Had a breakdown on a country road. Got picked up by a stranger who knew way too much. Pretty weird time. Made me wonder if we exist in other dimensions.
Here's what happened.
I was in this little town on the west coast of Michigan, and it was really neat little town. I really liked it. I'm going to go back someday. And my car was broken down. I was walking, and it was really bad. The whole hub came off the axle, not just the wheel or the tire; the whole hub came off the axle, and I had to walk.
I'm walking down this road, and I've got a bag of stuff with me because I didn't know how long I was going to be walking. It was one of those roads. It was a country road. It's a highway that goes along Lake Michigan. I knew that cars would be passing me, and I knew people would see my car on the side of the road, and they'd see me walking, and maybe somebody would pick me up.
Otherwise, I was just going to walk. I wasn't going to stick my thumb out or anything, and I didn't. I'm walking along, cars are passing me by, and I'm just moving along, and I had cell phone signals, so I made a phone call. I'm looking around as I'm walking and just trying to determine things. I knew there wasn't anything close behind me, and it was at least 20 miles before I was going to reach anybody in front of me.
So I'm just walking along; although I can see there's a slight incline, I'm walking down a little bit, and I can see ahead of me. I can kind of tell that there's something ahead, either some traffic lights or just something up there, but it was turning twilight. So there wasn't any good light. There weren't any artificial lights. It was just still; the sun was just going down. I'm looking forward as I walk, and then a truck picks me up; a guy pulls over in a pickup truck, an old dude.
He says, “Hey, you know you're walking?” Smiling at his dumb joke as he says it.
I told him, “Yes, I know I’m walking.”
He asks, “Is that your car back there?” ,
“Of course, yeah, that's my car.” I said
He tells me to jump in, and I let him know I’m supposed to go to the gas station up at the next town where they handle wheels.
“Oh, I drive past there every day, man; I'll drop you right off in front.” He says.
"Great,” I said. “I'm going to have to get a tow. And, you know, I'm lucky right now. I got enough money to get this fixed. I can fix it, and I'll probably just have to stay in town until they get that done. I'm really fortunate right now that I'm in a situation where I can afford something like this.
Then this old dude started to tell me things about myself that nobody could know. He asked me where I was working. And I told him I was traveling on the road, because that's normal for me. I work on the road. I find work in a town, and I move there. I do the work, and I move on to the next town. It's just a way of life.
He knew stuff about me. He said, “You get a job somewhere, and then things go sour, and you got to move on to the next place.” And I said, “Yeah, that happens. You know, it seems to happen, but I'll find a place soon enough, you know.”
Then he says, “People harass you, and they kind of harass you, don't they?”
And I said, “Yeah, they do.”
He said, “When you were a young man, he said, you had a Faustian bargain, didn't you? You had the big shot, and you turned it down. You rejected that Faustian bargain, and you chose to live in a different way. You chose to go out into the world and find your own way and figure it out on your own, didn't you?
“Not only did I have a Faustian bargain,” I said, “I had several Faustian bargains. I'm above average intelligence. I am over six feet tall. I'm the kind of person that opportunities tend to find; at least when I was young, they did.”
He kept going. “You spend a lot of time helping other people who've had terrible things done to them, don't you? You work for other people's benefit before your own. You do that a lot. Injustice really bothers you. It legitimately bothers you, doesn't it?”
And I say, “Yes, it does. And I have done a lot for people who have been completely screwed over. I have been doing that for a long time.”
“I know,” he said. “And when something good is on your horizon, it gets sabotaged or intercepted at the last minute. You meet a great lady, and she gets scared off. You get a good job, and it's mysteriously snuffed out; taken away from you. You work on a business, and someone else gets the benefit and the money from all your hard work. You make some new friends, and they suddenly abandon you. Does that sound familiar?”
“That is certainly familiar.” I said.
He goes on, “Those strangers that glare at you when you're doing your work and minding your own business and smirk at you and make those comments—that happens a lot, doesn't it?”
I said,”Yes.”
He said, “Those might not be strangers.”
He said that there is a war, and it's an old, stupid war that, in the scope of time, is already completed, but they do it anyway. They just keep doing it. He told me it's the creators versus the imitators, the dumb, angry imitation. And it's mad. It's mad that it's not real out in that war, the one out there and those other realms.
He tells me, “You're somebody,” he said. “You are major, as in, a big kahuna.”
I told him, I don't know what you mean. I don't know what you're talking about. And it's really weird that you know all those things about me.
“The imitation runs this planet.” He said, “They own this place. You aren't doing squats here, because out there, you own them. This is their place. You're essentially in prison here, because out there, oh man, I got goosebumps right now thinking about out there and the fact that you're sitting in my car right next to me.”
I asked him how he knows all those things about me.
“How do you know all that? And what is this thing you're talking about out there?”
He answers in riddles. “I know about you because I see what I see. I see how you carry yourself. I see your eyes. I see your lousy situation, your resolute confidence, and the ease with which you handle this. This is a pebble in your shoe. You are already on to bigger things. You have a lot on your mind. You've got bigger fish to fry.”
“Well, I agree with you, sir; I responded, “That this is a BS situation, and very incompetent people are making decisions for very useful, talented, valuable people. But I'm not sure that makes me a space soldier.”
“You're not a soldier. You're some kind of admiral or general, your astral self, your essential self,” he told me. “That's real. You are in a battle, and you are the winner. Glorious, and that's why, here, on their planet, you get messed on so terribly.”
I asked him, “How did you arrive at all this?”
“I've seen a lot,” he said, “and as I've gotten older, my vision has changed. I have dreams. I travel out there. I've seen these confrontations, and I have felt the way these imitators feel when they think about us. They hate us. We create; they imitate. They cannot create. They aren't connected to life in the way that we are. They are envious. We have the one thing that they resent more than anything.”
“Well, okay, what do I give up?” I say.
“What is it that they hate about us?” He says. “We hold the creative nature of the universe within our very being; they can never and will never have that, and it makes them irate.”
“Wow.” I said, “If that's true, they must be really exacerbated by the really good people doing all the cool things creative people do. It kind of makes sense, in a way.” I said, “I mean, considering the people who control things, it seems if there were an anti-creative force, it would want the kind of world that we have here, and it would be pleased with the kind of people running it.”
He smiles, and he says, “They run this. This is their territory. We just live here temporarily. Believe me, you are better off in other places. Believe me, the worst is yet to come for you here.”
“Why do you say that?” I said, “That's scary. What are you talking about?”
“The worst is yet to come. Because you aren't dead yet. They don't need to keep you around here. They just torment you because they know they can't beat you, they know they can't beat you, and they know they can't have you, so they just get off on hurting you.” He said.
“If that's real, those are really weird, dumb people, or whatever they are.” I responded. “Wait, here's the place up ahead now. I’ll pull over here and talk with you a little bit more. You got time?” He goes, “I pass by here every day. I got all the time in the world.”
“Look,” I said to him. “You said something earlier about other places. What do you mean? Other places? What other places?”
And he said, “Well, we exist in every dimension. This is just your manifestation in this dimension on this planet. If there is a dimension out there, you exist in it, and within the dimensions there's a war and there are territories, and you are currently on enemy territory, but don't worry. You win. You've already won. This is already over.”
And so again, I had to, I said to him, “When you say those things, you sound like one of those placating people who tell oppressed people that they're going to have it made in heaven when they die, so they should just continue to work really hard and suffer here on Earth, to work for all the wealthy people, and wait for their reward in heaven.”
He said, “Well, it's not a placation; it's not a story. It's true out there; they run in fear of you. On this planet, you're just a mouse, and they're the cat, and they like it like this, but they've already lost it and they know it. They made stupid decisions that they can't take back. So they're going to enjoy their very brief moment in the sun, because out in that universe, you are jumping up and down on their skulls. Very nice meeting you, young man.” He said, “You be careful.”
“Thank you so much for the ride.” I said, You're a kind man. “I happen to have a 50 on me; you want it for your troubles?”
He said, “Don't worry about that. I was going this way; we’re moving in the same direction. We're good. You don't owe me anything, okay? I guess I'll see you around.” He said.
And just as he put his foot to his gas pedal, I told him. “I'll see you on the Pleiadian approach, Corporal.”
The End.
Dimensional Soldier