10-25-2020 I Went To The Police. ‘Something’ told me to.

We have all said, “Something told me to…”

Whether that something told you to take a bath instead of a shower or not to go into work with the carpool van today and drive your own car.

I read a story a long ways back where a man had decided at the last minute not to go into work with the carpool van like he normally does and decided to drive his own car. He said “something” told him to take his own car. That day the carpool van was in a major accident and people died in that wreck. He mentioned in the story that he felt something “up there” was looking out for him that day.

But, what the hell is that SOMETHING? Is it this little guy below?

(Google Images)

Oh no, wait. He is your conscious. He is that little voice inside you that tells you, “Should you really take that Snickers bar from the store without paying for it? It is not yours and that is stealing. Stealing is wrong and you should not do it.”

Nonetheless, it is INSIDE of you that tells you these things. What IS it?

Knowing what I now know about mass consciousness, I know what is in me telling me things is not Jiminy Cricket. It is Spirit. Members of my soul tribe, too, guide me to certain things as well.

At first I thought it was my kitty Oreo who woke me up this morning at 3:30am by jumping up on my chest. Actually, by the time I got up and walked to my kitchen, after going pee, the clock showed 3:42am.

I have been waking up between 3am and 4am for the last two weeks. A year ago, I was waking up at 3:33am almost every day and was being woken up not just to go pee, but to get astral banged by my DM.

Then, once I moved into Art and Liz’s house to be a nanny and caregiver, I stopped waking up between those times.

It started again after stopping the friendship with Art and becoming more aware of what my purpose is here on Earth during my life. I been feeeeling lately like something is coming. I do not know what it is. I mean, I have an idea, but I could be wrong. I jot all the stuff down that I think might happen and then I just do not show anyone.

This morning was a little different, though. I had a dream last night that involved Art and a few other people who, apparently, were of no significance because I do not remember who they were. However, the jyst of the dream was that there was a huge sack of meth sitting next to Art and the person he was working for saw it, grabbed it and told Art he would no longer be employed with him because of the meth. I remember Art was in tears.

That is all I remember of the dream.

I normally go back to sleep after being woken up at early morning hours. Today, SOMETHING was flooding my mind with details.

-Why, if Art has COVID-19 and should be quarantined, is he still driving loads of trash to the dump?

I saw his truck drive by with a trailer loaded with trash on the way to the dump yesterday. Why on Earth out of all the times for me to happen to glance out the service door yesterday while at work did I just happen to see his truck drive by with the trailer loaded with trash? It took less than 30 seconds for me to see it and then he was gone.

I know this man. He is the laziest fucker you have ever known. He’s told me himself that exact thing about himself. If he is picking up trash and cleaning, it means he is using meth again. It would also explain the reason I had the dream.

Why, though? Why this sudden urge to start cleaning up Liz’s huge yard? I guarantee it is not because he wants to do it. He is doing it because he feels he HAS to do it. Again, why?

I have not seen his little girls since I stopped speaking with him. I miss the hell outta them, too. I have no idea whether or not they are with him this week or if they are with their mother.

Something told me to break out my pendulum, AT 4AM, to record a session and ask some specific questions. So, I did. Then I drove to the police station.

Actually, this was question #17.

I recorded the session with my camera and uploaded it. I have it in case I need to show it to authorities. I feel now it is not yet the time to post it publicly, so it is private for now.

I did not want to just go to the police and say, “Yo! I have a feeling this guy I used to hang out with and fuck once in a while, might have done some horrid things. How do I know? Spirit and my pendulum told me.” They would think I was nuts and tell me to be on my way. Wouldn’t you?

Yet, something was telling me I had to at least the the police know they could call me if I just happened to be correct about all this. I felt I had to at least let them know that I was available for any questions and that is when I would tell them everything I know, everything I have seen both in the physical and in my ‘visions’ and show them the videos of my channelings. I give specifics on what these girls look like, hair color, and the fact that one of them fought HARD and to check under her finger nails for DNA. (That actually came out in two auto-writing sessions-again, which I recorded.)

I drove to the station. All I did was call the number to the station because when I got there, around 5:30 this morning, the doors where shut and the door had a sticker that said to call number blah blah blah to speak with an officer.

I call the number and a woman answered. I give her my name and let her know that I drove to the station, but that no one was here. She asked what she could help me with.

“My name is Christina and I know this is going to sound weird, but I wanted to leave my name and telephone number in case anything profound is found at the dump. Anything that would require the police to go investigate at the dump. I feel I might have information about it.”

She doesn’t ask me any questions accept for my last name and then says she would like me to speak with an officer and that one will be right out. She asked for my telephone number and gave it to her. I thanked her and as I hung up, an officer emerged from the station to greet me.

Here is where this gets a little exciting/weird/scary…to me, anyway.

The officer asks how he can help me. In a nutshell, as I do not remember the conversation verbatim to write it out, I tell him that I simply wanted to leave my name and telephone number in case something horrible is found at the dump. I told him I might have some information that could help.

He asks me if I would come inside and speak with his Supervisor. I tell him, “Yes, definitely.”

I meet the Supervisor and the other officer join me in this conference room. I tell them, again, that this might sound weird, but that I wanted to leave my name and contact information in case anything is found at the dump. He asked me what they might find. I started to cry a little and stuttered the words, ‘a body. A girl.” I told him I knew this was going to sound awkward and that I could be wrong and that I hoped to God I was wrong. I told him I can sometime see things before they happen and I gave them an example. I told them I was not drunk, high and was not on any medication. I looked him in the eye the entire time and when he asked me if I had a name for the girl, I told him this:

“Niomi. The one more recently, I am not sure. Jennifer…Jessica…Long dark brown hair, some of it painted red. It’s wavy. Fingernails.” I started to cry. “Check under her fingernails. She fought him hard. He’s been burning trash recently. He lied about the first trip he made to the dump on September 18. I saw him drive by and it was two hours later than what he told me. Why lie about it?”

I proceeded to tell them all the things I though out of the ordinary, including a conversation I recorded, without his knowledge, about whether or not he’d known a woman named Niomi. I told him I found a missing persons picture on the New Mexico Missing Person’s website. She went missing 7 years ago. Art said he knew of her about 6 or 7 years ago. I told them of one spot in his yard that was recently swept up and cleaned in a spot that is never cleaned and everywhere around this area is still completely dirty.

Meanwhile, the Supervisor and the other officer were jotting down notes in their little flip notebooks of things I was saying. Then the Supervisor asked, “Do you have a name for him?”

I started crying hard and stuttered his first name..and then his last name.

I told the officers that I had been his nanny for the last year and gave them some specific details that made me think something was off and weird. I told them I feel I know where two girls bodies are buried on the property and told them I could show exactly where if it was necessary.

The officer asked for my address and his. I gave them all the information.

I reiterated that I could be wrong. I told them I would hate to just up and accuse a man of this only to find out he is innocent and potentially ruin his life. I told them if I am wrong, you can toss my information and just forget me.

The Supervisor tells me that both the dump and his address are out of their jurisdiction, but that they will be letting state police know these details and they thanked me.

I thanked them and left.

I felt better after I left – a bit more at peace. When I got home and went into my bedroom, I said out loud, “Well, at least it’s over.”

The very next thought in my head was, and I shit you not, was this:

“This is only the beginning.”

(I wish I could tell you all this is fiction. It’s not.)

I will also mention that when I first recorded this situation two months ago, I asked Spirit if the body at the dump had been found. The answer was NO. I asked today if the body had been found. The answer was YES.

That is why I went to the police. Odd that they took this seriously enough to take all my information and jot down all my details of what I told them?

I guess we’ll see.

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