'Where is thumbkin?' Holding up a thumb and being thumped on the head while singing, 'You can't run away.'
In conjunction with the traumas at church and school, my father reinforced my programming with the use of fairy tales, among them Disney themes and The Wizard of Oz. I watched the Wizard of Oz every year and at other times my programmers laced in other programs and hypnotic commands in a creative way that allowed the movie themes to keep me under control. Although I could not consciously remember what I was programmed to forget, this use of fantasy, used in an effort to keep amnestic and to scramble what I had actually participated in, was very effective …almost foolproof.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, after having watched the Wizard of Oz, my father would traumatize me in order to cause me to dissociate, which created the perfect trance state for programming. In this altered state, he would tell me that 'over the rainbow' was a bridge to the «other» world, and that I could walk over the rainbow bridge into the other world and it would remain separate from my everyday world. He told me that what happened over the rainbow would feel unreal, like a dream. After encounters that I was supposed to forget, I was conditioned to the word 'home.' It began with 'There's no place like home' being associated with being back in my bed, sleeping, after a night of being used in child pornography or prostitution.
Later my mother, father, or others would say these words after my use in Washington, D.C. in the White House or other places I was sent under program. For years these words functioned as a way to reorient me back into my everyday world, without carrying back with me the reality of what had happened. I was instructed to, 'sleep and wake up at home in my bed with the Land of Oz so very far away. That place that felt like a fairy tale … that I must have made up …was only a dream …was now very far away.' I was now on the other side of the rainbow and was conditioned to believe that those experiences never really happened, that they were only a dream. Later in my teen years all it took was for my mother or father to say, 'Honey, you can sleep all the way home,' and I was conditioned like Pavlov's dogs to respond to the word «home» with total and complete amnesia of what had just happened to me.
If my subconscious mind threatened to divulge the secrets, my father programmed me to 'wake and eat chocolate chip cookies to remember to forget.' And for years, the next 40 years, as this powerful programming commanded, I awoke out of a sound sleep if memory of this secret world seeped up as I entered first theta and then delta brain wave sleep patterns. Following program, I robotically walked into the kitchen to eat chocolate chip cookies in order to «re-mind» myself.
Another Oz theme that was used to program me was the song, 'If I Only Had A Brain.' During a programming session, a man whispered in my ear, telling me, 'It's safer not to have a brain, it's easier not to have a brain; all you have to do to stay on track is to follow the yellow brick road. Then you won't be scared like the cowardly lion and you can keep your heart which you will need to get you down the yellow brick road to the land of glitter and gold, glitter and gold, glitter and gold. Follow the yellow brick road to somewhere over the rainbow way up high.' In my trance state, this verse went deeply into my subconscious mind and was an evervigilant internal reference to remind me to forget, and could be enforced by any of my controllers when the need arose to keep me from unlocking repressed memory.
Alice in Wonderland was used as a theme to program in 'time awareness. My programmers said, 'See the rabbit who says, 'watch the watch, watch the watch, and feel your eyes grow sleepy and tired so you can no longer watch the watch but you know it is always there ticking away, keeping perfect time. It knows what time it is so you won't ever have to worry about what time it is for the watch will keep perfect time. And now at the count of three I want you to wake up …1, 2, 3…' he snapped his fingers, 'and awake. Good girl!'
There were other programs based on fairy tales and Disney themes. Other survivors around the world have also reported many of these same common themes.
When I was five years old my mother and father took me to the newly-opened Disneyland in Anaheim, California. As we walked down Main Street, we ran into Walt Disney and my father stood aside as Walt Disney, larger than life to me, bent down and shook my hand. He told me that if I would write to him he would write back to me. I didn't consciously remember anything else after that. What happened next, though, as I later recalled, was that Walt Disney looked at my father with eyes that said important things I couldn't understand. My father then led my mother in the other direction and I was left alone with Walt Disney. My parents never said goodbye or anything, they just left me and walked away. I was terrified and confused at realizing that my parents just disappeared. Walt took me to an office, lifted me up on a big desk that had a glass piece on top and told me that he was my real father. He said the Mickey Mouse Club was my real family-where I really belonged. Everyone was always telling me I belonged to a different family than my parents and I didn't understand, it was all very confusing. Walt Disney seemed nice but I wasn't with him very long. He called another man in and that man took me by the hand and led me away. This man was a very bad man and he really scared me. He took me into another room and gave me those viewmaster box glasses to look into. He showed me pictures in them that were so scary that other parts of me had to come to see them. It was too much for a little girl to see. Dead things-cut up bodies, dead cats skinned with big eyeballs and their tails cut off, people cut up, etc. We had that toy at home but mine had cartoon pictures in it. This event involved several of my personalities.
Next, the man took me to scary rides and poked me with needles in my waist and legs while he said things during the Alice in Wonderland ride, like, 'This is not really happening. I am not really sticking this needle in your leg. You are just like Alice. You also ate the large mushroom and feel funny-this is not real.' He kept laughing and acting like all this was fun and games and really amusing, but it was terrifying and confusing to me, and I couldn't understand why he was hurting me. Parts of me split off as they withstood the abuse and I pushed the experiences deep into my subconscious mind as my programming dictated.
Then the man took me to Mr. Toad's Wild Ride and sexually abused me by taking off my panties and pushing me up and down on top of his penis while we were going through the dark, enclosed ride. During many years that followed, I got hurt on Mr. Toad's ride. I was instructed to be extra sexy and wild and crazy in order to be «good» and not get hurt. If I did it right and performed on cue, then I didn't get hurt when it was over. When we came out into the light from the darkened ride, it was over and if I did it right I could stop and go back to my Mommy. If I did it wrong, I had to do it all over again until I did it right. They always hurt me real bad if I made a mistake. I tried my best. It seemed like I had to stay at Disneyland for a long time, but at the end of the long day, I got to have a pretty balloon that I looked at as I laid in the back seat of the car all the way home. I was devastated, exhausted and out of it during the ride back to Woodland Hills, but looked up at the pretty Mickey Mouse ears balloon or the Mickey Mouse balloon within a balloon, before I finally fell into a long deep sleep.
We went to Disneyland yearly, often for birthday celebrations. On another visit, a suited man escorted me to the front of the Snow White ride. As he guided me on board the boat, he flashed a badge to the attendant and explained that he had special permission to take this special guest on the ride. We entered a boat and rode through the canals while he refrained the fairy tale themes. As we passed them by, he stuck needles in my thighs at different times after he finished a line about a story. All the classic fairy tales drifted in front of us-the Three Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf. He told me that the big bad wolf could always find me and get me, even if I was in the well-built brick house, and that the wolf could huff and puff and blow my house down. He told me my parents couldn't protect me from the wolf either because he was big and bad and wild. I can still hear the Big Bad Wolf song playing. The man kept poking me with the needle and it hurt. I kept watching his hand with the needle trying to anticipate the pain and he kept telling me the scary stories. I didn't know what to do and couldn't get away because we were in a boat and I couldn't get off. Then he almost choked me to death in the front of the boat but kept talking and telling me the fairy tales, as if nothing had ever happened. I was terrified.
Later on, in the dark of the night a man in a suit took me on the Matterhorn and stopped the rollercoaster ride at the waterfall where he told me everything that happened was washed away and gone forever. He made me get off the ride and stand on the rocks high up inside the Matterhorn all alone in the dark that night. I was really tired. He said they were leaving me there alone because I didn't do it right and I didn't listen well. I was terrified in the dark, wet, rocky area that was whooshing with the sound of the wind and cars from the ride speeding by. But it got even scarier when the area fell silent. Cold and tired, I was left totally alone for what seemed to my child self like forever. When the man finally came to get me, he asked if I was ready to be good. Then he said a lot of words while he carried me to my parents. Handing me, all limp and wet, over to my mother, he said, 'She's asleep.' My mother was crying, my father was smiling and the man in the suit said, 'It's been done,
