Dream Choreography

[Michael Barwell]

[size=12]It took me a while to suss these; in human history & in my own life 'til late 2011, it's pretty much been a given that the human mind has had it's own integrity of ownership, but that's not the case any more. I've been asked how I know the mind has been breached with technology, rather than what I have & am experiencing being a psychotic episode/condition - an obvious & most excellent question. My answers are; knowledge of self, the artificial/synthetic input is often too shouty, too 'clear'/well defined, too messageful, too loud, too foreign/alien/obviously non-indigenous, too out of kilter with the norms I know, too obtuse, boorish, snearing, too orchestrated to a narrative, too goading, insulting, too repetative & too argumentative. The messages/ whispers/ 'notions'/ thoughts, the 'video' feed - all are too 'blip-vert', too sudden. The induced lucid dreamstate is too 'tingly' (incidentally, I really like that tingly, sleep-paralysis type, heavy/floaty feeling) - this is the choreographed dream conferencing, a 2-way (or more) 'interactive' thing, as opposed to the simple 'feed'/video play; the tech is read 'n' feed/feed 'n' read.
I've had quite alot of them, most I don't remember, even tho' the ones I'm supposed to are the times my consiousness is manipulated so that I wake at the tail end of the episode. It's written that there's an excitation potential for lust; I've had a couple of synthetic dreams where I've woken-up at an odd hour, suddenly, quite horny, catching the end of what I take to be a simple porn feed; occaisionally with a 'real', tactile sense, or a 'real' sense of familiarity - i.e. a past relationship - the person is well known to me, even without any specific visual cues or scenario (I'm a nightjar, I usually go to sleep around dawn, so it's odd that I should be waking 2-3hrs after I go to sleep, so around 7am UK time; whether this is convenient for their shift patterns, or whether it takes advantage of a natural rhythm, I don't know, but as usual, at the first oppurtunity to underline something I've just been draft note-taking on, it happened again this morning at exactly 7am, 30-7-'14).
To my knowledge/memory, I'd not had much dream choreography when I suddenly realised what was happening, just the one dream stood out. It was when I was shopping one afternoon in Newcastle upon Tyne in 2012; I went into a shop and the message was shouted into my consciousness (not microwave auditory), "You're/I'm being followed". It was that, over-loud, too clear & obtuse mind feed (this kind of thought dosn't shout itself into my mind, I'm too laissez faire) that prompted a greater appreciation by me, and reappraisal, of the mass of coincidences (synthetic-pseudo-schizophrenic 'ideas of reference') & 'odd shit' that was happing, and particularly of a dream I'd had a few months earlier. This dream I'd noted as having (the now 'usual') too stark, too well defined, too bright, too 'shouty' characteristics of the shop message feed; it was a homes outdoors swimming pool, white, 'clean', everything very square and bright, a social scenario in the sense of a visitor, strong sunlight, my embarrassment at suddenly finding I'd had a dump in the pool. That's all, they're very 'blip-vert', as I say, and it dosn't take a Freud to suss the 'message'. I've been being trauma-based mind programmed for 3yrs now, Lolcats isn't a part of the program, or beds of roses. I suspect I'm a poor student. When my cat was dieing (tumour), they laughed and mocked my emotions. Last week, a family member died; I'd not seen him for ages, (a real hero - he helped land the Yanks at Omaha) but was due to go up there this very week (late July, 2014); as I was told the news, my influence technician neighbour rapidly knocked 9 times or so on the party wall, to mock. Sometimes I almost feel sorry for the feckers, it can't be good for their heads doing this shit, unless they're genuine psychopathic specimens the CIA uses for the 'shits-an'-kicks' of murder/assassination (more 'successful' than the Soviets use of the idealogically sound, and possibly the source of the message I had of "socially acceptable psychopaths"). Some of them are, but they don't wear the T-shirts.
I assume the dreams have three purposes; emotional response, testing of action response, message delivery.
Some of the other dreams are:
A quite nice home, scatter cushions & easy chairs, dim lighting, people slouched around, watching & listening; a girl/woman asks me why I won't leave; "Cats" I reply. She says they'll "annihilate" me. I shrug. End. Obviously, this was an interactive, but whether there were 2 of 'us' there, or the housefull, I don't know.
Domestic scenario; I 'find' a WW2 man portable mortar tube, I'm quite chuffed. End of feed. Nothing more to it, except that 'mortar' then became a popular cue/reference/trigger. I have quite alot of books, 75% perhaps are WW2 and architecture, so artificially creating the cue of 'mortar' is either clever or rubbish, depending on whether you're a psychopathic, egomaniacal git, or not. (all of these dreams are very enclosed, distance is a deception as per older computer games, even when the scenario is outdoors it's usually hilly, nighttime or in a wood/forest).
A studenty/Soviet - type room in a block/condo; someone cooking, a few people milling around, passing thru', water pouring thru' a double electric socket. End. "Flood" then became a cue.
A cubic space, concrete, a part of a sewage or water management system a few feet underground, a bit of water flowing thru', people stood queueing patiently to climb to the surface up a manhole access ladder. End.
Crawling thru' mud, at night, in a forest. End
Beer garden, sunny day, smoking; the barman confiscates my hash stash that was on a table top; "Fair enough" is my attitude, he then shoves it aggressively back into my face - "Tah very much". End. When I told Ben this, his reply was "Don't let anyone nick your stash. Not even Nick. Protect your neck." Classic Ben formulaic word-play there.
The most complex dream; Victorian 3-storey with basement terraced street of houses; a girl leads me into a house and up the stairs into a furnished room, I look around, nothings happening, I turn to the stairs and there's the girls mother(?) in a very skimpy see-thru' negligee with one leg up and open on a footrest; as I pass I give her a kiss on the forehead and continue down the stairs, into a bedroom with an ex of mine, standing, bent over a bed, semi cloathed, facing away from me; I approach her, cup her boob, hug and greet her, and give her a kiss on the back of her neck/shoulder. End. This was odd as I knew who she was, without any visual cue of hair or form or cloathing, either a trick or an assumption by me. After this I got a couple of "monk" pisstakes.
If you watch the film Inception, there's a bit in it where a fella (as I remember it) goes into someones dream, and morphs into another fella, as per a disguise. This dream I had was a girl, chatting to me, "It's not like we've actually done anything to you - yet", windmilling her arms in the sense of enormously and demonstratively over-acting, way too effusive, not comically, just up her own arse. I had a weird impression with this dream. There was just something odd about it. I half assume it was Ben Everhart/'Lockmat' as the girl.
3-12-'13 - several weird dreams; small, half-drowned pooch in a flooded cave; I go in, rescue the thing and hand it thru' an iron grill that's appeared, finding it difficult to exit myself from the cavern. A shiny-thing emporium, everything buckshee, people milling, a host of bric-a-brac to pick-up; I'm oddly chuffed with the roach material booklets and joss-sticks. A friendly, warm, big soft boob lady, snuggling; not sexual but comfortable/intimate. This last was blip-vert.
A Messerschmitt Me 323 Gigant, taking-off with RATO (rocket assisted), side slideing towards an embankment/levee. End. This was odd in that it was as per a Youtube clip, black and white, poor quality footage, 10-15seconds.
Sat at a table on which a plastic beermat or similar was glued down with a rubber type glue; as I prised it off, the glue stretched into elastic 'strings'; a one word message - "ions". End. I take this to be calcium ion efflux, a/the crux of mind manipulation. When you're bullshitting someone with smoke and mirrors, confusions & obfuscations, not everything you say can be retarded crap, something has to be real; for what it's worth, this rings true.
In the palm of my hand, a single, ostentatiously large, slightly damaged, FMJ bullet. End.
　
[/SIZE]

[Michael Barwell]

There's a dream choreography 'track' I've had played to me twice now, 2nd time was this morning. It was one of a couple, which merged, but the 2nd of them was almost exactly a repetition of the first time, approx. 1yr ago.

It started, c.2hrs after going to sleep as usual, with me & a friend, one of us was moving home and the other helping, packing. Moved to a beach, or at least sand, with alot of pens scattered around, me picking them up, but it turned-out later that many of them were broken. It moved straight to a vessel - ship, crab fishing boat, big one, all scenes were below decks - the system dosn't seem to 'do' big spaces, as I've mentioned before (the day after I first mentioned that, c.1year ago, I was played a track which did it's best to emulate a big space, strawberry-picking in a rolling desert, of all things, but the strawbs are a part of the Zersetzung gig; the space sim was as per old pc games, a trick of the eye effect, the rolls of the dunes shortened the view to the horizon). So there are several rooms that I/we walked thru' on this vessel, people milling about. (These 'dreams' are always remembered as being 'bitty'). There's a half-cooked crab that was still alive, presumably they'd like that to be me; I felt really sorry for the thing. There was a nice looking lass who was friendly - the usual play on 'escape to victory'; this is the only element that wasn't there the first time, I assume as they're ditching the no-choice-force element and appealing to persuasion (couldn't help but notice the BBC txt article today, 23June'15, about French bilingual students being unhappy with an exam they'd just sat, as they hadn't known the English word "coping"). The crabs were spiney, so in my fingers I somehow got as per wooden spelks/splinters - in detail of course, as I'm pulling them out; not painful, but naturally unpleasant. The carapaces of the crabs, when cooked, had the property of being 'sprung', so that they could be lifted and when prodded, they'd 'spring' half closed on the opposite side. This was much played upon, presumably as per traps. The environment was clam and warm, so not the Bering Straits-type theme (like the tv series Deadliest Catch).
As usual, there was the heavy-footed walk-by as I came out/was brought out, of the sleep paralysis type 'floating lead' as I call it, 'cos 'you' feel heavy, but oddly floaty too. My cat was on the pillow next to me, heavy/sleepy/difficult to rouse fully, as I've seen many times before, but not for a long time.
All very 'messageful', as usual.
I get this stuff at least every other day, all of it bullshit.

[Michael Barwell]

Quite the dream choreography last night, à la 'The Avengers in Color' [sic] c.S04 era, where they're quite wakky/surreal and play alot on mind games; tend to tune-in most days as it's on on 5 of them. Bit of psychology thrown-in, and a familiar pattern. Must've lasted a while as I woke-up quite hungry (certainly a side-effect of the nights-long synthetic migrainous/trigeminal neuralgia) tho' it was the usual finished-by-2hrs-after going to sleep gubbins, and e-caffeine afterwards so that 'they' can bask in their inglorious bastardry. It went something like this:

2 parts (this is usual, 3- even, presumably one sets the scene for the others, that itself may be setting an awkward juxtapositioning/incongruity/contrast [oh! - neuralgic], 'cos the first part was something of a meeting of old pals type affair, tho' casual, in a kind of received sense of no decades-long gap, a continuity. Smiles all 'round type, domestic environments and gregariousness.

2nd part; starts in a crowd, unknown, outside a comfort zone I suppose, not friendly and not necessarily unfriendly, but a walk down a hill found me being sort of chased but unconcerned, the running was more the [neuralgic] result of feeling the need to get somewhere, and the steepness of the hill, so a casual lopeing. The at the foot of the slope, higher-rise dwellings; call at a door, answered, familiar; some sort of chase-type & door-locked curfuffle - someones looking for someone else. Theres a bit where I take a pill which makes me produce lots and lots of brown beer-head foam-type - masses of the stuff (familiar one, I've had the same about my left ear absolutely gushing fluid ear wax before). Three WPC's turn-up, all with big '60's hair and non-issue handguns. Quite funny, lots of little scenes thrown-in.

And that was more or less it, all quite funny; sense of being set aside watching a play, or the sense of going to a fancy dress party in mufti - and just watching it roll. I wake-up hungry for trifle, and thinking "the bubbles in that Aero (choc bar) are ball bearings (or bolly benders, as I like to call them..). "... ?...

[David Guyatt]

Michael, do you make a detailed note of these dreams - in a sort of dream diary?

[Michael Barwell]

Michael, do you make a detailed note of these dreams - in a sort of dream diary?

Standard log, cock.
This morning's was 'fun'; walking 'round a supermarket with an ex-, being told she was in the SAS...
Sooo, next dalliance with the wank bank's sure to bring-on an "And that's what we've done to you, too". Presumably.

These days, the howling, shrieking hissing tone to the right side of my head is quite something [neuralgic]; says to me that they're redlined from actually torturing me with physical pain, but as most of 'der programme' ist psyche anyway, they're really sticking the boot-in with one arm tied behind their backs - the schiz 'training' thing of "malevolent gods" & apo-pathetic-phenics has totally dropped-off, it's all just as blatant now as having some pathological liar of a shit-for-brains, name-calling. They blab about "for ever" & last night "'til a conclusion", but there's no masque to who & what these people are, just, feral, individuated, fantascist superdooperhero complexers who get a kick out of manipulating anyone & everyone. Simple really, thin gruel - sadsacks & poltroons.

I could really do with [neuralgic] a game of HL2DM or somesuch, but not at the forlorn expense of dieing in agony in a French ditch, or accepting their cess in any way whatsoever, no siree.

[Michael Barwell]

Michael, do you make a detailed note of these dreams - in a sort of dream diary?

Fairly detailed, yeah; some of them are simply scenes, some are choreographed, some are conferencing real-time 2-or more ways, I'm sure. Some of them are very fleeting, some are 'harder' set; it's SOP to wake me at the tail end 'cos otherwise I forget pretty much instantly, if they register at all. That last one - there was no way of knowing by the actual in-dream about the SAS thing, that's a notional thing that I don't know how it's added, surely those 'whispers', but I suspect 'whispers' can be audio or visual, actual 'whispers',or like tv subliminal single-frame things, or a very faint words, like the indoctrination ticker tape type 'dream' I've mentioned that comes across as 1 shade sub-black on a black background, scrolling across the vision.

I make a note of 'DC' in the margin which is 'dream choreography', 'David Cameron', or daaft cuunt'; it's usually the former, sometimes the latter, but not yet the middle. I have quite the collection of them. Happens maybe 2-3 times/week, up to 3 or so each time. Lately -months-wise, it's been simple scenes. These days it's their incongruity or 'messageful' nature, or confrontational aspect that's the reveal, now that they're not knocked-up on HL2 SDK. This mornings was a simple one; 1st, some message about explosives and a book; this I suppose is likely to be one of my books on explosives, except that it's a book on industrial dyestuffs with another jacket on it, the result of a 6th Form 'prank' of simply stealing a book from the library - a pal of mine nicked the other, and we swapped dustjackets. That would be fairly typical for the shitehounds, anything goes for the win. Then came a simple sign in black and white, similar to a street sign, simply saying in caps "The Man Who Left Forever" with a precisely synch'ed siren in Duke St at 1pm on the dot. Like I've said, I'm sure what they do is this - the same button sends the mind insert as sets the siren off; if you consider that, and what a shitehound could do with it, it's quite the b/s-tard tactic/technique - it instantly 'guiltifies' and smart-arses at the same time, as well as eyes-and-ears-and-inside-your-mind-and-taking-the-piss-on, in one. The repetition is the consequence of severe & pbsessive derangement, and likely many hands making lite-work. They want me to join ISIL, ffs. John Keriakou was on BBC Hardtalk last night; I got the ref via apophenic stroppy door slams to "I'll be sorry for the rest of my life that I did it" (standard fare there - self-refers to deranged fantasylands of self-appointed superdooperheros & more - they spin a yarn so often that they believe it, it's what gets the shitehounds the gig), same to "Fair & appropriate" - self-justification for being directly comparable with the shite of the turd reich, and near the end he says "an inability to infiltrate foreign terrorist groups", hence the sheep-dipping and silver-bulleting of ppl the shitehounds consider convenient to brainwash & instill dissociative disorders into and at some point, to home a "Hellfire" at (I've mentioned their "Knickebein" before, but I've also recently realised their "Lorenz" is the same thing, hence all the bloody "drones", tho' that has the 'added', of also meaning 'zombies' - those in receipt of ELF signals and 'whispers'; I know their ways quite well). Thing is, this has just hardened my mind considerably; having references to all this stuff literally 24/7/52/4.5 and the "suicide" guff of abject failure, is quite tough, 'til 'you' realise what and who it is who's doing it - who looses sleep over a hands-on-Hitler name-calling them?

This was an interesting one, for which I got ref's to "monk" afterwards and since; "The most complex dream; Victorian 3-storey with basement terraced street of houses; a girl leads me into a house and up the stairs into a furnished room, I look around, nothings happening, I turn to the stairs and there's the girls mother(?) in a very skimpy see-thru' negligee with one leg up and open on a footrest; as I pass I give her a kiss on the forehead and continue down the stairs, into a bedroom with an ex of mine, standing, bent over a bed, semi cloathed, facing away from me; I approach her, cup her boob, hug and greet her, and give her a kiss on the back of her neck/shoulder. End. This was odd as I knew who she was, without any visual cue of hair or form or cloathing, either a trick or an assumption by me. After this I got a couple of "monk" pisstakes.
If you watch the film Inception, there's a bit in it where a fella (as I remember it) goes into someones dream, and morphs into another fella, as per a disguise. This dream I had was a girl, chatting to me, "It's not like we've actually done anything to you - yet", windmilling her arms in the sense of enormously and demonstratively over-acting, way too effusive, not comically, just up her own arse. I had a weird impression with this dream. There was just something odd about it. I half assume it was Ben Everhart/'Lockmat' as the girl."

That [size=12]"It's not like we've actually done anything to you - yet" is very much a theme, it self-justifies; I mentioned the (synthetic-) trigeminal neuralgia to 'Ben', who instantly replied that "I've heard it's not dangerous, just incredibly painful" - so, not dangerous. It's that same distancing from precisely what they do - torture-to-murder. That much pain for 180days straight, knocks a person [click], 'preps' them.
[/SIZE]

[Michael Barwell]

'DC' last night, interesting one for a change, riding on the back of something that happened recently; scenario, very like watching a Britfilm on Film4, long 'do', started in a school hall/assembly situation, various ribald interractions, slunk-off with a couple of friends, more interludes; found myself in the loos, a cubicle with a hole in the wall knocked-thru (Austin Powers taking a dump?), slunk thru' the hole, into the same environment - like an annex to the loos, shower-room type? Fella/friend in there minding his own business. There's a sink/pissoir half-hanging off the wall, spewing water; I take a piss, and the clip of me looking down and taking a piss is very clear; there's something of a sense of urgency to finish it off as the other person says something like "Quick - someone's coming", and I wake with the urge to wee. As I'd trotted downstairs in realworld, I noticed that familiar sudden sense of hunger for some quick snack - I used to get this when I was being tortured alot, and I don't think it was just the fact that I'd been zombie-walking for 6-12hrs in just short of agony, it's surely an effect of intensive radio-frek transmissions - and the 'EM hiss' to a focal point of side, middle right, just in front of the top of the ear was intense/loud indeed. I have something of a notion that the 'swirl' of mushy 'dc's over the last few days have included along the lines of reading thru' the tv guide and seeing a prog/film I wanted to see, and that this 'film' dream choreography, 'cos it was quite long. So, I think psychologically, the 'school' bit engenders a sense of background discipline/authority there - to have a laugh & joke you have to be fairly surreptitious; that idea of being in a hidden space plays to this; the focus on flowing water, the detailed & specific shot of me weeing; that "Quick" to get it finished, all plays to an attempt to have me piss the bed. There was an element of 'pirouetting' as I'd turned to get that "Quick"/urgent, message.

It's very similar to something that happened a month ago at the pub; I'd been chatting to someone, who'd gone (-loo) and the conversation following was on how the loo's and the place dosn't stink of piss anymore like it apparently used to do, before it was semi-refurb'ed. Quarter hour later, I'd trotted-off to the bog, and had a chuckle as I thought of a joke (I hate laughing at my own jokes, but sadly, it donsnt stop me); as I'd come back, I'd quipped "Well, it sure does stink of piss now" with a wall-to-wall pirouette in my minds eye. A semi interesting standard thing about the shitehounds, is that whenever I find something funny, 9 out of 10 times, I'll get mic auditory 'clicks' or a neuralgic or two to curb the mirth, and I got it then - or I'd sensed something from the shitehounds in response, I don't recall precisely. But they were 'there'; mirth, such as that where giggles & sniggers ensue, are an in-bold, caps & underlining of the trauma/schiz program having failed of course, and they don't fucking like that, being pathologically insane, gurning arseholes.

As it happens, I'd mused a while on why they haven't played precisely this sort of cupid stunt before - pissing myself in my sleep, and another thing that I ponder over, is deja vu, for instance, that sense of having had that 'dc' billed before, if that actually was on a previous day, or whether it was preceded by a deja vu-type effect. Answers on a postcard.

[Michael Barwell]

Last nights 'dc'; I don't remember it precisely, but the 'ISIL' repetition was constant; I suspect it was along the lines of buying a train/bus ticket to-. Whatever that detail was, it was 'typologically' exactly as tho' an apple on a tabletop were being 'photographed, and the camera were rigged on a circular track, with one 'photo being taken at every single degree - the full 360; what I'm saying, is that the repetition of the same thing was constant, just with the slightest of variation. Doubtless, the intent is to batter it's way into my mind in a far less than subtle way. 3:40pm, and a siren'd gone off as I'd written that, and another - entirely coincidentally of course, as I typed 3:40pm. I'm guessing that someone's looking like the incompetant, amateur, lightweight, fraudulent, bullshitting mugs that they are, and as usual, I'm getting the schtick for it. >facepalm<

Smoking, drinking, athiest, republican who likes old buildings - yeah, ok, the perfect candidate... >tuts<

[Michael Barwell]

Another of these very repetative 'dream' transmissions today, monday; again, I don't recall the details - the wake-up an hour or 2 after sleeping just as the 'dc's stopping, then the following 'proper' sleep, tends to loose the details - plus, they're messing with the power settings and timing and the method of messaging - audio/vis/cognitive 'whispers' and subliminals and the rest of it; purpose'll be to drop it below my consciousness into my (absent) unconsciousness where they hope it'll 'fix' and 'turn' - good luck with that one, shit-heads - I've always questioned my own mind, so I wonder what it is about you that thinks I'll not question your poisoned cesspits; Oh! - hubris, of course, you think you're hot shit. At last, we agree on something.

All I remember with fair clarity, is thinking "Oh for fucks sake, another of these fucking things".

[Michael Barwell]

DC's
13MarSun; very visual dc of a Sixth Form/Grammar school-type institution, mix of Victorian-'50's feel, in use but dusty tomes, many pictorial graphics on the walls & in the books, sciency/mathematical. As I woke & noted this, "How clever", I made the observation that it was a well-presented dc, very well made, alot to it, getting a mass of staccato clicks as it did later when I added a bit more to the notes - they're very petulant about self-regarding & wanting to be recognised as 'clever', very feeble-minded & attention-seeking - that 'sado-narcissism of idiot savants outside their comfort zone' I've been banging-on about for years [neuralgic there...]. When I woke to this dc, there was a sudden, quick, snearing laugh, maybe from No.18, maybe outside, deffinately from a deranged ego-maniacal dog-faced baboon;
14MarMon; something of the feel of a 'reality show', almost Home Economics (cookery), being in the middle of it (1st thought was 'Great Bake Off'-type, not that I've ever seen it), full of gossiping teenagers/college students. They're certainly working on that theme, as I'm about to data-drop to them up the road, possibly these are for an aversive purpose;
15MarTues'16; a hint of kink as a lodger in Germany;
16WedMar; very Mediaevalistic, armour & flailing heavy edged weaps;
17ThursMar; several DC's; a lizard on a pavement with half the prominent head display lying on the ground next to it ; returned to old home in NuT, cold, standoffish, awkward; what looked like mobile phone footage of cages/pens full of dogs & puppies, stocky 'bull'-types from 10-15ft away, moving down a line of them, one with a treadmill with the sound of a replica siren playing, like training the puppies to attack it, ending on a joined but different clip of a close-up of a cat being ripped apart by 2+ dogs & the audible overlay "Oh that's terrible, it's spines just snapped" (as I woke after this, a very rapid tapping from No.18 & a loud foot-stampy walk-by, both as a 'reinforcement' I suppose; I've had very many & on-going "paralysed" refs). All those except the lizard had the 'feel' of being seized ie. RSPCA footage; hard to look away when they force it into the minds eye, very unpleasant.
18MarFri; An Aussies home, me as a guest, wet dogs vomit absolutely all over the place, stepping over it and helping clear it up; I'd mentioned having cleaned-up lots of cat vomit over the years ealier that day.
19MarSat; perhaps 4x separate dc's, vague & disjointed tho' consecutive; last was to talking to some fella in Berlin, walking thru', with a cat & dog;
21MarMon; chatting with a lass I like;
22MarTues; traversing thru' a cave, stuck at an obstacle of a hole thru' the wall with a great fall & a leap to the next 'plateau'.

I think it's plain to see there's a psychological trend/msg here.

Working theory: from 'The Pentagons Brain, an uncensored history of DARPA', Ch26, The Pentagons Brain, p446, "The more invasive programs would produce far more specific results, they observed, particularly programs in which "a micro-electrode array [is] implanted into the cortex with connections to a 'feedthrough' pedestal on the skull." The Jason scientists wrote that these chip-in-the-brain programs would indeed substantially improve "the desired outcome", which could allow "predictable, hi-quality brain-control to become a reality".

The point there implying 2 locations, the array & the receiver/transmitter, fits with me having an at times (like during & shortly after) a very loud shrill, whining hiss at the top front of my right ear, with another focus at the top, centre-right of the rear of the neck/skull. The former, the same location as the synthetic neuralgia, the latter the centre of long & short dull aches.

Book seems to be a motherlode of refs; a 'nice' one is "spoor", p124; I'd thought this ref was to the olives, Greque, a la noir that make a bland quiche worth eating, 'cos they look like sheepshits, but here it says they made an apparently odourless concoction in 'Nam of fish & shark, oil "to enable tracking by dogs"; 4 refs in one short sentance & two running, & tracking concepts.

[size=12] Incidentally, a vid 'Ben''d sent me in 2009/10, I think was a cover for a Monarch-type of reference, judging by a list of methods towards 'menticide'; a woman, bound & hooded, strung-up by her feet over a bath of water, head in the water, very much the drowning scenario, her limbs being pulled, a near-death dissociative-thing. I asked him not to send any more vid links, "-tah very much...". Sicko.
[/SIZE]