Prologue

Every now and again I enter an experience that is a near future probability or alternate timeline. This is one of those experiences. Whether this one is our current timeline trajectory, or we are collectively in a process of evading/avoiding it—I don’t know. I am unable to say with certainty. I can only say that when I am experiencing this, it is as real as real can be. I never quite know why I am shown what I am. I am generally attempting to ascertain this while within the event.

I was born in the West, – Las Vegas, Nv – and have always resided in the West….Nevada, Arizona, California. I have had rare opportunity to travel and know little of my own country, most notably the East. One thing I am shown in this experience that I did not know prior to it, is that Alabama has a coastline. I had no idea. I wasn’t even sure of its exact location on the map. It is just one of those states you never hear much about. I did a search when I returned from this experience. The confirmation of an Alabama coastline gave much credence to the additional data within it.

I can’t help but wonder if one day a young woman named Erin, who lives on the Alabama shoreline and recognizes the area as I’ve described it will find herself here reading this. In the future I was shown, in this area of Alabama the people have organized out of necessity. I did not see any formal military. There is a mostly self imposed type of martial law. Necessary items such as food, water, medicine, etc.. are brought to each house by a crew whose job it is to do this.

I saw no further out than the areas I am about to describe.

March 1, 2023

As this experience first begins I am in a communications area. 

Global communications are down and these people here have rigged something together from existing radio parts and other common household appliances. They are using the motors from the base of 4 blenders to help power their system. I am inquiring into how it works, how they get the signals to go out. Each time I ask a question of the man sitting at the helm of the station he looks to another male here for approval to answer. Each question is approved, I am learning and retaining all that I can. It seems vital that I do.

There are only a few males who man this particular area. I see no tight security but, this said, few others are allowed in. It is necessary personnel only and all of the men know one another. I try to change the broadcast going out to some music, to replace the educational signals currently being broadcast. It just seems like the people could use a break. But the male at the helm takes exception, and puts the channel back to what it was previously.

I look around the room. I almost don’t know how to even describe this. The place is war torn. I say this not necessarily in the common sense, it could be more that some kind of Earth event is principally behind the current state of things. I get the feeling, however, that some level of fighting has also played a part. Old wood planks line the the floors. There is dust and debris. The men are all wearing what might be called survival type gear. There is no color. As I continue to look around I find myself shifting into another house in the same area.

The first thing I feel is that now I am most definitely merged with a female.. I am on the upper level of this house in a large, spacious bedroom that is sparsely furnished. I am aware that one male and two females including myself live here. A communication comes through some sort of comms device, it is like the phone has just rung and I have answered it ( only there is no phone ). A male is on the other end, he is looking for a woman named Erin.

Moments later he is downstairs at the door. I listen to the knocking for some time, the male who lives here is not answering so I myself go down.

Standing outside is a roughly 55 year old caucasian male, about 6 feet tall, white blond hair cut very short. He is wearing olive green clothing and a black leather jacket. He walks right in as I open the door. Immediately he begins questioning me, he is looking for a woman named Erin and is asking me if I am her. I am nodding my head sideways, “no I am not Erin” I say. The man’s face is right up in my own, it is like he is wanting me to see that indeed I am this person. The environment is becoming unstable as my mind tries to grasp what is happening. He leads me out the back door into a yard on a small bluff that overlooks the ocean. 

I see a person at the edge of the bluff, climbing over to scale the short ways down to the beach. My attention follows the person over and I can now see that many people sleep here on the beach. It is night, there are large black fire pits lit roughly every 100 yards. I am now positioned on a blanket sitting directly in front of one of them. Even though the night is quite cool I can feel its powerful warmth. There is another young female here who is emotional and upset. Her hair is not combed, there is dirt on her face. I put her head to my chest and comfort her for some time.

I then shift to an area, a cement walkway between our house and the next … it follows to the left of our own for as far as I can see. There is an armed male positioned at his end of the median. As I am walking toward him, he walks toward the middle where we meet. There is a discussion between us where I learn more about what is happening here. Another female has also joined us. The discussion is centered around the great state of Alabama.

These people are proud, their land is their land. They are patriots and do not like outsiders, those not from the Eastern States and more notably the South. I listen and resist the urge to speak of the West. They are telling their stories. As they do, and the scenes all begin to collapse I see that the people here are all confined to their own home’s boundary lines.

No-one can go any further.