The Freedom of Knowledge, The Power of Thought ©
The Adventures of Don & Carol Croft

Episode 63

Planned CIA Reception at Mt. Shasta , Part 1

By Don Croft <>
May 2, 2003

Put your discernment cap on and buckle the chin strap, okay? I believe I'm giving an accurate accounting, but for you it can't be more than a (hopefully) good story unless there's something in your heart which resonates with it. We all need to resist the urge to generalize our subjective experiences.

We're on Interstate 5 now, south of Eugene, Oregon, on our way to Mt. Shasta. We'll arrive there later this afternoon in time to do some gifting and get a California Omelet at the Black Bear Diner . They put a lot of mushrooms and avocadoes in them.

On the night before we left home, Carol got a visit from a very aggressive psychic who lives in the Mt. Shasta area and this woman failed to hide her antagonism on that information-gathering (intimidation?) astral visit, so Carol got a glimpse of some of the mayhem that the reception committee was planning to put on us. This psychic was apparently in on the planning.

On the way to Portland yesterday, Carol caught astral sight of two CIA streetpeekers and a psychic waiting for us on the outskirts of the city, so we juiced them all in order not to be seen driving past the city. Carol said one of the peekers was also a killer. We rarely encounter CIA folks unless they've got a murder agenda going for us. Otherwise it's usually the NSA and, since we started in Atlanta, the FBI. Above all these teams are the guys in the gray uniforms who all seem to have weak hearts, which Carol says is the new Homeland Security Force and the UN's espionage/assassination tentacle.

An hour ago, we checked ahead of us and Carol saw seven CIA agents who are the team that includes that aggressive psychic. We juiced the psychic first, which made her mad as hell because nobody had ever gotten to her so easily before.

We juiced the psycho killer that was to have shot us while in the company of a middle aged couple, then we juiced the couple and went on to do the remaining three, one of which is a delivery boy, or 'gopher.'

The psychic is still getting the treatment. She must be pretty high on the occult foodchain to withstand the instruments this long. Carol says she's half reptilian. There are an awful lot of reptilians in the occult establishment.

It's kind of interesting that the all-human psychics never quite get over the feeling that they're making stuff up, but the reptilians and part-reptilians aren't operating under that handicap and their psychic sight is as natural to them as our physical sight is to us. Also, the native reptilians are far more durable than any of the other predators. I personally feel, though, based on our experiences in Florida a couple of years ago, that there are some reptilian hives that are no longer predatory and that a few are even on our side now.

I asked Carol if this CIA team is affiliated with the I AM (Alice Bailey Theosophy--satanic) Center in the town of Mt. Shasta and she said they are. We went after their boss and Carol was surprised to see that it's Hilarion himself (aka St. Germain, Kuthumi, ad nauseum). I put Mr. Skull on him, since the entity who connects with that device has pretty much kept Dr. Lees disabled, according to what Carol's seeing. We'll check on them again when we get to Mt. Shasta later today and make our strategy over dinner, based on the gifting-site information we received. I dearly hope some CIA folks are stupid enough to show up when we're in the Black Bear Diner.

Hilarion appeared as an unassuming little old man to Carol but she recognized his energy. He shows up as any number of personas, according to how he wants to affect the audience. I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up as a big, horny devil at those chump-satanist rituals. I wasn't surprised to find out that he's just some link in the CIA foodchain in practical terms.

We'd been warned by a knowledgable friend that a couple and a companion would show up on this expedition, possibly at the CIA killing ground in Pluto's Cave, and to be very wary of strangers. Carol got that the psycho killer is the individual who attempted to abduct one of our close friends in that very spot not long ago. We'll be wearing our pistols in that cave. I'd hate to think that we wouldn't go out shooting if some of those CIA creeps got the drop on us. I know we'll be well looked after, no matter what happens.

The fun part for Carol and I will be to see how taking Shasta away from the satanists will affect the new age programming in all those millions of nice but temporarily witless people out there.

Our take about Hilarion is that he's a full-blooded, fairly autonomous ET, so he can't actually DO anything on our planet. He can show up and try to frighten or con people but he has to rely on the trudging humans in the occult daisy chain, mainly the CIA and their Theosophical-satanic errand boys/girls, to get anything done in 3D, just like the Operators have to rely on us, the walking wounded and spiritually handicapped, to get their healing work done on earth.

That's why Carol and I focus on the human and mostly human legbreakers these days and it's why we don't care much if the entities who use our Powerwand and Shiva decide that certain deserving predators won't die. I'm certain that if it were up to us to make those assessments we'd be in more trouble right now instead of less because we're not in a position to understand the finer points of universal law.

A CIA agent in a dark red truck spotted Carol at a rest stop a half hour or so ago, south of Eugene, Oregon. When she came out of the restroom he was staring at her with a s**t-eating grin on his face and he followed us out of the rest area, then passed us. Carol tried to follow him but he drove ninety miles per hour until he got to the next exit, then parked at the end of the ramp and watched us go by. Carol said he saw me point at him and when I juiced him all that happened was that he completely forgot what he was doing and didn't report us.

At any rate, that guy slipped through Carol's net, so we mustn't let our guard down. She had done the invisibility (to predators) routine for the car but not for the occupants. [Carol later told me that he had been spying on somebody else in the rest area when he recognized Carol, so I guess we were higher on his list of priorities. ~D]

The I AM Reception Committee at Burney Falls ( an hour or so before sunset, Friday 5/2/03)

The following happened on the evening we arrived in the Mt. Shasta area, which was Friday, May 2. I'm writing this in our motel room the following morning in Weed, California, which is one of the towns to the north of the City of Mt. Shasta and is also at the base of the mountain.

Thanks to supernaturally gaining some time on our drive through Oregon (the last time that happened for us was on a drive from Phoenix to Sedona, two years ago), we arrived at Mt. Shasta much earlier than we'd planned, and we didn't want to wait for a meal at Black Bear Diner (Carol later said one of the I AM/ CIA stooges was already waiting to poison us there) so we drove out to the farthest two target areas on our list of spiritually polluted, Great White Brotherhood power spots. These two are Burney Falls and Medicine Lake, each about fifty miles from Mt. Shasta.

When we got to the falls, it was raining heavily and we didn't bring rain gear, so after some hesitation, we hiked down to the falls and tossed one Lemurian-crystal HHg into the pool under the falls, and did the 'other task' further downstream at the designated spot. There's a nice, paved path down the cliff face to the base of the falls and along the stream quite a way from there.

On our way downstream to do that second thing, we passed an alleged fisherman, who avoided looking at us. Carol said that people don't normally fish in the pouring rain and said there was something not right about the guy. After we did the thing we went back toward the falls and there were a bunch of people there, some looking into the pool where we tossed the HHg, a couple walking toward us on the path and two more people walking up the path from where we'd just been (nobody saw what we did downstream). As you can imagine, not many tourists would show up in the rain on a dismal late afternoon at places like this, especially since it's fifty miles off the beaten path.

The base of the falls is about 300 feet down a cliff and the whole thing is visible from the edge of the parking area. The path zigzags down the cliff from the viewing area. We were walking up the cliff path from the path along the stream when we saw the couple stop at the turn, about 200 yards ahead of us, overlooking the deep, turbulent place in the pool where I'd tossed the HHg.

Before the young couple reached us from that point, Carol quickly told me not to let them pass on the left. The fellow in front was staring at us and grinning and tried to get us to move over to our right, away from the cliff face where there was no guardrail, but I simply smiled, said 'Hi' and stood by the cliff side in front of Carol to let them pass. I said 'Hi' to the woman, who looked like a 25 yr. old Hillary Clinton, as they walked by us. She didn't look at either of us. Carol said she had directed the tall fellow, who looked like a pretty typical MK Ultra pothead drone, to push Carol over the edge. He probably would have promptly forgotten it ;-) This is mainly why I'm opposed to pot: it turns millions of humans into compliant, unconscious hand puppets for the satanic world order.

Many people who are in cults, no matter how nice they are, would likely kill to protect their belief paradigms. The history of the Roman Catholic Church is an obvious example of that tendency. To extend the example, the inner workings of the murderous espionage branches of that older organization are not even discussed in polite company, though they're an integral part of that community and dress up like priests and monks. I'm sure that most of the I AM devotees aren't aware of the ritual murder that routinely takes place at the hands of the upper level of that group. Those few at the top are the ones who interface with the unlawful secret police agencies of our fake federal government.

The entire reception committee at Burney Falls were from the I AM 'fellowship' in Mt. Shasta but only the head psychic, the older woman, was aware of the CIA connection to that cult, according to what Carol was seeing. I haven't a clue how those folks could have been waiting for us [we figured this out a little later ~D], but nobody saw us do our deeds, at least (and as usual). The fake fisherman went up the path to the edge of the pool at the base of the falls with another of the guys (the second guy came down the path before we got to the cliff path-he had also stood staring down into the pool from the spot on the path where we tossed the device) and they just stood there looking into the shallow end of the pool, downstream from the waterfall.

I'd tossed it into the deep, turbulent part, so no divers will be able to get to it and they can't turn off the huge waterfall.

It was getting pretty gloomy down there, as the sun was low in the sky and it was heavily overcast and still raining.

We just stood by the guardrail higher up the path and watched the whole thing play out below us as Carol got into each of their heads and monitored their thoughts.

Carol said that the fake fisherman was armed. We didn't bring our pistols because we didn't think anyone knew we were there, but next time we leave the car, we're taking them. Thanks to my big mouth, Carol said they all assumed we were armed so they were being extra cautious with us. See how we can turn our liabilities into assets? We're planning to do some more target practice later today [May 4, Saturday].

The path up to the top of the falls gives a good view of the path at the bottom, so we watched them confer as Carol read their thoughts. The two female psychics (the Hillary Clinton clone and an older woman who, with a female companion, had followed us up the path toward the falls) started psychically attacking Carol immediately and halfway up the cliff she nearly fainted from the onslaught. I started blasting them both (I felt sure that they thought we were standing in the way of them saving humanity from its worthless self) and Carol made it back to the car on her own steam but we were amazed at how well they held up under our barrage. Carol got, a little bit later, that the older woman was accessing twenty other I AM pshchics in the town of Mt. Shasta to give her attacks more tooth.

We then set the Shiva on that distant conclave through that woman and it cycled through the whole crowd, essentially ending the problem for Carol. None of them were particularly put off balance except the boss psychic at the waterfall, she said. Most of the folks who sell themselves to these cults are altruistic and might wake up sometime.

Meanwhile, Mr. Skull hadn't had much effect on St. Germain, nor did the Shiva, so I asked my doppelgangster to take a turn and that one is keeping the old bugger distracted enough that he isn't following our progress. Carol said he's constantly swatting at the black panther but that the old ET fart doesn't need to sleep and he never gets tired.

We had smacked the other predatory psychic (the boss woman in the local I AM CIA six-person assassination/abduction team) with the Shiva and Powerwand but it only made her mad, kind of like slapping a pitbull. Before we got near Shasta, we put the Mr. Skull/Powerwand combination on her and that took her out of action but didn't stop her yelling and screaming at us. Carol says she's a good part reptilian and big as a boat, also that she's a dagger beau who is extremely sexually frustrated. Who'd voluntarily have sex with a porcupine, after all? I think I just earned a penalty for using too many metaphors.

She is the link between St. Germain and the CIA I AM ('.and that's all I am!' ~Popeye) hitter team, so they were all effectively removed from the fray. We'll just keep Mr. Skull on her until she goes away. I bet an enraged cultist is more dangerous than a payrolled CIA psycho-killer, anyway.

We left Burney Falls and after 26 miles we turned north off of California Highway 89, which leads east and south of Shasta, and drove toward Medicine Lake, which is 32 miles into the forest and mountains, far from any people. We hadn't quite figured out what to do about the I AM psychic attackers at this point and Carol was feeling a little off center from their continuing barrage, but right after we did the thing with the Shiva to stop them, she saw a hhost deer cross the road in front of us.

As sometime happens, that distracted us from seeing the sign indicating the turn to go to Medicine Lake, so we drove on until the snow blocked the highway, about twenty miles into the mountains and about five thousand feet above sea level, then Carol said the Operators indicated that we should put a Lemurian HHg in the vicinity and toss out five TBs along the road back out. I hiked into the woods and buried the HHg where it will not likely be found, then Carol saw a huge bear ghost move across the road in front of the car. A mile down the road, we saw a sign that indicated that we'd just inadvertently gifted the vicinity of Bear Springs.

The bear was bigger than a Grizzly, Carol said. I wondered out loud if some departed shaman was showing us something and she mulled that over for a bit. When she saw a huge elk ghost cross the road about a mile further, my theory's market value went up for her and when she saw an enormous golden eagle ghost swoop across the road in front of the car (by now it was night time), I quickly tossed out the last towerbuster and she said that
the Indians were having a little fun with us. She seemed a little pissed and said, 'They could have just asked us to take an HHg there and we would have done it!' She'd never seen super-sized animal ghosts before.

Back toward Highway 89 we took the first turn to Medicine Lake and drove sixteen miles until deep snow blocked that road, too. Along that stretch, I saw a little whisp of 'fog' and asked Carol if it was a ghost. She was amazed that I saw it at all and said I got it right. We gifted another Lemurian HHg deep in the forest where we had to turn around and laid three TBs along the road on the way out. I spotted two more ghost whisps and Carol said, 'You'll probably see one more, since the Indians like to do things in fours,' and that the ones I saw which she looked at were Indian men.

Right before she figured out what was happening for me, I saw a small frog or toad hopping across the road in front of us and I said, 'Oh, great! You see all these magnificent beastly manifestations and all I get to see is a little toad!' but she told me that the Indians were giving me something for my efforts by showing me the ghosts and that it might lead to more gifts during our present adventure.

My old friend, Dorothy, who is a Druid, a healer and a Seneca native elder, told me that all of the local Indians were invited to a huge feast by the US Government during the treaty negotiations long ago and they were all killed by poison then. It was in Panther Meadow, high on Mt. Shasta. That place is snowbound, probably until June, and it's one of the suggested gifting locations but, thankfully, we had left a HHg in a good spot there on September 21, 2000, when Carol and I first started this project together.

Dorothy was greeted by a large group of Lemurians who were having a picnic in Panther Meadow in 1972, the first time she visited the mountain. She was driving by on Interstate 5 and followed a spontaneous urge to drive up the mountain. After the tasty picnic and a short nap on mats (she said they didn't want to damage the plants), they took her 'through a large tunnel' into another huge meadow for some more pleasant socializing, then they took her back to the parking lot. The tunnel was a hyperdimensional portal of course. Until she later learned who they actually are, she thought she'd just spent an afternoon with some nice hippies in odd clothing. She didn't know enough about the mountain to realize at the time that there are no tunnels there.

It was during an informal initiation at the Summer Solstice two years ago that Carol and I camped in the woods beside Panther Meadow and heard the Lemurians singing from sunset to sunrise and I saw their craft constantly darting around the skies over the mountain. Carol saw them standing around us in the grove of huge firs near the meadow and spoke with them off and on all night long. For an instant around sunset, right before all of this started happening, I was able to read Carol's thoughts when she was silently reading the wrapper of her granola bar. She was shocked when I asked her why she was reading the granola bar contents out loud. The really good stuff never seems very remarkable when it's happening. When it starts to happen, keep your eyes, ears, heart and mind open, because the Operators are probably trying to show you something or prepare you for you next level. Do you see why I say it's important to report all unusual events and observations for the record? I'm counting on my reports encouraging everyone who reads them, whether they believe what I'm saying or not.

St. Germain and the rest of the fake-angel, Alice Bailey con artist, predatory/parasitic secret world order 'spiritual' crowd do their best to replicate this growth process but it can never be more than a pretty hologram, completely devoid of heart energy and substance and the initiate ends up losing much more than he/she hopes to gain by following that carrot-on-a-stick. Most children can easily discern the stink of that fakery from the fragrance of the real thing, and the big challenge of the adult mind-controlled majority (including that noisy little institutionalized 'Moral Majority') is to break down the programming that keeps them trapped in their head fantasies and delusions and away from their hearts and discernment faculties. These are the pajama people until they learn to listen to their hearts, which leads to the systematic dissolution of all that nasty programming.

We got a motel room in Weed, California after all that. We weren't quite comfortable getting a room in Mt. Shasta quite yet but maybe our last night here can safely be spent in that town. Weed is five miles north of the City of Mt. Shasta, which is probably the single biggest magnet for MK Ultra drones and deep-programmed world savior wannabees on the continent, as well as home to some actual relevant, conscious, awake human beings. It sure will be a nicer place to be when Carol and I are finished this week. Maybe the real-people minority here will feel confident enough to come more boldly out of the woodwork at last and a whole lot of the hypnotized, grinning devotees will stop selling their bodies and will achieve their full potential. These cults are a form of spiritual prostitution, after all, as was shown to us at Burney Falls. Those I AM devotees aren't bad people. They've just sold themselves to bad people in angel costumes in exchange for-what?

Don Croft

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