He can smell the weather, sort of like a snake can detect smells with its tongue. I intuit his intuitive abilities far outreach mine. He can speak and understand, on some level, any language, any language, human, alien or animal. He is a divining rod for deceased people. He can’t stop the frequency he emits and they flock to him by the hundreds. They look like settlers from the 1800’s and they say they are there to protect him and the land.
This man, this externally average Joe is anything but ordinary. He is, I am told, the Elite of the Elite. There are about 20 of his kind in the entire World. Let me put that into perspective; out of 7.5 BILLION people, he is one of twenty.
Each time I’ve worked with him, the Land (I capitalize it as it is a proper title to these folks) is first and foremost during his sessions. “You must purify the Land” they say. Some of his cattle and dogs have died from no apparent reason. When he asked about this, I was told for him to check the water supply. He did so and nothing was out of the ordinary. And yet, still more cattle perished.
Lights go on and off in his home, he hears noises that don’t have any obvious sources. He replaces the smoke detector batteries more often than you can say “Put nine volts on the shopping list, will ya, hon?” Items will appear or disappear. Temperature changes are a constant. He has built his newer home on land that has been in his family for centuries.
His wife is resentful of what she doesn’t understand but both his boys are aware and accepting. He is, understandably, very protective of his family. He, truly, just wants to be left alone, to be “normal” but that is not to be. He can no more stop what has been started then we can ask the sun to rise in the West. He has been Chosen but, in truth, he signed up for this.
Day and night he sees/feels them. Day and night they come, these settlers. They are building a community there, at his home. They call it “Canyon Falls.” I’m shown a vision of people peacefully and politely strolling on the wooden planked walks of their dusty astral main street.
There are Native American spirits there, as well. They hold to the outer edges of the property and are very respectful of him as they practice the “old” ways. They, I am told, are waiting for him to grant permission to perform their Spring Rite and to help sanctify the Land. I can see their fires and he states he often sees them as well. With that image, I am no longer standing in my office. I am at his farmstead, as it is in reality and as it is with an opaque overlay.
There are two powerful Braves/Warriors standing on either side of his home’s entryway. They are in full headdress, wearing war paint; their lithe bodies are tense, coiled, and alert. Their eyes are vigilant. They both take their post seriously; there is no room for failure.
A strawberry blond little girl wearing braids and a pioneer bonnet softly takes my hand. I intuitively know she is mute. I look at her beautiful, freckled face and she smiles a smile that is years older than she appears to be. She silently turns to the West, extends her other arm/hand and points towards the setting sun. I gaze at her profile which is warmed and enhanced by the orange glow. Her gentle smile reflects complete trust. She is showing me something, giving me a message, but it’s meant for him to decipher.
I sense something from a shadowed outside corner of his house. An inky black, wrinkled, leathery hand emerges. The little bonneted miss holding my hand is gone and I am floating about five feet above the dusty ground. I am not whole, but see-through, like an apparition. I watch as a charred and blackened humanoid face materializes of out the darkness. Something akin to a snarling smile flashes revealing yellowed teeth tapered to points. His two eyes are large, larger than any human I’ve ever seen, more like Dobby from Harry Potter. The sclera is a dingy, dull yellow with a black circle for the lens and pupil.
He says something to me and I think to myself, “Should I be frightened of him?” He does frighten me but I do not fear him. I sense he can’t touch me; he can’t harm me as my energy is much, much higher than his. I tell him we all have good and bad inside of us and he gets to choose what he’d like to be.
I wonder if this is one of or the one that is killing the hapless cattle and causing other negative issues. He tells me he will wait for his time, alluding to upcoming malice. Before I can respond, I hear hundreds of voices speak as one, “The People of Canyon Falls will not allow it. We will stone him.” With that, his visage slowly retreats into the shadows. I had this thought that the man who lives here should buy a million floodlights and illuminate his entire farmstead from here to Kingdom Come.
In a blink of an eye, I’m standing in my office again, but the People still hold my attention. They tell me it is imperative that he purify the Land, make it clean again. I ask him about organic farming and he says that’s an option. I tell him it’s not his entire acreage they want purged, but a small portion. That portion is to grow an elite crop of what appears to be wheat. I get the sense that the wheat will feed more people than all other farms combined. It’s pure somehow.
These people are here to protect him, but he feels smothered. It’s hard for him to concentrate and finish tasks and Spring planting is upon him. He has found me (with their help, he says) and has asked that I help communicate with them, quiet his mind and validate he is not going insane.
He is the Chosen and is one of twenty.
Melissa’s Note: I had this humble farmer and big brother Corey (Kyle blog) back to back. I slept until 11:30 the day after our sessions. Those dead people really know how to parrrtayyyy.
