New York 2013

I Got Curious about Something . . . .

A couple of years before the Twin Towers disaster I starting wondering about the
future, because of something the military remote viewers had said about 2012. I don't
firmly believe in prophecy even though I've had some dreams that were right. I've had
plenty of dreams that were wrong, and what's happening when I dream about the
future doesn't seem to be totally a prediction of events. Sometimes I dream about a
particular thing, just a moment that's unusual, like seeing a particular swirl of leaves on
a particular day in winter. I'll keep an eye out for something like that, because I've
learned from experience that when I see that special thing, it's an important day and I'd
better keep my eyes open. Something will happen that changes things. That's about as
far into prophecy as I get. I look for marks. Sometimes they're big marks, sometimes
they're small marks.

I was curious about what the remote viewers were saying about 2012 because they
said they couldn't see it. That particular day of the future, or maybe even that
particular year, wasn't available for them to see. I wondered if maybe I could, because I
go about things a little differently than they do.

Some of what they said was familiar to me. They said they could go to 2013 and look
around without any troubles. but things were terribly wrong. Cities destroyed, or just
emptied of people and deserted. I'd seen some of that in my own dreaming and hadn't
taken it very seriously. I see a lot of things that are symbolic of real events, but aren't
the events themselves. It's like reading books--the books are knowledge, symbolic of
real things, but they aren't what is being written about.

So I decided I'd try what the remote viewer teams tried, and go to New York City and
see what it looked like. I'd try for 2012, but if it wasn't available I'd go on to 2013 and
maybe I could figure things out from there.

It started off with a few strange dreams, always the same one, about drifting down out
of the sky onto a city street at night. The road in front of me was curved, like the exit
ramp of a freeway, and the buildings directly ahead were old and dirty, like warehouses
or small factories. Beyond them I could see the skyline of a city, sparkling with lights. It
looked like New York.

After a few of those false starts I hit it close enough to get that feeling I get when I'm
on target, a feeling that this is the right place. It's probably not even close to scientific
but that's what I go by. Sometimes I'll jump from place to place in a long string of
events, spend a few seconds in each, pick up a direction that feels right, and keep
going until I'm There. This wasn't quite that hard. When I was There, I landed and
stayed put.

It feels real to do this. There isn't really anything magical about it--when you are fully
through, it's a physical experience. You don't levitate or throw beams of light from your
palms; you walk where you want to go and you deal with situations in the same way
you do in a more acceptable physical reality. The only way it's different is that you
aren't where you ought to be.

As I walked into New York, taking that exit into the Bronx, things looked different to me.
Everything was dark except for the moonlight shining down, and there was no traffic.
Here and there a car was parked, not carefully but like it had been hurriedly pushed out
of the way. The city was quiet.

I turned a corner onto a wide street that led towards the center of the city and I had a
good view of the skyline from there. It didn't look right--even in the darkness I could
see jagged edges on what should have been symmetrical buildings. Here and there a
smoke trail climbed skyward. Everything had a burned out, partially collapsed look to it,
as though fires had been out of control and upper stories or parts of upper stories had
crumbled back upon lower sections. The city had the scarred look of a mountain range.

I walked for awhile. It was a warm night and I could smell smoke and the scent of cold
ashes, whatever had happened might have happened weeks ago or months ago. Hard to
tell, exactly. I saw some lights up ahead, a string of fires lit in the center of a street,
and when I got closer I could make them out as barrels with burning debris in them,
people standing around them to stay warm in groups of two or three. Eventually they
saw me coming and shifted around out of my way, stepping out of the street into the
shadows of doorways. Seemed like it was an unusual thing for somebody to be walking
around in the open at night, and they were scared.

Farther down there was a crowded section where the windows of old storefronts were
sometimes lit by candles, as though a group of survivors had settled there and formed a
small community. People were wearing gang colors, matching patterns of clothing that
couldn't have been accidental, as distinctive as tribal paint or tattoos. Even at night
you could tell they "belonged." I didn't, and I wondered why they didn't confront me.
But people didn't look like they cared much about fighting. There were market stalls set
up along the street, selling little piles of scavenged goods. Maybe it was a commerce
zone, and there was a truce there. Everybody has to do business.

In one spot several people in different clothes were tied to utility poles like dogs on
leashes, hands shackled. They had dull looks about them, like they were doped up so
they barely functioned. One woman kept slowly walking to the end of her leash and
then bouncing back when it tightened on her neck. She'd stagger back a few steps,
look confused, and try again.

Imagine the worst of things and you'll be close enough. Whenever people are for sale
it's a bad sign, and the meat hanging in the windows of the shop by the holding pen
wasn't venison. Whatever happened, there was time enough for most people to leave.
The streets were orderly, no bodies piled up and no sign of panic. For whoever stayed
behind, things went to hell quickly. I didn't pick up any more information than that.
Maybe I should have asked more questions, but I've learned that being quiet is often
the best course. People get suspicious when you start asking what day it is, what
month it is, what year it is, and where you are.