The reason I was from Ashdown, AR, and not Asher, OK, probably has something to do with my association with President Clinton. Ashdown is only about 40 miles from Hope, AR. That's why he was at that Costco that day. I also remember thinking several times how much better the country had seemed to be when Clinton was president. The reason for the choice of Ashdown or Asher is because of what I wrote about the comet hitting the planet if I had failed in my mission in 1976. The impact of the comet would have left nothing but ash. The town of Asher is where I “remember” that my father lived.
I suspect there was an effort to do something to President Clinton because he was connected to me but I wasn’t approving of George H.W. Bush earlier attempts to steal my image. And that is probably causing me some problems too. It is a form of extortion by the Bush faction. It’s sort of like a battle of the high-upper-class of my family against the low-upper-class of the Bush family. They aren’t as wealthy as us, or as smart, or as talented. So they are going to extort as much as possible from us. And the taxpayers are really getting screwed - for example the half-trillion dollars on the big problem George W. Bush unnecessarily created in Iraq. The problem all along was Microsoft-Corbis.
It was no coincidence that I stayed across the street from the Bellevue police department after I moved out of the Microsoft corporate apartment in January 1999. Then I was at Pacific Inn at 112th and 3rd. I thought I saw something specific about Pacific, other than Pacific Fleet, but I can't remember it now. It could have just been because of 112 and 3rd. After that, I went to Oakwood, because I was a U.S. Navy Commander at the time, which is symbolized by the silver oak leaf. Then I moved to Verona, which has a similar name as in the article about the Venona project.
Oak leaves are used to symbolize rank in the United States Armed Forces. A gold oak leaf indicates an O-4 (Major or Lt. Commander), whereas a silver oak leaf indicates an O-5 (Lt. Colonel or Commander).
The Venona project was a long-running and highly secret collaboration between intelligence agencies of the United States and United Kingdom that involved the cryptanalysis of messages sent by several intelligence agencies of the Soviet Union. There were known to be at least 13 code words for this effort used by the U.S. and UK. "Venona" was the last code word for the project, and has no known meaning. (In the decrypted documents issued from the National Security Agency, 'VENONA" is written in full capitals; authors writing on the subject generally capitalize only the first letter.)
In the early years of the Cold War, Venona would be an important source of information on Soviet intelligence activity for the Western powers. Although unknown to the public, and even to presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry Truman, it was a critical and guarded program behind many famous events of the early Cold War, such as the Rosenberg spying case.
Most of the messages which would later prove to be decipherable were intercepted between 1942 and 1945, and they were decrypted beginning in 1946 and continuing until 1980, when Venona was cancelled.
I woke up about 2 a.m and felt compelled to immediately record this dream as best I could in my journal and I think I need to write about it here too:
God what a fucked up dream. Makes me think of being tortured. They put you into a machine and you have to wriggle your way out, centimeter by centimeter and it is beyond claustrophobic and they look for your worst fears and every day they have a new day to exploit your worst fears and this goddamned doesn't even come close - not even goddamned close - to describing how bad it is.
They don't torture you with primarily physical pain, such as beatings, etc. Physical torture is easy to resist. For a while at least. If you are good, you can resist it for a long time. Depends on how far they take it though. But the real bastards look to get in your head and really screw with you. And they have weeks and months and years to just screw with your head and screw with your head because they are lunatics and this doesn't come goddamned close to describing how bad it was.
That dream is something literal that happened to me. I have had several similar and recurring dreams like that. I can’t remember what it means because it was a horrible experience and I don’t want to remember. I think the dream represents a collection of experiences similar to what I think happened on the HMS Sheffield when it was hit by an anti-ship missile on 5/4/82. I think - based on my interpretations of symbolic “memories - that I was trapped in a compartment on the ship that was filling up with water. We escaped and then I went on to lead a team trying to put out the fire that would eventually claim the ship. The particular details I wrote above though could be about some kind of torture I endured as a POW years ago. I don’t know. It could also reflect something about how I escaped. I think I was crawling through the ceiling. I have dreams of being stuck in some highly claustrophobic surroundings and trying to break free.
I woke up this time thinking, partially visualizing, flying an F-14 Tomcat over the ocean somewhere. I can almost visualize another F-14 flying on my wing. Suddenly, the other F-14 exploded but I can't actually visualize that part. I think both people parachuted out of that aircraft. Apparently another missile hit my aircraft, shattered the canopy, and knocked me unconscious. Then I can almost see us traveling straight down towards the ocean surface and the Radar Intercept Officer in the seat behind me was yelling at me to wake up. I pulled up and engaged the two aircraft that fired at us. One was hit by my Sparrow but the other Sparrow missed. I went in and finished off the other one up close. I returned to the carrier and landed safely, and then passed out from a moderate concussion with blood running out from underneath my cracked helmet.
Or the RIO had been knocked out to from the explosion that tore off the canopy. What I was hearing was someone on the carrier yelling at me over the radio to pull up before I crashed into the ocean. The RIO woke up and I asked him if he was ok or he asked me if I was ok. This must all be symbolized in my "memory" as that time I wrote in my journal a long time ago about driving that convertible Mustang back from Daytona Beach with a couple other guys from boot camp. I fell asleep as I was driving on the interstate and almost ran into an overpass structure in the median.
In my "memory" of that time in that Mustang, the guy sitting asleep all the time in the back seat of the car might actually represent that the RIO had been killed in the explosion that shattered the canopy of my F-14. The guy in the seat to the right of me might have been a pilot in another F-14 guiding me back to the carrier because I was suffering from a concussion and was on the verge of losing consciousness.
How I managed to shoot down those two enemy fighters is beyond me. I imagine or remember that I left a wake on the ocean surface I came so close to it before I recovered control after the initial missile volley they sent at us. They got off another volley but none of those detonated around me.
It must have been something similar to when I saved those people from being run over by that speeding car a few years back. That must have been 2002. I was a volunteer at a local triathlon. I puzzled over that for a long time. I just couldn't put my finger on something about that. My mind had been blank but yet I acted with such split-second decisiveness to keep them from getting splattered by that car. It wasn’t the incident itself so much that puzzled me; rather, I just couldn’t understand what it was that was puzzling me about all that. There was just something else there that I could not explain. Maybe it is what people call deja vu.
