My dinner guests looked on appreciatively, knowing, in their wisdom, that this might happen after our sound transmissions from the Hathors. We were advised not to drive a car until we could walk, but no one said anything about soup.
Connie looked at the interesting design the ingredients made as they formed a wide spill on the rim of the bowl. "You're holding your fork really weird," Pamela said, as she watched me grip my fork perpendicular to my fist.
I just couldn't stop spilling each spoonful. I wasn't shaking. I just was unable to navigate the simple task of eating spoonsful of soup. The transmissions of light that we received changed our neurology, and that had an effect on how we were going to orient ourselves in time and space (time is the fourth dimension.)
After lunch, we finished a final session that took place in the central sun, or galactic core, depending on your level of ascension and point of spiritual evolution. I attempted to drive to the airport after that, and ended up sitting in a parking lot for an hour, just two blocks away from the conference, feeling like Frogger, unable to get back out into six lanes of rush hour traffic in an unknown city, Seattle.
I'll put together a simulation when I get back to the Center.
Stay Tuned.
