(Update April 2014: I had just then become aware of knocking at the space I so carefully have learned to set up. Half asleep, I had adjusted the field to allow two friends. And a moment later, the voice. I suspect I had briefly dropped my intentional shield. The good news, in this case, is that it is possible to control one's EM field from within. Part of me still doesn't consider what I'm experiencing possible. I have heard enough accounts from solid sources that confirm its reality, including both shamanic, metaphysical, psychic, and energetic, as well as technological and scientific perspectives.)
I sat up straight in bed. I hadn't slept very well to begin with, tossing and turning all night, and now this. I was annoyed. "This sucks!" I felt a singular ache in my the front joint of my left index finger.
I got up, went to the bathroom, and thought: Time to get up anyways. While I was prancing through my apartment, I felt pressure on the right side of my heart, on the rib bone. I thought of meditating straight away, perfect time, dawn, but then I decided to see if I could track the guy and see what the fuck he thought he was doing. So I went back and sought him.
He isn't that far yet. I'm able to enter him through his heart. He's on some kind of flying vessel, wearing a cap, or beret, or so. In front of him, on his dashboard, is what looks a bit like an ultrasound screen. That's where he sees me down on the ground. He's doing his rounds. I trample around a bit in his heart, make a bit of a fuzz: "What does it feel like, huh!" I travel into his foot, into his right front big toe joint, and stimulate some ache. "Now you know what it feels like!" I tell him. Obviously I'm not over being annoyed yet.
I tell him: "You're a man, I'm a woman. Already there is a power differential. You're stronger than me. What about protection, instead of pestering me? You're in the military, I'm a civilian. See the power differential? Is that how you use your power?"
I get he's on a stealth vessel, making his rounds about once a month.
"You're hidden, I'm visible. What about honor, targeting the vulnerable? You're in a military vessel, I'm in bed. Do you think it's okay to pester me?"
"You're on this list!" he says. "It means you must have done something."
"How can you know that." I say. "I'm born a European citizen. I became an American so I could vote and participate in our democracy. Do you believe in democracy?"
"I don't know." he says.
"Do you vote?" I ask.
"Mostly." He votes Republican. Out of habit. It makes sense, he's military.
"Do you think our economy is down and needs rebuilding?"
"I try to supplement my income." he answers.
I'm confused for a moment what that has to do with my question. I wanna go on, but realize I should settle with this and find out more. I figure he said that as a response, because that's how he personally is dealing with the economy. Supplementing his income.
"What do you mean? How?"
I get he's doing it by accepting these assignments, I guess they're special assignments. He's about 45, shows me his family and home. He's kinda in a trance. A wife, a younger child, around 3 or 4 years old, that he feels very responsible for, and an about 10-11 year old son who he cares about, worries about. And then something about his brother, or his brother's son, who seems a bit younger, like 27, who's also in the military, Iraq. The family pic and his wanting to raise his kids well and provide for them touches me.
"Do you believe that those who don't have a job like yours where they can supplement their income need a way to support themselves?"
"I help people, especially women, become confident about their small businesses."
"Women shouldn't work," he says.
I say: "If their husbands aren't working, or don't bring in enough money to feed the family? What would you do if you were a woman with kids and your husband wasn't working, or left, or was beating you?"
He gets it.
"Maybe I'm not on this list because I did something bad. Maybe I'm on this list because I'm a human being who can come and have this conversation with you."
"I'm sorry," he says.
"How does it work, how often do they do these rounds?"
"About once a month" he says.
"Is it always you, or is it different people?"
"I try to pick 'em up if I can." The shifts. So he can supplement his income, to feed his family. I totally get it.
"Do you like food?"
"Do you like to make love to your wife?"
"Do you care for and like playing with your kids?"
"Do you like a good night's rest?"
"Me, too. I like food. I like making love to the man I love. I like playing with kids. I like a good night's rest. Can you at least not wake me up?"
"I'm sorry, Mary." He says. He knows my name!
I look at his screen, it's white type on blue background, a list of names on it. It looks like they've even spelled my last name correctly. Someone thorough must have input the data. I appreciate that.