As Per Prior Announcement.


From the Desk of George Barnard.

Midwayer Mathew.

It is Monday, November 11, 2002, and I’ve been talking with Midwayer Mathew, trying to find out what Celestial might have a message, a lesson, or instructions following the clearly audible prompts of this late evening.

Mathew: “It is a simple task we are after. We would like you to remain in meditation for a time and revisit that prior announcement event of 1973, then write it up. We would like you to carry on from where Dr. Mendoza left off.”

George: “OK.” (There are now some clear pictures of an event in 1973).

The Greysons.

Shortly after my family and I moved into our new homestead on a ten-acre lot, Dan and Tina Greyson purchased the land next door, and their new home was swiftly built by the early summer, seemingly with few expenses spared.

Stocky Dan was a sharp businessman, restless, talkative, jovial, but greatly skeptical about my then newly discovered “Spirit Guardian family”. Lanky Tina was soft-spoken, caring, somewhat child-like in looks, but very intelligent and very spiritual, even eager to acquire a spirit friend all for herself.

These two were opposites in many ways.

Yet, undisputedly, she was also the big brain behind their fast growing business; he was the driving force of implementation behind an ongoing commercial expansion of some six or seven years.

They had three chubby little girls with just four years between them, slightly younger than our own three. Within days the six busy “rug rats” of Mountain Road had become inseparable comrades. The Greyson’s large sandbox was a frequent draw card for all.

What to Do?

Dan was talking business. What else? The women had their eyes on the children in the nearby sandbox, and they were discussing the ideal size of today’s family.

Tina Greyson had just about made the decision of having no more children, but she bemoaned the fact they had only girls. Since her teenage years, she confessed, she had always wanted a boy. Instead, she had given birth to these three “little animals” that all behaved more like rowdy little boys rather than sweet, lovable little girls.

She was absolutely right about their having inherited their father’s build and infinite energy. The Greyson children were the noisiest, fun-loving bunch of little daredevils in the street.

It seemed that Tina was sounding out what my wife’s thoughts might be on the subject. I was catching only snippets of their conversation, for Dan Greyson was outlining some aspects of his company’s new activities to me.

A Visual Disturbance.

In those days, it was rare for a “Spirit Guardian” to turn up without notice. I had learned to call them up, and, if needed, I would stubbornly wait for an hour in meditation for one of them to finally find the time to come and see me.

Suddenly, there stood the Warrior some eight or ten paces away on the Greyson’s patio. Almost immediately after, a small black spot danced in front of my eyes. It had no clear outline, but seemed to move of it’s own volition. Momentarily, I considered it to be a visual disturbance of some kind, perhaps a partial delaminating of the retina, but that small black spot in mid air swiftly moved around to indicate that this could not be the case. It had already pre-empted my questions not yet posed.

It darted up and away, then moved in a circular motion to be quite close to the Midwayer, and there it stayed.

Observing us all!

Here was something “other-worldly” spying on the four of us!

Dan Greyson’s talk was inexplicably drowned out, as I determined that I was rather on edge about this unusual spy at close range, but since the Midwayer was unperturbed about it, why should I be concerned? Bzutu obviously knew what that black spot was. He was totally at ease, even respectful of it.

Unlike the Three.

I turned to Tina Greyson. “There will be a time when you will wish for your son to be like your girls,” I told her. “And you will wish for your daughters to be like your son. Right now I’m getting a picture of a most loving child. He will not instantly wriggle from your lap to run away and play, like his sisters do. He will be content to be with you until you put him down again. He will need lots and lots of love.”

Dan had stopped talking, and Tina was wide-eyed, frozen, super alert, and sure that something important would happen that would greatly change her life and outlook. Even the racket of our boisterous children seemed to have lessened, but perhaps I just wasn’t hearing them. I had slipped into a kind of trance, without having triggered this meditative state.

“Often you will think that there might be something wrong with him,” I went on, “but he will be the most intelligent of you all. It will seem like he might never learn to talk, as he won’t often bother to talk at all, while he will closely observe all you do and say. He won’t at all be like those three.”

Eagerly, the mother-to-be lapped up all I told her about what I saw in “the moving picture” and gathered from the Midwayer’s mind about a child not yet conceived. Her husband looked fearful and distrusting, but he never said a word about the information that was seemingly beamed down to us from God knows where.

What on Earth?

Alone in my clinic that late evening, I questioned the Midwayers about the tiny Entity that had spied on us. I was not at all happy about it being black, rather than It having presented Itself in white, or some attractive bright color. It was made clear to me that I should “think in photographic terms”. I had been shown a negative image, since black cannot become any blacker than black, and the true brilliance of this Entity would have surely blinded me.

The tiny Visitor, so clearly intent on being noticed was a “Spirit Self”, I was told. It was the God Fragment of the little boy that was not yet conceived, and it had arrived at an opportune moment in time for a message to be given to the mother who was about to end her reproductive career.

Tina Greyson needed to hear what her future held in store for her. She was not meant to rob the future arrival of its chances to contribute.

Utterly Unsure.

Just weeks later, Tina Greyson was pregnant. In the months that followed, and each time our families met, she would again ask me to confirm that I had “seen” it right, but I would just laugh at her, and tell her to have trust in her fate, and have faith in that unusual clan of smart “Spirit People” that wanted to be my friends. There was no doubt in my mind about what they had been imparted to me, for I trusted them explicitly. Tina, too, was convinced she now carried a boy child, and she was really only teasing me whenever she had the chance to create a stir.

“As per prior announcement, Tina,” I would tell her.

Late one cold spring evening, a very pregnant Tina Greyson waddled over from next door. “George, are you absolutely sure that it’s a boy?” she came to ask me.

Inexplicably, this was the first occasion during all that time when I would not confirm she was carrying a boy. I was utterly unsure, my confidence shot to pieces. So had her conviction “gone right out of the window”. It was a very awkward moment for us both, and it became a rather restless night for me as I questioned that vision of the previous summer.

Some hours later, Tina’s sister arrived to take care of the Greyson’s children, as Dan Greyson’s Mercedes roared out of their driveway to speed his wife to the hospital for the birth of their son, Jeremy.

Jeremy Greyson.

Today, Jeremy Greyson stands over six feet tall, and is single-minded about running his growing, service-oriented business. He will frequently already know what a new customer wants before they ever explain their requirements, and even before he leaves his office to visit them for the first time. He will “recognize” many customers on first meeting them, and he invariably turns up at an existing customer’s address precisely when he is wanted there. He is an enigma in the way he is guided, but he doesn’t know his Guides.

If his opposition has a more economical product, he freely recommends them, unconcerned about losing a sale – a rare code of ethics.

Even when still a baby, he seemed to know and recognize me, and after his parents moved away from their small acreage lot, he was always delighted to see me again when I visited their new home. As he grew older, he learned much about the 1,111, took it all in, but hardly ever commented.

In the early nineties, he undertook a long trip to visit us in our new location, and to introduce his girl and college pal, now his wife. Their university closed for the summer break, they had made their way north to visit us on our farm.

Melanie Greyson.

Jeremy Greyson had found for himself a vibrant young woman with a great sense of humor, talkative, spiritual, caring. Like a trained news reporter she seated herself directly across from me and stated her case: “Jeremy has told me all about you, and now I want to know if those things that happened to you will also happen to him.”

“They’ll happen to you, before they’ll happen to him,” I told her.

Moments later she complained, “I can’t see anything! Only a golden light around you. Everything else is gone.”

“The light is all around you, not me,” I told her.

Minutes later it was gone, and her vision was restored.

Melanie Greyson often perceives the time prompt 11:11, but she is mostly quite unaware of any mindal input. Only on rare occasions is there a message for her, on even rarer occasions it is for me, and it has sometimes been timely, but always appropriate.

Melanie will become a brilliant healer, but the prior announcement of the birth of Jeremy still remains somewhat of an enigma. His personal function remains somewhat of a mystery as well.

As Dr. Mendoza indicated, they are the precocious ones, but there appear to be many separate groups.

© 11:11 Progress Group.
Toujours au Service de Michael.

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