BEYOND 666: ASTRAL PROJECTION AND THE GIFT OF PREMONITIONS

ASTRAL PROJECTIONS AND OTHER GIFTS

If you have the natural gift of astral projection; look deeper because projection is just a minor manifestation of things more significant than you can possibly imagine. The following stories are purely based on my experience. I don’t like writing lengthy stories in one setting, so I will write a few incidents at a time.

I would like to mention the movie “Final Destination” as a reference story because you will hardly find anyone who has not seen at least one of the series. When the movie makers killed the dreamer, they killed the only truth in the movie. That the dreamer was forewarned is no fiction. It happens; it can happen to anyone gifted with the power of premonition. It is an astral projection in time. You can time projects in minutes, in years, or in decades into the past or future. Some people like to tame the gift and do it consciously, but I don’t. I treat it like a friend who is free to come and go. Again, what if in the movie “Final Destination,” the aircraft pilot, after the altercation, ordered the rechecking of the engines just for the heck and discovered that indeed something was wrong and fixed it. In real life; the dreamer would have saved hundreds of lives.

Another movie, “Unbreakable,” was probably the most unexciting of all Bruce Willis movies, but for some strange phenomenon, I watched it because I thought I was watching the perplexing saga of my own existence.

Although I can have a premonition of future events, I dream only of those that directly concern me. Since I am not in a position to influence events of any significance, the gift benefits no one.

I was on a flight from Abha, the capital city of the Assir (Southwest) region of Saudi Arabia, to Jeddah. As soon as we landed at the Jeddah International Airport, the plane, before it lost momentum, took off again. I saw the flight attendant’s face turned deathly pale, and so was I. I can feel my heart rambling inside my chest. As soon as we were in the air again, the flight attendant unfastened her belt and calmly walked to the first-class section of the plane. Her color was better when she returned. She is from my country, so I asked her in our vernacular what had happened. “There was an airport truck in the middle of the runaway,” she replied very calmly.

Thinking about it gave me the creeps to this day. The plane was big, a Tri-Star. All the other passengers seemed to be in suspended animation. Nobody stirred nor spoke a single word. The only two who seemed to be alive were the flight stewardess and me. Even the other flight attendants didn’t move. I don’t even remember hearing a single word from the captain over the speaker. He could have at least reassured the passengers for comfort, or why would any jetliner after landing take off again unless there was significant engine trouble or hijacking.

I was seated in the front row, facing the flight attendant directly, where she belted herself on take-offs and landings. The plane circled the airport and made another smooth landing. People deplaned eerily as if they were drugged or were sleepwalking. They were either morbidly shocked or didn’t know we landed twice. I kept asking myself one question. Was it possible for the plane to have crashed if I wasn’t in it? Looking back, the possibility is indeed very real. It might look too much of an assumption to make, but hey, I died when I was a few months old, my mother claimed, but I wriggled back to life while they were wrapping me up in my white burial shroud. I am from a tribe (Maranaw) in the south of the Philippines, considered poor and backward 60 years ago.

I was driving back from Khamis Mushayt on Wednesday, April 5, 2000. In Sara’t Abidah, a big town halfway between Khamis and Zahran Al Janoub, where I live and work, a terrible accident happened.

I was caught between cars driving no faster than 60 km per hour. There were three cars in front and another one behind me, all of them probably from the town or a nearby village because none of them seemed to be in a hurry.

Since I was still an hour away from my destination, I wanted to drive ahead, so I turned the wheel to the opposite lane. A white car was coming in the opposite direction, so I changed my mind and decided to drive back to my lane. Before I could, however, I heard a shattering noise and saw two cars collide in my sideview mirror. A car speeding behind me was driving so fast it wasn’t in my view the last time I looked in the mirror. It was about to hit me with a force that would have killed me, but before he could, the car coming in the opposite direction hit him on the driver’s side and knocked him off the road.

I continued driving, but my hands and legs were shaking all the way. None of the cars stopped, so I didn’t stop either. We were still in the town, a few blocks from the 150-bed Hospital.

Two days after the accident (Friday, a weekend in KSA), I played tennis with the Filipino X-ray technician at the hospital’s tennis court. I asked him if he attended to the accident the other day.

“One of the drivers,” he said, “died on the spot with the wheel crushing against his chest.” I felt really sad.

The real mystery was how I got to that spot at the very precise moment, like clockwork. I should have never been there in the first place, but there was a series of events in the week that I can only describe as weird, really weird. If only one of those events had not happened, I would have never been in that exact spot.

An hour and a half before that accident, I was inside my car. I purchased some things from the department/grocery store. I was ready to drive away, but I thought I would buy a burger so I would not have to cook dinner when I got home. I alighted from my car and walked to the “Herfy Restaurant” beside the Department store. I bought a giant burger, drank the Coke, ate the French fries, and had the burger wrapped. I must have been in the restaurant for at least 20 minutes, meaning if I had not thought of buying the burger, I would not have been on that spot at the precise moment of the accident. With many other players, I was a programmed robot for the week with mind-boggling precision, but the question remains; why would God sacrifice the life of another to preserve mine…?

I discovered BEAST 666 in 1990 (UN Resolution 666/Gulf War-The Battle for Babylon/Iraq), and in 1994, I discovered the New Jerusalem (MECCA), which means that, believe it or not, Jesus’ second coming could happen in our lifetime.