It was cold, very cold, and mom had been administered an injection with some kind of drug in the doorway, where she stood frozen. Dad not home, my brother had hidden me under the cabinet. He had also pointed it out though, and I was taken and put in a car, and the gruesome men who took me showed my dear mom, intentionally how they stole my silver rattler, put me in the back. I looked out the back of the car window while the car drove away. It was night.
In the Netherlands, they tried to make some plan but were always busy changing it at first. Me growing older more and more able to understand, but drugged enough to forget. Forget until later that is. Like always with that kind of drugs. Fortunately.
I remember addresses, other children, moms, and clearly being put on top of a very high set of cabinets without any security. Almost high enough to touch the ceiling. They would always laugh about that and other very badly dangerous moments, I remember.
it was so I was put there so no one would find me, or feel free to ask as they would endanger me more, I remember the mom of one of the girls finding out becoming afraid as they called it paranoid, drugged and then killed in front of a speeding train.
The truth is they just where big, it is hard to say but they where. They seemed to get away with most anything. And when they would not they would just go ahead and kill who ever had a problem with it. ID theft was only to often used.
A kind help came and ended up in the ribs on the barbecue. Laughing fun crazed fun, and drinking and dancing was usually how that went.
The kidnap and Im sure many other such crimes served as foot between the door of being able. There were songs forced in the studio, films, magazines, you name it.
Dad himself, or men he asked for help, would often come and try get me home. I was now and then even with them, and safe. The kidnappers always just came back in with extreme violence and took me back like it was nothing. It was hard for dad to get the police involved he said, like me myself they just "wont do it". It took him years and a lot of cam evidence and extreme crime to get America to send agents, which they at that time did. They ended up on the barbecue as ribs during crazed parties.
Dad and mom both practically gave their lives to try save me and get me home. To secure something, a future, a gift, anything.
I don't think I will ever have the power they had, I don't think most people do.
I will never forget what I was taught during the times I met him, the right to choose, freedom, the difference between pain happiness good and bad, the way to help people cheer the crowd up, bring happiness, foods, medicine housing schooling. Dad was a man like that.
There is nothing more love and fulfilling.
I was such a calm kind cool little girl, I would just avoid the tables full of clowns laughing about crimes again and again, and not really be interested in anything really. Yes horses, always horses, and I did like barbies.
A message on social media, an old face, so it seems. Long ago, very very long ago. My first reaction, like who doesn't do this, Hiiii !!! Then thinking, oh, maybe I should not have.
Then the phone rang, we talked, it was pleasant, but a little cray. But then suddenly she said it. She said it loud, almost yelling, or maybe even so. Her wide open mouth walked right across all borders. All borders of international and human rights, and said: "You LOOOOVED being severely beaten up, and "Oh I remember SO WELLLLLL".
Exactly what my online writings emphasize, about how the victims get the blame (gaslighting) to get out of being caught by authorities. He likes it, she is a hooker, he likes to lay on the floor in a mess, she loves to be beaten up. Stupid fools and criminals join, police say oh, and walk away..
My God it all comes together now.
I cant believe I had tried to explain to her what I had witnessed, all the while it became more and more clear.
Wow.. It was just scary...
I sometimes reached out. This person that person. A big person, just some person. Peter too.
Later I learned he had been killed. The horrible men that shot him, made sure he was dead, by shooting him through the head.
Peter R De Vries was a very well known TV personality in the Netherlands and Detective which is what his TV programs were always about. People all loved him so did I, but there were more reasons I wanted to let him know. I was kind of feeling it, how he had tried to expose this group of criminals, and how he was good at it too.
Walking off my overweight, walking, jumping, swimming at the beach, Id always blow air in a little plastic bag Id put in my little backpack, and float a while letting my head rest on the backpack. Ones I found a bank (where water goes down and leaves sand) and sat on it, I sat like buddha folded my legs and looked at life. It was all blue.
The sky the ocean, some clouds hardly there and the sun almost entirely directly above me but a touch away. The water came up and it looked and felt now like I was sitting on water.
I looked up, and could not believe the image the sun and clouds gave me. A perfect eye. Perfect. With lashes and eye corners and a brow and the rays of sun where the lashes and the pupil OMG, the pupil was so amazingly real.
I knew something fantastic was there, but just a magical moment though.
There have been many stories of the all seen eye. That of the hippies, with the song "I am the eye in the sky, I can read you mind", and that of the Government "here to watch to help and save" and then the lesser nice stories I decide to throw at the side where they belong.
I remembered how my dad had told me "there where always people looking after me" "looking at me with a cam" he called it an eye !!
What a wonderful world
Dreamy !!
The Eye in the Sky "on the Dollar bill"
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