accused of being a liar and a possible racist by that Yank and by someone Black. Under no circumstances do Whites give a damn about Blacks talking about racism at the hands of Whites. Suddenly, with Meghan wedded in, Ekaterina & Wilhelm fast became solidly aligned with Caligula II and Molina Caesonia. Here’s a measure of what a truly nasty piece of work Ekaterina is, she could not have given a fuck about the dead Queen, she gladly stayed behind so that Meghan could not attend Balmoral Castle. Ekaterina did not have the decency to go pay homage to the dead Elizabeth II, the most revered woman in the world; that decision tells you all you need to know about Ekaterina’s detestable character.
Elizabeth II Snubs Ekaterina & Wilhelm, December, 2020
Meghan could have gone there with Ekaterina then have Meghan stay away in a separate suite and not allowed to see The Queen’s body. However, future King Mother made it perfectly clear, she did not give a damn about Elizabeth II. Elizabeth II was dead; she was not Queen. Ekaterina was being her vile petty self, in not going to Balmoral Castle, she was saying fuck you to the departed Elizabeth II, for having snubbed her in December, 2020. In a fucked up racialised world, all everyone did, was focus on Meghan and make it about Meghan having caused a rift in the family, when it has always been Ekaterina: regurgitating, pernicious, slithering, vile monster. First act Ekaterina does on Elizabeth II’s death, is lay down the law, “I do not want that Yank, that fucking Black thing anywhere near the body. I don’t give a shit! All those damn fools will see, is how she has caused chaos in this family!”
It worked, the FSAs were given their marching orders and the royal pantomime did a course correct. It is not entirely out of the realm of possibility that the whole thing, Elizabeth II’s death, was staged to insult and sacrifice Meghan to repair Ekaterina’s shattered and compromised image thanks to the Oprah interview. The House of Windsor performs the function of perpetuating the Virgin Mother mythology/Iconography of the White tribe. At George’s birth in 2013, Ekaterina became a Queen more powerful than Elizabeth II; Ekaterina was figuratively crowned the Queen Bee. From that moment on, she has been Queen in waiting and will ever be King Mother as she has from that moment in July, 2013 on becoming Mother/Virgin Mother/Queen Bee.
Windsor Walkabout:. Ekaterina Openly Seethes at Meghan. It Was Expulsion & Sacrifice
They are frankly that vile: Caligula II, Wilhelm, blithering idiot bigot Milonia Caesonia and most especially Ekaterina. Kill her off, avenge Diana’s murder, put her out of her misery, repay her for sanctioning that damn marriage of Harry & Meghan and crown Ekaterina with styles and titles: White Virgin Mother. Super Bitch. Queen. King Mother. Patron Saint of the Karens. Queen of the Karens. In one move, Ekaterina became Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens. Wilhelm indeed should damn well be wary of her because if he died, she would still be King Mother and it would be far better for Ekaterina if he died rather than being divorced and banished. Thousands stood for days in the elements to file past Elizabeth II’s casket at Westminster Hall, yet Ekaterina who would not have married Wilhelm without Elizabeth II’s consent, could not have given a damn to head up to Balmoral Castle and pay her respects to Elizabeth II’s corpse. With that move, Ekaterina was able to return to her role as heroine, of the wronged White woman, falsely accused of being a racist; she was once again victim, after it was challenged post Oprah interview when the lie of “Meghan made Ekaterina cry” was rather elegantly exposed by Meghan who is infinitely more shrewd than Ekaterina.. than all of them.. and they know it. Queen of the Karens in essence made it known that it was that damn Yank, Meghan, who made it impossible for her to have attended Elizabeth II’s body. The nonsense that Meghan could not go if Catherine did not, was a lie. If that were truly the case then Sophie, the then Countess of Wessex, would not have been allowed to attend Balmoral Castle and visit the dead Queen’s body; however, that she did do.
Ekaterina Perpetually, Racially Predatory of Meghan. Ekaterina Now the Most Powerful Windsor Wife
Catherine stayed behind so that with Meghan also left behind, she could confront her and be an evil, vile, psycho, mind-fucking bitch to Meghan about the Orpah interview. It would have been her one chance to do so and she would definitely have seized the opportunity to go to war with Meghan. She was still filled with animus the following day as they got ready to depart in the car at the Windsor walkabout. Ekaterina forthrightly came forward, and squared off with Meghan by looking at her then down at the ground as if to signify, you are done and truly buried; she was also most definitely hissing something from the set of her jaw and rictus grin. There was no equanimity or truce with the Windsor walkabout. Meghan having been confronted the day prior at Windsor by Ekaterina, who declined to go to Balmoral Castle, because she wanted to confront Meghan, looked yet again exhausted for being around 9 energy bodied Ekaterina which is precisely the effect that a negatively focussed warrior soul (Ekaterina) would have on an artisan soul (Meghan).
Ekaterina, Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens
This is why Ekaterina has emerged in all of this as an icon, SWF, a great heroine – Patron Saint and Queen of the Karens. In the preceding photograph, Ekaterina is being fawned over and worshipped on the eve of Caligula II’s coronation. Naturally, as Ekaterina drove off the Yank/Negro in the royal family, everyone of those women who ‘just love her’ are gushing with love for and pride in Ekaterina because she did what was expected of her and as they would also have done of any Black woman, moving into their neighbourhood or workplace. Get rid of it! And oh what great sport they would have in doing so, which is precisely why Meghan shared the soul-crushing suicidal ideation that she experienced for being subjected to the unrelenting racial animus from Wilhelm & Ekaterina and all the lisping racist sycophants of theirs both within the royal households, J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz et al, and the FSAs.
Unhinged Loon Hiding In Plain Sight.
Just as she sat there gurning like a blasted loon whilst the fruit of her toxic womb embarrassed the shit out of her before the world at the Platinum Jubilee Parade – remember how she laughed at Meghan and her culture at the Sussexes’ wedding, so too she fakes it through royal life, being the new, beloved White goddess – Queen of the Karens and killing off Elizabeth II’s image/iconography for all time. Truth be told, Ekaterina is more damaging to the monarchy/Britain than Andrew, Duke of York. When growing up in the Caribbean, I used to visit my aunt in St. Croix – where incidentally I experienced by first racially predatory attack by mainland Whites whose father was a local judge. On Sunday afternoons, my aunt’s church used to go to have service at a senior care home where there also were disturbed youth, some cerebral palsy; at the time, all the residents were Whites. There were Whites in St. Kitts, it was, though, the first time that I had experienced mentally-afflicted, institutionalised young persons. It was sheer madness. I found the experience each time so confusion, I wanted to empathise with them yet all they did was react to us for being Blacks as though we were freaks… seriously.
Ekaterina Boozed Up & Predatory. Banned Paul Emsley Portrait. Caligula II’s Scottish Enthronement
There was one woman there, a patient, who had about half an inch worth of forehead and the largest gums. All she did was hide from us, as we were Blacks, then would gurn and hiss at us, then run away and hide some more whilst laughing her truly lunatic skull off. Fifty plus years later, I always think of that disturbed woman whenever I see Ekaterina gurning. Indeed, as Meghan told Oprah, “the reality is nothing like it seems.” 9s are shrill and borderline unhinged when focussed on being adversarial to whomever they’ve chosen to target and never ever do they cease targeting the subject of their focussed animus – this is precisely why Ekaterina has transposed her racially predatory bullying and harassment of Meghan via cannibalising her through clothing et al.
Make It The Motherfuck Make Sense
How now, sweet little darling, you are still an embarrassing, inarticulate bore who is as charismatic as sodden cardboard. Nothing like a weak, insecure woman; she will destroy everyone around her. Going after Meghan has come at the cost of her marriage and her thirdborn’s mental health. Louis validates that not only is she a drunk but she is that queer oddity, the functionally unhinged; clearly, for Prinz Wilhelm, it has become a total trip and exhaustive buyer’s remorse. Prinzessin Ekaterina for being a meanspirited bully, to say nothing of racist boor, has betrayed her culpability by having waged a racially charged, bullying campaign against Meghan.
Texts Between Ekaterina & Meghan as Shared in Prince Harry’s SPARE
It is clear from the text message shared in Prince Harry’s searing memoir, SPARE, that Ekaterina was hellbent on breaking and sadistically owing Meghan; Meghan of course was professional and infinitely gracious. Nothing of that exchange suggests that Ekaterina is predisposed to crying. She is of coalmining pedigree and exposed to power, she has become drunk on power and corrupted of spirit. Nothing in that text exchange points to Meghan being a bully and a bitch but yeah, the Waleses control the narrative in the tabloids. How fucking bored must one be to be indulging in this petty BS, save of course if you’re bigoted boors, you will act exactly as Prinz Wilhelm and Prinzessin Ekaterina have.
Abigail Spencer 4.8.1981 Rooster 4.3.4 = 11, Fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss
The psychology of this vindictive, archly petty, shitty excuse for a woman is pretty obvious. Knowing that Abigail Spencer was born on the same day, same year as Meghan, she targets Meghan by wearing the exact dress as Abigail wore to Meghan’s royal wedding. This served as the opening salvo in her long running soft cannibalisation of Meghan through the tabloids by way of her choice of clothing.
Meghan Carries Portmanteau, Followed Thereafter by Ekaterina Doing Same
Now fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot takes her psychotic stalking directly to Meghan after the Oprah interview when Meghan and Harry were successfully received at the Global Citizen Festival in New York City’s Central Park, five months later in September, 2021. Naturally, the gurning bully showed up to an event, carrying a portmanteau, mimicking and ridiculing Meghan.
Meghan Remembrance at Cenotaph, 2019. Ekaterina Remembrance at Cenotaph, 2021
As a result of the Oprah interview in March 2021, Prinzessin Ekaterina wears a broad downturned hat at the Cenotaph in November, 2021 after Meghan had done so in 2019, Ekaterina‘s obsession is febrile as for one thing, Elizabeth II was close to dying, she has been beyond livid that her true ugliness has been exposed in the Oprah interview.
St. Paul’s Cathedral Queen’s Platinum Jubilee Service, June 2022
Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee Celebrations. Of course, timing being everything, her long reign turned farcical towards its closing hours. For having outed them on Oprah, now comes the revenge. Not only are they now non-working royals – whatever the blasted motherfuck that is? – but they also do not get to stand on the balcony – oh boo-fucking-hoo. Then, if that’s not enough, to drive home what petty fuckers they all are, they have that blasted rhino-stumped heifer, Baroness Marie-Christine der Blackamoor Brooch sat in the row behind the then Prince of Wales and his miserably wedded heir, with Meghan and Harry sat across the aisle and directly in front of Caligula II’s up skirt/kilt Battyman even though with Elizabeth II still breathing, the kilted stud has as yet begun living openly with his debauched and buggered lover, Herr Fatty-Fingers.
Love Is In the Air… Up Skirt & Musky As All Hell
There was the lover, apprenticing up skirt Elizabeth II’s poopy-smelling frockcoats in June, 2022 and a mere five months later, there was he in November, 2022 sat in the royal box at the British Royal Legion’s Festival of Remembrance at Royal Albert Hall.
Meghan The Duchess of Sussex Speech in Full at One Young World Summit, 2022
Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex delivers speech at One Young World Summit in Manchester, England on the eve of Elizabeth II’s death, September 2022. This, in a mere three months, gives Ekaterina, the bullying, power mad, gurning loon the idea to outdo Meghan. Look for sycophant Sir Bod Geldof hardly rise as Meghan takes to the lectern.
Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss Suffers Charisma Implosion
Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss & Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted
Elizabeth II is now dead and buried and Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss has been getting all the King’s RADA sycophants to try and make a half decent silk purse of this limp, sodden sow’s rectum – god how they must sit around, as actors are wont to do, hysterically shrieking at what a dumb twat she is. Shocker, there she was, wearing an electric red pantsuit as Meghan had months earlier, to also give a keynote address. Somehow, this obsessive boor thinks that for mimicking Meghan, she was suddenly going to be possessed of intellect, eloquence and prove remotely charismatic – fraulein gurn und mumble indeed.
Wilhelm Is Just Biting Off His Lower Lip. There’ll Be More Shouting for That Performance
Together. Our Community Cookbook Forwarded by HRH The Duchess of Sussex
Meghan, The Hague April, 2022, Transparent Racial Predator Ghouls, Grenfell Tower June, 2022
Summer 2022, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex accompanies Prince Harry to the Invictus Games at The Hague. June 2022, on the fifth anniversary of the Grenfell Tower, Ekaterina attended the ceremony, though at the time, and I was in London during the Grenfell Tower fire, Ekaterina did not look over her shoulder. Of course, she could have sent the newly minted Duke & Duchess of Edinburgh, but Ekaterina as ever had to make a point and tear her flat arse in Meghan’s face. Meghan wears Chanel flats to Invictus Games in 2022, so Prinzessin Ekaterina goes to Grenfell Tower ceremony where Meghan had launched the Together cookbook to assist the devastated residents of Grenfell Tower as another way of letting Meghan know, “Bitch you can run to Oprah all you want, I got you out of here, you are not here and I will never let you back!” So petty is the goddamn gurning loon, Ekaterina, with the little baby Mr. Mango freak, Damian. Just as in January, 2023 and June, 2022, Ekaterina takes the time to directly look into the camera as she bullies Meghan – mostly her racist Karen flock and the FSAs. Prinzessin Ekaterina is saying “fuck you” Meghan whilst looking directly into the camera, thereby betraying how miserably she has failed to own and control Meghan. Her vacuous life passed, plotting and scheming how next to cannibalise/stalk Meghan by way of clothing, shoes at charity appearances.
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex Wears Signature Aquazurra Bow Tie Heels
Ekaterina on the Eve of Caligula II’s Coronation. Meghan Duchess of Sussex Queen Elizabeth II’s Funeral. Alpaca-Faced Baby Mama, Coronation
Meghan, having quite had enough of small island, small-minded bitches, turned her back on the racist island kingdom. Left to stew in their venom, who could possibly be surprised by SWF Ekaterina on the eve of the coronation saying fuck you to Meghan, who was declined an invitation, by wearing the Aquazurra bow tie heels, which previously Ekaterina had never owned or worn. This woman, Ekaterina, is so immensely petty. How indeed could Meghan not have been driven to suicidal ideation when harassed and lynched by this out-of-control, power mad, racist woman of coalmining pedigree?
With Meghan leaving Spotify under super agent Ari Emanuel, naturally, both Spotify and the Waleses had something to celebrate. Having taped an episode for Shrek & co.’s podcast, they cunningly made sure that the event took place in the same drawing room at Windsor Castle – god only knows there is only one drawing room in Windsor Castle – as the official portraits of Harry & Meghan’s wedding. Naturally, they waited to air said sports podcast, to coincide with the opening of Prince Harry’s Invictus Games in Dusseldorf as a way to overshadow the Games but also to telegraph to Harry & Meghan that they were history; they were being whitewashed from royal history. Of course, good old Shrek just had to go and remind us that Ekaterina is a blasted drunk who is Queen of beer pong.
Meghan at Invictus Games The Hague 2022Catherine Rugby World Cup France 2023
The next day, Ekaterina who had now replaced Prince Harry as patron for English rugby union was at their match in France at the Rugby World Cup, 2023. Naturally, as Harry was being erased, Ekaterina just had to wear a white pantsuit, clutch and similar round pendant necklace as Meghan had the summer prior at the Invictus Games at The Hague.
Meghan NAACP Image Awards, Feb 2022. Ekaterina Being Functionally Unhinged Dec 2022
Earlier during Black History Month at the start of the pandemic, Harry & Meghan picked up an award at the NAACP Image Awards for their humanitarian work. Fast forward, et voilà, as predictable as a monkey jacking off, there reliably is the fucking sodden cardboard psycho, sporting the same outfit; there can certainly be no mistaking, who ape batshit crazy Damian’s mother is. All this does raise the very pertinent question, how interested is Ekaterina in these charities, if clearly a major reason for showing up, is to further her psychotic aggression against Meghan?
Royal Wedding of HRH Princess Eugenie & Jack Brooksbank, October 2018
HRH Prince Eugenie’s wedding to Jack Brooksbank afforded further insights to the dynamics of the relations between the royal princes and their wives. At the 50:20 minute mark, both TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex arrived, followed immediately after by TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge. It was a hurried affair and likely there were some hisses once waiting to enter the quire and be sat before the world’s gaze. The senior ducal couples are sat in the quire, Prince Harry sat between his wife, Meghan and sister-in-law, Ekaterina. Meghan ever ‘on’ busies herself whilst avoiding Ekaterina’s hissing/sniping and chats with Zara Tindall.
Prinz Wilhelm Restrains Reptile Ekaterina. Prince Harry Foils Pregnant Meghan from the Evil Boor
At the 01:05:50 mark of said video, Meghan can be seen chatting with HRH Princess Anne, The Princess Royal sat to her immediate left as she has no desire to lean across Prince Harry and chat with the fork-tongued, slithering, power mad coalmining offal. Then at the 01:06:55 mark, behind Sarah, Duchess of York & HRH Princess Beatrice, Ekaterina is seen tappingPrinz Wilhelm on the left thigh, he holds her right hand and she goes on to neurotically rub his thigh, as he restrains her inner hissing. Of course, at this point, Wilhelm & Ekaterina are both aware that Meghan is with child and you can bet, the campaign was already begun to drive Meghan mad, have her either miscarry or suicide. They do not want an Octoroon in their family. Just imagine, a curly afroed ginger, Archie would be the obsession of the British tabloids to the exclusion of Ekaterina’s own not-the-swiftest-of-souls sons, though to be sure sure, Charlotte does fire on all engines. Early days yet, for Meghan it was just smile serenely and carry on. Prinz Wilhelm was of course, restraining his venomous wife who was utterly opposed to Meghan being in their midst and wanted her gone. For his part, Wilhelm is still his mother’s son and Meghan is his brother’s wife.
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex the reincarnated Tudor Matriarch
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Princess Henry of Sussex
Meghan, the most powerful Windsor wife, since her soul was previously incarnate as a female member of the British monarchy, Margaret Beaufort, Tudor matriarch. The importance of Meghan in this current drama is not easily disguised, though, there is a great effort exerted to distract from the truth. At the heart of Meghan’s lynching is the fact that the royals of The House of Windsor have been outed as racist boors. This was not easy for Elizabeth II as she spent her entire life projecting the image of the great matriarch of the Commonwealth and all its disparate races. Meghan was supposed to have sustained that legacy and been the bridge to the Commonwealth when racist Prinz Wilhelm & Prinzessin Ekaterina had no desire to make forays into predominantly Black Commonwealth nations – they still have not toured one of the predominantly Black 19 commonwealth nations in sub-Saharan Africa.
Ekaterina & Mary. Ekaterina & Stephanie of Luxembourg. Ekaterina & King Wilhelm-Alexander
Ekaterina has never once toured any of the 19 African Commonwealth nations. How do you justify being a senior royal and mother of a future Sovereign yet in 12 years of marriage never once having set foot in not one of those 19 predominantly Black Commonwealth nations? Twice she has undertaken Commonwealth tours on behalf of Elizabeth II when she was clearly no longer able to undertake such taxing tours. Instead of her lazy racist hide going on tour, Caligula II and Anne have done the lion’s share of this work and merkin-predisposed Sophie taking up the slack. Ekaterina, the Queen of the Karens, has been on tour to a mere 9 Commonwealth nations, whilst having visited 13 non Commonwealth nations. Ekaterina does not like non-Whites and most definitely, she does not like Blacks. Ekaterina, the overindulged never once had to undertake a royal tours whilst pregnant, yet there was Meghan on her first royal tour, days after it was announced that she was expectant with Prince Archie. Ekaterina has speciously claimed that she has stayed put rather than tour as she wants to bring up her kids; obviously, from the looks of Louis/Damian, Ekaterina has had little to no time to spare on the damaged fruit of her toxic womb.
If 2022 were not a Jubilee year, Ekaterina would not have undertaken a royal tour of Commonwealth nations. She was loath to have to do so on Elizabeth II’s behalf. At the start of the tour, there was her outright rudeness to the local Blacks in Belize, and later in Jamaica she rudely brushed off the Minister of Sports, Olivia Grange, who tried to take her hand. Ekaterina is as common as an Ozarks redneck full of anti-Black racist venom. The white t-shirt photo perfectly captures the penny dropping moment for the racially predatory pair; if only they had not chased Meghan from the kingdom, she would be the one undertaking this damn tour to be amongst the natives, whom they are so loath to have to tolerate for a damn nanosecond.
Caligula II à La République de la France. Brigitte, Milonia Caesonia & Incitatus. Milonia Caesonia in Dior
As was plain for all to see, there was Caligula II on his official visit to La République de la France with his lover, the kilted Incitatus openly walking alongside Madame Brigitte Macron & Milonia Caesonia on the Champs-Élysées no less. Of course, having Meghan perpetually, unrelentingly lynched takes the spotlight off debauched and buggered Caligula II. Meghan has to be hung from a tree and the White tribe get its jollies so that god forbid Milonia Caesonia should be booed or openly rejected for the pain she caused the beloved Diana, Princess of Wales. Too, Meghan serves the purpose of keeping whispers of the kilted Incitatus being more than Caligula II’s equerry at bay. No need to have whispers persisting as to why Caligula II lives apart from Milonia Caesonia with the virile Incitatus at Highgrove. I for one, as I flatly replied to friend, don’t give a damn what her Dior cost but I do care to know what it cost to replace all that shattered glass at the Palais de Versailles!
Serena Ohanian-Williams. Meghan, HRH The Duchess of Sussex. Abigail Spencer, NYC Baby Shower.
No matter how much Caligula II and his henchmen in the media cast their nets far and wide, they will never be able to affect Harry and Meghan’s success and happiness. One thing that they will never do, is remove Harry & his heirs from the line of succession as some of the media racist boors bleat on. The moment they do any such thing, their greatest fear would be realised: a memoir of Meghan’s detailing the racist abuse that she suffered at the hands of senior royals. Meghan knows her power, this is why she does not set foot anywhere near the lot of them when charitable work takes her to England.
Harry & Meghan with Oprah Winfrey. David Foster & Prince Harry. Meghan & Harry with Kevin Costner
More than all that, showbiz is all about knowledge and the power of secrets; the land of make believe, is all about power to ruin someone by exposing their secrets. Everyone in Hollywood knows the goods on the senior royals at this point. The baby shower in New York City in February, 2019 was for Meghan to decompress from the racist maelstrom that she faced whilst pregnant. Ekaterina & Wilhelm wanted her to suicide; Meghan needed a break from Wilhelm and Ekaterina’s campaign of convincing Meghan that she was carrying Rosemary’s Baby – talk about irony as per Damian’s coming at at the Platinum Jubilee. Talk about karma; they serve up their petty seating for the Sussexes and the next day the universe had the last laugh as Damian, finally let out of his cage, pissed on and humped the dominatrix’s leg.
Tracy Robbins. Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau. Kelly McKee Zajfen.
Lindsay Roth. Misha Nonoo-Hess. Delfina Blaquier
Oprah stated that there was a lot more tape to that interview. Tyler Perry pointedly stated that there was a lot more that Meghan could have said in her Oprah interview, which would have proven injurious to the House of Windsor’s senior royals. David Foster’s wife is Katherine McPhee who went to the same high school as Meghan. The Fosters know the senior Mulroneys, plus Ben and Jessica, not to mention Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau & husband, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. All these people socially overlap and at their level of society, they rarely ever have fallings out – relationships and connections are of immense financial worth. These are, on the whole, tight, well-guarded, upper social strata bonds that transcend politics and social whims.
Molina Caesonia, Caligula II, Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted, Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus
No matter what the dog whistling Windsor media henchmen speciously allege on their silly little island, they have no power and their unmasked truth is a known open secret, which makes it the most bankable commodity in Hollywood. Meghan is a devastating threat because with her departure and by taking Harry and their children with her, the House of Windsor is suddenly exposed as utterly vulnerable and frankly irrelevant.
Vichyssoise. Brown Sugar & Butter Roasted Squash. Ossobuco on Roasted Pine Nuts & Baby Carrots
Back in late spring of 1987, Merlin and I hosted an old friend of mine to dinner at our Cabbagetown home. Back in the late ’70s, Ivan was an eccentric artist: painter, sculptor and former dancer from New York City. He lived a rather bohemian theatrical life in a loft across Markham Street from Ed Mirvish’s Honest Ed in Mirvish Village. One day, after I had been by for tea and great conversation, he took me across the street and introduced me, grandly stating that I was now going to start working for them that very day, and I did. Eventually, I was off to Winnipeg to study dance which proved the most soul-crushing, racist experience imaginable. I remember sitting there in the theatre, the house lights going down and the full dress rehearsal for Romeo & Juliet was begun. The only Black in the school, I also had the humiliating experience of being the only student who was not allowed to take part in the production. I was crushed and this was after having suffered the indignity of having another male in the school piss into my locker’s grated door into my shoes and socks, which meant having to venture home in -30°C and colder in the driven snow in piss-sodden socks that were frozen to my feet by the time I made it home from the then studios on Portage to my tiny apartment on Assiniboine. That late spring, Merlin and I slaved away in the kitchen, prepping for dinner with Ivan. As a rule, I never once cooked a meal for any of Merlin’s friends; most of all, none of his friends were ever invited when I had friends of my own to dinner. We started with vichyssoise, followed by halved, baked squash with butter and brown sugar, into which was placed purple rice smothered in melted white cheddar and slivered almonds. The main course was Merlin’s favourite, the most sublime ossobuco sat on a bed of liqueur-sautéed pine nuts and adorned by baby carrots. Ivan was a great raconteur, with the loudest, most irreverent fuck-that laugh, and a ravenous appetite; it was always good to host him and repay his kindness from the decade earlier; moreover, Merlin genuinely loved his company.
Chicago. Halved Lobster Meal. Washington D. C.
Ivan it was who had introduced me to a wealthy friend of his, who was a patron of the arts and lived in Chicago, New Orleans and Washington D.C. He thought that my experience in Winnipeg was ridiculously hellish and I needed to get out. Naturally, his friend’s lover got wind of my existence then called the school and reported, “Ms. Thang was trying to thief her man!” This was great ammunition for the school’s principal who treated my existence in class as though I were truly invisible. Next, the scheming, bigoted principal, an ex-lover of whose told me that I would never get into the company so arch was his hatred of Blacks, went all out to exterminate me. He then set me up with someone for lunch whom I assumed was the hotel manager at the local Holiday Inn. Large-bodied but kind and reserved, I replied after he asked why I was not eating, starved though I was, that my mother’s name was Miriam, a Jew and we neither ate pork nor shellfish. The halved whole lobster before me truly made me feel nauseous. He called a waiter, had it replaced and asked where I was from as I ravenously tucked in whilst schooling him on Nevis. He then gave me his business card and that of the banquet supervisor. Days later, I called him a few times to thank him for getting me the job of waiter/bartender at the hotel – god only knows I was at 105lbs dying on a diet, noon and night, of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I then had a sit-down interview with the school principal, who let me know that there was a complaint against me for repeatedly calling my host at lunch in the hotel. Imagine that, calling someone to say thanks for their kindness and getting me a gig, is deemed suspect? All along, I had assumed that he was the banquet manager, it was Ivan who told me that that manager, Izzy Asper, was one of the richest Canadians who owned the damn hotel! Furthermore, the principal then took it on himself to announce to the whole school that it did not reflect well on him and his school to have students with sugar daddies or any student aggressively looking for sugar daddies in his school. Looking back, the thought that the principal actually used Mr. Asper as bait to accuse me of being a male whore when the gentleman was not remotely Queer, was truly repugnant to me.
Mirvish Books on Art, Mirvish Village. Christina’s World, Andrew Wyeth, MoMA. New Orleans.
Years earlier whilst Merlin was in Toronto filming Fraggle Rock at the CBC studios with Jim Henson, I was still resident in New York City, dancing and spending much time with milliner Frederick Jones & former dancer, Attila Isaksen, who had the greatest feet of any dancer I have ever seen, male or female. Attila laughed at life and was a great spirit whose brief dance career took him from Houston to New York City. Attila born March 7, 1955 had two numbers in common with me and was also possessed of master number 11 – he is also an artisan soul like me and an entity mate. Attila thought that my experience in Winnipeg was beyond absurd. One evening after we had had more fantastic sex, we sat in the tub talking, laughing and sipping on red wine before more robust noisy sexual play. “How did you manage to survive that penal colony, my god?” Attila asked to which we both roared. Of course, I then shared with Attila how I charmed the school principal into giving me the job of school custodian, which he gleefully accepted – never underestimate the stupidity of ‘Whites,’ rather than Caucasians, who are ever convinced that one is never possessed of intellect for being Black. I then proceeded to master cleaning the place in record time, when I had figured out how to do the four hour gig in 1.5 hours, I then set about scouring the school principal’s notes that he kept of all students. Indeed, he dismissed me as unaware and not company worthy. More than that, I got keen insights to his opinions of male students, especially the not remotely Gay ones, of whom he seemed ever keen on grooming – breaking them in. Attila, naturally, was not surprised at any of this; it is par for the course in the dance world.
Soul Crooners: Barry White. Al Green & Teddy Pendergrass
Going on, I then told Attila of my casual lover who lived just off Pembina Highway in the city’s south end. I spent at least two weekends per month with him for about a year. He was a tall, jet-black Jamaican nurse, whose house was covered throughout in plastic as he collected two of every item of furniture, the spare one to be eventually shipped home to Jamaica where he would build a house and retire – this is not as uncommon as one would assume. I shared how after each fuck, I felt splayed and truly as if paralysed from the hips down. Randomly, Attila asked if I was familiar with Andrew Wyeth’s paintings; indeed, I wasn’t then familiar. Devon Bradford had the largest, thickest, big Black cock, I have ever seen; it felt arousing of spirit each time to see what my tiny body had just conquered. Attila shared that I was correct in my observation that truly big-dicked Black men always played damn good soul music to hypnotise you into a spectacular, memorable fuck – Attila’s lovers were all Black. We howled at how many times we had heard the same Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass and Al Green songs; Attila of Scandinavian heritage, by way of Minnesota, had the thickest cock and his arms were covered in the same blonde forest of fur as Prince Harry’s. The next weekend, on a Saturday afternoon, Philip took me to MoMa for my first visit and guided me by the hand with his blindfold covering my eyes. We stopped, he removed the blindfold and we both erupted in hushed giggles. There before me was Andrew Wyeth’s Christina’s World, which perfectly reflected how, having shared with Attila, I felt each time after a soul-jousting fuck with Devon in cold, hellish, racist Winnipeg. Attila thought that I should have lived with Devon, who wanted to put me through nursing school; then again, said I, I would not have met him or Merlin. “Sooner or later that fucker is going to crawl into his casket and rot in hell, eating every pope’s arse,” I quietly told Attila of the racist school principal. Vaffanculo! In short order, Attila and I were returned to marvellously hot sex. There is no doubt in my mind that Meghan’s experience, for being the first Black to have married into the royal family, whilst living in England mirrored and surpassed in its cruelty aspects of the racism to which I was subjected for being the only Black in that school in Winnipeg.
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Whitehall, November, 2018.
Ever, I will be most fuck-all indefatigable in defending Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex against all and everyone and will remain fiercely respectful of her, Prince Harry, Doria, their children, plus the persons who form their secure inner circle… to say nothing of their journey. I stood almost directly opposite Meghan in Whitehall at the time of the preceding photograph and the hatred being directed at this human was devastating. Not since my days in Winnipeg had I felt so racially smothered; Britons are vile racist boors.
Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex Invictus Games, Dusseldorf, Germany, 2023
Meghan made it perfectly clear that she will never bow or curtsey to a racist boor by staying away from Caligula II’s coronation. So there was Ekaterina with her team of lisping sycophants at the ready, waiting to see what Meghan would be wearing in Dusseldorf, to replicate it in short order. Well, fuck it! What is Ekaterina to do now? She most definitely cannot be seen wearing YSL sandals in public. Most of all, she cannot break protocol and start wearing shorts to official charity events. The strapless, metallic teal, lace midi was exquisite; most of all, there is no way for Ekaterina to cannibalise that look.
Now That’s What You Call Real Gangsta Cannibalism – Bronzer & an Afro Wig. Foxy Brown Ekaterina!
Silly Ekaterina, that’s what you get for showing up at Grenfell Tower event in June, 2022, wearing Chanel sandals and on the eve of the coronation, wearing Aquazurra bow tie heels. The only way for her to top Meghan’s look in Dusseldorf, is to show up with spray-on full body bronzer whilst wearing a curly afro wig. I would truly piss myself shrieking and you know that Ekaterina is both desperate and competitive enough to do just that.
How to Go Hooking and Sporting; ie Ekaterina Getting the Job Done Whether Bagging Prince or Lover
Everyone keeps carping on about how Ekaterina was so bullied and stressed out by Meghan. Bullshit! Ekaterina is an utterly vapid, shallow, embittered power mad cannibal with the famished soul of a dominatrix. Damn Ekaterina, Meghan is not your bitch to be either pegged or fisted by your febrile, sadistic, terrorising campaigns.
And the Mirror Cracked. Ekaterina’s Mask Slips
Silly woman, didn’t it ever occur to you, Ekaterina, that hating Meghan, is like pulling the pin on a grenade and forgetting to toss it? These mad amateurs think that they can simply demonise Meghan in the media and somehow, they will prove the first time in human civilisation that there aren’t two sides to this historic royal story. Ekaterina has never been on tour whilst pregnant; however, Meghan is shipped off to Australia on tour early during her first pregnancy. Further, whilst she is away in October, 2018 J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz is put up to write to Valery “The Fly” du Bout and allege that Meghan was a bully. Prinz Wilhelm & Prinzessin Ekaterina are to their supporters much like Donald Trump is to his followers; regardless the obvious facts, only their warped account of reality sans factual evidence matters and their race, Meghan’s race and that the FSAs certainly see to it.
J’anusz (Pronounced Anus, the J’ Is Silent) der Schmeckel-Snitz aka Herr J’anusz der SS.
As Wilhelm is not the swiftest of souls (3 & 2) he has left himself fully exposed as the complicit architect of so much of this absolute shitefest. If you cannot get the marriage cancelled – Thomas Markle Sr. slipped up on Live Australian TV and said that J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz had put him up to the Jerry Springer sideshow before The Sussexes’ wedding, in the hope that the wedding would be called off. In the meantime, since Meghan was pregnant, let’s apply even more pressure and hope that she either miscarries or commits suicide whilst on royal tour in the southern hemisphere. J’anusz, Wilhelm & Ekaterina’s bottom feeder, has access to the FSAs and of course, he knows too much about Prinz Wilhelm’s pegged & fisted proclivities. For this reason, J’anusz has proven himself indispensable and as soon as Elizabeth II died, he is appointed by Wilhelm himself as an lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order, in December 2022. The little Texan cactus (now there’s a butt plug) merely acted on his own, regarding that email which highlighted Meghan’s alleged bullying of staff, which Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted releases J’anusz to go afford the court in a bid to assist the Fail on Sunday in its case against, Meghan – Meghan of course won because the courts saw how utterly amateurish and exposed Wilhelm & Ekaterina have left themselves in this entire tawdry affair. Since then as his secrets are too potentially damaging of the Waleses’ marriage and reputation, J’anusz has now become a major appointee at the vanity Earthshot Prize, which is about as meaningless as Wilhelm shucking oyster or was that a diamond encrusted dog tail butt plug that he was in search of? If J’anusz had to be seduced and bedded to get him to go after the senior Markles then so be it. Now like old Etonians, they are practically inseparable, J’anusz even climbing in next to him on the recent boys’ trip to New York City.
Wilhelm & Ekaterina, 2010. Prince Caligula & Diana Princess of Wales, 1981. Wilhelm & Ekaterina, 2021
Let’s face it, Ekaterina, every day is one day closer to the Prime Minister standing in Parliament and announcing that: “It is with regret that Buckingham Palace announces that the Prince & Princess of Wales are to be separated.” Ten years on, and Ekaterina could not directly look into the camera. Notice, too, Wilhelm’s arms no longer wrap completely about Ekaterina’s body ten years on. So glad that Harry let Prinz Wilhelm have their mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ sapphire engagement ring; the damn thing is clearly cursed.
“All of Me, Why Not Take All of Me…” Sing It, Peggalicious. Wreath Laying in India.
Just look at that two-way pegged and fisted byway being flagrantly advertised; what does J’anusz der SS not know? Indeed, what debauched peggalicious fun did J’anusz and Wilhelm get up to in New York City from which Ekaterina was banished so that boys and lovers could be pegged and fisted boy and lovers. Naturally, J’anusz has conveniently been handsomely placed at Earthshot Prize, making his companionship less likely to arouse suspicion. What’s more, Ekaterina is not going to Singapore because at the end of the day, Diana is not Ekaterina’s mum, she is Harry’s mum.
Wynton Marsalis solo Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra at Massey Hall 2025
Summer is Jazz season and boy has it been great this year. Here is enduring favourite, Wynton Marsalis leader of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra intoxicating the soul with his brilliant creative genius. Jazz is Love. Jazz is Life. Jazz is Art most rare!
The Cannibalising Racial Predator Exposed
So in the week of the French President’s state visit to the UK, during which the Prince & Princess of Wales kept the Macrons waiting for over 10 minutes before arriving, our 1851 Trust patron #ladylegswideopen was irrefutably outed as having waged a years-long campaign of stalking Meghan Sussex by way of cannibalising her through fashion. Trust TikTok creator @matta_of_fact to have sorted it all out. Yes, indeed, Natasha “Tash” Archer announced that she was leaving her post as chief stylist to Catherine, The Princess of Wales after a fifteen-year association to go start a consultancy of her own. What then unfolded was making her, as ever, private Instagram account public. However, in the process of doing so, “Tash” did not take the time to cull her following list before actually going live/public. As a result, it was revealed that all Catherine’s predatory Orca-like fashion copycatting of Meghan, post Megxit, were done for stalking all Meghan’s design and clothing. What this reveals is how truly obsessed both William and Catherine are with that fucking Black Yank whom they cannot stand; they’ve been in a blind white-hooded rage at the every move that Meghan makes. This, of course, also blows wide open the campaign of hostilities and lies from the Fleet Street henchmen, being directly orchestrated by the gruesome, racist twosome whose offices remain Kensington Palace but who knows exactly where they live as their separate lives continue unaffected.
Chris Jackson & Natasha Archer
I am inclined to think that as Natasha has resigned, it likely means that there has been a falling out and that she was being relieved of her duties. This might well be because the rift between the Waleses is that severe. Further, the fact that Natasha would do something as self-destructive as go public with her following list exposed, seems to me to be a way of Natasha to reveal to the world that her boss, Catherine is a bully and serious stalker of Meghan’s. There is no such thing as happenstance and I think that this amateurish embarrassment is totally deliberate on Ms. Archer’s part. Either way, it has served to validate what I have stridently stated, based on the overleaves and numerology involved, all along about who Catherine is, which is why I chose to devote at least one blog to the cannibalisation of Meghan by Catherine. This whole think has left Catherine exposed as a vile deranged, petty, single White female of the most venal kind. At the end of all this, I think that likely Olivia Buckingham, Vogue Hong Kong editorial contributor and stylist for Princess Beatrice will step into the void created by Ms. Archer’s departure… if, indeed, she has not yet already done so.
Meghan Ralph Lauren 2023 & Catherine 2025
Recently, Catherine went around to a cancer recovery centre and talked her usual hand jive, jive sucker bullshit, making noise and saying sweet fuck all. Let’s face it, Catherine has no more had or has cancer than she is a paragon of sophisticated elocution – stomach surgery is not uncommon for anorexics. There she was in a camel pinstriped Ralph Lauren, which two years prior, Meghan was seen wearing the exact blouse. All the while, she has Lady Fuckamere’s trolls at Fleet Street abattoir, Daily Mail, dissing and doing her catty, racist bidding.
How insecure, to say nothing of unfocussed and bored, do you have to be that you engage staff to stalk, cannibalise and vilify someone who is not English, who is not White. Good God Catherine, you became the most powerful women in the House of Windsor on July 22, 2013: Future Princess of Wales, Future King Mother, Queen! You won the damn lottery. You staked your ownership on it all, on the 4th Baron Rothschild’s 75th birthday when in that closeup through the veil you smiled at the foot of Westminster Abbey’s aisle and the world fell in love. All this petty drama is so beneath you! Rise above it; there is no way that you cannot own your part in the macabre spectacle. Alas, you are human after all.
The Notorious JTB Sounds Off
I positively love this man. He is, by far, one of the most eloquent and insightful commentators on all things Royal as it chiefly focusses on the Sussexes and the House of Windsor. He is truly a cut above most Sussex Squad commentators.
Catherine & George Arrive at Wimbledon, 2022
July, 2022, two months before Queen Elizabeth II’s death and Catherine turns up to Wimbledon to be lauded by the masses. She wears the same shoes that mimic Meghan’s Chanel flats months earlier at the Invictus Games. More than all that, look at what happens, Catherine arrives separate from William, which suggests that they were at that point, already living apart. That would certainly explain why she never showed up to Balmoral at the Queen’s passing because, she may have been staying elsewhere and therefore could not have travelled to Balmoral separately before or after William. Naturally, Meghan was made to stay behind because of protocol considerations, which proved ultimately false, was to throw everyone’s scent off of William and Catherine living apart and thus unable to have travelled to Balmoral together. Was Catherine is Bucklebury at The Queen’s passing? Was Catherine even in Mustique with the kids and therefore could not have returned in time to head up to Balmoral with William. Either way, William and Catherine’s arrival at Wimbledon separately – Catherine was actually sat next to stylist ‘Tash’ who could easily have sat in the second Range Roger with William next to Catherine and George, highlights their separate live. Obviously, Catherine and George were likely in Bucklebury at the Middleton penitentiary.
Catherine HRH The Duchess of Cambridge at Wimbledon July, 2022
A month after having attended the Grenfell Tower memorial with Prince William, Catherine sported the same shoes as then to Wimbledon finals. This she did as a racially predatory taunt of Meghan who at that point, she had successfully driven out of the Kingdom.
Meghan Invictus Games April 2022, The Hague
She wore the matching shoes as Meghan had earlier worn at the Invictus Games at the Hague in April, 2022. Catherine first wore the same designer shoes, though with heels, in June, 2022 to the Grenfell Ceremony then to Wimbledon finals in July, 2022.
Meghan, Vancouver February, 2024
Clearly, having had quite enough of that racially predatory psychopathic lush Ekaterina, Meghan turned up in long gloves, knee-high boots, and a poncho… a wardrobe combination that her stalker could never mimic… and it worked, too. Obviously, Meghan was quite aware that she was being abused by Catherine though in Montecito, even as she clearly had whilst in London, which is why they would have been permitted to relocate to Frogmore Cottage at Windsor Castle, though the apartments next door to William and Catherine at Kensington Palace had been renovated for the Sussexes’ use after having lived at Kensington Palace’s Nottingham Cottage.
Prince George of Wales, famille Galles & Catherine at Wimbledon 2025
As a sportive warrior soul, Catherine thoroughly enjoys her patronage of the All England Lawn and Tennis Club aka Wimbledon. This, I believe, is her favourite event of the year. She gets adored, especially so since having faked cancer and aced the sympathy card from the somnambulant of her tribe. She also, as is obvious above, gets to knock back a drink or more. Most of all, Catherine appears and like a silent era film ingenue, she gets to say nada, which is crucial as she is so woefully inarticulate and void either eloquence or charisma. George’s neuroses should by now have been transcended; he is about to turn 12 years old and is way too kooky; it’s made all the more glaringly obvious when anywhere near Princess Charlotte’s orbit.
Catherine presenting the Wimbledon men’s final trophy to Jannik Sinner
Back in 2024 when the palace struggled with how to unravel Catherine’s disappearance, the moment that there was mention of abdominal surgery, I immediately thought that she was clearly anorexic. Of course, conveniently it was savvy to have claimed pre-cancerous sells being treated as this would garner the desperately needed sympathy after she and King Charles III were both exposed in Omid Scobie’s Endgame as the two royal racists, which had been first exposed in Meghan’s elegantly poised interview with Oprah in March 2021. As per her disappearances and re-emergences since ‘treatment,’ it has clearly fooled the mere mortals. Having been in the world of classical dance, Catherine exhibits all the signs of an anorexic. Her 9 energy body lends itself to the rigid, focussed perfectionism and the steely will to compete and win at all costs. As Catherine is phenomenally lazy, playing the cancer card handsomely serves her agendum; it gets her out of performing royal duties and she can pick and choose the ones that she cares about and to hell with the rest. Besides, her Fleet Street henchmen will always slavishly protect her by lynching Meghan ad infinitum.
TRH The Prince & Princess of Wales at the French State Banquet 2025 at Windsor Castle
After having missed the last two state banquets, Catherine had devilishly played the lot of us. After all, separated/divorced royals are not permitted to wear tiaras. There was Catherine grinning her best Cheshire fuck you grin whilst owning the room in that gorgeous red dress by her favourite, Sarah Burton for Givenchy. No it had nothing to do with cannibalising Meghan whose wedding dress was a Givenchy – different designer; I believe Catherine chose Sarah who designed her wedding dress and made her a vision of dynastic elegance on the day. I for one was thrilled to see Catherine at the state banquet tiara adorned. Above all else, tiara-crowned Catherine meant that three young humans: George, Charlotte and Louis would not have their emotional and mental health broadsided for life by their parents divorcing. I have yet to have witnessed children of divorce not being adversely impacted by the event and for the rest of their lives too.
Princess Charlotte holding court at Wimbledon 2025
Though I don’t know her Michael Overleaves – nor Louis’s for that matter, if I had to guess, I’d say that Charlotte, like her mum, is a warrior soul. I may be wrong; it could be that she has strong warrior overleaves, casting or a warrior task companion. What I do know, though, is her numerology: 2.5.2015 Year of the Goat 2.7.6 = 6. All two energy body persons are charming, self-aware, creative and have a strong sense of theatre; Charlotte was born being ‘on.’ She keenly understands her role in the drama and commendably acts the part. Poised and like her paternal great-grandmother HLMTQ, she has a mindset of 7; strong, intuitive and a boss. Charlotte is the moment; all others are merely orbital. Like her uncle, Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex, she does have two 6s in her makeup; she like he will definitely make an interesting ‘spare’ as the institution is so intent on role assignations.
Charlotte Holds Court
Recently, a friend took me to task, demanding to know how I could feature Catherine on my Instagram when I hated her. What? I hate no one. In dreams there are no lies and who these people are is deftly mirrored in dreams. Catherine is always cool, adroit and never interacts first; neither do I, for that matter. Of all the royals of the House of Windsor, I have more dream encounters with William than any other. As he has a goal of acceptance in this life and is a scholar soul and Merlin was a scholar soul and also had a goal of acceptance, it is not surprising that I would dream of him more than others. Also, there is the matter of past-life connections, which have been positive in nature. Regardless, he has ridiculously strong overleaves in this lifetime and they are being currently expressed in the negative pole. William a 6th mature scholar, Catherine his task companion is, like Prince Harry, a fifth mature warrior. The King is also a warrior but older-souled than them all; like me, he is a seventh level mature soul. Though, I am not a warrior but an artisan soul, I am on my third life at seven level mature, in the third cadence and the third greater cadence of my entity. Three equals warrior energy so I am not your typical fluid artisan-type. I will say this that dream encounters with King Charles tend to prove chaotic. He appears centred, zen and rather buddha-like; however, it can fast turn adversarial. Older souls – fifth level mature and older – perform magic in dreams: walking through walls, rendering self invisible, or shapeshifting. I am more adept at being lucidly awakened and keenly focussed than most persons when encountered in dreams.
Daily Mail implies that Meghan cryptically wished Camilla happy birthday
Never mind that in December, 2022 Camilla’s friend, Jeremy Clarkson penned an odious editorial in The Sun, a Rupert Murdoch newspaper. Clarkson expressed his sadistic fantasy of Meghan made to walk naked throughout the kingdom and pelted with human faeces. Days later, Queen Elizabeth II not yet dead three months, Camilla hosted Clarkson and other glitterati at Mayfair’s Murano. Yet somehow, Meghan in her need to play kiss-ass house slave cryptically wished Camilla a happy birthday when in an Instastory Meghan wrote, “Sending birthday love – both near and far to my ladies.”
Camilla ridicules Inuit throat singers
How possibly could Meghan have been sending a cryptic message? Meghan’s note was unmistakable; it was addressed to ladies! In a desperate need to earn clicks, Meghan’s Instagram is preyed on then regurgitated in a bid for Daily Mail to have their racist chav readership go into a feeding frenzy. How pray tell would Meghan even countenance that woman after having been lynched in the gutter press by Clarkson then to have had said adulterer, who ruined Meghan’s mother-in-law’s marriage, fete him at Murano. Meghan has long moved on and is little-focussed on small-minded, racist, small-island dwellers.
Samara Joy Massey Hall Encore
This is the encore performance of Samara Joy’s at Toronto’s historic Massey Hall where the seminal live Jazz recording occurred 53 years earlier with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and others. This was the most electrifying show and what truly amazes, is how much more august a performer Samara has become in the short space of a year. This was in May 2025 and in late June 2025, I drove down the 401 Highway to Montréal to get in a few performances of this year’s Toronto Dominion Bank Festival International de Jazz de Montréal. Again, I saw a Samara Joy performance, which was far superior to the Toronto performance. Ms. Joy shared that she got her big break in Montréal at said festival and it was there that she had played to more than 100 persons for the first time and with the few thousand spectators outdoors, she realised that Jazz could become a viable career. Truly blessed are we to have her focussed in the Jazz idiom. She is a remarkable performer.
My five-day trip to the most glorious jewel, London, was bittersweet. I got a call from Vanessa saying that Clive’s cancer had proven stage four with little time left him. There was but one choice, nothing to do but hurry off the phone, book a flight tout de suite to London. Back in late October 1982, after having met Merlin, my friend Clive, studying in the city, I set up on a blind date with Vanessa. She broke off the date at the last minute to rush home to Bermuda and attend her grandmother’s funeral. Undaunted, on her return, I insisted that they get together. By this time, Merlin was returned to New York and holding up at the actor, Patricia Neal’s UWS airy apartment. Merlin had met Clive and Vanessa separately and thought to have them to dinner; naturally, he cooked his favourite dish, chicken paprikash, which he had been taught by Stratford Festival Theatre’s artistic director, John Hirsch.
Manhattan rooftop water tanks
As we dined, with the shadows of water towers beyond the large living room windows, it was fairly obvious that my attempt at matchmaking had proven successful. From time to time, Merlin winked at me and squeezed my knee beneath the table as Clive and Vanessa on their first date had handsomely struck it off. As the blind date was going so well, Merlin suggested that they were welcome to stay and continue visiting whilst we headed off down to midtown Manhattan to take in the midnight showing of Gandhi at the Ziegfeld cinema. Merlin suggested that they could leave the apartment’s keys with the concierge and we would collect them on our return; it was obvious that they were getting along well and needed more time together, minus us as well. Clive and Vanessa laughed a lot and it was clear that they were smitten with each other.
Pushing five in the morning, we returned and thought it odd that the suite’s keys had not been turned in. We got off the elevator and on making our way down to the hall, there was the familiar shower of both persons laughing and giggling. Merlin knocked, not loudly, and we were greeted at the door by the smitten couple, each with cake frosting on their nose. They had been up talking and decided that, as it was well past midnight and therefore her birthday, they would bake a cake! Lots of laughter and warmth, whilst the cake set, Merlin decided to make a hearty breakfast of pancakes with Canadian maple syrup! Since that day, Vanessa and Clive have never been separated once; they even slipped into Toronto to visit me a couple of weeks after Merlin’s passing.
The bust of a man
Pen and Ink
c. 1545
Baccio Bandinelli
Hopped off the Piccadilly line, I crossed Green Park, on day one, to alight at The King’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace. The red-interiored salons were familiar, warm and grounding. I was bothered by the fact that the exhibition of Renaissance Drawings among which were works by unsurpassed genius, Leonardo da Vinci, was masterfully curated and hung. Each piece was expertly placed such that you could never evade the glare of intrusive lighting and the works of art hung on the opposite wall. I laughed aloud to a couple of women staffers, then eventually on making to the next salon, a lone silver-haired beauty engaged me. She wanted to know where I was from; naturally, my Canadian accent as articulated with the women registered with her. She lived, it turned out in Mississauga as her husband had worked at the corporate headquarters of the elegantly designed Mies van der Rohe TD Bank (Toronto Dominion Bank) for a couple of decades. She insisted that I make the trek to St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle before leaving; I assured her that the journey was foremost in my plans, having shared that there were 4 governors-general in my extended family to date. She was a gracious human of whom I dreamt two nights later and her aura unsurprisingly was most pronounced.
Reclining Figure
Plaster and string
1951 Henry Moore
Henry Moore & Francis Bacon, Tate Britain
From the King’s Gallery, I briskly made my way to Victoria Station, alighting at Pimlico where after being moved by Chris Ofili’s tribute to the Grenfell Tower tragedy, I scuffed at the Turner Prize fare, which would have been more convincing if there were also homeless persons encamped. The Francis Bacon & Henry Moore exhibition was soul-stirring. By now my feet were beginning to seriously ache as I had forgotten to pack walking shoes. Stepping into the unseasonably crisp sunny air, I hopped aboard the Uber boat and swiftly cruised down the river Thames to the Tate Modern. I was not especially inspired for having visited and for the first time, after so many visits, successfully strode across the millennium bridge where I ended up at St. Paul’s Cathedral. As always, I paid homage to Henry Moore’s plaque. From there, I returned to my hotel in Russell Square. My feet were blistered and ridiculously ached.
Moore, Henry 30/7/1898<O>31/8/1986
Michael: This fragment was a first-level old artisan – third life thereat. Henry was in observation mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, he was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Henry’s body type was Saturn/Venus.
Henry’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and the secondary of arrogance.
The fragment Henry is fourth-cast in the second cadence; he is a member of greater cadence one. Henry’s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – he is an entity mate.
Henry’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior.
Henry’s three primary needs were: expression, freedom and security.
There are 8 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin. ______________________________________________
Though I had about 1.5 hours to showtime, in light of the election results in America and because I simply cannot bring myself to make compromises when it comes to Jazz, I chose not to attend the oppressive brutalism of the Southbank Centre and endure Jamie Cullum apeing Black culture. Fuck that! Besides, I realised on arriving at the hotel that the ticket was for a standing room spot; not with with blistered feet was I going to time-waste. When Whites said fuck you, we are not voting for a Black woman, all bets are off that I’ve got time to suffer stubborn racially predatory boors. Whites were enticed by the spectre of Trump’s Bible, which omits amendments 11 through 17, most importantly, the 13th amendment which promises mass incarceration if not enslavement for American Blacks. Thus, I spent a couple of hours talking to Vanessa, Clive and my spouse whilst icing my sorely battered feet.
Fortnum & Mason, Piccadilly
Rested and with lots of buzz from London’s vibe, I decided at 2215 to head to Leicester Square. Got off the tube into the thick of the Friday night throngs, making my way past the Hippodrome Casino. Outside beneath the marquee was a group of statuesque, beautiful Black women in their mid to late twenties, walking past, I said to the tallest with her back to the street, “You’ve the most beautiful hair!” “Oh thank you!” She had the largest afro of the group and wore the most gorgeous, large silver hoop earrings. As I gingerly walked along, they could be heard howling and remarking at the fact that in the middle of the chill late evening air, I was fanning myself – thanks in part to the side effects of one of the medications which regulates my health well into my seventh decade. I then slipped into the Knatchbulls’ formerly owned Curzon cinema in hopes of seeing Gladiator II; however, it was sold out and I would not likely be able to see it until after midnight. Next stop, the Vue cinemas to attempt seeing Wicked; still no luck. Never mind. I then gingerly ambled to Piccadilly Circus and enjoyed the groovy beauty of Fortnum & Mason then headed back to my Russell Square hotel.
Royal Academy of Art
Next morning, bright and early, I got to Russell Square tube station only to be horrified by the note that read that the Piccadilly line would be closed both Saturday & Sunday; perhaps, I ought to have ventured out to Windsor the day of my arrival. Undaunted, I elected to head by bus to Piccadilly circus and made my way to Lilywhites where I purchased a pair of sneakers and chucked the pair of too tight and heavy, foot-blistering nuisance in the bin. Spent little time at RAA; the Michelangelo was underwhelming and too crowded for my ubiquitously masked comfort – my spouse is 24/7 on oxygen; I can ill afford to become exposed to respiratory contagion.
Iris
Oil on Canvas
1890 Vincent van Gogh
Provenance: National Gallery of Canada
Next stop, Trafalgar Square and the rapturously overwhelming Vincent van Gogh exhibition at The National Gallery. Breathtaking beauty that is each canvas was marred by the fact that there are simply far too many persons currently incarnate. Sixty-one phenomenal works of art by the modern Dutch genius, which must have a market value of at least 2B£. Obviously, it is all about the biggest bang for one’s buck but the heat radiating off the masses moving from salon to salon was at times overwhelming. There could have been a system whereby 50 persons max per salon to allow everyone a good appreciation of each piece. As ever, the tallest persons always have a knack for planting their obstructive frame before a painting and taking their sweet damn time before moving on.
Sketch for a Portrait of Lisa (Sainsbury)
Oil on Canvas
1955 Francis Bacon
This exhibition, next-door at The National Portrait Gallery, because it left me so pronouncedly aware of George Hawken being ‘around’ that it, plus the sheer staggering beauty of Francis Bacon’s genius moved me to tears. This portrait of Lisa Sainsbury, the way her eyes mimic Akhenaten’s end up remarkably resembling singer, Thom Yorke’s delicate beauty; even the colours betray the haunting melancholia of Yorke’s soulfulness. By the time that I left The National Portrait Gallery, I was listening to Radiohead’s 1997 debut album, OK Computer. The movement and emotional brilliance of clarity in each Bacon canvas is humbling in its beauty. This, by far, was the most ravishing drink for the spirit. Also the very posh Milanese couple and family members were grounding to be around; they sung the language, which I studied for two years in high school.
Bacon, Francis 28/10/1909<O>28/4/1992
Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature artisan — fourth life thereat. Francis was in perseveration mode with a goal of rejection. A sceptic, Francis was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Francis’ body type was Saturn/Lunar.
Francis’ primary chief feature was impatience and the secondary arrogance.
The fragment Francis is fifth-cast in the fourth cadence; Francis is a member of greater cadence five. Francis’ entity is five, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414.
Francis’ essence twin is an artisan, who is extant, an interior decorator and female; his task companion a sage.
Francis’ primary needs were: expression, freedom and expansion.
There are 12 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin. (February, 2018) _________________________________________
Portrait of D. H. Kahnweiler II
Crayon transfer Lithograph
1957 Pablo Picasso
British Museum
Day two of the Piccadilly line being down, and out into the grey-skied chill air, I ventured from the hotel, cutting across Russell Square and proved the first in line on Great Russell Street for the British Museum. Soon, Juan and I were chatting; he is in his eighth decade, enjoying retirement after a career spent at the Prado; he never said what he did. He clearly loved art and came every few months to London where the best exhibitions were to be had. Paris was long passé, Juan declared with a dismissive clipped laugh. After the not very dramatic Picasso print exhibition, I took off for The Japanese Galleries where, as ever, I found centre whilst visiting London. As agreed, we met up in the café, close to the two beautiful totem poles that lord over that sector of the sprawling institution.
Picasso, Pablo 25/10/1881<O>8/4/1973
Michael: This fragment was a seventh-level young warrior — third life thereat. Pablo was in aggression mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, Pablo was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Pablo’s body type was Venus/Saturn.
Pablo’s primary chief feature was exalted arrogance and the secondary greed fixated on accomplishments.
The fragment Pablo is second-cast in the second cadence; Pablo is a member of greater cadence four. Pablo‘s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 404.
Pablo’s essence twin is a warrior and his task companion a scholar who was known to him.
Pablo’s primary needs were: expression, freedom and security.
There are 3 past-life associations with Arvin and 1 with Merlin. (January, 2018) __________________________
The Japanese Galleries, The British Museum
Returned to the hotel, I quickly fell into sleep’s welcome embrace. As is habit, I dreamt rather lucid dreams, especially so for being in London. Among those eight dreams in 3.5 hours was a rather lucidly awakened encounter with Prince William and his wife; she was cool, tense and disinterested. I had a distinct impression that her mood was more so to do with their state of affairs than myself or anyone else for that matter. The three of us were the only persons. Catherine who had been stooped to the moist, wet ground was planting clippings. She declined to look when William called after her announcing, “Look who’s here.” When she finally stood up, being clipped, dismissive and took leave of more so him than me, William placed his left palm on the small of my back, caressed me with his left thumb; throughout the dream, I could very intensely smell him. He was calm, centred and without the trappings of his waking persona – numerology, chief features and centre. William is an older soul – sixth mature, who like every one in acceptance was gracious and civil – his father, King Charles III is also in acceptance. I awoke and ventured by taxi to an evening with Vanessa, Clive and two of their four sons. It was a very emotional evening and none of the past 42 years of rich memories, family life and subsequent generations would have unfolded had I not acted on spirit and dreams which assured me that I had to set up Clive and Vanessa on a blind date, a lifetime ago.
St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle
Moments after having spent a good two minutes in reflection, head bowed, facing due north, I quickly took this photo looking eastward. I was not the first to have arrived in the line at Windsor castle on day four, but as everyone ventured towards the castle’s staterooms, I turned westward and briskly walked towards St. George’s Chapel. There was an American family who’d never been before. On entering, they turned right, as I turned left towards the great west doors, en route to pay homage. After a few words with the crimson-garbed cleric, I bowed and meditated. Suddenly, the first dream had of the recently passed Elizabeth II lucidly mushroomed in my mind. The dream reanimated about me as I watched myself walk towards the transitioning astral plane habituée and placed a garment about her, keeping her warm, honouring her richly ennobled life.
King George VI Memorial Chapel (DailyMail)
I came to as the American family, having erroneously wandered off to the Albert Memorial Chapel approached. I took leave, allowing them to visit with the large black Belgian marble slab with bronze inlays that marks where Queen Elizabeth II, Elizabeth, her mother, George VI, her father, Margaret Rose, her sister and Philip, her husband are together entombed. Simple, elegant… poignant.
Freedom. George Michael 1990
Naomi
Well before noon and I was returned to London where I alighted in South Kensington. Small, intimate and the two films that accompany the exhibition leave no doubt in one’s mind that Naomi is a Queen. If weight considerations were not a concern, I would have purchased a few coffee table books from the exhibition. I listened to George Michael’s Freedom for the rest of the afternoon until taking a nap. This tiny exhibition infuses the Victoria & Albert Museum with intense beauty and style.
Campbell, Naomi 22/5/1970 London, England.
Michael: This fragment is a second-level mature artisan – third life thereat. Naomi is in caution mode with a goal of rejection. A realist, she is in the moving part of emotional centre.
Naomi’s body type is Saturn/Mercury.
Naomi’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.
The fragment Naomi is fifth-cast in the sixth cadence; she is a member of greater cadence four. George’s entity is two, cadre four, greater cadre 7, pod 414.
Naomi’s essence twin is an artisan and her task companion is a sage.
Naomi’s primary needs are: exchange, expression and freedom.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin. ____________________________________________
Andy Warhol & Jean-Michel Basquiat. Michael Halsband 1985
Next stop, I was off downstairs at the Victoria & Albert Museum to be thoroughly consumed by the staggering creative legacy of pieces from Elton John & David Furnish’s art collection. Truly arresting and brilliantly impressive, Fragile Beauty is a masterful exhibition. In light of Quincy Jones’s recent passing, the constrictor enrobed Nastassja Kinski photographed by Richard Avedon proved even more captivating. Why have I yet to get the hype over The Beatles? George Harrison and his vibe, I fully get. Hey Jude will ever be a touchstone, but them as a ‘thing’ remains for me utterly elusive. Billie Holiday captured in song proved more captivating than I anticipated. Some shots brought back memories of living in New York City in the early 1980s. Always found Keith Haring’s pheromones off-putting; he moved in the same art circles as dancer turned designer and lover, Attila Isaksen. Smiled at the memory of Attila and I, watching through a skylight Robert Mapplethorpe engaging in S&M at a loft in Chelsea. Our one sexual encounter was intense; I felt overwhelmed by the inordinate looseness of the man. On two occasions he had been leaving the S&M loft upstairs as I came bounding up the stairs to the second storey loft below his friends’. The third time this occurred, he rushed into the loft after me and our tryst was a noisy, feverish business; it was obvious that he was taken by my explosive kinetic energy. The exhibition’s photograph of Mapplethorpe reveals a possessed ghost of the dazzling persona I had encountered in late 1982; clearly, at the time of the photograph, he was being consumed by AIDS. By far, the best photograph of Malcolm X is part of the Elton John & David Furnish collection.
Trial proof of Self-Portrait: Reflection. Lucian Freud 1996
There could be no doubt why the pilgrimage was undertaken. This Lucian Freud exhibition of prints, though, not disappointing, was not the soul-stirring rapture that was the Francis Bacon exhibition at The National Portrait Gallery. I had been hoping to see Kai, Bella and other more notable works. The whippet Hugo was, without doubt, the highlight of the exhibition… at least for me. Feet sore though manageably so, I was returned to Russell Square and a dream-filled nap with one very memorable flying dream.
Freud, Lucian 8/12/1922 Berlin<O>20/7/2011 London
Michael: This fragment was a fifth level mature priest – third life thereat. Lucian was in observation mode with a goal of dominance. Lucian was a sceptic who was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Lucian’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and his secondary chief feature was that of impatience.
Lucian had a Saturn/Mars body type.
Lucian’s casting is in the fourth position of the fourth cadence in the sixth greater cadence. He is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – Lucian is an entity mate of both Arvin and Merlin’s.
Essence twin for Lucian is a priest and his task companion is a slave.
The three primary needs for Lucian were: exchange, freedom and power.
There are 17 past-life associations with Arvin and 14 with Merlin. __________________________________________
The Tales of Hoffmann. Royal Opera House
Ah the magic of theatre. Naturally, as the house lights go down, Merlin always falls into my mind. I loved the fantastic elements of the Offenbach opera; so very rich, pandimensional and dream-like. A good seat was mine and adding to the experience was, the man in his early 30s sat next to me. He was possessed of that yearning so common to us the tribe of men. A Briton, he seductively danced as he had since boyhood with his chums. I sat comfortably engrossed in the opera, but was ever mindful of his arm and leg gently, with increasing tension, caressing against mine. By act three, he was sat arms folded his index and middle finger gently caressing my arm. Neither of us had moved from our seats during the second intermission; the date, copine, épouse whomever did leave whilst I sat deeply engrossed in my phone. Rhythmically, his thigh muscle flexing, thus he kept up the dance’s intensity. Though he proved arousing distraction, I was still disturbed after having visited with Vanessa and Clive, the latter clearly not much longer focussed in this world.
The Farnese Hercules. Royal Academy of Art
Last full day in the city where in the 18th century I enjoyed a life (male) at court as a musician. Always indeed, it is good to go home. I was returned to the Royal Academy of Art to finish off my tour of the place. There were, three days prior, too many kids screaming their lungs out. Satisfied, I then crossed Piccadilly and indulged in putting together an F&M hamper of goodies just in time for the holidays. Returned home, I read and rested up for the night ahead.
Tosca, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Round two and back for more! Returned was I for a glorious night of Puccini as the most beautiful production of Tosca unfolded. Gloriously improved seating; good to feel the orchestra fully washing over me. This performance was riveting and its staging and design were stellar. During my return from the first intermission, I looked up to where I was sat the night prior. My yearning seat companion leaned forward in his seat to peer down at me. The dance ever endures. The sets were marvellous.
Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
The second intermission and I went outside to make a phone call. Whilst admiring the monstrous Rolls across the street and whose grill is visible in the right corner of the preceding photograph, a concert goer approached and declared that he was alone. Did I smoke? No. Would I like some company afterwards; I had almost forgotten how cocky I used to be when young. My phone buzzed; there was my cue. Silently, I returned across the street and pleasurably relaxed into my seat for Tosca’s final act. Midway through the curtain call, I made a dash for the exit and hung out just inside the stage door for about half an hour then made it to the Covent Garden tube station… alone. Yes, my darling, à la prochaine, London!
Jones, Quincy 14/3/1933 <O> 3.11.2024
Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature artisan – third life thereat. Quincy was in the power mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, Quincy was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Quincy’s primary chief feature was arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.
Quincy’s body type was Venus/Mars.
The fragment Quincy is second-cast in the first cadence. Quincy is a member of greater cadence four. Quincy is a member of entity one, cadre one, greater cadre 4, pod 129.
Quincy’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion is a sage.
Quincy’s four primary needs were: expression, adventure, power and communion.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 11 with Merlin. _______________________________________________
The first dream that I had of Merlin, occurred four years prior to meeting him in the waking state. In that dream, there was the most beautiful heron which flew close by; it blinked and when its lid reopened, the eye had become liquid eventually transforming to the most intense white light. Forty-two years ago, after a four-year wait, Merlin sexily slipped into my life at my Hell’s Kitchen walkup. For the next seven years our dance together was truly sublime.
Heron at Cowichan Estuary, Vancouver Island, B.C.
The last time I saw Joop, whom I had met five years prior to Merlin, I stayed at this lovely home in Victoria B. C. for a couple of weeks. We drove up the TransCanada Highway to the northern tip of the island one weekend, stopping off at the Cowichan Estuary and Cathedral Grove. On the drive back, we were followed by a lone heron as we drove southward through Cowichan Estuary a local nature preserve for herons. I was reminded of Merlin whilst holding hands with Joop. Joop was the oldest and most sensual of my lovers; too, he has been the oldest soul of my lovers. It was sad to say so long to him last summer.
Sir Anthony van Dyck, Self-Portrait
van der Pelster, Joop 12/1948 <O> 8/2023
The fragment who was Joop was a fifth level old artisan – second incarnation at this level – in the observation mode, with a goal of stagnation, a pragmatist, in the emotional part of intellectual centre.
This fragment had a Saturn/Lunar body type.
Joop’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a weak secondary of self-deprecation.
Joop is sixth cast in his cadence and his cadence is fourth in the second greater cadence. He is a member of entity one, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414.
Joop has a discarnate artisan essence twin whom he did know in childhood and an incarnate priest task companion, with whom no plans were made to meet in this lifetime.
This was a resting life for this fragment, whose three primary needs were: security, communion and exchange.
He was a sculptor in Russia – at the time of the 1917 revolution, took a stand with the communists and was killed in a riot in St. Petersburg. He chose not to be reborn during the Second World War, in Western Europe, but in an old soul country (Netherlands), rather than a mixed young/mature society.
At that time, the Soviet government was very early-young soul repressive, while the general population was mid-cycle mature and even though he was only 30 when he died, in that previous life, he chose not to be reborn in the Soviet Union and took a resting life in the Netherlands.
Arvin felt a connectedness with Joop because they are in the same cadre, and Joop had a great deal of service in his casting as does Arvin. Here is a priest-cast artisan who is a member of an entity one, so he has needs to serve both the higher ideal and the common good.
There was a great deal of the “Visionary” here, which is one of the seven aspects of the artisan. He was also a “walker” in that he could pierce the veil between the planes at will, even though he did not call this phenomenon by name.
He and Arvin have known each other in many previous lives. They have been lovers of both sexes and of both hetero and homoerotic orientation. Joop has filled the mentor position in Arvin’s support group three times.
Perhaps the most notable life that this fragment had was in the late sixteenth century-early seventeenth century, when he was the Flemish portrait painter and depicter of religious themes, Anthony van Dyck. Anthony was later knighted and is known historically as, Sir Anthony van Dyck.
Massacre of the Innocents, Oil on Canvas. Peter Paul Rubens 1611-1612
He was a good friend, sometimes-lover and collaborator of Peter Paul Rubens – during that lifetime, I was then briefly a lover of Peter Paul Rubens, female and a muse; the relationship was not long-lived. Both of these men, Anthony and Paul, were bisexual and lusty and enjoyed the company of both men and women, even though they pretended to be very good Catholic boys.
Interestingly enough, the fragment who was Peter Paul was in the immediate past life, the imminent American photographer, Ansel Adams – same great artistic ability, different medium.
Joop did have great ability to make his lovers feel loved; this is something that generally goes along with the latter part of the old soul cycle.
They are no longer so concerned about their own sexual pleasure, mainly because it is easier for them and rather commonplace but they do generally enjoy bringing others to the heights of ecstasy.
Every mature soul should have a late old soul lover at least once, just as the opposite is true. The mature soul brings to the sex act the passion and the fire, while the very old soul brings to it the skill and patience of so many lives.
All told, Joop to date has had 18 past lives with Arvin and 12 with his task companion – who was recently – Merlin Ben-Daniel.
Harry 40th Birthday Prince Harry and Here’s to Your Fifth Decade!
Windsor, Henry 15/9/1984 London, England
Michael: This feisty fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior – fourth life thereat – to his sixth-level mature brother, William. Henry is in the power mode with a goal of growth. A sceptic, Henry is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type is Mars/Saturn.
Henry’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.
The fragment Henry is first-cast in second cadence; he is a fragment of greater cadence three. Henry’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 – Henry is an entity mate of his paternal grandmother, HM Queen Elizabeth II.
Henry’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion.
Henry’s primary needs are: freedom, adventure and exchange.
There are 9 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin.
Past Lives of Note:
Michael: There is long standing rivalry between Catherine and this fragment. Fought in many wars together, 14 past lives of note between Catherine & Henry.
1. This fragment was also present in the 13th century Khan lifetime as the first cousin of the scholar William. He (former Henry) was disruptive at best and had difficulty following orders with a primary chief feature of self destruction and a secondary of greed fixated on independence.
His (former Henry) view of his cousin’s preference of male company was negative at best, and he continues to have strong viewpoints of what he considers moral. Of course, at this time, Henry is working through 4th internal monad issues and has chosen a partner, Meghan, similar to his mother, the late Diana, Princess of Wales through efforts to provide protection that he was unable to do when he was young.
The fragment who is now Catherine was a soldier (male) in the Khan lifetime who also disapproved of this warrior’s (Henry) behavior. Catherine was incidentally a lover of the fragment who is now William, hence the triangulation of this trio.
We will concur here that there are many complexities between the principals in the royal family which is not unusual given their mature soul status at this time.
2. This warrior and his previous relationship with the mature artisan Chelsy Davy of Southern African descent were married and ruled the island of Tonga during a constitutional crisis and reorganization in the 1800’s – King George Tupou I. His temperament was much calmer than it is today due to the choice of acceptance and stoic.
3. Member of a large sailing expedition under the command of Cortés. Spanish. (former Henry) Was cast overboard when he refused to comply with implementing rules of conduct. Died of hypothermia.
*Dec, 2023.
___________________________________________
Context: Coupled with his numerological two 6s, Harry is power mode and a sceptic. He is a very shrewd and deeply complex human. One thing that I have come to know, is that apart from the fact that all gap-toothed Whites having been Black in their immediate past life, when such persons have two such 6s, which has to do with being focussed on their familial iconography, such persons always display a deep affinity towards Blacks. The other prominent gap-toothed White with two 6s who has that abiding affinity towards Blacks is Madonna; they have major issues with familial iconography – Papa Don’t Preach, Like A Virgin, Like A Prayer et al. Madonna, of course, had been Blues/Jazz singer/songwriter, Bessie Smith. There are other famous gap-toothed Whites who were Black in their immediate past life, who are not necessarily focussed with Black culture as such. They are model and actress, Lauren Hutton and the riveting, handsome actor, Willem Dafoe. Harry’s affinity and deep empathy for Blacks is reflected in his having started Sentebale in Lesotho with Prince Seeiso of Lesotho. I will always remember seeing Harry dance in Jamaica and a friend with whom I watched TV before dinner, clapped, laughed and declared, “That Boy’s got soul!”
Prince Harry 15.9.1984 Rat 6.6.1 = 4Madonna 16.8.1958 Dog 7.6.2 = 6
Ciccone, Madonna Aug 16 1958 Michigan
Now, for Madonna Louise Ciccone, who was also very well-known in her immediate past life, as Bessie Smith, the “Empress of the Blues.”
This fragment was, in her most famous life, however, the composer of many madrigals and operas, the forerunner of today’s 12-tone compositions, Claudio Monteverdi.
The voice has always been this warrior-cast sage’s favourite instrument, whether the fragment was writing for it or performing with it, but the fragment has also danced and acted on most of this world’s stages at one time or another.
A consummate performer and a shrewd judge of the way the world works, this fragment likes nothing better than to know she has caused a shockwave to reverberate around the globe.
Madonna Louise is a sixth level mature sage in the observation mode, with a goal of dominance, a cynic in the moving part of emotional centre.
She has a Lunar/Venus body type.
Madonna’s primary chief feature is arrogance, with a strong secondary of stubbornness.
This fragment was third-cast in her cadence and her cadence is fifth in the greater cadence. She is a member of entity six, cadre four, greater cadre 41, pod/node 414.
A fragment of this entity recalls acting with the fragment who is now Madonna Louise on the Greek stage 1800 years ago and being completely in awe of his, at that time male, talent; also, at that time, this fragment was a seventh level young soul sage and the fragment of our entity was a sixth level old soul and a sage-cast king.
We would not exactly brand Madonna Louise as androgynous, since she uses every feminine wile she can possibly bring to bear. All three of these fragments: Madonna, Prince and Michael Jackson, have a very high percentage of yin energy as compared to yang energy.
_____________________________________
I do believe that the channelled information touched on the life at sea with explorer Cortés for Prince Harry because it was also a reference to one of the 9 past-lives where we were known to each other. In this past-life dream in 1989, Prince Harry would have been not yet five years old and thus he was though vaguely familiar also not readily discernible. I identified with him, assuming that it was me in a past life, but it clearly was not the case. I would have been aboard ship at the time when Harry in that past life was thrown overboard. Clearly, the rules of conduct had to do with the sexual mores of the crew, to which Harry stubbornly objected having to do anything about. The dream follows…
____________________________
The fourth dream then found me about a large, hangar-like dormitory area. As a matter of fact, it seemed like a prison because it was very dark and wooden all about – below deck of a large ship. Somehow, one had the sense of Elektra Munk-Ejoonhoè being about. Too, there were lots of Hispanic – Latino, youth about. Jorge Delacruz was there and on seeing him, I enthusiastically reconnected with him. I decided to see him later.
Then a man came and sat where I was and when he had, he had come over and he had on a dark coat. He had bags of fruit and there was a large light-green fruit, like really large green grapes – like the ones you get in Paris. Then he had two other bags – those bags that have got slits in them so that the contents in the plastic can breathe. He had dark and green grapes. I asked him for some whilst we sat about.
As he was sitting there eating, I bent over to his right ear and said, “Why don’t you come on and let me give you a blowjob. I’ll suck you off and make you feel real good.”
However, in fact, I had said this to Jorge Delacruz and he had said, “No. No. There is no technique. I once got in trouble because only a woman can know how to do it. I once got a nickname for getting into stuff like that which is why I’m in trouble. Now I’m only with ladies. You know, there are times when these ladies can get to me, I was caught with a younger girl.”
He then went on about all this personal demonic stuff. I was saying, “Come on. We can go across there and then inside there in that room. There is that room where nobody goes into. We can go in there.”
So finally, we did go across the way. This was after Jorge had been in a scuffle with some other guy who had on a pretty t-shirt. There was also a guy there with a fat arse. He wore red shorts and top and he was holding on to the guy telling him,“Don’t go get mad, don’t go get mad. Man don’t go get yourself into trouble. Lord I love you too much.”
Most of these were Spanish guys and they were all Gay. They were in a larger dormitory area in which I had been earlier. Guys were on top of guys frottaging and carrying on.As a matter of fact, their play was quite affectionate and loving. There was a little guy on top of a big guy and he was very paternal. I found it rather nice and interesting to have observed them. There was so much machismo to this group of men.
What ended up happening was that I progressed to the scene wherein I went into the little area up towards what would be the bow of the ship. I was in there with Jorge and wanted to give him a blowjob.Though I went off that way to be with Jorge, yet a part of me was separate – I was astral-projected. So naturally, I was able to go up above deck and look at the ship whilst still privately being alone with Jorge.
This was a large wooden ship with sails and it was out to sea. At the time, it was dark like in the night but coming on to daytime. I looked into the sea and it was greenish, heavy and as if molten liquid. As the ship sailed through it, it made no furrows because the water was so heavy and molten.The ship almost did not create any waves. Seemingly, the large ship merely glided through the ocean. There were just little circling pools of water where the ocean was organically green. I was up on a raised part of the deck towards the front of the ship’s bow.
Way down at the very front of the ship, on the right side, was a man and he had a fishing line and he was fishing. He was an older White. Every now and again, the little fish would leap out of the water as he fished. He got the anchor and I knew that when he threw it in the water, the rope that it was tied to was in the room where my primary dreamer self and Jorge now were in the midst of having frisky relations.
I was somewhat concerned but anyway remained unmoved. He tossed the anchor that looked like a bucket. The unusual-looking anchor was large and the rope had knots with wood along it so that you could walk up these wooden strips like a ladder. Overall, it was rather interesting. He tossed it in and the anchor, however, pulled him in. There was so much rope, it kept on going down, down and further down into the calm ocean; that was when I realised how far out to sea we were.
I then was concerned for both the man and myself in the room where the rope originated. I was afraid that we would be exposed as I gave Jorge a very energetic blowjob. Was the rope going to catch amongst our feet and drag us off?I was frantic about the older White who had gone overboard whilst fishing. I thought,My god what if he gets attacked by sharks or such?
I was indeed quite concerned. The older White never did surface for the longest time. I was concerned that he was caught down there or attacked by sharks. I was looking to see if there were any sharks in the water, but there weren’t any.The water was such a soulful green. Too, it was so richly heavy, liquid and tranquil, I thought, Oh how beautiful to be on the ocean. I found it to be rather nice. I was wondering if he going to drown? Is this me drowning in another life, as it were?
Being there for the man and feeling great empathy for his dilemma, I was rendered catatonic. Eventually, I did see him come up to the surface. His face, however, never did break the surface of the water. He just seemed this large body of clothing and flesh that was floating just below the surface. I thought,Oh dear… I guess it meant that he had drowned. I did not see any sharks about and was pleased at that.
At that point, I then progressed back into the hull where all the people were. Jorge was coming out and I was with him. Again, he got accosted and he was going to get into a fight situation.Now he was quite lean-bodied, wearing just underwear and a merino. I saw his basket and I was quite attracted to him. He was quite virile and boyish in that frame of body.
Virile, in the sense that he was quite macho and very much so into abusing people, if need be – in self-defense. He was being groped, sexually assaulted, by these lecherous Gays and he was exceptionally pretty indeed.
*I think that it is safe to say that this was a past-life dream experience. The man who went overboard was, without a doubt, someone of note connected to me in a life where I was at sea.
**Long after the fact and so many channelled overleaves later, I suspect that based on how information in shared, when it is relevant to one’s arcana, the man who went overboard may well have been Harry in that past life where he served Cortés. I felt such empathy for his situation; he was clearly at odds with what his superiors charged him to undertake aboard ship. Life aboard was all about debauchery, licentiousness, all of which would have left the old man incapable of keeping order aboard the ship, nor was he much inclined to have intervened. END.
William, The Prince of WalesHM King Henry IV of England
Windsor, Prince William, Prince of Wales 21/6/1982 London
Michael: This fragment is sixth-level mature scholar – third life thereat. William is in observation mode with a goal of acceptance. A pragmatist, he is in the intellectual part of moving centre.
William’s body type is Lunar/Mars/Saturn.
William’s primary chief feature is stubbornness – death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, was the triggering event and the secondary chief feature that of arrogance.
The fragment William is third-cast in sixth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence seven. William’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 208.
William’s essence twin is a scholar and he has a warrior task companion to whom he is married, Catherine, HRH The Princess of Wales.
William’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and security.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 3 with Merlin.
Past Lives of Note:
Michael: Past lives of note include the following:
1. This fragment was the second in command to the Khan of the Mongol empire and helped explore and deploy wartime strategies, a skill he had developed over time and throughout multiple incarnations. His expertise was that of a cartographer and he put to paper various “options” that could be utilized depending primarily on the weather.
He did not marry or have children and preferred the company of men. This past life occurred during the 13thcentury.
2. Female, head of matriarchy, New Zealand. Fought against the encroachment by Cook, married to Tupaia (sic) and served to assist in negotiations with the invading forces, mid 18th century.
3. Henry IV of England. Highly influential in War of the Roses in his overthrow of the monarchy. Fought for his inheritances. The current warrior spouse, Catherine, was also present as Mary, his first wife. The fragment who is now his eldest son, Prince George, was his daughter, Philippa, who became Queen of Denmark, Norway & Sweden, in this life of note.
*Dec, 2023.
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As Merlin is my task companion and a scholar; it is always good to have dream encounters with William. Regardless his persona in the waking state, like most scholars, he is fairly centred and serene. Always, without exception, he sits comfortably with legs gathered beneath him as is distinctly unique to males on the spectrum or as I recently discovered neurodivergent. He is never hostile and sometimes telepathic. The only other times he has not been thusly sat, was one dream of him on the eve of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ violent departure – assassination, wherein he was asleep in bed. More recently, when he was having rough sex with Catherine where he bottomed and she used a strap on; he was pleasured rather than violated during their sexual play. Of course, this would be owing to his fourth number of 5, which is always about outré sexuality; that too would have harked back to the 13th century past life when serving the Mongol Khan and he was same-sex focussed. Though William has the great goal of Acceptance, it’s opposite or negative pole is Rejection/Discrimination. That means that with a mind set of 9, he would rarely be focussed in acceptance at this point in life, but a discriminating snob, and as we now know a blasted racist boor. The preceding photo of a young William is what acceptance looked like before it withered and was replaced by his hatefulness and he moved to a goal of Rejection.
Elephant mandala created by Merlin for his oldest friend
Incidentally, on the matter of sexuality, I must state that the whole business is rather queer to my perception. Men are perfectly attracted to men and if they weren’t, they’d not be human, as for that matter are women attracted to women. Obviously, a lot of that same-sex attraction is oftentimes triggered by past-life connections that are undeniable and magnetic. The notion of Queer men finding women sexually revolting, is absurd to me. Nothing beats honouring womankind by eating pussy like a famished gilt set loose in truffle patch… grunt, grunt. It is a man’s honour to make the Queen he sexually serves squeal! Alas, just as William when King Henry IV started the House of Lancaster, he seems now destined to start another royal House as he, rather than Harry, seems the obvious illegitimate. At the end of the day, the human body comes equipped four sex organs, your mouth, your anus, and what ever happens to be up front, which for far too many unstable souls is no longer an immutable proposition. Most of all, the fourth and most powerful sex resides between one’s ears; one would be amazed at the countless millions who die, never having known of their fourth sex. For all such persons, they are just goddamn zombies, who aimlessly breed out of season. As for those of us who wear our pussy between the ears, we are never fucked!
HM King Charles III by Jonathan YeoHM King Charles III
HM King Charles is, of course, like his son, Prince Harry, Catherine and the late, Prince Philip, The Duke of Edinburgh, a warrior soul; he is the oldest soul warrior of the group at seventh level mature. HM King Charles III is an entity mate of Canadian artist, Robert Bateman who is a seventh level mature soul, though, a king soul; the latter’s task companion is the mature warrior soul, Bristol Foster. George Hawken, who was a first old soul artisan when recently incarnate and a lover of mine, collaborated with Robert Bateman. Not surprisingly, Jonathan Yeo who masterfully captured the sanguineous essence of HM King Charles III in the official portrait is an entity mate of the King’s and Jonathan is a sixth mature scholar soul.
Windsor, HM King Charles III 14/11/48 London
Michael: Charles Windsor is a seventh level mature second-cast warrior. Charles Windsor is in observation mode, with a goal of acceptance. Charles’ attitude is pragmatist, and he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Charles’s body type is Mercury/Saturn.
Charles’ primary chief feature is stubbornness, secondary is self-deprecation.
Charles has an incarnate warrior essence twin with no plans to meet and a discarnate priest task companion, who exerts considerable influence on him.
His casting is virtually the same as Robert Bateman’s: entity two, cadre four, greater cadre 16, pod/node 404; however, Charles is a second-cast in a fourth cadence, entity four, cadre four, greater cadre 16, pod/node 404.
Past Lives of Note:
1. This fragment served as a primary advisor to King Henry VIII between the years 1510-1536. Male. Charles Brandon. Duke of Suffolk. Married into the royal family and was a close friend of the sage, HM King Henry VIII, who was third level mature at the time.
2. Member of the Roman senate, 10 BCE. He was a leader and adjudicated trials as a magistrate known for being a bit heavy-handed and leaned in the favor of the wealthy. Assassinated by poison at an evening meal and still has an aversion to certain spices.
3. A well-known calligrapher and scribe for the old king soul, Lao Tsu, 600 BCE. Helped to document what later became the Tao Te Ching. Very significant life.
*Dec, 2023.
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King Charles, of course, is born in the year of the Rat. 14.11.1948. 5.7.2 = 5. Like Prince Louis of Wales, he has an energy body of 5, and also has 7 but more importantly, 5 in the fourth position. Sexual scandal, debauchery and outré sexuality are the hallmarks. 5 in the fourth position is also in Prince Andrew, Prince William and Prince George’s numerological makeup. One of the wonderful things about British society is how, apart from being chiefly ruled by the number 9 – bullying, rapaciousness, superiority complex, it is also ruled by 5 and 2. 2 not only governs giftedness and creativity with a healthy dash of genius and eccentricity, it also rules a deep an abiding love for members of one’s sex; there is a keen yearning of men to bond with a trusted man/men. This is why the culture of the military, warfare and prison/punishment is so pronounced in British culture. It also, not surprisingly, governs the aristocracy for whom the rules of engagement do not apply as with mere mortals. Eton, Harrow et al are all institutions which foster this underlying manly bonding that marries loyalty with an abiding love – physicalised or otherwise. It is not coincidental that both 2 & 5 are present in the numerology of King Charles III, Prince William, The Prince of Wales and Prince George of Wales the future King George VII. George and William are especially close and always will be because among their strong past-life history, is that of King Henry IV (Prince William) & Queen Philippa (Prince George) when they were also parent and offspring who would become Sovereigns in their own right. As King Charles III has a goal of acceptance, this is why he has the sweetest, smiling soulful eyes, that warm hushed almost silent laugh and is ever approachable. Acceptance is the great goal and such persons radiates the love vibe, which Charles does as a late mature warrior soul on the cusp of being an old soul, likely in his next incarnation.
Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe & Edward VIII
Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe. Wallis Simpson & Edward VIII
Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe
Wallis Simpson. Edward VIII & Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfet
Edward VIII & Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe
Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe. Edward VIII & Louis Mountbatten
Edward VIII & Louis Mountbatten
Edward VIII & Louis Mountbatten
Edward VIII & Louis Mountbatten
Edward VIII & Louis Mountbatten
Prince Charles & Louis Mountbatten
Let’s then explore the interactions of 5 & 2 numerologically and how it is explored by the upper classes in this cases, the British royals. Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe was, like Louis Mountbatten, a man with whom King Edward VIII was deeply besotted. Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe’s companionship was so indispensable that he was made King Edward VIII’s equerry, the one aide who spends more time with the Sovereign than anyone else – you can damn well bet that it was not owing to their passion for needlepoint! Both Edward VIII and Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe had 5 & 2 in their numerology. King Edward VIII 23.6.1894 Horse 5.2.6 = 4. Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe 16.1.1887 Pig 7.8.5 = 2. Knowing both the numerology and Michael Overleaves of hundreds of persons as I do, I can quite confidently state that Edward VIII would have been an aggressive, besotted bottom with Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe… good God look at the feet on the man! What’s more, Pigs, such as Edward ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe, are the most horny, raunchy, loud fuckers. Yes please! No one is born White, Black, male, female, Straight or Gay. We are souls incarnate, pursuing the human experience in as many variables, with as many choices and options as all lives are chosen for starters. I don’t have 5 in my numerology but in speaking to other male 2s, one thing we all admit to, even the ones who are not ‘Gay’ is that we love the smell of a man, we love male energy and ever yearn to touch, bond, be intimate with a man. Religion and societal mores are all mindfuck. Souls incarnate will and must do as they choose as we are numerologically hardwired to do. Being possessed of 2, 5 or even both numbers do not mean that one wants to put on high heels and act as though every goddamn day is DragRace, it is perfectly possible to compartmentalise that aspect of self and be a perfectly full blooded tail-wagging pussy hound, who enjoys the companionship of a woman, wife and creating a family as is human… it’s all a manifestation of human civilisation.
Queen Elizabeth II 21.4.1926 Tiger 3.7.7 = 8
Windsor, HM Queen Elizabeth 21/4/1926<O>08/9/2022
Michael: This fragment was a third-level mature slave – second life thereat. Elizabeth was in the perseveration mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, she was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type was Venus/Lunar.
Elizabeth’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and the secondary self-deprecation.
The fragment Elizabeth is fourth-cast in the fifth cadence; she is a fragment of greater cadence six. Elizabeth’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418.
Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and the task companion is a priest.
Elizabeth’s three primary needs were: security, adventure and exchange.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin.
Past Lives of Note:
Michael: Past lives of note include the following:
1. Daughter of Queen Victoria, named Alice. Devoted servant of the people through medicine. (nursing) Health was compromised due to exposure to many contagions.
2. Son of Malcolm, king of Scotland. David. Interested in business and promoting townships. Very powerful. This incarnation was during the 12th century.
3. Two lives in South America. Not notorious by any means, but known for her intricate designs (Mexico, pottery and Chile, clothing) Her slave role life task had to do with practicality.
4. Roman senator. Dedicated to the people through passing laws that were more favorable through less taxation. This incarnation was during the 2nd century BCE.
*Dec, 2023.
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As Queen Victoria’s daughter, Princess Alice’s short life, to age 35, prepared her for the rather momentous journey in her next life, as Princess Elizabeth, daughter of the Duke of York, later King George VI. As her passing has borne out, this was a very phenomenal human being and a Sovereign who will remain unmatched for centuries yet. It is always exceptionally good to dream of this ennobled soul, to have dreamt of her imminent passing, will remain a highpoint dream of this lifetime, and for me that’s saying a lot! Elizabeth is a cadre mate of Prince Harry, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Prince George, Doria Ragland, Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet. Regardless what relation someone is to HLM Queen Elizabeth II, if they are not entity or cadre mates, they will never have had a stronger heart connection to her than the aforementioned people. For example, King Charles in not only not an entity or cadre mate, but he is from an entirely different pod, 404. There is no way that The Queen would have been warmer or closer to Charles than to say, Prince Harry or Meghan; one just knows… we all do. Kindred spirit bond is immutable. Similarly, The Queen would instinctively feel closer to Prince George than to either of his parents, William and Catherine, The Prince and Princess of Wales. Further, the Queen with two 7s in her numerology was a superior empath and would most definitely have been able to observe persons’ aura; this, of course, like all 7s, she would never advertise. Though I don’t know their overleaves, if Pamela Hicks, Lord Louis Mountbatten’s daughter and Zara Tindall are both cadre mates (pod 418) of The Queen’s, she would have had a greater affinity for both rather than King Charles and Queen Camilla, who respectively are in pods 404 and 129 – they are not kindred spirits as it were.
Once more, I share the most uplifting dream which foretold The Queen’s passing and arrival on the astral plane. One of the truly most festive dreams in this lifetime.
Prince Philip 10.6.1921 Rooster 1.7.2 = 1
Mountbatten, Philip 10/6/1921<O>9/4/2021 Greece/Windsor
Michael: This fragment was a fourth-level mature warrior – second life thereat. Philip was in observation mode with a goal of preferred dominance. A sceptic, he was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type was Saturn/Mars.
Philip’s primary chief feature was stubbornness – due to early death of a family member and the secondary subdued impatience.
The fragment Philip is seventh-cast in first cadence; he is a member of greater cadence six. Philip’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 408.
Philip’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion who was known to him.
Philip’s primary needs were: exchange, acceptance and power.
There are 14 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin. _____________________________________________________
As I have had a relatively strong past-life connection with the Late Prince Philip, he has certainly been ‘solid’ in dreams. There is an immediate and strong connection; they have been far-ranging dreams and nothing extraordinary such that one would share herein. Again, like Prince Harry, Prince Philip had very strong overleaves, was also a sceptic and also is a warrior soul.
Windsor, Queen Camilla 17/7/1947 Pig 8.6.9 = 5.
Michael: Yes, this scholar is at the mid-level of the mature soul cycle – third life thereat. Camilla is in caution mode with a goal of growth. A pragmatist, Camilla is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type is Lunar/Venus.
Camilla‘s primary chief feature is impatience and the secondary of arrogance.
The fragment Camilla is third-cast in sixth cadence; Camilla is a fragment of greater cadence seven. Camilla‘s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 129.
Camilla’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a warrior.
Camilla’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and power.
There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.
*July, 2017.
Past Lives of Note:
1. This scholar was also present in the Henry life of note, HM King Henry VIII, with her now husband Charles. She was his lover, clandestine. Promises made at that time to bring her “Into the light” (limelight) This promise was brought to bear in the current lifetime as it was not possible at the earlier time. She was maid to Queen Anne Boleyn, who was approving of the relationship.
2. Similar to the theme just mentioned, this fragment followed behind the footsteps of Emperor Yuan, 3rd century CE. Her innate neutrality assisted her in being the “silent partner and support” of her husband.
3. The *task companions Camilla and Charles have also accomplished tasks that include some of the following:
a. Designed habitat in Amsterdam, having to do with waterways that are still being used today.
b. Scribes at the Library of Alexandria prior to its downfall. Helped to preserve documents and catalog information.
c. They have created maps, charts of both land and sea, and these include trade-routes from Europe around the South African Cape.
d. Worked on military uniforms for both practicality and flare – late 18th century.
4. Exemplary harpsichordist who accompanied the child prodigy Mozart. She was also a gifted vocalist and played 4 other instruments.
*One’s task companion is never the same soul type as one’s own; for instance, Charles is a Warrior soul and Camilla is a Scholar. The task companions is 99% of the time in one’s entity; there are times that the task companion may be outside the entity but within the cadre. Then there are cases such as Charles and Camilla where over the course of several lifetimes, during which time they shared positive experiences, there is an agreement made between both souls to be honorary task companions, as the two souls have found themselves a good fit, as it were. Charles and Camilla could only be honorary task companions as they respectively are in pods 404 and 129. Past-life example #3 explores those four times when they served as honorary task companions and accomplished much for the sake of society at large. Incidentally, as scholar souls are adept at being detached from their emotions, it is much easier for scholar soul Prince William to get along with scholar soul Queen Camilla than it is for warrior soul Prince Harry. Loyalty is the hallmark of warrior souls and there is no way that Harry could with William’s ease, compartmentalise the strong emotions, pain and public humiliation that Camilla (fourth number of 5) caused Diana, Princess of Wales, William and Harry’s mum.
Charles, The 9th Earl Spencer 20.5.1964 Dragon 2.7.9 = 9
Spencer, Charles The 9th Earl 20/5/1964 London, England.
Michael: This fragment is a fourth level mature scholar – second incarnation at this level – in the observation mode, with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, Charles is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Charles has a Saturn/Mars body type.
Charles’ primary chief feature is stubbornness and a secondary of arrogance.
Charles is third-cast in the fourth cadence of the fourth greater cadence, he is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod/node 380 – he is an entity mate of Diana, Princess of Wales’.
Charles has a female scholar essence twin, who has been known to him. Charles’ warrior Task companion is an incarnate elder statesman, living in South Africa.
Charles’ three primary needs are: exchange, security and freedom.
Charles has had 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin. __________________________________________________
Charles, The 9th Earl Spencer is as steely as they come. Not only is he an entity mate of artisan soul, Diana, Prince of Wales, that would also make him an entity mate of Dodi Fayed, who is also an artisan soul. Charles passionately gave his word before the world at his late sister, Diana, Princess of Wales’ funeral that he would protect William and Harry. Needless to say, William has no use for Charles Spencer. A sceptic, like Harry and Prince Philip, Charles, The 9th Earl Spencer will always be there for Prince Harry and his family; this is precisely why on Harry’s return to England to attend, Lord Robert Fellowes’ memorial service, Charles welcomed Harry to stay with him at Althorp, rather than having anything to do with the racist boors who rule the House of Windsor in Queen Elizabeth’s wake.
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Diana, Princess of Wales 1.7.1961 Ox 1.8.7 = 7
Spencer, Diana July 1/1961<O>August 31/1997.
Michael: The fragment who was Diana Frances is a second level mature artisan and was in the passion mode with a goal of acceptance, a pragmatist in the moving part of emotional centre.
She had a Lunar/Mercury body type.
Diana’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a secondary, not of self-destruction but of self-deprecation.
Diana Frances was first-cast in her cadence and her cadence is fifth in the greater cadence. She is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod/node 380.
This fragment’s essence twin is a discarnate artisan and her task companion is a discarnate sage, both of whom are staying near her, waiting for her to become oriented to her situation.
Here we had an artisan with drama in her casting but also with a very deep need to serve both the common and the higher good, which she did with grace, charm and a good deal of conviction.
*Shared September, 1997
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The incomparable Diana, Princess of Wales, as is obvious, is an entity mate of both her brother, Charles, The 9th Earl Spencer and Dodi her lover. I do believe that based on her numerology 7 in the fourth position, also solidified by a second 7, she was assassinated. 7 in the fourth position is more likely indicative of a public figure who has been assassinated. Also, when such persons are eliminated, their violent death stuns and has a devastating effect on society. This was also the case for U. S. President, John F. Kennedy whose numerology was 29.5.1917 Snake 2.7.7 = 7. That’s a lot of 7s. He was too great a threat for the powers behind the throne, as it were, and thus was assassinated. Similarly, Diana was removed because she could not be allowed to start a rival court with a Muslim, bare him offspring whilst still the future King Mother. Based on dream insights gleaned, here is how I foresee this all playing out. William will groom Prince George to have a Jewish wife as his Queen Consort. She will in turn will insure that her firstborn is female, thereafter that future female Sovereign will choose a Jewish spouse thus precipitating a name change from the House of Windsor to what seems obvious – William’s choice of a wedding date, and his abrupt cancellation of his appearance at his godfather, the Late King Constantine II of Greece’s service of thanksgiving. At that point, well into the future, it will then be implied that William himself was never a Windsor anyway. The clues are all there, which is precisely why Nicky Hilton was wedded at Kensington Palace’s orangery. All this, further lends credence to the violent opposition to Meghan marrying in so high up the line of succession. The one thing that has always been obvious, is how thoroughly the mere mortals choose to be blind to the truth… facts after all are truth. History will see the eighteenth letter of the alphabet playing a key role in the name change. And you can bet your bottom dollar for all that displacing sea change, racist Britons, too fearful to cause offence, will readily look back in history and blame it all on Meghan… but, of course.
David Mirvish. Diana, Princess of Wales & Ed Mirvish 1991
Back in October, 1991, as part of my annual Toronto Symphony Orchestra subscription, I attended an Emanuel Ax recital. Thankfully, it was short and sweet as his diminutive stature left him bobbing about, which proved irritating for me. I got out of Roy Thomson Hall and noticed that there was a large gathering on King Street West just west of the concert hall on Simcoe Street at King Street West. Soon enough, on learning that Diana, Princess of Wales was at the Royal Alexandra Theatre to see Les Misérables, I hightailed it down the block then across King Street West to the north side and back easterly towards the theatre. I knew that with persons in wheelchairs just beyond the marquee that the Princess would make it for them as they eagerly waited to have an audience with her. I was floored when the Princess emerged from the theatre, there was a deafening frenzy of cheers, a blinding lightning storm of camera flashes. Eventually, she made to the wheelchaired persons beyond the barricades that kept the rest of us in check. She was steely, her eyes were phenomenally blue and doe-like. Dazzling, I was then completely won over when she made it eventually to her limousine. She sat into the car backwards, knees and ankles together, she then did the most graceful port de bras imaginable; she pushed off, swivelled and swung her legs and body into the car, all the while maintaining the elegant line of her long neck.
Diana, Princess of Wales at Toronto’s AIDS hospice Casey House, 1991
Years later, as a dear close friend, the first Gay friend with whom I never once had sex – truly remarkable, came by to help me get situated on my move from Vancouver to Montréal, we talked overlong about Diana, Princess of Wales as Graeme had been visiting me from Toronto at the time of her violent death. Graeme, who was the most truly Boteroesque man imaginable, was a stickler for facts and ever keenly observant. He shared that he thought it was pretty bizarre as he was a keen royalist, less so than his chum, Ms. Kitty Litter – local Toronto drag queen who in the unforgiving world of drag, was said to both smell and look like piss-sodden, shitty kitty litter! They had both attended every visit that Diana ever made to Toronto and were present at Casey House, Toronto’s AIDS hospice, and the Royal Alexandra Theatre and as I recalled, Diana, Princess of Wales once settled into her ride, did put on her seatbelt. Ms. Kitty Litter whom we called and consoled as he was an hysteric mess back in Toronto, swore up and down that there is no way that Diana would not have put on her seatbelt in that car… go figure. Sobbing, Ms. Kitty Litter blurted out, “Oh my god, they’ve killed our angel, I’m telling you. They’ve killed her!” Three years later, Graeme who lived alone with his mum, suffered a heart attack whilst reading the morning’s newspapers on the living room sofa, in tony the Beaches, in the city’s east end. For more than a week, Graeme’s mum left his body on the sofa and kept calling on him to wake up. Needless to say, the city’s social services moved in, as he had no children nor she relations, and took her into psychiatric care – neighbours had raised concerns about the lack of activity and a foul odour. Diana, Princess of Wales had an energy body of 1 and such people pay keen attention to details and are the most cautious, self-aware and leave nothing to chance.
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Dodi Fayed 15.4.1955 Goat 6.1 3 = 1
Fayed, Dodi 15/4/1955<O>31/8/1997
Michael: This fragment was a third level mature artisan – second life thereat. Dodi was in power mode with a goal of submission. A realist, he was in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Dodi’s body type was Saturn/Lunar.
Dodi’s primary chief feature was arrogance and the secondary mild stubbornness.
The fragment Dodi is third-cast in second cadence; he is a member of greater cadence four. Dodi’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod 380.
Dodi’s essence twin is an artisan and his task companion a sage, both of whom are discarnate at this time, though, they plan on reincarnating soon. Dodi is an entity mate of Diana, Princess of Wales’ – there was a mutually facilitating agreement for “unconditional support.” There were 26 past-life associations between Dodi & Diana, Princess of Wales.
Dodi’s primary needs were: expression, freedom and security.
There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin. _________________________________________________
Summer of True LoveDiana & Dodi
Respectively, The Queen, Harry, Meghan are in entity one of cadre 6, which resonates with slave and priest soul energies which is all about a life that is committed to serving as well as doing so for a higher good. Similarly, Charles, The 9th Earl Spencer, Diana, Princess of Wales and Dodi Fayed are in entity one of cadre 6 of their pod, 380 to the others’ pod 418. There is positively no way that Diana, Princess of Wales and Meghan would not have gotten along. During their engagement interview with the BBC, Prince Harry said that Diana, Princess of Wales and Meghan would have been as thick as thieves in their ease of friendship and he was correct. One thing that is certain about Dodi, for being in the intellectual part of moving centre, there is no way that Diana and Dodi were not passionately involved. Moving centred persons are intensely highly sexed persons and by the time of their assassination, it is highly probable that they were already unofficially engaged, Diana, Princess of Wales was pregnant and it would have been the best fucking sex that both had ever had to that point in their lives. They are entity mates and sex with such persons is truly ecstatic. Furthermore, Diana, Princess of Wales with her two 7s would have definitely seen their aura during sex and there is no way that she would not have wanted to spend the rest of her life with Dodi. Good God they had had 26 past lives together to that point; they were in deep and nothing and no one was going to stop them except, of course, someone immensely richer than her in-laws and his family. Making deals with the devil, is precisely why the little grovelling bastard wailed as he did on seeing Diana, Princess of Wales’ lifeless body in the Paris hospital. He was truly horrified of what a mess he had made of things and how callously he had been betrayed by someone he thought he knew… someone who neither looked up to him nor considered him an equal.
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex 4.8.1981 Rooster 4.3.4 = 11
Windsor, Meghan The Duchess of Sussex 4/8/1981
Michael: This fragment is a mid-cycle mature artisan in the tradition of the deceased mother fragment who was Diana, Princess of Wales – third life thereat. Meghan is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. An idealist, Meghan is in the moving part of emotional centre.
Meghan’s primary chief feature is self-deprecation and the secondary of mild impatience.
Meghan’s body type is Venus/Solar.
The fragment Meghan is fourth-cast in the fifth cadence. Meghan is a member of greater cadence four. Meghan is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 – she is an entity mate of both her spouse, HRH Prince Henry, The Duke of Sussex with whom she shares 20 past lives and also an obvious entity mate of Her Majesty, The Queen.
Meghan’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior.
Meghan’s three primary needs are: expression, acceptance and expansion.
There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.
Incidentally, this artisan has been a member of the British royal family twice before. Firstly, as Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, she was the cousin of King Henry VI and mother of King Henry VII. As such, she was the matriarch of the House of Tudor. Her grandson was King Henry VIII and her great-granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth I.
This artisan, Margaret Beaufort (former Meghan) in that lifetime was involved in the sacraments of the church, being included in the newly established college system. She founded Christ College, Cambridge and was instrumental with the founding of St. John’s College as well.
Secondly, she was HRH Prince Edward, Duke of York and Albany and younger brother to George III, whose father the Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Frederick died before acceding the throne after George II. In that lifetime, the artisan (now Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex) was interested in military structure. He, of course, died young of a then unknown illness but which had to do with dysentery.
Comment on Megxit:
Michael: This is a complex issue and as noted there is a karmic debt owed by Harry to Catherine. As a warrior, Catherine expects strict loyalty from the scholar soul William, her task companion, and this position has influenced the separation at this time.
Catherine and Meghan have also been adversarial when they were members of an aristocratic family, China, 7th century. They each sought power and this discord was continued in a life in Portugal when they were married and the fragment who is now Meghan abandoned the warrior due to war time activities. (Meghan was then male)
Finally, there is strong dominance on the part of Catherine who now disapproves of Meghan’s “celebrity” and is distrustful of her motives. Warrior Harry is loyal to his spouse and this loyalty was part of the motivation for the move to America.
*Dec, 2023.
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Both Diana, Princess of Wales and Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex are emotionally centred members of a very military family where such intensity of emotional intelligence is not the norm; both Diana and Meghan are in the moving part of emotional centre. Emotionally centred persons are usually focussed in the arts, are especially gifted dancers, singers and actors; however, what each one of them is, is the most gifted empaths. This is why Diana, Princess of Wales was deemed the people’s princess. They have the ability, for being emotionally centred, to create magic – they set the tone wherever they are, make you feel loved and can quite literally heal one’s spirit. Again, this is why during the BBC engagement interview, the very astute Prince Harry stated, “And the corgis took to you straight away, for the last 33 years been barked at and this one walked in and absolutely nothing, just wagging tail…” The Queen’s corgis recognised that Meghan was an empath; it is not something that you can fake. Also, the Queen with her two 7s would have clearly discerned the truth of whom Meghan was when presented at court by Prince Harry. The Queen would have keenly taken note of the corgis reaction, she likely would have seen Meghan’s aura which emotionally centred persons can ‘broadcast’ at will. Furthermore more spectacularly than any other senior member of the royal family, Meghan has Venus/Solar body type, which is rare in the extreme. Meghan is the real McCoy!
Margaret Beaufort Countess of Richmond & Derby The Tudor Matriarch
Statue of Margaret Beaufort at Cambridge University
King Henry VII’s Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey
Margaret Beaufort’s tomb at Lady Chapel Westminster Abbey
Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex the reincarnated Tudor Matriarch
As Meghan was not unknown to Queen Elizabeth II at heart centre that is why she was allowed to walk in alone at her wedding as a Queen, King Mother of King Henry VII returned. It was a truly millennial moment of theatre as Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex walked down the aisle unaccompanied to the quire, returned as she was as the reincarnation of Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond & Derby, Tudor Matriarch, King Mother, mother of King Henry VII, grandmother of King Henry VIII and great-grandmother of Queen Elizabeth I. Children fan yourselves!
Meghan channelling Margaret Beaufort… the lighting pure sublime theatre
And how like a true Queen, Meghan walked down the aisle at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle one gloriously sunny mid-May Saturday at noon, truly momentous. It was not just a royal wedding, it was the most sublime theatre. As she walked alone in the nave, there were times, as in the photo above, where she was umbraed. She was as though Margaret Beaufort being channelled in the diffused light of the veiled past, coming forth to be celebrated as having been the Tudor matriarch, affording the world not just Henry VII her son, but larger-than-life, Henry VIII and the most phenomenal Sovereign, Elizabeth I, whose namesake half a millennium later would sanction this union of two entity mates of hers. Meghan’s overleaves in this lifetime are simply wonderful, for not only is she emotionally centred, but she has the great goal of acceptance – as do King Charles & Princes William and George; incidentally, so did Diana, Princess of Wales have the same great goal. It is the feel-good, how can I be of service to you, goal. Dogs, cats and even arboreal life react positively at all times to persons in acceptance. All the lies you hear by Britons about Meghan are just Britons being horrified that this woman would be reborn Black and expect to be accepted in their kingdom. Britons have proven themselves the ugly, drunken hooligans that they truly are; after all, they are ruled by 9 – bitchy, bickering, fault-finding, negative, biting, sarcastic, bullying, xenophobic and racist. Why the fuck would Meghan ever want to set foot in that hellhole? Meghan is a Queen in acceptance and she knows her worth.
Queen Elizabeth II & Ghanaian President Kwame NkrumahHarry Archie Meghan & Desmond Tutu
Here was The Queen dancing with Ghanaian President Kwame Nkrumah, because she was human as was he and she also knew the optics for the health of the commonwealth if she were seen to be in service to them as well and not just to the United Kingdom. Thus it was that The Queen saw the advantage to her legacy of the ably Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex and her inordinately charismatic grandson, Prince Harry, fellow entity mates carrying on that work with the commonwealth to keep the healthy relations with the Crown and making the commonwealth politically, financially, culturally viable well into the next century. Then along came Catherine, William, Charles and Camilla filled with racist venom, spite, jealousy, aggression and off to work they went trying to vilify, demonise and exile Harry and Meghan.
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Prince George of Wales 22.7.2013 Snake 4.2.8 = 5
Windsor, George 22/7/2013 London, England
Michael: This fragment is a fourth-level mature king – third life thereat. George is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. An idealist, George, at this time (December 2019) does not yet have centreing.
George does not yet have chief features.
George’s body type is Jupiter/Mercury and a small tertiary of Venus.
The fragment George is fourth-cast in the seventh cadence. George is a member of greater cadence seven. George’s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7 pod 418.
George’s essence twin is a king – they are likely to meet at a later date and also head of state. The task companion is a warrior.
George’s primary needs are: expression, power, security and freedom.
There is a facilitating agreement with the father, HRH Prince William, The Prince of Wales, for training and preparation for ‘duties’.
There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 2 with Merlin.
Past Lives of Note:
Daughter of King Henry IV (William his current father), Phillipa of England, Queen of Denmark, Norway & Sweden – co-regent.
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Prince George is a king soul, which is the most rare of souls. He is an entity mate of Prince Archie’s – they likely had an agreement to be close and a support to each other. Your chief feature and centreing are not chosen until experiencing individuation and exerting one’s will against parental imprinting – teen rebellious years. George will always be especially close to his pa, William who has an agreement to thoroughly groom him towards becoming Sovereign in due course. A Jupiter body means that he will be taller than William and likely have issues with controlling his weight; George will be prone to being massive on the order of King George IV. That George’s primary need is expression means that he will likely be focussed in the arts in some way an actor, director, voracious collector or even a painter. Certainly, he will be damn good at whatever he chooses to become focussed on creatively in due course. George is a cadre mate of Meghan, Doria, Harry, The Queen, Archie and Lilibet – regardless how much he will be groomed to shun the Sussex family, they are family at the level of kindred spirits on the order of first cousins or even closer.
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Prince Archie 6.5.2019 Pig 6.2.5 = 4
Mountbatten-Windsor, Prince Archie H. 6/5/2019
Michael: This young fragment is a seventh-level mature priest – second life thereat. Archie is in the perseveration mode with a goal of stagnation. A realist, Archie does not yet have a centre.
Archie, as can be expected, does not yet have chief features.
Archie’s body type is Venus/Mercury/Mars.
The fragment Archie is second-cast in the second cadence. Archie is a member of greater cadence four. Archie’s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7 pod 418.
Archie’s essence twin is a priest and the slave task companion is likely to be known at a later date.
Archie’s three primary needs are: exchange, acceptance and communion.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 7 with Merlin.
This fragment does have a facilitating agreement with the father, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex to be his son; he also has one with the artisan, his mother Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex and it is that of parent/child. All three, along with HM, The Queen are of course cadre mates.
We would say that this inspirational fragment is likely to have some notoriety as would be expected and can serve to inspire others to cross perceived boundaries.
Not only are Princes George and Archie entity mates for being in the fifth (sage) entity of cadre 6 (priest) but they also have two numbers in common, 2 & 5 which has much to do with loving persons regardless of their sex. Archie, of the Michael Overleaves done of the royal family has proven the oldest soul of those done – that is saying a lot. He is an older soul than HM King Charles III. Regardless the politics, I would not be surprise if George and Archie are not reunited as adults and remain in touch; they are after all entity mates. As such, they are both cadre mates of The Queen, Doria, Prince Harry, Meghan and Princess Lilibet. No one glows more radiantly than priest souls and an older soul priest like Prince Archie will be known for his remarkable wisdom and the beauty of his eyes. This will be especially enhanced as his mum, Meghan has a goal of acceptance and is an empath for being emotionally centred. Music, yoga and wholistic living will greatly appeal to Prince Archie. He will definitely give off a zen/guru vibe in later years.
Michael: This young fragment is a third-level mature sage – second life thereat. Lilibet is in observation mode with a goal of dominance and has an attitude of idealist.
Lilibet has neither centreing nor chief features at this time.
Lilibet’s body type is Mars/Mercury.
The fragment Lilibet is second-cast in the third cadence. Lilibet is a member of greater cadence four. Lilibet is a member of entity two, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418. (Adjacent entity, same cadre as her father, mother, grandmother, brother, Prince George and The Queen).
Lilibet’s essence twin is a sage and the task companion a warrior incarnate at this time.
Lilibet’s needs are exchange, communion, adventure.
She has shared 8 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin.
There is an agreement with the older brother for emotional support.
This fragment has been a revered performer in a recent past incarnation,primarily operatic but with some aspect of light entertainment. She was also present in several lives of note in European aristocracy (Italy and Spain)
Michael: This fragment is a fifth-level mature slave – second life thereat. Doria is in the perseveration mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, Doria is in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Doria’s primary chief feature is impatience and the secondary, stubbornness.
Doria’s body type is Venus/Saturn.
The fragment Doria is fifth-cast in the second cadence. Doria is a member of greater cadence seven. Doria’s entity is three, cadre six, greater cadre 7 pod 418.
Doria’s essence twin is a slave and the task companion a priest who is known to her.
Doria’s three primary needs are: exchange, adventure and power.
There are 5 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.
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As is obvious, Doria is a slave soul – the most populous soul type at 25 per cent of all souls cosmically, is a cadre mate of her daughter, Meghan, son-in-law, Prince Harry, The Queen and both grandkids, Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet. Doria, as is obvious, has rather strong overleaves and is a study of poise and graciousness and she has the same slave soul vibe as her cadre mate, Queen Elizabeth II. All these persons, The Queen, Doria, Meghan, Harry, George, Archie and Lilibet are quite familiar with each other; they would have a very rich and varied past-life history. Now it is obvious why during their BBC engagement interview, Prince Harry said of Doria, “Her mum is amazing!” And that she certainly is; Doria, it cannot be stated enough, has truly regal overleaves.
Catherine, The Princess of Wales 9.1.1982 Rooster 9.1.3 = 4
Windsor, Catherine HRH The Princess of Wales 9/1/1982
Michael: This fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior – third life thereat. Catherine is in the perseveration mode with a goal of growth. A pragmatist, Catherine is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Catherine’s primary chief feature is stubbornness and the secondary, arrogance.
Catherine’s body type is Saturn/Mercury/Venus.
The fragment Catherine is fourth-cast in the sixth cadence. Catherine is a member of greater cadence one. Catherine’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6 pod 208.
Catherine’s essence twin is a warrior and the task companion a scholar, her husband, HRH Prince William, The Prince of Wales.
Catherine’s three primary needs are: expansion, power and expression.
There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 8 with Merlin.
Past Lives of Note:
Michael: This warrior has held positions of influence in three past incarnations.
1. This fragment was present at the crucifixion of Jesu and served as an apostle known as Matthew in the not entirely accurate version of early history. He was considered evangelical but in our estimation this had more to do with this early young soul’s approach to life which had little room for compromise or discussion.
2. Present at the beginning of the Fall of Rome by the Visigoths in the 5th century. Leader of advancing forces. Second in command to the sage Alaric I. Was wounded mortally by the fragment who is now Harry, The Duke of Sussex (karma) that has not been repaid fully and is part of the current debacle.
3. Samurai. Japan, 1650. Skilled in the art of the bow and horsemanship. Crafted sword and weaponry. Edo period. As the Samurai prestige was reduced, this warrior became a respected diplomat who was adept in contractual negotiations.
The fragment who is now Princess Lilibet was present as his wife who died in childbirth (sixth child.)
*Dec, 2023.
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Launch fire!
Of the current group of royals, Catherine, The Princess of Wales is the most phenomenally powerful. She is truly a powerhouse. As we have ten past-life associations, I dream more of Catherine than any other royal. During her prominent Roman past life, I would most likely to have known her. At the time, I served Alaric I and was instrumental in affecting the outcome of the campaign for having been the one to have invented the giant scaffolds from which catapult firebombs were launched; were it not for those structures, the sacking of Rome would not so quickly have then succeeded. I have dreamt of this tumultuous period more than once. Very intense and ridiculously lucid past-life dreams. Past-life dreams usually begin when you are caught in a flying dream, always at night time and easily at least five thousand feet above the action way below; all at once, as though an eagle going in for the kill, one zooms down into unfamiliar territory. As you move from flight to being ambulatory, one shifts from one’s waking astrally projected current persona to that of the past life being visited. You enter the body of either the male or female former self and the action unfolds over which one has no control. These are always the most exciting dreams.
Windsor walkabout
Catherine has been the catalyst for everything that has gone down in the so-called Megxit. Her powerful overleaves have meant that long before The Queen’s passing, she operated as a rouge agent. Of course, she had license to because she is future King Mother and as such, the most important member of the royal family is Prince George and that would make his mother’s womb more valuable than was The Queen’s. Camilla never factored into any of this; she bore no royal offspring. Everything that has happened has been a testament to how women are groomed from birth to be of no support to other women. Moreover, warrior and king souls are always the dominant partner in any relationship, personal or otherwise. It does go without saying that the one doing the yelling in any relationship, does not have power. Based on her soul type and her phenomenally powerful overleaves, Catherine is a far more potent and powerful human being than is William. Catherine’s numerology only adds to her power. Catherine is also well aligned with the kingdom’s psyche. She has an energy body of 9 and the UK is ruled by 9. Catherine is also in the perseverance mode, with a personal need for power.
Chelsy DavyCressida Bonas-Wentworth-Stanley
Anyone, regardless of race, was going to have a tough go of it for having married Prince Harry. Based on their past-life history in Tonga, Harry and Chelsy would have made a formidable team; however, I rather suspect that Chelsy is also a warrior soul in her own right. Most of all, once exposed to who Catherine is, Chelsy chose not to be subjected to that archly negative, dense energy bully, to say nothing of inarticulate arachnidan bore, Catherine. Also, there is easy, breezy, wonderful lovely Cressida. If Cressida is not an artisan soul, like Diana and Meghan then I don’t know anything about the Michael Teachings. Cressida may also, like Meghan, have a goal of acceptance. Either way, forget about driving Meghan to tears, Cressida would fast become a complete basket case for having to suffer Catherine and her attack dog, William. Absolute power corrupts each human who would ever choose to pursue such an Icarian life; Catherine is no different to all who previously have so chosen and there is always a waste of bodies in their wake.
William 6th Mature ScholarCatherine 5th Mature Warrior
Sixth mature lives, as is William’s are all about stewardship. In his case, he follows the example of his father, King Charles III in stewardship of the environment and nature, as per his conservancy work in Africa. Sixth level lives are all about paying back karma; in the process one can, as in all lives, create karma – this he certainly has been actively engaged in doing. Of course, William has done so at the behest of his dominatrix wife and task companion, Catherine. You will reincarnate more often with your task companion and form as many life experiences as is imaginable than with any other soul. Catherine and William are as solid as it gets. For Catherine, and for that matter Harry, she is living a fifth level mature life. Mature level lives bring on the drama and that they currently do so in spades in the House of Windsor. More of the brain is used from fifth level lives onwards. One is campaigning in focus in such lives. As is obvious, the very complex and strong-willed Harry is on a campaign to avenge his mum’s abuse at the hands of his family, the press and the firm. Catherine would have been better served had she been born aristocratic like, Alice Manners. She sent William into the House of Windsor to do the heavy lifting of being born and affording her access; she wanted a female life and at the time, a female firstborn would never be Sovereign. Catherine, however, does not have the polish and class sophistication to have addressed Meghan, returning to the royal family for the third time reincarnationally. Do not ever forget that Thomas Markle Sr. admitted that Jason Knauf had him attempt to sabotage Harry and Meghan’s wedding, by way of faking a heart attack and thereby pulling out of the wedding. Everything that has occurred has been instigated by both Catherine and William. She lied via the tabloids that Meghan made her cry. She has zero fuck-all credibility. Catherine does not have cancer; it is a ruse to cover for her facelift downtime. More importantly, it allows the stigma of having been outed by Omid Scobie’s exposé as royal racist, to go away. Just as Catherine & William got Thomas Markle Sr. to fake a heart attack to sabotage Harry and Meghan’s wedding, once outed by Omid Scobie, she then fakes cancer to engineer public opinion in her favour. Crying cancer also afforded Catherine the rallying support of the idiot isle of hooligans, who readily blame Meghan for having made their mumbling heroine sick. God only knows, Catherine’s self-toxicity could not have played a role, that is, if indeed she did have cancer.
Harry & Meghan with OprahMeghan & Harry St. Paul’s Cathedral
Of course, there is serious karma between Catherine and Harry, very serious and she has chosen to strike at Harry by way of cannibalising Meghan. Regardless her powerful overleaves, Harry is a blood Prince, he is also a sceptic and there is no shrewder fighter than a sceptic. Prince Philip was also a sceptic. Such persons, myself included, are able to see all sides of everything, readily know our enemy’s every weakness and will keep score and never stop until scores are settled. What Catherine and William had not anticipated was Harry’s response to their racist abuse of his wife. Harry effectively said, “My wife is my life, fucking with Meghan happens to be fucking with me. You want Meghan gone? Cool. Then go fuck yourselves. We are out of here!” No matter how the royals and their Fleet Street goons spin it, Harry’s rebuttal against Catherine was swift, thorough, eviscerating to the very core of her soul and the response that they had never contemplated. With Harry and Meghan departed the racist Guglielean court, Catherine and William are left on the backfoot, gutter sniping via Fleet Street to no effect. “I may owe you karma, but you do not go after my wife, grow a fucking pair and come for me!” For Harry, anyone fucking with Meghan, is where he goes nuclear, because it also goes to the very core of his soul and how as a warrior soul, he has been bruised at not having been able to better protect his mum, Diana, Princess of Wales when she was being ravaged by Charles, the Firm, Camilla and their Fleet Street henchmen. Meghan has the most sophisticatedly evolved of spirit overleaves of the lot of the royals. She did not come into this world to do Jerry Springer. No matter how you throw shit at her and lie, that Venus/Solar body type means that she will always outshine Catherine from here to Alpha Centauri. Healing Harry’s spirit and bringing up two emotionally grounded and loved humans is her sole agendum; beyond that, Meghan really does not have time to give a fuck. Meghan has master number 11 and two 4s, she so does not give a goddamn!
The mature soul cycle is all about high octane drama; it is where old karmic debts are finally settled so that one can move on the groovy splendour of being an old soul. All these major players of the House of Windsor are not only mature souls, but they are all related at the level of soul and have a very complex and rich past-life history, some of which include having been members of the royal family. Far be it for mere mortals to ever take anything such as spirituality and soul histories into consideration. For the truly racist boors, Catherine and William, Meghan was straight out of Compton. Meghan’s Black heritage was a non-negotiable. Adversely, William and Catherine, in general, fawn over non-Blacks as this is the current vogue in Western civilisation. And Britons are the only group of Whites who will never ever admit to being racist and to have mightily gained from the enslavement and exploitation of Meghan’s ancestors. Somehow, King Arthur, in their make believe world, merely waved his magic sword and faeries flittered about their magical isle where the kingdom was suddenly populated by castles and grand homes far and wide. Fleet Street has no other job, but to do the bidding of the senior royals: Charles and Camilla, William and Catherine. Conversely, for not having been born an aristocrat, Catherine was not an inappropriate bride for William. Indeed, classist boors notwithstanding, Catherine was born to be King Mother and that she has admirably achieved. It would also do one good to see beyond façades. Sight being the most dominant of human senses, we ever need to take the time to look callously at everyone through less myopic, jaundiced lenses. Who is this person, are they a mind set of 9 or energy body of 9? Could it be that they are a young-souled sage who happens to be a cynic with strong warrior casting, plus warrior task companion? Is this a mature or baby soul slave or just another young soul with truly fucked up overleaves? It is always good to hang back and critically listen. If one takes the time, you can glean a great deal beyond mere tangential markers like race, skin tone, body type, socio-economics. Seriously, Meghan is not a grifter, who is out to ruin Harry then divorce him for another husband. No, Meghan is a phenomenal artisan with an impeccable reincarnational royal backstory, who has the most awesome overleaves. You cannot fake Venus/Solar body type that’s coupled with being emotionally centred – The Queen’s beloved corgis attested to that. The racially predatory boors on Fleet Street do not know sweet fuck all and what they do know – the state of William and Catherine’s marriage, they will never ever divulge for fear of being ruined. Again, Catherine is as power mad as she is embarrassingly inarticulate. She is petty, vengeful, jealous and fault-finding, which is precisely why The Queen hardly ever had anything to do with her. She does not have cancer anymore than Meghan made her cry. What Catherine does have, is a newly refreshed face, looking like grandma’s doily-covered brand new Naugahyde sofa, on which positively no one is allowed to sit.
Harry & his Queen, Meghan
Harry: Sportsman Philanthropist
Nacho & Harry
Go Harry go! Play hard and go to court and lay waste to Fleet Street like Alaric I did Rome. Harry was then present and it was at that time during battle that he mortally wounded Catherine, who of course has a score to settle. Like every human owed karma, passion more often than not gets the better of the magnetic pull of karmic bonds and before you know it, you are creating new karma, which had never been part of the original plan. In Meghan, Harry, you have a Queen, wife, lover, partner and mother to your two beautiful children, both of whom are cadre mates. In *Nacho, a man of fierce loyalty, you have a true brother, a comrade-in-arms who will never betray you; Nacho is neither interloper nor racist boor. Happy 40th Sir.
Nacho Figueras 4.3.1977 Snake 4.7.4 = 6
*Nacho is a seventh level young soul Warrior on his third life thereat. He is in the power mode and in the intellectual part of moving centre. He is kingly cast in cadence, in entity seven, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414, which would make him a warrior cadre mate of Merlin and mine as we are next door in entity six of cadre one.
Sing it Frank! Happy 40th Birthday Harry, you epitomise the very best of the indomitable human spirit. Shine on!
William, George & Catherine Trooping the Colour, 2024
And just like that, after 173 days of gossip, conspiracies and dire prognostications, Catherine returned in her best “fuck you bitch, I’m not a fucking racist” Naugahyde-tight facelift replete with scar at the left eye. And even though it was plain to see that no hyena-grinning White female pushing her mid-forties could look so youthful, there were the mere mortals, claiming that her cancer treatment was clearly going well and that Catherine was truly coming around. Oh bitches please, this was yet another transparent PR stunt, like the Mother’s day photograph photoshop fiasco & the AI-generated cancer announcement video, and it was masterfully, transparently executed. So much froideur that for the first time, there was Prince George sat between the estranged Waleses as they rode down the Mall to Buckingham Palace at the start of the trooping the colour parade, 2024.
Catherine Royal Variety Performance 2023Catherine Trooping of the Colour 2024
What a difference a facelift and a disappearing act can do for one’s image. At the Royal Variety Performance in 2023, Catherine was outed that very day as the royal racist. 173 Days later, after having last been seen on Christmas Day, 2023, Catherine re-emerges, heroine, Queen of the Karens, the White tribe’s true Queen. Pulled back and beatific, Catherine grinned with abundant venom as the kingdom’s mere mortals and the world were now truly at her feet. Resoundingly resurrected, not only could she now do no wrong, but, more importantly, had never done any wrong. Now thanks to their lies, every time one spoke of the heroically returned Catherine, one would refer to her as having fared winningly in her ongoing cancer struggle – how pray tell could one then attack a cancer patient?
Slegs Blankes
Another perfectly good example of Charles and William telling any damn lie just to deny Meghan being in any capacity associated with the House of Windsor, is evident in the Buckingham Palace balcony photograph at Trooping the Colour, 2024. How goddamn stupid are Charles, Camilla, William and Catherine? They have steadfastly claimed that Buckingham Palace balcony appearances are for the privilege of working royals.
Darling Sunshine
Then if that is the case, since when was crossdressing Gollum a working royal? There was she, the cock-eyed spook, stood on the balcony with her doubly queer parents, when decidedly not a working royal. All these arbitrary semantics prove that the non-working royals assignation is merely House of Windsor apartheid designed for the exclusion of Harry and his Black wife. They no longer care how utterly transparent their lies appear the world over; you are all mere mortals and to hell with what you think.
Catherine Remembrance Sunday 2023, and looking not unlike Bette Davis after her prime
A slight tweak here, a slight tweak there, which sees the eyebrows arched higher up the forehead. Most definitely, Catherine did have a facelift; the subtleties of the work done was such that it would be hard to think that she had. Obviously, it would have been more obvious had she been resurrected with lips like vulgar celebrities, which leaves them with a mouth that looks like a plush and plump, well-fisted anus spent all night in a sling at a bathhouse dungeon. Never in the history of a cancer-stricken patient has their visage experienced a ten-year age reversal as was glaringly on display in mid-June, 2024 after 173 days out of sight.
Catherine, December 2023Catherine, June 2024
Of course, the wonderful thing about the royals and to a larger degree some Whites is, as is abundantly clear with Donald Trump, that one simply can evade criticism and accountability for virtue of one’s Whiteness – white privilege. One of the rather interesting takeaways from this whole bit of stagecraft, it is theatre after all, is how with her elusive disappearance, Catherine suddenly became vilified. She was at once a mystery, missing in action, she was the subject of fearful speculations. This, interestingly enough, parallels the experience that Meghan for being a ‘Yank’ and Black provoked in both the royals and most garden variety bigots on either side of the pond. What you do not know, you fear, ridicule and objectify. We all assumed, in the worse case scenario as spouted on social media, that Catherine was embalmed and awaiting the right time for the palace to break it to the public.
Mother’s Day FiascoPost-facelift in BerkshireAI Generated Cancer Clip
Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. The mere mortals were swindled; however, Catherine and indeed the royals will never be held to account for this callous manipulation and betrayal of trust. You are all mere mortals and they do not give a fuck. The reason why the Mother’s Day photograph was manipulated and photo agencies subsequently dismissed Kensington Palace as lacking credibility, was because Catherine’s real face was recovering from a facelift.
Got your face didWhat might have been
Of course, it would appear that abdominal surgery is a euphemism for facelift when it comes to the royals. Claim you’ve got cancer and the unforgiveable betrayal of disappearing for a facelift will readily be forgiven. And just like that, Catherine has her phoenix moment, she is resurrected thanks to posh folks abdominal surgery and now her face at 50 won’t have to look like Bette Davis’. Trying to tell me that White don’t crack. Girl you crazy!
Drag Race Royale!
And why not? If this god fugly woman can now be deemed Queen, admirable and virtuous after what she did to Diana, Princess of Wales and, in particular, Prince Harry, then Catherine too will be adored and fawned over by mere mortals. It is, after all, a pantomime at the mere mortals’ expense and what do they care. The cheek of these clumsy buggers is that Catherine’s cancer announcement video was AI-generated because in the long run, she could never be accused of having lied to the public as it was not truly her. Similarly, her post-facelift visage would still have been puffy and bloated as in the snap taken with Carole Middleton driving in Berkshire. Also, for this reason, there was a fake Catherine spotted out and about at the Windsor Farm Shop.
Catherine Wimbledon 2018Diana, Princess of Wales 1997
Had Diana, Princess of Wales lived, she would never have looked a rough fright like Catherine in November, 2023, which is why all the King’s (but we know it’s really Queen’s) lisping twats devised their latest twist in the millennia-aged pantomime. In the above photograph, in which she looks considerably older than she did at trooping the colour in June, 2024, Catherine was sat at Wimbledon 2018, not giving two fucks about telegraphing her utter, racially predatory animus towards Meghan. Keep buying into the narrative of Meghan made Catherine cry all you want; it is bullshit – it did not happen as Camilla Tominey alleged.
Meghan being racially despised by a 9 energy body Catherine – the hatred is palpable
That is 9 energy body being vile, vicious, and openly hostile, in the Wimbledon 2018 photograph, whilst rejecting Meghan and putting the world on notice that she did not want this damn ‘thing’ in her court.
Canadian PM Brian Mulroney & Michael Jackson
There are either three or four chances to be any energy body: 1, 10, 19 & 28, 2, 11, 20 & 29 and so on. Each number has a distinct focus. It is, for instance, no surprise to any numerologist that Prime Minister Brian Mulroney had the best state funeral in Canadian history. He was born on the 20th of the month, and like all 2 energy body persons, (Michael Jackson 29th of August) music and singing at the drop of a hat is the essence of our being – I’m born on 2nd of month. That is why everyone, including governor-general Adrienne Clarkson, grabbed their kerchief and started smiling whilst wiping away loving tears when Brian Mulroney joined in on the final verse of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” during a duet between his granddaughter, Elizabeth Lapham and a soloist, Marc Hervieux. Then if that were not enough to win you over anew, he started singing, “We’ll Meet Again,” as his casket began leaving Montréal’s Notre-Dame basilica. “Oh fuck it all! Bravo!” I yelled, stood up and began crying and clapping for joy because to the very end, he validated his twoness – he was representing! A nine energy body would never think to plan any such moments in their funeral, but a 2 energy body certainly would.
Prince Louis Busts Out!
When this revelation occurred at The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee parade, I was stunned. Apart from having known his numerology, it still served as insights to the dynamics of his parents’ relations and more. This was not normal behaviour and his vulgar rudeness towards his mother was both embarrassing and startling. Clearly, Louis was mimicking his father’s behaviour towards his beleaguered mother, Catherine.
Go Ahead Louis!
Then, at trooping the colour, 2024, I saw this gem! Well, of course, his energy body of five would naturally respond through movement. This child is not crazy, is not on the spectrum, is not an ADHD sufferer. He is just a boy and a five energy body born on the 23rd day of the month. These are the high octane adventure-loving, energy junkies who jump out of planes, wrestle alligators; they are the ultimate fearless adventurers. What is really sad is that he will likely be straitjacketed into being the enfant terrible #SPARE to foil aspects of George and Charlotte’s personalities. Prince George does have a fourth number of 5, which means he will be revealed to have indulged in some form of sexual scandal, infamy, perversion like his father, Prince William, grandfather, King Charles III, and great uncle, Prince Andrew.
The joy of 5 energy body humans
Louis is, in fact, a dead ringer for actor, John Travolta’s son, Benji. Benji is also born on the 23rd day, in his case 23rd, November. As such, he is perfectly parented by his father and mother previously. There will not be any drugs to treat a diagnosed ADHD, rather, Travolta’s son is allowed to let his five energy body flower into its true centre by being an energetic gymnast. Benji represents what a male child who is born on the 23rd with five energy body ought ideally to be. There is no one ever, as with George and Charlotte, telling him to be still, behave and stop doing that; Benji is not seen as an embarrassment. Within the institution of monarchy, it is very likely that Louis will not fare as well as Benji into the family that he was born. Benji is a loved child and allowed to be, to explore the wonderment of his five energy body. I always think of five energy body boys as having been long-lived or physically confined in their immediate past life. Think of someone having lived to 101 years old and been physically incapacitated in some way by age or severe illness. Well guess what, such a soul is likely going to choose a next life of being energetically boundless and ready to suck the energy and joy out of every moment in life on their return. Louis is a wonderful manifestation of an energy body of five male, hopefully he will not become compromised and be a scapegoat #SPARE to cover the sins of his older siblings as has obviously been the case for uncle, Princes Harry and great-uncle Prince Andrew two generations before him.
Simone Biles
Simone Biles, champion American gymnast. Simone was born 14.3.1997, year of the Ox. 5.8.7 = 2. She epitomises what 5 energy body, in this case in a female, will manifest when fully focussed in harmony with the essence of 5 energy body. In that initial video from The Late Queen’s platinum jubilee parade, whilst Louis acted up, George can be seen covering his face in embarrassment and an exasperated Charlotte looking at him in frustration for acting up in public. Both responses indicate that every effort will be made to make Louis stop being an embarrassment, stop acting up and as they mature, both siblings will simply shun him and treat him as though a freak. Louis needs to be allowed to rock-climb, explore gymnastics and any manner of sport, just make sure it is highly safe.
Six Years A Queen
Everything that Harry does, there will be his obsessed, hateful, jealous brother, William, mimicking his actions and behaviour. Harry, treats his wife and mother of his children, whom he especially loves, like the Queen that she is. Along with all the posturing at Royal Ascot – William being touchy feely with cousins, all for show and especially after the great swindle that saw his tolerated wife resurrected with a new, tighter face.
Carole Middleton & Prince WilliamOh let’s mock Harry then
There was William at Royal Ascot, 2024, displaying gallantry that’s not innately his, and which surely he has hardly ever shown his wife. Everything that William does is pure mimicry as he remains deeply focussed in his racially predatory obsession with his brother, Prince Harry, and his Black wife, Meghan. He will ever feel betrayed by Harry because all his life, he had treated Harry like shit and expected him to be his foil, bottom, whipping post – funny all that for someone who’s deeply focussed on being pegged, which trust you me is always a prelude to fisting and being ridden like a horse by mechanical dildos. Enough about William and Catherine for now.
Zara interacts with Sussexes as they depart St. Paul’s Cathedral
Disregard the bias reporting, what is key to note is how Zara Tindall makes it her business to engage with both Harry & Meghan. The others are cautious, unsure. Also, they know that they cannot run afoul of William; however, Zara fears no one and does as is her wont.
Zara not only has a 2 mindset but also like Princess Margaret, Meghan & Queen Elizabeth, The Queen mother, Zara is possessed of master number 11. Of course, Meghan & QEQM (Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother) also share the exact same numerology (4.3.4 = 11). No matter how the tabloids and mindfucked Britons and others are, Meghan, Margaret, Zara and The Queen Mother have great charisma and for being possessed of master number 11, they are evolved empaths who are like a giant Sitka, or cedar of Lebanon.
Zara 15.5.1981 Year of the Rooster 6.2.3 = 11
Energy body of 6, like Prince Harry, they do not gladly suffer fools and do not do bullshit/drama. Second number of 2, mindset. She reads persons and will look directly into your eyes before hugging. She is quite simply magical. The 3 in third position, she is always going to be gracious even though loving to roar at the latest wicked gossip. Most of all, fourth number of 11, she is shamanic and has the ability, coupled with that 2, of deep empathy with humans, nature and animals.
Zara Tindall Royal Ascot, 2024
This is why this woman, Zara, is such a keen equestrian; she communicates with the animals on a level which could be described as transspecies telepathy. Most of all, as with Meghan and all fourth number of 11 persons, touching and hugging is an act of healing; she is literally sharing her essence with a hug but never before first making direct eye contact. Zara would have made a very able sovereign, truth be told.
William & Catherine’s Royal Wedding, 29.4.2011
Without doubt, she is the most handsome woman of the House of Windsor. And, until Meghan’s arrival, Zara was the most telegenically aware woman of the House of Windsor. Just look at her steal the show and in a few seconds created the most memorable moment of William & Catherine’s wedding. As her ever loving man, Mike Tindall, kept her humoured, Zara slipped a breath mint whilst continuing giggling as the newlyweds were backstage signing the registry. That was the most winning moment of that wedding, one in which the groom was half-asleep, tired and the wife regal, but her nerves shone through her ubiquitous gurning. The breath mint moment occurs at the 2 hour and 1 minute mark of the preceding video.
Solid. Empath
Look at Zara in action at Royal Ascot 2024, she is being a cedar of Lebanon, healing Lady Gabriella’s pain. Zara is on good terms with everyone; regardless what happens, she will never take sides. That is the trait of third number of 3, consummate diplomat.
Harry & Meghan arrive at St. Paul’s Cathedral
Just look at the collective seething of the congregants of the isle of rabid racist boors as Harry and Meghan process to their seats whose placement validate what fucking petty, racist boors Charles, William and their spouses are. At that point, The Queen had no power, was waiting to get through the jubilee events, then head up to Balmoral and be nudged across the River Styx by her impatient heir of unveiled bigotry and vengefulness. Make no mistakes, the mere mortals of the Isle of racist boors readily turned racially predatory at the drop of the hat as guided to do so by the Carolean and Guglielean courts via the British tabloids.
Fuck Off
Just look at the tension between the Waleses, Catherine finally manages to look William’s way and is readily rebuffed by some likely rude dismissal. Catherine has essentially been told to fuck off. Whatever is going on behind the scenes, though, she was permitted to show off her new face, as it is likely part of the complex divorce settlement, which will be announced at a later date, William still is not inclined to make nice with her. Of course, then too, if there is no divorce, just agreeing to officially live separately but come together for big occasions, then they will keep on faking it. This is how the pantomime is staged by its handlers, the tabloids, who have a vested interested in the storyline making them good money. For now, the tabloids will keep racially preying on Harry and Meghan, because nothing outsells anti-Black racism, especially at a time like now when truly terrified swine like Bower, Levin et al have to keep people distracted from the irreparable damage of the mess elsewhere that directly impacts them. Sorry, read the planet but you will never have the trust and respect of the 8 Billion ‘other’ again… know that.
Strutting the new face!
It is plainly obvious as with Charles running around, kissing and handshaking everything that moves and being in cold rainy weather that neither he nor Catherine has had or has cancer. Lying is the way they confuse and toy with their subjects. They know damn well that no matter what lie they feed the mere mortals, the stupid isle of racist mongrels will ever fawn and lap it up. Catherine got from the carriage at Horse Guards Parade with greater ease in 2024 than the year prior at the same event. I think that there is also no happenstance that there is a single pin-like black spoke stabbing her hat; as all is symbolic, it is as though it is a gesture of stabbing a pin in the voodoo doll of being outed as the anti-Black racist royal. Truth be told, after the cancer ordeal lie, to cover the post facelift rehab, she will never be associated with the allegations of anti-Black racism again.
What a dump!
Don’t you worry your pretty little empty, gurning skull, sooner or later, Karma – like Bette in later years, will be most ugly as final arbiter. It was delicious to watch all the YouTube medium/pundits quickly remove their videos in which they were pretty sure Catherine was very much dead and likely murdered by William. Silly mere mortals, Catherine is in it for the long haul; she is way too power mad to vanish just like that. I for one am glad that she had not come to no good accidental end, owing to William’s mercurial temper; he is in the intellectual part of moving centre after all – shoot first, think later. He would now be a mess and never soon recover. They need to suck it up and keep on living a big fat odious lie, albeit now officially as separate entities, for the sake of the children. Certainly, it would not be the first time that this has historically occurred with senior royals.
Nope that’s not Lilibet
If ever one needed reminder that the Waleses are obsessed with Harry and Meghan, the week of Princess Lilibet’s third birthday, when the Sussexes failed to have released a photo of their daughter as they hadn’t the month prior, one for Prince Archie’s fifth, along comes this pretentious offering by Catherine’s closeted sibling. Naturally, the plan had been to release this photo on the day of a release of a photo of Lilibet to try and eclipse said anticipated photo. So, when that did not occur, Fleet Street lynch mob operatives like Lady Tittydown de Grosse Fesse and Lady Edena Gomorrah continue ever attacking Harry and Meghan and praising the lazy racist left-behind so called working royals. Naturally, that abattoir “Palace Backstairs Mealymouths” threw up Inigo’s photo as none was forthcoming of Lilibet from Harry and Meghan.
Post-abdominal surgery & preventative chemotherapy face
Well, goddamn it, if there is to be an eventual divorce, she’s done the right thing and gotten a facelift. God only knows, she can’t go out there, looking like Bette Davis as gin-pickled Margo Channing when embarking on her very own Lauren Sanchez hustle. Eight billion and counting, lots of aggressively greedy hustling Eve Harringtons abound clawing, backstabbing and competing for billionaires… there are no guarantees, especially when Catherine is such a wooden, inarticulate bore.
Get off me!
So let’s just keep it real and reflect on all the glaring markers which have indicated that, though, Catherine was not embalmed for 173 days, her marriage certainly has been frozen over to glacial frigidity. Even in this clip at the polo, William seems to be seeing her at a public occasion whilst they were living separate lives and, certainly, he seemed in no mood to play nice for the cameras. Truly vulgar behaviour on his part.
Royal Variety Performance 2023
This tense interlude occurred at the royal variety performance, on the same day that Catherine and Charles were named as the two racist royals referenced in Harry and Meghan’s interview with Oprah, and finally outed in Omid Scobie’s Endgame. The rudeness of The Waleses towards the Swedish royals, crown princess Victoria and her husband, Prince Daniel was alarming. Stood with their backs turned to their guests, the hosting Waleses never once made an effort to enjoin their visiting royal guests to partake of the evening’s socialising. The Swedes were not staffers, are perfectly fluent in English; there was no reason to have rudely ignored them.
Ridiculing the spook in red dress
For quite some time, Sophie has been privy to the goings on between William and Catherine. Sophie openly supports William in his war of attrition against the mother of the future King, George VII.
William betrays his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales
It was, let’s not forget, William who agreed long after his mother’s passing that she was mentally ill. If you think that a man who stands there and coolly betrays his own mother, would not wage a racially predatory campaign of attrition against his only brother, Prince Harry – at least by his mum, and Harry’s Black wife, Meghan, then you likely also believe in faeries and mermaids.
Trooping the colour, 2024
Again, Sophie’s support buddy bond, as William navigates his relations with Catherine, is validated in their codified readily legible communications.
Life at court
Then there was yet another Buckingham Palace affair where, again, life at court progressed as it has for centuries: gossip, viciousness, betrayal and sabotage. Sophie and William are, indeed, two of a kind.
The thrill is gone
Indeed, life at court, since having driven off Harry and his eclipsing Black wife, has left the senior quadrant of the House of Windsor, faring no better than the folks of coal country Appalachia. What exactly has there been since Harry and Meghan have put the past behind them but a series of vicious campaigns whereby the long arms of both Charles and William interfere and try to sow discord and impede the success of the Sussexes beyond the fetid isle of racially predatory boors? Everything has their imprimatur all over it. Without Harry and Meghan’s star power and appeal, you are left with what exactly? The 2023 RBL remembrance festival at the Royal Albert Hall whereat Invictus Games was highlighted without either mention or picture of Prince Harry. Pulling one chicken little campaign after another whether at the Ms. Awards, Robert Kennedy Award, Living Legend of Aviation or ESPN’s Pat Tillman Award, they just keep getting hyper-deranged and shrieking like the loons that they are.
Dredging NYC harbour for portal to the Mineshaft
Seriously, what business is it of William’s that ESPN is affording Prince Harry an award for his work with veterans. Naturally, William via Kensington Palace gets Pat Tillman’s mother, pretty much as with Thomas Markle Sr. to go cussing out, in this case Harry, and saying he is not deserving of an award, which has positively nothing to do with Mr. Tillman’s mother. All the gutter sniping utterly similar to the tempest in a tea pot of hot gossip and vindictiveness over whether or not Archewell were insolvent or not, which California governor, Gavin Newsom had to stridently deny and defend both Archewell and the Sussexes’ integrity. What you’re left with is William wandering around New York harbour as though just having time-travelled from a two-fisted session at New York City’s Mineshaft in 1978.
Cause you sure the fuck ain’t it!
Just remember darling, you can get your gurning blandoid face pulled back, looking like high-end latex, but you will always be, just boring assed Kate Middleton. Perhaps, too, that is why in the dream had in the past year, Catherine got from bed, got up as a dominatrix in shiny black bodysuit whilst wearing a strap on, having just ploughed William good. The shiny bodysuit could have been a reference to the facelift that she was about to undergo in preparation for eventual divorce and having to go out there and bag a billionaire. Girl get out that camisole, time to stalk the catwalk… again!
Royal Prerogative… We are definitely not a racist family
Regardless what the senior most royals say, they are never to be believed. Their actions time and again betray a deep-seated racial animus towards Blacks. Indeed, how could it not be; their phenomenal wealth is rooted in the last half millennium of exploitation and enslavement of Blacks, resulting in a culture of anti-Black racism to demonise the people to whom they owe serious karma as a result of slavery and serious human rights abuses. Facts do not lie and open distain for some and favouring others, on the part of royals, can never be ignored.
Sophie Winkleman, Lord Frederick Windsor, Lady Gabriella Kingston
Not surprising surely that sat inside the door to Buckingham Palace balcony were smug as fuck intimates of William’s, Lord Frederick Windsor and his Jewish wife, Sophie Winkleman, along with ‘Ella’ who’s husband was offed less than six months earlier. Of course they are the son, daughter and daughter-in-law of Baroness Marie-Christine, she of the two black ewes named, Venus and Serena and who infamously wore the blackamoor brooch to Meghan’s first royal event at Buckingham Palace for The Queen’s Christmas lunch in 2017.
Carolean & Guglielean Court Principals
It is, after all, no longer the House of Windsor. William, Charles & their spouses, their network of close friends, simply do not want Blacks being part of their courts. Every excuse they have proffered, only betrays what poor liars they are, or perhaps they simply don’t care. Either way, the senior “working” royals hate Blacks and their racism will not cease with this generation; there is positively no reason for Harry and Meghan to know these people. Indeed, what these spiritually impoverished Appalachians have yet to realise, is that they are to Meghan what Thomas Markle Sr. is. These four are the same ones who manufactured the pre-emptive lies ahead of Harry & Meghan’s interview with Oprah.
London Clinic
Got a crisis? Rush someone into hospital to tug at the mere mortals’ heartstrings. Two lies they floated in advance of the Oprah interview that Prince Philip’s heart condition had precipitated him being hospitalised. This was so that when Philip inevitably died, Meghan would always be blamed for having caused undue suffering and the early death of a 99-year old man! Secondly, Meghan was accused of bullying and sure enough, the palace was about to launch an investigation. They were guilty and knew that there would be damaging revelations in the Oprah interview, so they went on the offensive. Matters not that Meghan appeared on TV series, Suitsfor 7 seasons which is an eternity in TV. Rule umber one, and this I know for having been the lover of Merlin’s a TV, film and stage director, “If someone is a problem, you write them out of the production or fire them – there is never any time for backstage drama.” Merlin always said, “It is called Showbiz not Showdrama for a reason.”
HM King Charles III Coronation Buckingham Palace
Funny isn’t it that to deal with the royal revelations of the two racist royals, off you go, the two named racist royals have hospital stays, then turn out to have cancer both, of course, betraying no credible signs of being cancer-stricken right down to a facelift after 173 days absence. The royals are a millennia-aged pantomime; however, do not ever forget that first and foremost it is showbiz! The economy is tanking further into recession and time to throw a royal wedding; this is the new House of Windsor edition of the pantomime. Harry and Meghan are going to talk to Oprah; quick, send grandpa off to hospital and launch a smear campaign against that damn Yank. Finally, outed as royal racists, quick both of you, enter the hospital, slip out the back, disappear, cry cancer and then return with a new face and the stigma of royal racist is vanquished once and for all.
Coronation HM King Charles III gold state coach
Above all else, unfailingly turn out the various costume balls for the pantomime. Trooping the colour, Royal Ascot, Garter Service, Service of the Thistle, Remembrance Festival, Chelsea Flower Show, Braemar Games, Commonwealth Service, Christmas Carol Service, St. Patrick’s Day Ceremony, BAFTA Awards, Christmas at Sandringham. Sprinkled in all of that are a few state visits for more costume masquerade, all to keep the mere mortals duped and wanting more. Too, there is the business of royal births and the obsession with the royal children’s growth with their roles assigned by courtiers via the tabloids. Bitch who you tryin’ to fool?
The Reach of the Carolean & Guglielean CourtsVox populi
Though it is the Carolean age, there is also very much a parallel court that of William’s, the Guglielean court. I think that it is safe to say of the latter court that it is a racist, petty, manipulative group with an affinity for waging a media campaign against the Sussexes and are keen sympathisers of the world’s most vile regime. Naturally, there is every award-deserving foot soldier, dissing and raising their rabid rear right leg and pissing all over Harry and Meghan’s white picket fence. Hate is big business, but as some no longer control the narrative – thanks to the searing images of recent months on social media, one had better fast start reading the planet.
Succinct lesson in fealty!
Most of all, here’s to Nacho Figueras, who has proven himself a paragon of fealty to Harry and his wife, Meghan. Family is where you find it during the course of life’s journey and there is no truer brother for Harry than Nacho! Harry has all the family he will ever need, Meghan, Archie, Lilibet, Doria, Nacho, the Spencers, the inner core of the Invictus Games family and others chiefly in America. For Harry, it would be counterproductive for him and his family to be, in any capacity, associated with his brother and his brother’s toxic wife. Indeed, the power of stepping away, has left the spiritual Appalachians running around mad, obsessed and crying oy cancer to pull the wool over the eyes of the millennially living dead, because nothing they do can knock Harry and Meghan; they are reduced to telling lies and fabricating drama in tabloids rather than printing the news as is standard practice in the print medium.
Meghan & Harry
Here’s to Harry and Meghan, Archewell, Invictus Games, American Riviera Orchard; I can’t wait to raise a glass of ARO rosé to your continued success!
What an honour it was to have briefly met Tony Williams back in the early 1990s when he played at Toronto’s best Jazz club. For me, experientially, the Bermuda Onion in Yorkville’s Bloor Street West (long gone now) was a place of great fellowship and inspiration.
Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul. 