rounded
places for each individual ass. We sit down, and I feel a motion. [Youngest] is looking up at me, but I'm not giving any
facial expression of alarm. [Between] seems to be more curious. She's just watching what they're doing. They're across
the room over there, at some sort of controls. I don't seem to be asking any questions but they don't seem to be offering
any kind of agenda either, other than, 'Shush,' and, 'Follow me.' That's about it. Now it feels like we're arriving somewhere. I have that feeling like when a bus brakes, the motion that you were experiencing before is changing. It
seems like all three of them are gathered out in this room, like we're going to open the door and go down. One of them
reaches over and takes me by the hand and so we all latch up, and we all walk like so many elephants, trunk to tail. I
think [youngest] is reaching back, he wants a hand from one of the other guys. He's just little. We walk out and we're
all in a row. Everybody's holding hands in a line, tripping along in our pajamas.
It's a rocky area, and desolate. No street lights or anything like that. It seems to be a desert area. It's not paved. If
anything it's a little sandy. I don't feel that the ground is full of briars or branches or things like that. It's more sandy,
but there's big, big rocks behind, not any mountains, but chunky rocks and sand. Very, very dark. I don't hear any
sound of water, lapping motions or anything like that. Cool sand. It's very dark. Doesn't seem to be a moon- lit night. I
think the instruction is to sit down in the sand. I think there's something coming, a large ship, something with lights on
underneath coming down. We've got our heads turned, and we're looking. It has different colored lights on the bottom,
not any one color, maybe more white than anything.
I keep wanting to say, that people in
uniforms. I mean, they all look like they have these little gray bodies, unless they're suits but you can't tell. It almost
seems like a tan, or moving toward light brownish kind of uniform. Half a dozen people, and they come out, sort of
two abreast, but not in a formal kind of structure. A little informal. They move around like they're talking to each
other. They don't seem to have any kind of gold braid on or anything like that, but maybe some kind of insignia to
bespeak officialdom. I even want to say that these are
four of them in these uniforms. This is a twist. They're talking to each other and they seem to have flashlights in their
hands and they're walking over toward us, talking to each other. Not arguing exactly, but talking, maybe more in a
heated manner. They're not passive blobs. Discussing something, possibly arguing, it's hard to tell. One of them says,
'Oh, here they are,' and the other one says, 'So, what do we say to them?' The first one says, 'Just follow
instructions.' Hah!
'How do you do, Ms. [Nancy],' one of them says to me, 'This is Lieutenant,' oh, I don't catch the name, introducing the person next to him. 'We're from MJ12.' I'm trying to think if they're saying, 'We requested this meeting' or 'We were requested.' I think they're saying, 'We were requested to meet with you and explain a few things. This is
difficult, and I know this seems odd, but I was told you would understand. We want you to come with us. Don't be
alarmed.' I'm saying something like, 'It's OK.' They say, 'Bring the kids,' or something like that. He's motioning to the kids. So now we're walking toward the larger ship, all sort of in a clump instead of hand-to-hand. [Oldest] and
[youngest] don't look at me for reassurance because apparently having people there makes them feel a little less
irritable, I think. We all go up into the large ship. I think it has a moving stairwell. It's enough for one or two people
abreast, rather than a ramp or staircase. When we get to the top of the stairwell there's just a corridor in front of us.
White, and lit, and we go down the corridor. I turn to the right at the end of that corridor, and into a room that has a
conference table or something like that.
http://www.zetatalk2.com/govmt/g26.htm[2/5/2012 11:44:10 AM]
ZetaTalk: Customs
There's half a dozen of these guys in their little gray, skinny bodies. But these look like their bodies are a little thicker.
Maybe they're just bigger. Their heads are a little heftier, so they're not as small as the crew that came to get us. Now
the conversation has changed from verbal to mental activity. There seems to be a lot of mental charge in the air. We all
sit down in chairs at one end of the table, like in a semi-circle, the four of us. They're in a semi-circle on the other
side, maybe six of them, and the Homo Sapiens have disappeared, they didn't come in. I think I'm asking them, 'What
do you want?' They say, 'We want to interrogate you,' or something like that. I'm saying, 'Have at it.' But they say,
'About your children, which ones we'll chose.' I'm saying, 'What do you base your choice on?' And they say, 'Many things.' I'm shifting back in my chair, leaning to the background, to let the kids talk, since that's what they want to do,
talk to the kids. There's three little faces, looking out across the table. I'm not sure what kind of conversations are going
on, maybe that's because they're not directed at me, but maybe I pick up side perceptions. What do they do with their
time. What they want. What they miss.
He's asking them if they'd like to, 'Take a ride in the ship and go and see the Universe.' I don't think anybody knows
how to respond. I think I hear [youngest] say, 'I would.' I hear engines humming, that kind of a sensation. Somebody
comes and says, 'Come with me,' and we go out the door, the way we came in. We go down the corridor the way we
came in, but this time we go to another room and sit down in some sort of a chair with a thing that goes over
