an old man appears &
moves in a tired dance
amid the scattered dead
gently they stir

-- Jim Morrison

Good ol' Morrison. Or not so good, depending. He
certainly was a strange duck. And most certainly
he was a rather nasty human being. According to
his dorm-mates at university, he would greet kids
trick-or-treating by appearing stark naked at the
door and scarfing his housemates's food and wearing
their clothes, all the time carefully noting their
reactions. I shouldn't even call him "duck", I
guess, since one of his stunts is said to be the
stomping to death of his girlfriend's pet duck.

Anyway. One of his dorm-mates, in those good old
days before Michael Schiavo got a bee in his bonnet
that his wife Terri should really be dead after
having collapsed mysteriously back in 1990, and
before George Felos started getting "messages of
power" from God, was the now so familiar judge
Greer.

Yep. The same Greer who recently issued an edict
that even if Terri Schiavo should be able to eat
normally, she would be denied food. That is, active
measures would be taken to kill her (starve her to
death) quite beside any issue regarding withholding
"artificial life support".

It is, of course, very difficult to call something
like this anything but premeditated murder.

But murder the Florida legal system and Mr. Schiavo
seems hell-bent on, and they seem in an awful hurry.
You have to ask, why the hurry? Not only to have
Terri Schiavo killed, but to have the remains disposed
of - by cremation - before any examination can take
place?

As I said, I got a scenario the other day. From
someone else's dream.

Terri is by the phone. She's furious, leaning forward
towards her husband, screaming at him, her arms behind
her. And then, pow, just like that, a punch. She falls
backwards and hits her head, fairly high up. Her jaw is
dislocated or suffers some other kind of damage. And
today she's fully conscious but paralyzed and unable to
speak. Maybe some day, but probably not before ending
up in the oven.

Just a dream, Michael. Clairvoiants, remote-viewers,
all that kind of stuff doesn't exist. So this is just
a "what if" exercise.

And Mr. Felos, what does he have to gain from the whole
thing? Apart from money, that is - a substantial chunk
of the medical settlement awarded to the Schiavos and
meant to go toward her rehabilitation and care. Now,
Mr. Felos might properly be called a strange duck his
own self. An activist for euthanasia, he's written a
book. I'll just put up a fairly telling quote here:

"The Jewish people, long ago in their collective
consciousness, agreed to play the role of the lamb whose
slaughter was necessary to shock humanity into a new
moral consciousness. Their sacrifice saved humanity at
the brink of extinction and propelled us into a new age."
(pg 240)

Elsewhere he refers to the holocaust as "uplifting",
claims that God has told him he's more powerful than
he imagines, and fantasizes about bludgeoning his ex-
wife to death.

It seems to me that it's no coincidence that this person
is in the euthanasia crowd. What seems strange to me
is, of course, that he's not kept in a padded room.

Wonder why life tends to dump so many turds together,
with just a few degrees of separation. Is there some
physical force - a kind of magnetism of evil? Or is
it just an effect of what is in my native tongue (in
particular among oldtime seal-hunters up in the ice)
expressed as "Når faen drit, så drit han i donge" -
when the devil craps, he craps in a heap?

Did I say clairvoyants didn't exist? Morrison seems
to have had a remarkable vision. If he actually
foresaw what so many Americans would become, no
wonder he broke.

Nitzana feels compelled to add further detail to the dream Cache has partially described.

It wasn't simply a dream in that sleep had come and a dream ensued afterwards. Before the *dream* there was a swift and sudden pain under the left ear from about the middle of the bottom of the chin, that was so intense I could not close my mouth for nearly an hour.
It was extremely painful and took every ounce of will in my possession to overcome the pain and finally close my mouth so that my teeth met.

It was not a punch. It was an open backhand. It was so hard that I literally bounced backward and nearly blacked out. At first, I did not understand, but I had been trying to reach Terri using certain gifts that I have long possessed. This had started at least a week before the *punch* episode Cache is referring to.
I had prepared the best I could. Having gone through this kind of thing before, one tries to set protections in place because it takes a horrendous amount of concentration and energy and is often mentally and emotionally draining. I never do this lightly, but with great purpose.

The intent was to let her know I was there to help her and to elicit enough trust from her to learn the truth; find Terri's injuries and TEACH her where to go within her own mind to heal herself.

When I felt I was ready, I sought her. Furthermore, I found her. I had expected to feel fear from her, but even before she detected my presence, I encountered a wall of absolute hatred and rage that blew me right away. I had to back off because it was so overwhelming it shocked me.

She KNOWS what has been going on, but her rage had stopped her from progressing. She could not get past it. It was in control to the point where all of the other mechanisms she could have used were overshadowed and the rage became the protective mechanism to prevent the pain. She was losing.

After I shook off the initial onslaught, I went back. I moved more carefully and quietly without confronting her and touched her lightly.

"Terri, I am here to help you. I am your friend. Please help me to help you."

Were I to tell you everything, you would think I am crazy, but I am to the point where it doesn't matter anymore. I am what I am. So I will simply finish the *punch.*

THIS from Terri:

She tells me she is drugged.
Michael Schiavo is a very cruel man, a sociopath who can drip with honey while hiding the darkest evil inside. He had been unfaithful before but had always managed to make it seem that it was somehow Terri's fault. She was too fat. She was too thin. She wasn't exciting. She wasn't good enough. HE needed something more than she could offer.

She fell into depression. She tried not to be fat. She tried to be the beautiful woman Michael said he needed to make him happy. Terri's self esteem was her weakest vulnerability since childhood and he played it for all it was worth...

It worked too well.

Terri, being the daughter of a devout Catholic mother was torn inside and torn outside. There seemed to be no way out until the day Michael went too far. His cruelty that day was more than she could bear. After all she had put herself through to become the perfect woman Michael said he wanted, Terri was informed that Michael was cheating on her yet again.

Pain and rage welled up in Terri to the point she decided to face him down no matter what. She felt sick and dizzy with anger. Her breath was short, but she yelled at him. She planted her feet and faced him with her fists clenched, her arms rigid behind her, and bent her body slightly forward so she was looking him directly in the face. It was not the Terri Michael could so easily control so he smacked her with an open backhand just under her jaw. She flew backwards and hit something...a cabinet, a table, something solid that had a curved top without a sharp edge. She bounced forward and her head hit that curved top. The way she fell, her head was bent forward and when she bounced off the solid thing she hit, her head hit the curve almost near the back of her head on the left side, approximately 2 inches above her ear. It is a softspot. Easily damaged.

I can still feel that pain whenever I touch that spot on my own head just slightly. Believe me, it is there. If I push on it, I can feel where all the nerves reach down into the top of my nose, the right side of the boney ridge above my eye, the bone along the bottom of my eye. It also reaches into my jaw and below my left ear as though it had been dislocated, but not broken and not treated because it seemed to fit with the story Michael told and was simply overlooked since there was no sign of visible injury. It affects the top of my nose somehow so that it makes me sneeze.

I have taken Terri on walks THROUGH the 23rd Psalm. Sometimes I have to pull her along, and sometimes I just watch her with her face upturned to the sun. She stands with her eyes closed, the sun on her face and smiles. I have walked with her in shallow water so she could feel the water on her flesh, splashed water on her arms and face so she could feel the coolness and the wetness and told her G-d is with us.

When reciting the Prayer, it is always OUR Shepherd, We shall not want. He maketh US to lie down in green pastures. He restoreth OUR souls..etc.

When we get to the part about preparing a table before us in the presence of our enemies, there appears all manner of puddings and ice creams. Terri tastes with her finger, and when she gets to chocolate ice cream, she is delighted as a child. She dips her finger in and repeats this until the ice cream is gone.

I hold her hands and gently rub her arms with my fingertips.

Yes. Much more than dreams.

As I have taken on at least the partial symptoms of her injuries and felt the pain, and now that I know exactly where concentration needs to be, as I have worked to heal myself, I have worked in the same way to show Terri the places in her own brain she must tap for the resources to make herself better including over-riding whatever drugs they have zombied her down with.

There is not the shadow of a doubt in my mind that she understands and is doing all she can within herself to force the healing process though there is much to overcome.

PLEASE do not this this lady be murdered, because MURDER it surely is.

Pleading has no effect on the corrupt or the corrupted. Someone has to get her out of these peoples' hands ASAP!