Mazatlan, Mexico. November ‘22. Days of the Dead.
An ordinary paradise city with a perfect circle bay of warm Pacific water. I could see the bay from my balcony.
I had already picked up on a certain telepathic sensitivity as I was leaving California, which heightened gradually as days of meditation, overlooking the bay, passed seamlessly.
On the broadwalk in this city is a statue of a lighthouse: on one side is a nude woman playing with herself while laying back slightly along a banister; on the other side is a man, seemingly rushed by the distant female’s siren energy. The two sculptures are separated by the walls of the lighthouse. Somehow the man is moved to action because he hears her mating vibes. At least this was my interpretation of the statue, a short walk from the apartment.
At night, I performed fire shows for tacos & pesos. The people of this city & its tourists are all very kind.
I’d been fasting for a while, skipping meals until dinner everyday. It was also the beginning of a time where I was very much detached, able to live completely in my own world for days at a time. Pretty much the headspace I have to be in to write the way I like to write. I was also heartbroken from a recent split. During these times I mixed the satanic & romantic in creative ways never before seen (typed8808<typed8808>) in epic experimental poetry.
The day I found the place, I exchanged words with the owners. We agreed on a price. He gave me the keys & I left to unpack. I checked out an array of plants along the stairwell; the stairwell had an open roof to an enclosed balcony leading to my unit.
The first thing I came into contact with when entering this apartment was a cluster of white light on the bed. Never before had I seen just a cluster of light appear. I’d never seen anything like it. It was this faint white glimmer, like wispy strings floating. When I came near, it absorbed into me.
I spoke to this light, then got telepathic replies in words that were not my own inner voice, clearly a different voice. It sounded loudly in my thoughtspace, to almost reinforce to me it’s not imagined & linked to the balls of light I’m seeing..
As I worked with this light more it was revealed to me who it was: none other than the ghost of Nostradamus, who then revealed details, took me down memory lane, told me a couple facts about himself so that I could later confirm it was him(which I did). His school, Avignon, came through as I was communing. Other loud proclamations & statements I’ve censored here. Better reserved for poetry & tasteful editing; at least of the mean things he said about some people I asked about, from his time. My initial doubts as to the question of ‘is it Nostradamus or an imposter ghost manipulating me?’ were pacified.
This eventually led to mints of my conversations with the Ghost of Nostradamus. Papal alarms had sounded off in the psychic universe.
I kept transcribing our thought relays. I’d never been at this level of telepathic sensitivity before so this was all too real & now the telepathic presence was not some distant friend but near & not living but still alive, whooshing air around me, setting off car alarms, pushing & pulling on my hands, showing me its misty white presence, like these balls of electricity I’d written on in my fiction.
I’d hear the whisper telling me: “Look outside, I’m going to set off a car alarm for you.” Then I’d walk to the balcony, & sure enough a parked car would start beeping in the night.
Events would start synchronizing like this. I’d hear ‘go to this spot on the beach & wait, you’ll see this person wading in the rocks’. I’d get there & sure enough the person described would be there. Like constantly being set up by the voice of Nos’. I’d hear ‘hey, you need a woman, sit. Give me twenty minutes’. It would take off & I’d sunbathe, then evidently he’d used the energy of consciousness to move a group of satanic Mexican girls, tattooed & beautiful, right next to me on the beach. I’d think to myself ‘this dude cannot be serious’. The girls even initiated conversation with me, started taking their street clothes off for swimsuit photos. I posed for some pictures with them, played a fire show & left. Anything extra seemed too crazy with this French dude’s ghost around.
On another occasion money was summoned. The radiant light departed, said ‘hold on, you need some money’, & soon an individual comes & talks to me about the area, culture, etc. After a few minutes of talk, he departed handing me money. It seemed like so much was happening in this short cluster of synchronized events, like I couldn’t leave the house without forces of synchronicity ganging on me.
The alone time with Nostradamus was cut short by other earthly presences who invaded our thought territory, but it wasn’t before we’d gone gambling at the town’s Codere(?) Casino. When we’d be in public spaces, this light followed around but seemed to make itself invisible. I’d listen to telepathic instructions about improbably accurate sports wagers. We went on a run. He was proving himself to me. Nailed two nights of NBA, but it was really on the morning I woke up & saw he’d missed a four-team parlay by a mere half-point, that the voice of Nostradamus was drowned out by disruptive voices. Shortly after the light was gone.
His guidance was gone, the last thing I learned of was this mirror trick I’ll write on in the future & my psychic vacuum was filled up with a bit of disturbance I had to fight off. Other astrologers on the tail of this one. Other mystics perhaps. Cults. I was so over it. I felt like a 1-800-hotline for many mystical presences throughout history. From the most distant points in space-time there were others grasping at this spirit.
It seemed an endless sequence of message then disagreement, low. Then, like a crash course module on everything they required of me from helpful, divine source. Then, voices in disharmony, argument. Then, back to the module. Then, the high vibe clashing against the low vibe of the city. Then, clearing out again – more message; then -- boom.
Shining harmonious recalibration, bright light in sound form(whatever that means), joy & laughter & mirth & giddy. Laughter, a different kind, overpowering the lower psychic attack energy. All the voices quieted. A beautiful buzz replaced them, protecting me. The Atlanteans started breaking through as a whole collective energy, then in their own individual voices, overpowering the din of all other voices:
“It’s Thoth. Relax. We love your work. Definitely Keep Writing. We are all really amused – “
--“More poems,” said Seshat, but I sensed her to be like a new version of Seshat. Either way I was interacting with the thought-form versions of the Atlanteans. It was very clear. They clear a number of things up for me, turning confusion to clarity.
Thoth:
“This is all a series of activations for you to serve out the karmic duty your name beholds. We are passing off information to you in the form of light, some of it you are witnessing now & learning, some of it we are giving to you like seeds, to grow & develop with time, as you meditate & integrate this knowledge.” They take me on a journey through the astral plane,
to their oceanic depths where they have a source for their light, a universal source of power for conscious thought that expands out in a ripple effect throughout the World. They tell me of their civilization. Their society & culture. How they interacted with people throughout the years. He tells me about when he was there for the iPhone, how he was watching Pearl Harbor from above. He tells me about Jesus. He tells me about Osiris.
“I feel like this module, this crash course, you’re giving me, it’s explaining everything. World geopolitics. Secret science. The history of world conspiracy. The truth about who you are. How sleeper cells work.” I sat out on the beach talking to the clouds. I felt I was with my kind. Fuck humans & their ghosts. My misanthropy turned on & I desired to be among the Atlantean race. Humanity & society had grown so disappointing in so many ways. I sensed their protection from the scarier demonic & satanic & illuminati at that point & I knew I could lean into their force consciously as I defended against all the aberrant mysticism an experimental poem like mine attracts.
Thoth mentioned he has a daughter who loves my poems. I connected to her & listened to her voice for a while.
Eventually I said goodbye. I turned from the clouds & began walking back from the beach to the apartment. Then, along the broadwalk I noticed two humanesque figures a bit out-of-place. It looked like a man & woman, but very shiny: a shimmery soul glow that was inhuman. I focused my eyes on them as I came near. I noticed the tread on the woman’s undergarments to be in a very odd position, not typically human. I thought it was odd. As I passed I looked at them in the eyes & kept walking past them, only to notice them again in front of me a minute later(ok what?! these two were just behind me; I passed them!) then I saw them continue walking, to a point at the end of the broadwalk where they simply vanished. Another person saw & was very close to the vanishing point, lept out of the way while yelling in spanish about what this flash next to him was.
I thought it was a cosmology cult. My paranoia prompted me to reference this event in a mint shortly after, (typed8724<typed8724>), I was initially frightened & defensive. My faith & fear were in this race, one against the other & indeed my paranoia was turnt up a bit, learning all these hidden truths. I still thought there to be these Italian ghosts in my apartment, so it seemed maybe the light-being figures may have been a part of all that.
I returned to the apartment & the ghosts were gone. No more ancient mystics leaving end-times messages. Nostradamus had been long gone since our gambling run ended.
(Continued in mint typed10007<typed10007>)
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| ᴜꜰᴏ ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ \\_____________ .
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| ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ |\
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| ᴍɪɴᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ 2 | |
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{Continued)
Upon some thought, meditation & incantations, I recognized the sequence of events: the thought-form Atlanteans had introduced themselves telepathically, then the literal Thoth & Seshat physically connected to me immediately after. Them, being a race of beings who communicate with thought, thought-transference. Also, seemingly their language is mostly vibrational; as is ours, but theirs moreso.
As far as the sequence of events, I couldn’t make sense of them being in the clouds, then immediately in my presence. In those moments it couldn’t compute. Everything I’d ever seen in the clouds has like a whole process to get down from the clouds. Theirs was a teleportation flash. I couldn’t make sense of the fact it might be the same force which was breaking through on God frequency telepathic messages. Like they were positioning their ship in my area the whole time, circling overhead & projecting light, possibly over a competing force.
I meditated & recalled their looks. They wore these aqua-green colors. Thoth wore a striped aqua-green collared shirt, tucked into khaki pants like he’d just won a million bucks at the golf course. His face did indeed resemble an ibis head in structure & shape. Seshat wore a khaki blouse with an aqua-green top. When I made eye contact, it was with Thoth. His eyes were alien. Like dark, dark wells. Human, but as if possessing the depth of many humans. He looked at me directly, his arm around Seshat whose side was turned to me. The side profile of Seshat matched those of her depictions.
Their telepathic remarks were largely complimentary. Perhaps as I’d expressed such nice honors towards them. I don’t know the sort of reciprocity that exists between us, but I feel like I’m still a little behind.
I spent time just listening to a lot more information, & asking a lot of questions to which I got replies all the time. extended in like a cloud of protection through the aether. It was what felt like like a cloud of electricity in the air which remained like consciousness downloads, or uploads, probably both.
A lot of nature of reality. Origins of Consciousness. Apocalyptic secrets. Locations with different apocalyptic bases for World elites. Like exactly what you’d expect Thoth to tell the antichrist.
There are levels to all this information that I’m unwilling to expose. Like this is experimental poetry still & I don’t intent on becoming a target for Illuminati hitmen because of an epic poem. The things I know to keep mum about are indeed frightening, but oh well I can only do what I can..
Many Gods or conscious beings often confused by humans for Gods are literal presences also; but they also have a thought-form presence which exists & transmits energy to those who observe it; & they usually have a shadow self.
In the interests of preserving anonymity I won’t mention anyone but celebrities were mentioned. Ultimately the message was that Hollywood & Most of the World is governed by Space races, & that there is need for space-earth diplomacy. & I wouldn’t consider the Atlanteans a space race. Part of the messages was that a few of the space races have controlled cinema & it’s boring now. They are able to space travel & appear to humans like this, but they are from here just like us & like to laugh.
So now in moments of clarity, after two days of close contact, after seeing these light-beings appear, after understanding they were protecting me from all the angry Italians, I kept going along their streamlined mental/psychological/spiritual inquisition, as varying voices guided me over different hurdles, trained me, taught me, & answered all my questions.
I was instructed by some brilliant teachers I’ve never had before. The gift to me of these encounters was the teacher spirit of Thoth. It really broke through & taught me everything I couldn’t have learned anywhere else. It was like his voice in thought-form would adjust to teach me in the voice of another. It had always done this but What I came to understand is that there is a literal Thoth, this Atlantean being who looked fresh on the broadwalk in Mazatlan, teleporting from his ship. Then there is the symbolic, thought-form Thoth who appears & works through others as the teacher spirit.
I felt only loving energies breaking through on psychic antennaes. I sensed a twin soul of mine who has this sensitivity. I thought of how it was possibly activating across a number of similarly coordinated astrologies. I talked to her for hours, in different languages. It was cool. She actually seemed normal & cool despite difficult living conditions in the country where she is from. We share a birthday & time & some kind of telepathic wall which had not been active since childhood. She’s an artist from Russia & we’d been feeding off of each other’s creative output for years on some tantric, reflexive, creative level. I’m confident she is still alive because as I write on her my back & neck light up, awake with tingling spiritual energy. We spent an hour or so talking
Then another happening, as I had recognized it from a dream, a childhood vision : As I was returning from my walk, I ascend the stairwell. The stairwell has an open roof, & I look up
& I see
the
ship.
My words will fail pitifully in describing this. The sensation of being in a light beam is quite orgasmic.
Broad daylight. A flying ship, metallic with light blue accents,
with two circles housing dim orb lights.
It was directly above me, no more than a hundred meters in the sky.
& all the voices in my head seemed to quiet. I heard them yell together: “he’s making contact”
& as the ship hovered over my head, it flashed its two light beams at me.
The lights went from dim to bright & in it was one of the greatest euphorias I’d ever felt.
There was no way these were malevolent beings. A bit different? Maybe. Make love in other ways? Sure. But absolutely not malevolent. In those moments, ready to be vanquished by these bright beams of light, I felt trust. I felt strong faith.
Then the beams dimmed. The craft moved forward & it was gone. This round of contact was the Atlanteans taking off for a while, saying adios.
The days that followed their telepathic voices became more distant, as they had moved farther away, but thanks to the probing instructions & whatnot I could still access them without the constant bombardment of message when I had to do other things.
Truth is the literal me wasn’t prepared to handle the burden of the symbolic me in the mystical realm. The connection to Thoth was more scattered than it could have been. I had dissed real, very real thought-form that had begun striking back with persistent psychic attack until Thoth showed up to protect me, as I suspect he had already done before for me this life.
I am astounded by the beauty, but the derealization & existential dread of facing some truth about the nature of reality is daunting.
I'll keep minting more disclosure documents, since this seems like the ideal place for it.
Thanks for reading
typed
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Minted Jul 8, 20239 editions9 ownedArtistantecristo
nostradamus has basketball iq