Dying in Dreams

I apologize as I don’t remember exactly when these “dreams” started, but I know they lasted until I was twelve.  They created the most anxiety in my waking life due to their nature.

Although torturous, they were not filled with other beings or involved specific training like the other recurring dreams I had.  These were death dreams.

Sometimes, but rarely, they would be of myself dying.  Like a very Milab type experience where a lab coated doctor strangled me to death for flirting with his daughter.  That might have been at the cloning center/DUMB.

Most of these experiences, I would be in someone else’s body, living their life as a passenger and it would be all over the map in terms of different characters.  I was shot and bled out as an older african-american woman.  Or I’d be stabbed from behind as some covert agent.  Or walking over a land mine as a soldier.  None of it felt like it was me, but I was there, taking in everything.

The main trauma of these experiences was not the getting killed part, but the cold blackness that would come over me in those experiences.   I would feel the world fading away, until there was nothing but darkness.  Then a voice would tell me to let go, and I would give in to dying.  Over and over, fighting for life and to having to give up.  Never a light to go to, only the empty darkness.

The level of extreme anxiety and confusion I felt waking up in my body after those night is hard to convey.  Sometimes it would be 3 or 4 death experiences a night.  I would fall asleep praying, begging God to help me, so worried I wouldn’t make it through the night.

Everytime I woke up, I had to figure if I was alive, if I was dead, If I was in my own body…  Makes me nauseous just thinking about it.   My life force would be so thin that it felt that if I sneezed that would be enough to cut the little tiny thread of life I had left.

I worked really hard pushing all these memories away as the anxiety would send me into dissociation.  This act of supreme cognitive dissonance is also what keeps my memories hidden away.

These dreams stopped when I was 12 or so, after I asked God to kill me as I could not take my life as the way it was.   I was dead serious and when God didn’t kill me, I felt invited “here” for the first time.


There are few other people I’ve heard this happening to, and I still am unsure of their purpose.

Part of me wonders, if these people that died were the other host bodies of the inter dimensional being that is connected to me and I am somehow a storage unit so that the inter dimensional can “keep” these experiences in my own subconscious.   Similar to what some people experience with the greys downloading memories and knowledge into abductees.

Maybe “they” were working on some way of remotely killing people by tying their astral bodies to people that were actually dying.  Maybe I was suffering from sleep apnea.  I just never woke up out of breath.  It was more like spread too thin over time and space, like I was barely present.

I’ve also theorized these are synthetic experiences that whomever has access to my spirit used to get me to dissociate.  The blackness being the portal they suck your spirit through to do god knows what with you.  (put you in a clone body, etc)

If you have gone through similar experiences, please email me at tegcassiel@gmail.com with your theories or experiences.  Thank you.




Black Magic, Aliens and Ritual Abuse

Is there a connection between black magic, aliens and ritual abuse?…

From my experience with all three, there are a couple of main themes that these confused a-holes all share.

The first theme they all share is a desire to keep their intentions and actions in secrecy.   Otherwise, the “aliens” would be landing on the white house lawn and the satanist would have huge, televangelistic churches worshipping the “god” of this world.    (never mind on the latter point)

The second is the use or manipulation of another person’s life force against their free will for goals and agendas that the individual being vampirized never agreed to participate in.   Whether it be lying about where the collection plate offerings go or the taking of eggs, fetuses and sperm from “experiencers,” both parties take liberty in perverting what is whole.   They are both trying to turn everything into their image.   (I’ll show them a f*@#%#^$ image)

The third theme is the use of trauma based mind control to completely  subvert the spiritual sovereignty of an individual. and most damaging long.

Due to the wholly artificial and extraordinary nature of being abducted, there is a great amount of emotional intensity associated with the alien abduction experience.  If the experience is more than the conscious mind can handle,  a person can shift into a dissociated state of being in order to escape the trauma being inflicted in the moment.  The trauma still exists in the body’s physical memory, but the mind has been shielded to keep the emotional shock from killing the person.

This is the deer in the headlights response that certain prey animals go into when they are being eaten alive.  The dissociated  state is what the aliens and black magicians are seeking in their ritual abuse victim.  This is the perfect state to create an alter personalities that work in service of the coven/cult/agency or in the aliens case, downloading a library of alien memories and knowledge into the persons mind.

The emotional intensity of participating in a blood ritual or the abduction phenomena creates a response of such neural activity and intensity, that level of activity is not normally reached in everyday life and an emotional barrier forms.  Cognitive dissonance is the mechanism to keep this all tidy in a person’s mind.    One must have true emotional fortitude to face, access and clear this trauma.

May Courage pump from our heart into all those experiences and may we stand in the full power of our forgotten presence from which we are untouchable to these dark manipulative forces.

My Brief 15 seconds of UFO Fame and Motivation for Sharing my Experiences

Last year, about this time, I woke up with what felt like second degree burns.  

I went to a clinic later that day.  The doctor did not know immediately what it was.  She said it was an allergic reaction to something outside which would be logical but I did not work outside the day before.

I got some burn creme because I know what poison ivy does to me.  This didn’t feel like an allergic reaction.  It never itched.   Having been burned before, this was the closet pain I could relate to it.

It could have been a very aggressive case of shingles, maybe I was compromised immunologically due to stressful abduction experiences. However I had blisters forming within hours and still have scars from the burns.  There was also burns on my legs and arms that were smaller, in straight lines that do not correspond with nerve pathways.

Who knows…. different people I know have their own way of explaining my experience away.  I had heard of people getting marks and bruises from abductions, but I got trashed physically.  Mentally, I was swaying from “Holy shit, I got abducted…they are real!” to “Holy Shit I got abducted…those fuckers came into my house and burned shit out of me.  F@#%!!!”

I posted some pictures and a brief synopsis of what happened to me on the alienhub.com. https://www.alienhub.com/threads/pictures-from-my-burns-received-from-an-abduction.75946/

There was a little attention whoring going on,  but really I was trying to see if anyone else had received marks like mine and needed to vent.  There were only a couple of people I can talk to about any of this, and even then, they will only go so far.

A producer from a certain ancient astronaut theory supporting studio contacted me about my experiences.  We skyped and I shared my photos and experience.  They were doing a pilot for an alien abduction themed TV series, and I was asked to participate.

Having never, ever thought that posting those photos on the internet would end up putting me on TV, I agreed.  I thought it would be a good experience even though being on TV was way out of my comfort zone, and maybe it would lead to more opportunities in the future.

So there is a passed lie detector test (assessed by an ex-secret service agent), an EEG scan showing no anomalous brain activity and a regression hypnotherapy session of me on film.

I was happy with the results of tests, enjoyed a free trip to hell A and got to see what filming a TV show entails.  I’m not on Facebook or have any social presence but this is my shot to make my mark on the world. (lol)

Then I heard from other researchers about TV shows butchering what was said through editing.

Paranoia started to stir, thoughts of my niece, old friends seeing me twisting and turning in pain during the regression with sprinkled in soundbites taken out of context that would make Shia Leboeuf look stable.

I started writing a book detailing my experiences as a counter to any misrepresentation there might have been of me from the TV show.  It was thought at the time, I would be on the pilot shown across the world via the history channel.

I worked furiously on the book for a month or so, making nice progress, to then get an email stating the studio was no longer considering my material for the pilot.  Whamp whaaa…  My 15 seconds of UFO fame gone, buried in the depths of a studio server.

But I got really into writing my experiences out as the act of writing really helped me process and move past the seeming insurmountable walls of trauma.  Something I highly recommend for anyone who has gone through the abduction phenomenon.   Answers are illusive in this realm of human experience, but one can release the trauma behind the question.

This blog is a way for me to release my trauma and maybe help someone else process their own experiences.

Thanks for reading.  May Grace be with us!

Shadow People Encounters

It’s strange feeling love from a dark one, this horrific figure that stood and watched over me, a presence in my life that I actually gotten accustomed to, even felt protected by it at times.  The visual sightings stopped around age four or five  in my waking life.  I continued to have encounters with the large figure with no light coming from him.  The only features I could make out were, was it’s humanoid shape and the horns coming out of the top of its head.

The first encounter happened when I still very close to the ground from the perspective.  I could speak, maybe 18 months or so.   It might have something to do with me drowning when I was around that age.

I remember heading towards my parents bedroom.  There seemed to be something blocking me, like an intangible force.  Then I realized that there is this black shadow figure, towering over me, eclipsing the door frame.  I can’t see it’s eyes but I know it’s looking at me.  There’s wisps of black vapor evaporating from its body like the corona of a black sun.  Immediate dread and wailing ensued.  My parent retrieved me not seeing the creature.

I would see his shape a couple of more times as a small child, many times at my grandmother’s house where other odd things happened.

When I got in trouble and I used to say the devil made me do it.  I don’t think my mother realized that I actually meant the devil made me do it.   This character has been with me through most of life at the edge of my awareness. It’s true purpose and intention still somewhat a mystery to me.

It wasn’t until my early twenties that I had enough umph in my own being to  start untangling parts of my awareness back from the traumatic mess of events of that was my subconscious.   I started to meditate and trying to understand what Jesus meant by  “You shall do these things and more,” what love without conditions would be like, ya know stuff like that.

Right on que, I started to see my old Shadow Being, this time in my dreams.  He would tell me I was his father and that I belonged to him.  Many times I would be there with another one of his bloodline projects, my so-called brother.   He was a full on psychopath, a stockier, yet very similar version of me, but he was a tool, killing people in front of me for the fun of it.

My “father” would always offer me jobs that would require doing dome sort of heinous acts of violence.  Every time, I would refuse, saying, “No I’m not going to do that.  I’m not like y’all, no matter who you say you are.”  That would usually end the dream, my “father” furious, stewing.

The last time I saw the Devil in that dream setting, after once again refusing to go and kill people, he said, “You think you can escape me.  You’ll never be free of me.”

(Yawn, they always say shit like that)

That being turned out to be a large white snake humanoid that appears in  an ancient Egyptian tunic and necklace that looks like a horned voldemort except a more muscular build and scales for skin.

Just as we have a dream body or an astral body, I believe that some of inter dimensional creatures that watch and feed off humans also have a similar ability to project their conscious field of awareness across the quantum bands of space and time.   This form, though not physical still has these beings’ essence and their manipulative, demented spirit.

It’s hard for me not to link this creature to the form I “shape-shifted” into mentioned in my last blog post.  Awesome…

Waking up at an Underground Base

The blurred colors of my vision come into focus to a sterile, metal-walled, medical laboratory type of set-up.  I’m strapped to a metal table that’s angled vertically.   (It’s interesting because my first experiences of being in a cloned body are almost always of some lab coated person walking away from my with a syringe.)  I feel like I’ve been pumped up with pure anger…  My attention focused on the present, wondering how am I going to express the violence running through my veins.

This focus stays with me through the entire experience.  It taps into a much deeper rage, of supreme injustice.  I cannot tell you how much I hate all these people.  It’s a rage at a molecular level, a searing of the energy around me, slowly building, coiling itself into an electric whip.

This particular day they had me in a body much older than what I was at the time.  In real life, I was only five or six, but the body I was in was much older, much stronger.  I awoke to the usual rush of consciousness, tapping into the strength of my shoulders, sensing my awareness travel into my extremities.  Whatever they have injected me with this time turns my usual rage into a blinding white light, burning me alive, and when the pain gets to my head, I shatter into a thousands shards of of pissed off glass.  They glitter in my mind’s eye, a brief moment of stillness.  I couldn’t handle the emotions illicit in this body.  Then l feel a rumble like a wall breaking and the rage is total. The white hot energy has filled every cell of my body as I feel the constraints getting tighter across my chest and shoulders.  My perspective is changing and I feel my head break free from the strap across my forehead.
All the little humans in their white coats scurry around this way and that like frantic little cockroaches.

I smell their fear and I am disgusted by them.  My right arm breaks free and I grab the panicking white coat as he tries to step back.  In half a second I’ve ripped out his larynx with my teeth and rip is arm off his body for good measure. The satisfying taste of his blood as the rush of endorphins reaches my awareness, slightly offsetting my rage. The constraints no longer holding me.  They will all pay for this I say to myself as I survey the room.

My body moves so fast I feel like reality doesn’t focus until I pause to make sure I am the last thing the white coats see as I’m ramming my clawed hand through peoples torsos, ripping arms out of sockets, slinging their remains across the room.  Their fear colors them in hazy red aura, I can see images of loved ones and regrets as life leaves them, some frozen in fear as I feel their neck crush when I tighten my grip. The smell of blood and organs fill me with more rage as I charge at the thick metal doors.  Bursting through I am met by loud bangs, sharp pain across my body and then a warm glow.

I wake up in my bed.  I cry and whimper to myself, my six year old self not able to comprehend what just happened yet knowing somehow I was that monster. This shame and fear shook me to the very core of my being.

I don’t remember that happening again, although I know this being. That form is connected to a whole race of beings.  If I stay in that body I will be overtaken by their consciousness.  Their sick, morbid truly psychopathic frame of mind.  It dirtied my soul enough just from that one encounter.

However the lab coats were fascinated by me so I had the honor of experiencing that place every time I went to sleep.  Somehow they were able to modulate that awareness in me, it must have something to do with the drug they gave me.  Because once I finished the “training”, I had close to that same speed and strength yet I don’t remember being a giant humanoid reptilian.