Conspiracy Theories and Paranormal Phenomena, a blog created by Christian author Ilyan Kei Lavanway, offers opinions and perspectives that attempt to shed light on unexplained mysteries, conspiracies, and current events. The contents of this site do not necessarily represent the official position of any organization.
A comment expressed by a gun ban proponent in one of the NRA Stand and Fight video ads below is indicative of a prevalent and erroneous mindset regarding the purpose of the Second Amendment. This matter is easily addressed by any true patriot, whether gun owner or not. However, for the sake of so many liberals out there who need a crash course in American freedom, I'll spell it out.
Typical liberal, Obama supporter comment: "Nobody needs an assault rifle to go out and shoot a deer. It does not make sense."
Patriot response: It's not for hunting! The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting or sport shooting or target practice or hobbies or defense against neighborhood criminals.
The Second Amendment and the assault weapons it allows U.S. citizens to own and operate exist for one purpose only - to empower and even encourage common citizens to form their own militia in self defense against the government.
A citizen militia does not have to be a large organization. It may consist of one family or one individual, loyal to the Constitution of the United States as envisioned by our founding fathers.
To put it in unmistakably relevant terms, assault rifles are for shooting and killing federal enforcers, InterPol agents, and United Nations troops coming soon to a neighborhood near you, wages and travel expenses paid by, guess who, that's right, you the American taxpayer. (Isaiah 13:16,18-19)
And then we go hunting. Mitigating the symptom is only part of the battle. Sooner or later, we must eradicate or quarantine the disease that is creating the symptom.
I am all for the efficiency afforded by drones in the extermination of enemy combatants that are directly threatening Americans, wherever they may be. However, I oppose the use of drones against American citizens when no probable cause exists to indicate criminal activity.
I also oppose the falsification of information wherein civilians are recategorized as combatants due to their proximity to actual combatants. This murderous practice of lying skews the statistics to show fewer collateral casualties than the numbers actually incurred during most, if not all drone strikes against personnel.
The expression of conservative political opinions that honor and uphold the United States Constitution is not probable cause for suspicion of criminal intent or activity. Owning a gun and defending yourself, your home, your family, and your neighbors is not criminal activity.
At 1220 hours on Wednesday, 13 February 2013, I awoke from a nap. During my nap, I had a vivid dream. In the dream, I was walking with my wife and son, or a girl and a boy whom I assume were my wife and son, but I cannot recall for sure. They were family to me, whatever the case.
We walked toward a dirt driveway that entered a field, or a grass sparking lot or fairground, or some such place. We had been walking a short distance along a paved street, and as we came to the entrance of the field or open land, I paused and looked up.
Some unusual, elongated, cloud-like formation had been catching my attention intermittently for several minutes as we had been walking, but I had not said anything about it. When it started to change before my eyes, I could not ignore it.
High in the darkening, cloudless sky was what had initially appeared to be a long, thin, braided, glowing contrail. It glowed orange, but it was not illuminated by the setting sun.
It soon became apparent that this formation was not one contrail or long cloud, but hundreds of threads of light, like shining, silken stands twisting and weaving across the sky, intertwined with each other but clearly distinct from one another. At the head of each individual thread of light was a single, bright orange dot that flew in a spiraling trajectory.
I surmised that the threads of light must be some type of exhaust produced by each strange object's propulsion system. Each thread of light remained thin and crisply discernible. They did not fade or disperse like you would expect from a rocket plume or a jet contrail.
Soon, the entire formation began to widen in a purposeful manner. As the formation widened, each strand of light and its source became more individually discernible, like individual strands of an unraveling, thick, luminescent rope.
Suddenly, we saw what looked like a grayish colored liquid or gel falling from the sky. I intuited that it could only have come from one of the glowing pinpoints of light high above, as there was nothing else visible in the sky. No clouds, no other aircraft, nothing.
The sky was dim, so it was not readily apparent that any discharge had been deployed by the objects as they flew at extremely high altitude. I could discern no audible sound from them, or from the falling discharge.
The falling, ashen, gel-like substance hit me, and only me. That was unusual, because when it hit me, I felt it splash off of my clothing and skin, as would water. It felt wet and cool to the touch upon impact. However, when I looked at my left arm and hand, where the bulk of it hit, there was nothing discernible remaining. No trace. Not even a hint of a wet stain on my skin or clothing.
None of the excess hit the street. I had been struck by only a small portion of its total volume, and as soon as that portion had contacted my person, all of it, including the excess that had not hit me, evaporated or disappeared instantly and entirely, as if there had never been anything there at all.
I was standing only two or three feet from my wife, and maybe five feet from my son, and neither of them felt a single drop of it, not even a drop of whatever portion of it had splashed off of me. They had seen it fall and had witnessed it hit me, but had not been hit by any portion of it themselves.
It was like I had been targeted specifically. I puzzled at the fact that the substance evaporated immediately upon impact, but had somehow remained constituted during its long and inexplicably accurate free-fall from an altitude that must have been in the upper regions of the stratosphere.
After standing there for a while, we walked up the slight rise, into the field where our vehicle was parked. As we walked slowly to our pickup truck, we began talking about what the gel-like substance might be. I mentioned that I had no idea what it was, but that if I had to guess, I would suppose it was some sort of marker, and that I thought I had just been marked.
My first impression was that this was some high-tech system of selecting and painting a target for later identification without having to train a laser or other type of electromagnetic, line-of-sight energy constantly on target until some impending action is taken against the target, as is the case with present-day target illumination systems. I felt that this system would leave me marked and identifiable indefinitely, while leaving no indication to anyone other than those who had marked me that I had been marked.
I also wondered if the gel that hit me was some type of intelligent, delayed action toxin that could be activated remotely or autonomously at any future moment or upon any given set of circumstances. That seems less likely, but entirely possible. These are my only two ideas on the matter so far.
After standing at the back of my pickup truck for a few more minutes, discussing what had happened, my dream shifted. It was daytime, either the next day or some time later. I was walking or driving along a residential street in a hilly part of a town I cannot identify. I saw Victorian style houses and deciduous trees and a white, church-like building that looked like a house being used as a chapel.
I heard spoken words saying something to the effect of, "There will be a passage of law," or, "There will be a passage of the word."
Something of crucial importance to the people and to America was dependent upon the passage of whatever law or word was being referenced, but I cannot recall what it was. I cannot remember the rest of the words I heard. I do not know if I was hearing the words from a radio broadcast or from some other source. That part was lost almost as soon as I awoke.
I sat down mere minutes after I awoke and wrote this account, supposing that I might lose it entirely if I did not make a record of it. This is as much as I can remember at this time.
The WND article by Michael Carl titled Is Allah The Antichrist features Part One of a two part video documentary from Armageddon News titled Islamic Mark of the Beast. Below are the videos and direct links to both Part One and Part Two of this documentary. This article and the associated video documentary present some interesting and sobering observations.
I do not necessarily believe that Allah is the Antichrist. I think there is more than one antichrist, and I think that the Antichrist to which John refers is someone on the current or near future sociopolitical stage. Nevertheless, this documentary presents an interesting perspective.
Around 5:20 AM on Sunday, February 10, 2013, I awoke from a dream that seemed so real I could still feel the impact of it throughout the rest of the day. In fact, it is still so vivid, I can write about it as though it were an actual experience rather than a dream.
In the dream, I was standing outside on someone's lawn during the late afternoon, surrounded by many people whom I did not know. They were local residents gathering at someone's house for a neighborhood event or community activity, the purpose of which was not clear to me in the dream. The weather was pleasant. The afternoon was graced with a gentle breeze, moderately warm temperature, a blue sky and a distant stratus layer.
It felt like the neighborhood was located in a moderate sized town or small city, somewhere in the southwest, perhaps Arizona, or perhaps the northwest, maybe central Washington State. It looked familiar to me, but I could not identify the municipality.
I heard the sound of an aircraft powered by a radial engine. As I am an aviation enthusiast, I turned to see what kind of aircraft it was. It was something I had never imagined.
It was an olive-drab colored Chevy Suburban-like SUV, highly modified, with a radial airplane engine and propeller up front, and a long, pontoon-like hull underneath. The tires were mounted on the hull.
On top of the vehicle was a strange looking, high bypass turbofan engine that appeared to be mounted backwards. It looked more like a ducted fan coupled to the rear of a large electric motor.
I could not discern how the vehicle stayed airborne. It had no wings, and it appeared to be capable of flying slowly and landing anywhere. Then, I saw at least two other similar vehicles flying nearby. One had a rotor on top, like a helicopter, but was otherwise identical to the first vehicle.
The first such vehicle I saw was flying eastward, it seemed. It flew low and slow over the main thoroughfare that went under an overpass where a freeway ran by the edge of town.
From the yard where I was standing, a major intersection with a traffic light suspended in the center was clearly visible, about a quarter mile west of the overpass. Cars were rushing by as normal. Nobody seemed to think anything unusual was going on. A second flying SUV went by, on a somewhat northerly heading.
A third flying SUV came extremely low and close. It circled around to the back of the house and then landed in the yard at the northeast corner of the house.
I was standing in the front yard, which was on the north of the house. I was eating nuts from a plastic party bowl. The pilot was clearly visible through the cockpit window, which was a long, slanted, almost cylindrical windshield that transitioned with aerodynamic smoothness from the vehicle roof to the cowling of the radial engine.
I made eye contact with the pilot. We just stared at each other in uneasy silence for several seconds, maybe a whole minute. He did not seem happy about the fact that I was looking directly at him.
No one else seemed to notice the strange contraption that had landed in the yard. No one was looking to see who was in the vehicle, or if anyone was getting out of the vehicle. The fact that I was looking, and was the only one looking, made the pilot visibly agitated.
The pilot turned his head to talk to someone inside the vehicle and then looked back at me firmly, several times. Moments later, the passenger door opened and a few troops in digital gray camouflage military uniforms exited the vehicle and fanned out, into the mingling neighborhood crowd. One of them, a medium-built, Caucasian-oriental looking girl with too much makeup, black, bushy hair, and dark, mean eyes, marched straight up to me and demanded, "What's your name?"
I could see part of her name sewn onto her uniform, but it was partially hidden by her lapel. I think it had a "Z" and an "EE" in it, but I can't recall seeing more than that. I did not notice any insignia, but I did notice a conspicuous absence of the American Flag on her uniform. I surmised that these were United Nations troops. On American soil for other than exercise purposes. The girl spoke perfect English with no particular accent.
I said, "Ilyan Lavanway."
She then asked, "Are you an American citizen?" Her tone of voice and demeanor suggested that my being an American citizen was not a good thing, and that it posed a potential threat to her and to her mission. I further sensed that admitting to being a U.S. citizen would put myself and my family in danger.
I responded, "Yes."
Then, she asked about my name and the origins of it. She named a specific country or nationality, but I cannot recall which one. I got the impression it was my first name she was fixated on, and not so much my last name.
I simply responded, "I'm French."
My last name is of French origin, and my paternal ancestry is French, though I was born and raised in America, as was my father, my grandfather, and my great grandfather, and then some, all the way back to my great-great-great-grandfather.
I figured, why should she get to ask all the questions. So, I asked her, "Where are you from?"
She abruptly turned her back on me without another word, walked a few paces into the crowd, and loudly announced, "As of tomorrow morning, America is under martial law."
Nobody seemed surprised. Worse, nobody seemed to care.
I turned to my wife and said, "There it is."
I was not surprised by the announcement, but I was deeply unsettled by it. Even the appearance of American liberty and sovereignty had just been ripped away.
I started to address the group of people who were milling around. I cannot recall exactly what I was saying, but I knew I had to say something, and do something, even though I was not sure exactly what.
I noticed as I was speaking, another fellow patriot had already climbed up on top of a car and was addressing the crowd more audibly and clearly, so I said to those few who were near me, "Listen to him."
I do not recall what he said. I knew the confusion of having two people trying to shout to the crowd would accomplish nothing, and he was already on a good roll.
By this time it was getting dark. It was still warm enough to stay outside without a jacket.
I remember mulling over the fact that the strange, flying SUVs were types of vehicles I had never seen before. To me, they were obvious indications that there are many weapon systems already fully developed and easily deployable that We the People know nothing about.
Sometime during all this, my son had walked over to where my wife and I were standing. He was happily eating chips, undisturbed by the events underway. My son is eight years old and has Down's syndrome.
In the dream, my son looked like he was in his early to mid teens.
I felt the keenly vexing awareness that Barack Hussein Obama had been a key player in bringing about this heinous dismantling of American liberty. That is nothing new.
The thing that struck me upon waking was that in my dream, Obama was still in power. My son was in his teens. That means Obama was in his third term.
Some dreams are symbolic and take time and experience and prayer and pondering to understand, if one can remember them at all.
I take this dream at face value. I believe it is a literal glimpse of our near future, and I was there. To me, this dream is a memory of something that has yet to occur. Since it has not yet occurred, it does not have to occur. Are we going to stop it? If so, how? Words have no effect on Liberals, except to aggravate them into a frenzy.
Sharing this probably makes me look foolish, but being a patriot in a sea of Liberals makes me look foolish, and I am not the least bit ashamed of it. I share this because I am positively convinced that I am not the only one out there having dreams about near term and long term events of the last days. I want to impart courage to others who may be afraid to share.
Isaiah 3
Try a little exercise called "likening the scriptures unto ourselves." See how the verses you once thought were hard to understand become as clear as day, and things begin to make sense. In this particular chapter, substitute America and Americans where it says Jerusalem and Judah. Notice anything?
