Jake has seen it in the distance, the thick haze collecting. Huge clouds loom, and as he plows through the updraft of air he can feel the heat rising from the ground below.
He loves to fly, but he’s not sure about this. One vivid flash, then another!
Lightning discharging, flames shooting across the sky! A leader has wired itself to Earth, and massive gashes of intense light illuminate the wildnes.
There’s a clawing when the stored energy connects.
The sky shivers.
Hauled up into a tower of air. Hauled inside, he can feel the sucking from his body.
Suddenly in unbelievable speed he’s on a helical trajectory, like a firing mass of G force — blasting — blasting — blasting upwards as he climbs the wall of churning air.
He tries to spin away, he tries to escape, but the circling force holds him. Carried in a pocket, carried by force of the updraft, further and further he moves upwards through the tower.
Clouds piling fist over fist whirl above him. One on top of another the tall stands of clouds burst and grow — not one, a flood of heaping columns, devouring, coveting.
A stream of escaping ozone diffuses into a huge display. Instantly released he swerves, he spirals. All around vivid streamers, crossing, fusing.
An intense streak of lightning shoots across.
Jake knows it’s coming. The bolts connect.
Massive strikes, twenty, thirty, shoot down the same path. Sheets of energy lock. The flame of energy slices through, cuts into his being.
As the magnetic induction tears his body he can feel the fire.
All he can feel is the burning.
This is where it clears. Where time stands still.
Where there is inconceivable light.
No echo, no cracking!
An immense calm out of place.
Silence utter silence!
Until it throws him from it, with an awful, cacophonous, cat-screeching, jarring sound.
Jake lurches across the pillars of air. Wind ripping, each jagged strike, each discharge producing a thousand wails, and a sickly yellow tinge where the screams get loudest.
A tower blasts apart. Jake stunned by the force is tossed into the madness.
In this thin moment, where he’s one more time lost control, courage forsakes him. He truly becomes scared.
Out of control, rotating air-tunnels crashing all around, he’s being knocked head first towards the ground.
Incredibly awesome, the surface spins as he’s pitched down. The din, the hissing, the eerie screeches are gone now.
So close to Earth he is being rammed.
So close, until the wind catches, until a new force takes his body and he’s yanked clear across the horizon.
Dragged miles and miles sideways, rain pumping down, in the boiling rain Jake gathers the last of his strength, and he charges.
He charges like a bull, rolling, spinning, spiraling.
And the sky clears to a magnificent sight.
Billions of specks catching the light.
Emanations of soft, green waves.
Leaves dancing in the sunlight.
A range of deep, dense forests is below. Jake swoops into the trees.
Raindrops dripping, raindrops covering, he glides into the spreading sea of buds, iridescent golds, brilliant oranges, glistening reds.
Sweeping now through the vines that twist and twine, a profusion of colors draping the trees.
Epiphytes and bromeliads adorning the clogging branches — cactus, bracts, purple and white orchid flowers, all looking like beautiful jewelry.
Silently, smoothly, through the warm, green brilliance he travels. And as the canopy gives way, in the space as large as any cathedral, Jake hovers.
Flying to the earthen base, he stands in the strange green light — Light issuing from the towering green-roofed crown above.
Dark and quiet, old rain trickles as he makes his way among the dwarf palms and soft ferns that cover and surround his path, through the thick, warm, air.
Beside an entanglement of figs she stands, the girl. In the deep emerald shading, her dark eyes gape at him.
Caught in his sight, as if she dare not move, she remains completely still. Then in the softness of the light he sees, only feet away, the young maiden is shaking.
Jake in his sleek, male form, with a complete air of bewilderment, motions with his hands. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he calls out to her with his mind. ‘I’m only here from flying. I love to fly. I sure love to fly.’
She steps back. The look she gives him is that he should not be here. He definitely should not be here.
She grabs hold of a liana vine, swings herself up by the tendrils. Into a tree she disappears, plants and flowers and leaves draping the branches behind her like a curtain.
Thoughts flood through Jake. Her voice is telling his mind that this is her place. Where he’s entered is where she lives. He can tell how shocked and angry she is because her voice in his head is telling him how angry she is.
She peeks out between the flowers. The young girl, ten, twelve years no more, her eyes wide, she looks down.
With her jet-black hair that falls over the vines, her exquisite stare only enhances her beauty.
Please, Jake tells her. He had no idea he would find himself in her chamber. All he wanted was to escape from the storm. He’s trying to fly in this strange world. That’s all he’s doing.
Talking in his thoughts is not easy. It takes a couple of failed attempts just to explain. He has to realize only certain, clear, precise thoughts of his work.
She knows, she says, her thoughts rushing, that she shouldn’t have gone into the forest.
The water dragon came right out of the water and dragged her with it. It took the longest time for her to get out of the water and when she returned to the village, no one could see her.
Her uncle and aunt, the people who worked in the shop, they could no longer see her. Then the fairies came.
She is telling him the fairies brought her here. Only the fairies can see her. She doesn’t understand why he can see her.
Losing all the shyness, as he notices she’s doing, Jake encouraging, says in his thoughts that he is sorry the water dragon captured her.
Pouring out her story, she says she learnt about the forest because the men would go hunting for pigs and birds, and she would follow behind.
She used to help the men in the village before the water dragon seized her. She would help them with their fish.
The men drink awful stuff but she likes it when they beat the drums. She says she danced often with the women. They have taught her how to slide her feet.
Before the dragon took her, her aunt would sing, would make her feel soft and warm when she closed her eyes when the night came.
The fairies are telling me I should be leaving. The fairies are telling her it is time for her to leave for another place. She doesn’t know what to do.
She seems to open her eyes even wider.
Jake tells her there was a great storm and he was in the middle. He came here to get away from the storm. He says he has been learning to fly in the world where she is, that it’s something to try.
In the dappled light, Jake is entranced by the soft illumination, the glow that shines around her.
She does not want to go, she says. She does not want to leave.
Jake can feel the gentle fear she has of being here alone. Inspiration comes that he should dance.
He tells her he’s going to do a jig for her. Right there on the forest floor he begins to do cartwheels and she, up on the branch, shaking with laughter, motions he should keep doing what he’s doing, over and over again. So he does. Even more cartwheels, and jigging, bobbing jerkily sideways.
And then a waltz, holding his arms as if he’s dancing with her. She’s shivering with laughter.
Then suddenly: ‘The fairies are watching.’
He turns to see where she’s looking, and there in the shade of the fern, standing at the back of a garden of star-shaped amethyst, is a translucent figure.
‘They are waiting for me,’ the girl is pointing at the thin, wispy spirit, and the ones behind.
The fairies stare across at him, spirits with gray, diaphanous beautiful blue wings. They stand quietly, these small translucent figures, almost hidden by the fern.
It comes into Jake’s mind to nod. He nods his head as if agreeing with them. He tells her he thinks she should leave with the fairies.
They will take her where she needs to go.
Encouraged, the young girl begins to climb out onto the branch. She swings down the vine, runs towards the fairies as they cluster around her.
Melting into the trees they are gone.
Jake flies upwards. As he flies among the lush foliage and flowers, he finds himself carried along on wafting breezes that lead him through the maze.
Zooming into a shaft of light, out into the open sky, he turns for a moment, sees the vast mountain range below.
Through the clouds he rises, icy droplets, tiny crystals seeming to squeeze him to them. Quickly, in the crystal-quartz light, he flies away.
A brilliant, intense world envelops Jake as he transfers into a near heaven.
Waves of color surround him, hues of strange, arresting tints streaming all around.
Jake’s thoughts seem flustered.
‘They are taking me on a journey to my real home,’ the girl had said, laughing.
Amidst this curtain of saturation, his body shimmering, he waits in these lights, thinking.
Chapter Ten
The WE
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ewe shakes himself. There is a person who becomes the consciousness of Kewe where the personality is Jake for a period of time.
When Kewe returns to his own personality, does Jake exist outside of Kewe?
Kewe believes this person is Kewe’s astral personality. His astral body with its mind, its personality that goes along with the body.
Is this Kewe in his astral body?
This person is a young man.
This person has a deeper voice, speaks the same as a young person does in Earth reality.
At the time of Kewe writing the 2015 version of this book, Kewe is an old man. But he was a young man many years ago.
In his ethereal body, never viewing a mirror, as a young man he might be similar to how Jake looks.
He does not know how Jake looks because he is Jake when he is aware of Jake. Except for that brief moment when he was outside his body looking at Jake inside his physical body — mentioned in the third chapter — he has never seen himself as a manifestation of Jake.
His eyesight is also not clear when he is part of Jake. Kewe keeps trying to look through his physical eyes. He has not learnt to not do this.
So even if he saw himself as Jake in a mirror in Earth frequency, his vision is impaired enough that he would not be able to tell that which appears as bodily difference between Jake and himself.
When Kewe was young he believes he would speak with an effeminate voice at times, when he became nervous.
Kewe was never told this by anyone. But there was that one time, he remembers when returning from England.
He was flying to America via the East Coast.
A man with his wife were sitting in the seat nearby. The man asked him something and he had replied. The man had given him such a disgusted look. Kewe is empathic at times and he felt the wave of dislike strongly.
He had no idea why the man should react so. That which he had spoken, how could that have induced such loathing? Then, as often happens, the answer had come to him — He knows you are attracted to men, not women!
Kewe had shrugged it off. He lived in Seattle and all the people he knew accepted him as he was. His ’gayness’ was not even mentioned, if, when, it was observed.
Jake, he believes, does not have this feature to Jake’s personality.
His astral body with its mind, its personality that goes along with the astral body, all of this is confusing to Kewe.
By 2015 he has become aware that the core part of himself might be female. Does the core part of one self identify itself to a particular sex?
Is not sex part of The Game?
All of this is confusing to Kewe!
Kewe wonders where else Jake roams in the inner worlds. He knows Jake visits a temple, because he has seen the temple vaguely. Jake is often involved in a conversation with a monk.
The flying of Jake’s, the vastness, the waves of light that flow in to and around him, the truth is Kewe doesn’t have a clue what is truth, what Jake sees, touches, what is a dream.
When a sneaking downer tells him nothing is real, he feels inclined to listen. “None of it is likely to be real,” he mutters to himself. Only, the inner wisdom insists Jake’s experiences are much more than Kewe thinks he imagines; that even in his wildest fancy there is a reality. That Kewe is Jake. That Jake is Kewe.
What about when Jake comes through him, talks to other people, in Jake’s voice!
It shocks them. This different young man’s voice. It doesn’t shock Kewe. He knows all that Jake is saying. He is Jake!
. . .
Weeks after Kewe’ smeeting with Lara, West, Sue and little Laranne, Katherine and David, Kewe begins to fall into a funk.
Doubts creep around him about what he is doing.
He stops his chanting the HU, his exercise as he calls it. Kewe goes to work, comes home, and like a human zombie watches TV.
Days blend into days. Feeling depressed, searching the closet one evening a video tape falls off the shelf. The tape he has himself labeled, ‘Angels.’
Kewe remembers taping the program. The TV program is starting just when he is about to go out for an evening walk.
He remembers thinking interesting to record.
Labeling the tape on his return from the walk, he’d placed it in the closet with other tapes.
He picks up the video tape that has fallen off the shelf, walks over places it into the video machine. One sister refers to voices that are comforting and kind, that she’s heard all her life. The other sister talks of a sense of a loving presence. A surrounding presence identified as angel energy.
One sister is saying her guide advised her to go to the computer and type messages to herself. It’s a piece of synergism. Two sisters speaking about contact they have with angels. The same thing David had said at the end of his meeting through Sue. He had completely forgotten the message.
He wants to laugh. Creative, he thinks in his funk. That would really be talking to himself. He fights the idea for days.
Using the computer he’d type any words that would make him feel better. It’d only be his needs, his desires, subconscious stuff that rises up. It didn’t make sense.
But, wasn’t this what David had suggested he should do? He’d been hot on the idea then. Why was he resisting? Why was he being so persistent in his resisting? That didn’t make sense either. It’s not laziness. Is it fear that stops him?
In the early hours of a lingering summer day, he boots up the computer. He’ll just try it.
Typed in Seattle at 3:00 A.M.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I am not sure how I should write, or what I am doing. I wish to be in touch with my guides, my Guardian Angels. Please tell me am I in contact with beings who have taken care of me, helped me through my life?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Yes, that is correct, you are in contact.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
You realize I've no idea if I am just typing
words, if you are really here. How difficult this is for me, to accept I am connected to you.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Yes, we understand.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I have no idea of the questions to ask. Can
you tell me more of who you are?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
First, let us say it is not necessary to call us
angels, but we are the ones that have been with
you, who have comforted you and in that sense
we are your angels.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Thank you. I am going to take these entries
as not being by my mind entirely. I'm going
to trust some intelligence is speaking to me.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We recognize your wish to clarify who are
those with whom you are talking. We know
you are concerned you might be contacting an
entity, consciousness that might have as its aim
to deceive.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
The truth is you have contact with high
levels of understanding.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
When I type, I am hearing the answers in my
head. This is before I even type what I want to
ask? Is this me thinking up the answers before
I ask the question?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We understand. Indeed yes, you do think up
the answers before your thoughts decide how
to express in words your question.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We would like to tell you this is a normal
process for us to be able to communicate with
you. As you continue forming the sentences,
words will become more clear.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
This writing
has to be limited to your thought images. You
do not understand all that we are saying in
this regard, but accuracy and exactness of your
writing is from your recognition and insight,
not ours.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I’m not sure what you mean. Is it possible to
explain this in another way?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We tell you that we are the unfoldment of
your knowledge. The messages you give to
yourself are not from that which we tell you,
but come from information you have yourself
discovered. We cannot communicate an idea
outside your comprehension. Your brain is not
able to interpret such realities.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
However, as you continue with your writing
there will be an expansion in your search.
We do not hold any level of awareness back
from you, and we will guide you into areas of
knowledge that you, if you were aware, would
attempt to receive.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
As an aside, it pains us when you feel so lost.
If you can allow us to say it, we love you very

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
How difficult it is for us not to grant your
desire to leave this planet, especially when you
feel so down. Yet, we accept the recognition of
your inner wish for us to wait.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Thank you. Physical world illusion is very
strong. I cannot always overcome the effect it
has on me. Difficult to keep moving forward.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We understand.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Thank you, I will try to contact you soon. I
feel inside that this has been helpful. Thank

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
In 2015 reading this material written by me twenty years previous, I smile at a stilted style in which I expressed contact. Yet even in this style there was warmth that came through.
I believe now I was visiting The WE — or for me I would say visiting Keweland — every night during sleep. In an unconscious state to both my brain and mind.
Important to express that the brain is different to the mind. That the mind operates in its own frequency, as does the brain. That the brain will die when the human physical body dies but the mind will not.
The mind will continue with its knowledge within ethereal and astral bodies until both of these also are given up, cease to exist. Then the mind will continue until it is given up and the core being, the person who we are, no longer plays within The Game.
That which I am saying here however, is that I believe not even the mind had knowledge of my daily visits to Keweland, where people who I am talking to in these discussions, and calling The We, exist. People who, as I have come to believe, are ’my family,’ .
A family such as Katherine and David, and Lara and West and Sue have explained in the two previous chapters. A family that people can attach and remain within, or dis-attach and go a separate way. That may or may not apply to the Keweland family.
That which holds a family together, l accept, is an entity or a couple or more people.
A family as guided by David Katherine.
With Keweland I think it is all Keweland people, no specific leader. Yoada, his family of creation making their presence known at times.
Lara’s ‘going to the top of the mountain‘ I believe is her reference to leaving The Game.
Which really means no longer having bodies within The Game, for we always are outside The Game. Only the bodies, including mind as a body, play within The Game.
So my understanding of leaving during the night to visit Keweland, is not leaving. It is that I let my bodies within The Game function on automatic, or with some guidance, for that period of time as it is understood by us, our brain, being linear and within The Game.
All of this that I write here has to be belief on my part. For I write through my brain, and I write with no understanding of Keweland, or the top of the mountain.
I will say that I have a sense that those in Keweland use time as a mechanism for their enjoyment of their existence. They use it at their will and bypass it when their will desires.
Time is perhaps not the only feature of life within The Game that is used in Keweland.
Keweland being a family existence of people, along with realities of much more that we have no comprehension from within The Game, nor can have, for we do not have the tools inside The Game for such comprehension.
. . .
When Kewe types a page, no separation into an out-of-body state is involved. No trance!
Whatever comes into his mind he types.
Do you mean that each one of us living on the
Earth planet has existence at The WE reality?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
That is so, Soul an encompassing word used
by humans for the many at The WE level.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Are you in a
sense my parents?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Dear child of the Universe. Our answer is
not easy. You are our scion and you are us.
Within your life is the containment of ours.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Scion, I had to look it up. A descendant, a
shoot or twig, one cut for grafting or planting.
Do you mold us?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
No! Your creation is at the The WE level. Your
molding takes place within The Game. You
are who you wish to be from the experiences
you have and from substance and knowledge
passed to you by Earth parents, the varied
Earth parents if you reincarnate.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Have I reincarnated?

No! However you are connected to many who
have reincarnated!

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
How am I connected?

You tap into their knowledge!

That is the only way I am connected?


Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Do I tap into your knowledge?

If you ask for our knowledge we will attempt
to supply it.

Are you Yoada?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I am the creature!

The creature?

The being created for recognition?

Are you my only parent?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info

Who is my other parent?


I have many parents?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
You are a creature of The WE.

So there is some reality for The WE?

Would you wish to believe otherwise?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
It is not who I originally had thought, that
which I made a website.

It is and it is not!

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
You communicating with me now?


I daren't ask any more questions.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Dear child of the Universe — we state because
you like that expression. It is dear child of the
many — far beyond thought of universe — you
are greatly loved.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Thank You.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Kewe knows he needs more. Not only in the inadequacy of his words is he stuck, but in the inadequacy of his thoughts.
Kewe has a brain and he accepts he has a mind that is more than cells in a brain. He also accepts he is something beyond mind.
Concepts arrive, form, the brain converts to its understanding, and in the conversion the brain censors, allows, or worse distorts. The brain override concerns him most.
He knows his desires, his emotions, and his acceptance of reality work against him. Bias is a creation of personality. Knowledge that the conscious mind has is far from being ‘truth.’
In his moving among these streams, words he types on the computer are from his own perceived realness. Yet, he also believes the thoughts he manages to express on paper do have an uncanny way of achieving a learning.
There is wisdom, beyond where he began. If only to point out that bias is a process of the brain that is on-going.
He must have thought, have bias. But is a something else given? An injection of realness he begins to term as some quintessence that is non-thought?
The new recognition is that the brain is able to contact an entirety — a The WE. A Beingness that has no need for thought. Thoughts are in his world, not theirs!!
When he types, the words from ‘The WE’ are translations of translations of translations.
Words translated in his brain from thoughts taking place in an inner, deeper, mind-state of Kewe's, thoughts translated from that `sent` -- that an other, even deeper, non-thought sense.
If there existed a word he could use, a word beyond ‘impossible,’ Kewe would use it here to describe the frustration he feels.
Typed in Seattle at 1:00 P.M.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Today it is cold and wintry. Already snow is on
the ground. Walking over to the park with the
computer in my knapsack, I've been thinking
of things to ask when I start this discourse.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Now I'm sitting here in this large glasshouse.
It's warm and pleasant. Plants surround me.
Behind a greenery of leaves, cascading water
fills the conservatory with sound. I type as
goldfish swim lazily in the pond.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Am I in contact with you The WE? Let me
make the address. Am I in contact with The WE?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Dear One. You are in contact as you always
have been. Again, let us say we are pleased
indeed, that you continue to translate our

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Thank you. I try to make pictures of you. I
ask when you have no walls, when you have
no world, how can I know you?

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Yes, we watch you propelling yourself into an
abyss of linking reasoning. Know, where you
weave through this flow, there is a camera
that points towards The WE. In this shot you
take, the chord in which we reverberate is

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Talking to you, surrounded by flowers, I know
that this place where I am, this Earth, each
life form is freeing itself. Each has energy
sparking, gaining, absorbing.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Dear Child of the Universe, collectively we all
are a symphony. `We' as a consciousness
embody a harmony that you in your wisdom
have chosen to be. Know also that there are
many `WE's.' There are many streams.
Now we speak only in your words.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Yes, I understand. Thank you for talking with

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
We wish to tell you we love you. We wish to
tell you to look to freedom, for freedom stays
behind both love, and power. Look for it.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
I will, always. Thank you.

Translations of Discussions with The WE. kewe.info
Ours is a thought universe. Today, we are seeing much. As a species we are accelerating in perceived understanding, beyond warp.
Science has much to do with consciousness.
Science evolves, our group sensitivity evolves.
In this new realness we are starting to face the possibility that the concept we have given the name God, may be vastly different to how the religions imagine.
Life superimposing upon itself, from and to infinity.
Science has shown us where there is nothing there is something, and something is nothing.
We seem to exist in chaos.
Some using science have gathered resources from us to themselves incorporating with our resources knowledge of the black arts.
Secret agencies with funds given to them by politicians who are supposed to represent us — money that we as a grouping have created — have become extremely powerful. They turn our lack of foresight and recognition of their presence against us.
Those especially within this sector, and those who play at being leaders, wish to contain us.
There will always within The Game be those who would wish to free the space we hold as our sovereign right, free us from the rights we hold by birth upon the planet.
There will always within The Game be those who wish to take our energy, our money and our inherent power and right as an individual, to use these, us, as tools for their purpose, to enslave us to their purpose.
There are those who wish to free the space we occupy upon the planet that is our inherent right, free the space we use, of us
It is up to each one of us as sovereign beings to not allow this.
© Kewe   All rights reserved.