The Dark Night of The Soul

The sky is the darkest right before dawn, right before twilight, when crepuscular animals are out and about and predators begin to retreat into their dens and hideouts. It is a time when the coldest air sits still and crickets pause to change their guard. Even the spotted owl nested in the wooden shed had lost its hoot and screech. It is a time when most people are asleep, paralyzed in rapid eye movement, oscillating between unconscious states and vivid dreams. Unable to escape, heart rate beating belatedly, my breath became shallow. Forbidden fantasies played out like a broken movie where all goes wrong and there are no happy endings. A presaging voice rang loud as the screaming sound of a siren disrupted my disgraced nightmare. “Get up, get up,” I heard, “the medical brown shirt brigades are coming to vaccinate the dissenting town.” It was still dark and I could see the pitched velvet sky shine like Christmas lights through the slit veil of my bedroom window that faced the steeple shrine.

“I do not consent, I do not consent, sir, get out, this is the house of Jesus,” yelled the Minister of the St. Jude parish as he slammed the steel door and passed the rusty lock ratchet. Like all other places of worship, mosques and synagogues, Congress had passed a law prohibiting the exercise thereof, suspending the right to peaceful assembly. Religious exemptions were a thing of the past and the right of informed consent had been stripped after enduring 20 months of sheltering in place. A dark shadow sprawled over the porch on that early morning rising as my friend whispered and alerted me that the drone police was a few feet above the roof in full throttle over the back alleys of the gritty 7 square blocks.

The commotion and rotating strobe light-bars flashed the barren landscape windows of closed mom-and-pop shops that once flanked proudly down Main Street. I had a flashback to a bygone era where a bustling town of thriving and entrepreneurial businesses bottlenecked traffic jams down 1st Ave. I could see several fully armored patrol trucks loading sobbing children with frostbite, cramped limbs forced to stand still, the sharp needles of recombinant mRNA vaccines perforated their frail forearms. This protocol of separating the young from the old had become the norm, particularly in homes with only 1 bathroom. Social distancing guidelines forbade such close quarters and restricted only 2 individuals per house. This third wave of COVID cases was hammering the last nail into the coffin of the family nucleus and had disfigured law-abiding communities in all the free world.

Our tight-knit community had been disbanded by the coercive propaganda of the fake news narratives that offered up to 500 dollars for citizens willing to snitch on anybody that not wore a mask. Neighbors and loved ones had become suspicious of each other and were enforcing mandatory social distance that kept us 6 feet apart. Cell phones had been updated with intelligent tracking apps that monitored our temperature and transactions, governmental agencies described it as disease surveillance and outbreak management. Other apps embedded in our phones kept records of a social credit point system that were configured to manage and report to the authorities how obedient we had become. We could not leave our homes, sell anything, or go to the grocery store without certificates of immunity. Air Travel was restricted to only those with a key fob or RFID with the “COVI-PASS” which had been designed to track your COVID-19 test history, immune-response, and other relevant health information. A chain reaction had collapsed the farm and food systems.

The last news we had gotten on short radio was about the third world famine that had afflicted up to 3 billion people. We could only shop at the giant box stores which sprayed disinfectant before letting shoppers in. Only 10 customers were allowed at any given time as they proudly bragged about being the only corporate survivors of the economic shutdown. Medical services and public buildings had been off-limits for anybody who did not comply with the scheduled mandatory inoculations, which had a slew of dangerous adjuvants, preservatives, and mutagenic material from dog kidney cells as well as fetal genetic material harvested on the examination room tables of the abortion clinics. Amazingly these procedural death parlors had remained fully operational during the lockdown.

In a stint of frustration and indignation, I had destroyed my intelligent phone and was using a landline, I remember scrambling for an old dial phone that my uncle had stored in the decrepit barn. The internet kill switch had done away with all independent media, and information was now, trickled and filtered, conveniently deployed as the only truth. We were left with only big tech and media corporations in command of broadcasting, the airwaves were restricted after all our ham radios had been confiscated, folks broadcasting each other with alternative viewpoints had been arrested one by one. My YouTube channel like tens of thousands of other accounts had been demonetized and censured. My coverage of the Chinese virus had triggered language-sensitive AI algorithms to flag me as dangerous and conspiratorial. I took no warning from the social media giants that removed me from their platforms after one of my videos had gone viral. The cognitive dissonance promoted by the rigged alternative reality was spun by the omnipresent fact-checkers that banned and shut down all independent thinkers. The thought police occupied all our virtual spaces making sure we only spoke fabricated lies. Dumbed down after decades of indoctrination, we had lost everything in this societal apocalypse that left us scrambling for food crumbs and government handouts.

It seemed like minutes had become days as NIH response teams went house to house knocking and requesting health certificates. This new flagrant operation forced mandatory quantum dot technology gel inoculations with DNA nanobots designed to fuse and reprogram our body. The end of humanity and the rolling out of a post-human era unfolding before my eyes. At that moment the drenched Bible that sat in ash and soot over the chimney shelf, accidentally fell almost hitting my forehead, it landed on the carpet and opened prophetically on page 275. I held up the moldy copy to my face as I forcefully blew on the layered dusty page that uncovered Revelation 13: 16-18 which read “Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom: let the one who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666.”

The sunrise had decided to spend an eternity in obscurity, behind the thick curtain of a solar eclipse, the rustling feathers of the back alley rooster had mysteriously forgotten the early morning crow, it seemed so quiet that I wondered if I was still dreaming, unaware of this moment, the stream of consciousness uncloaked the knowing as if I were a messenger from the past. This reminded me of the Bill authorized by the 116th Congress which on May 1st of 2020 approved the H.R. 6666 which authorized the secretary of health and human services to award grants to entities to conduct diagnostic testing for COVID-19, and related activities such as contact tracing, through mobile health units and, at individual residencies. You couldn't make this up.

The drone kept snooping at close proximity gyrating above our house, equipped with infrared cameras and body temperature sensors, it could detect a low-grade fever at 50 feet. I had acquired herd immunity and avoided the vaccinations, the World Health Organization had imposed their antibody test kits infected with mutated vials. Their tactical operational PSYOP had staged the perfect storm stripping nations of their basic rights and reducing us to unessential and sterile 2nd class citizens, deliberately marching to expire. The puppet masters had won the information war and successfully hidden their manufactured bio-attack in plain sight. They were requiring law enforcement to pledge allegiance to the new world order.

For the ancients the domain of sleep and death associated the underworld with all events that occurred at night, right before dawn, when the morning star Venus rising announced the return to the world of the living. Confused by this rite of passage, and stripped of my basic garments, a coherent laser spotlight shone my attic skylight, the reflection scattered off the crucifix pressing against my heart blinding my undisclosed corner in the dark, the drone had set off a warning signal and given out my coordinates to the vaccination squad that hurried loudly towards my front yard. In that tenebrific moment, I had lost my footing wishing for divine intervention, out of fear I reached for a heavy object, my sense of survival in hyperdrive, all of our firearms had been seized, and I was not going to give in without a fight. If only enough of us had stood up to the underworld monsters that had come to drink our blood. Most people did not want to give up their comforts, hopelessly and haplessly plugged into the tyrannical system, lost in the vanity windows of department stores, strip malls and beauty salons, there, like a giant stood the brave Shelly Luther, the salon owner who opened her business in blatant defiance of the emergency orders, she stood against law enforcement and ripped the summons for her arrest, she was jailed for exercising her right to feed her family. The pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness lay at the center of our God-given rights and the purpose of government was to secure these rights among the people.

The raid intensified as the foul mouth officers shouted all kinds of profanities, one agent blew out through the bull horn a nasty remark, “You are not essential, you cult of cowards.” If they only knew that they too would become obsolete, replaced with the latest robot enforcers that had been tested on the East coast. I could not believe this was happening, minutes had now become seconds as I could hear footsteps rake and creek up from the ground level, the thick air slid slowly frame by frame.

A series of deep knocks startled the quiet dusk inside the attic access, “Open the god-damn door,” “we know you’re in there,” my vocal cords froze and immolated my heart that begged to speak, the language of tears, the idiom of sobs and quiet screams, like a blind, deaf and mute baby that has been rejected by his mother and has no sense of where to turn. Threatened by nocturnal creatures of the underworld my humanity about to be stolen, I needed to put up a fight. I responded with a firm request for a warrant, the fourth amendment had been suspended after the agitator activist red guard Mao youth style Sunrise Movement, looted and burned down national monuments, cities and towns; no subpoena, no court order, there was nothing an individual could hold in his defense. The proclamation of the medical tyranny had arrived to violate our divine rights. I was not an enslaved species and would not acquiesce quietly into the technological Gulag. The door split open with a deafening clang, 5 goons in hazmat suits dashed towards me, I threw the heavy object that missed the putrid breath canine unit that barked and growled, I could see the eyes of evil gleaming at me with snarling teeth snapping inches before my nose. In the scuffle, I punched somebody in the face, wailing in fear and demanding to speak with my lawyer, “Shut up, put your hands behind your back” as I felt the heavy mass of synthetic fabric pinning me down to the wooden floor.

As the 5 men restrained my limped body, I continued to scream and plea for my freedom, “I have the right to informed consent” I said, “let me go, I refuse this unlawful search and seizure, you do not have probable cause.” “Silence” I heard as the coercive force of the medical agent instructed the suited brigade to unbutton my shirt tearing my sleeve, he then proceeded to deliver the bar-code tattoo. I was losing consciousness, my eye lids drooped, and covered my dilated pupils. The grip of latex gloves punctured my right hand with a square micro-needle. The lab coat technician leaned over and read a disclosing statement whispering it up close to my ear, “This will dissolve into your skin and emit light nano-particles. In the name of all recipients, welcome to the collective, you are now part of the post-human species 2.0, log-on to see your profile” he laughed as he troubleshoot the nano-gel-chip with a strange device that looked like a ray gun. I heard a sequence of beeps and clicks before I fainted. I remember floating over my body in the stuffy space near the ceiling, I could see the team of hazmats chuckle among themselves as they proceeded to leave the room. In a premeditated hellish ritual, the canine unit leaked a puddle of urine over my unconscious body, the medical technician threw the discarded plastic rapping over my naked chest, attempting to cover my crucifix that continued to glare blindly as if ignited by divine light. I looked down at my face as frozen tears languished down my cheeks, my life unfolded lighting speed childhood memories intertwined with kaleidoscopic visions. I could see a spirit before me so beautifully perfect, with salient features its bright gowns freely flowed. It felt so warm and delightful, light rays sparkled all around me, I felt safe and protected, loved, and at peace. I could see meaning and purpose revealed to me from the source, a caring thought of self-love engulfed me, we come here to evolve as such. Strangely and without motion, I perceived absolute time, the fabric of reality projecting out of space itself, merging with the many eyes of the universe that glanced at a concave mirror at the end of a tunnel where I could see myself standing staring back.

Then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace swing open, a roar of white that went red appeared in the rushing wind. I gasped for air but my breath would not come, as I felt myself jolt boldly out of the shadows.

I remember lying on the bleak floor distressed and exhausted, still in the darkness of a heinous crime, the mob justice recollection quickly fading. I felt abandoned and deserted, something had blocked out the sun that morning. My wrist band activated a short vibration announcing the arrival of the living dead, where robots with night vision ran wild and amok. Perhaps I was still dreaming of a future dystopia in this desolate blackout.

A night where the soul leaves our body, perishing and evaporating into the dark void of nothingness, where we are all connected and we become one with the bodies of light.