IN MEMORY OF ANNE STRIEBER - Respectfully Submitted with Love, Awe, and More Love...

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In Memory of Anne Strieber

Respectfully Submitted with Love, Awe, and More Love...


Compiled By MT

Intercepted Transmission

<Edited b Robert D. Morningstar>



Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more;

Death, thou shalt die.

John Donne  1572–1631



-> See Attached JPEG above



by Whitley Strieber
 ISBN 978-1-585-42917-2 

(Copyright 2011, Whitley Streiber - All Rights Reserved)
   by Walker & Collier, Inc.]




  [...]   Once the mirror of expectation is
 shattered, the door of perception is open,
 and there is something there, something
 alive, looking back at us from where the
 mirror once stood.

   [...]   My father had some secrets.
 When I was about twelve, he gave me
 a desk from his office to use in my
 room, and after the workmen had set
 it up and left, I found a photograph
 stuck in a crack in the top of one
 of the drawers. It was of my father.
 It had been taken in what looked like
 a North African setting. There was a
 coffin being held up by two men in
 soutanes and fezzes. Lying in the
 coffin with his eyes closed and his
 hands folded on his chest was my
 father. Of course I was amazed by
 this picture and took it to him
 immediately to ask what it was.
 He ripped it into small pieces and
 flushed it down the toilet. He never
 said a single word about it.
 [.Pages 24-25..]


Chapter 2 - The Mirror Shattered

Because I was so shocked in my
 childhood, I lost my belief in the
 stability of the ordinary world. I live
 in a permanent state of unease, but
 also a permanent state of wonder.
       Ask any close-encounter witness what
 is real. They will tell you at once, it
 isn't what you see around you. This world
 of pretense in which we live is just like
 a shattered childhood, a very different
 place than it appears.
 [. Page 38..]

 Chapter 3 - The Lost Finders

   On a few occasions, I had the
 chance to ask a question of a visitor.
 For the most part, this happened deep in
 the woods at night. If I glimpsed one of
 them, I would sit on the ground and collect
 myself, enter a meditative state, and then
 ask my question aloud.
       Usually, there was no response -- in
 general, I suppose, because they weren't
 really there. But on some occasions, they
 were, and once when I asked a question I
 got a response...   I asked, "What does the
 universe mean to you?"
       Instantly, there appeared in my mind a
 bright, clear image of a closed coffin.
       I cannot explain how this was done, but
 can only say that these vivid, television-like
 images were a common way they had of
 communicating with me. I might add that they
 were also among the strangest things I have
 ever known. They weren't simple images.
 With them came what I can only describe as a
 sense of a person, an intimacy of being, that
 had conveyed a taste of the personality that
 had created them.

I wondered how anybody could think of
 our mysterious universe this way? But then I
 realized that, of course, they have probably
 reached its limits, or worse, discovered that
 reality has no limits.
       I can see the claustrophobia that would
 attend to the realization that one is trapped
 in an infinity that could never be escaped.
 In fact, I can feel it.

It's like being in a
 room you can never leave, or a prison.
       What would the world be like without
 mysteries? It is a claustrophobic and desperate
 idea. And what if it goes on forever, endlessly
 repeating itself, star upon star, galaxy upon
 galaxy, universe upon universe?
       If so, then there is truly no escape, not
 for anybody who understands this as a certainty.
 For them, it is indeed a coffin, and our
 innocence is a kind of freedom that must be
 among the most precious things that they know.
 [.Pages 70-73.]

  Chapter 6 - What Might They Want?

  There is in physics a concept called

 alternative history. It has nothing to do with
 the usual speculations about Atlantis or
 whatever, but rather with what appears to be the
 truth about reality, that the universe is not
 a single, isolated entity at all but a component
 in a vast multiverse that includes parallel
 universes that are literal, physical places.
 Every possible outcome of every event happens
 somewhere, in what is probably an infinity of
 universes, forever expanding into a void that
 is without end.
       It is a shocking idea, and when considered
 in the context of the coffin I was shown by the
 elderly visitor, it becomes an infinity from
 which there can be no escape: an unending,
 chokingly claustrophobic emptiness.


So could the existence of the multiverse
 be at least some of the reason for the bizarre
 effects associated with contact? Could there be
 some way to cross between parallel universes?
   [...]   In this universe the whole anomalous
 enterprise may be an apparition being projected
 here by some sort of arcane technology or mental
 state that enables a crossing of the invisible
 gap between the worlds. So might they not be us
 in another state?


 Chapter 12 - Deliverance

Who are we?

Chapter 16 - What Is to Come



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Respectfully Submitted with Love, Awe, and More Love...

Intercepted Transmission ...

Compiled By MT

<Edited by RDM*>



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