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CHAPTER 24
A-HUNTING WE WILL GO
On December 4, 1986, I turned 29 years old. Usually mind-controlled
slaves were discarded, "thrown from the Freedom train," at 30; but I argued
with Houston when he told me my government abusers only had one year left to
"use me up". I had had no conscious awareness of the passing of time, and
believed I was still only 24. Regardless of what I believed, my abusers did
their best to "use me up" physically and psychologically before even a month
had passed.
I was in Washington, D.C. on a routine trip, which included being
prostituted to President Reagan. "Uncle Ronnie's" cheeks were flushed from
excitement and cognac as he told me, "I always take two weeks off for
Christmas to go back to California." Reagan interrupted himself to break into
an old Hollywood style song and dance, "California here 1 come..." The While
House, he claimed, had always been confining to him, and he appeared
genuinely excited about his upcoming trip. "I look forward lo this trip every
year because I get to see old friends. Oh, I still work while I'm there-the
President's work is never done-but at least I'm there. It's about time you see
where I call home." Then, quoting the Wizard of Oz, he said, "'There's no
place like home.' And you're about to see why. Say it with me, "There's no
place like home. There's no place like home'." Then he instructed me in Oz
cryptic, "Click your heels. There's no place like home."
Blue-white light seemingly exploded in my brain, like being hit with deadly
low voltage AC electrical current. Reagan was "setting the stage" for an
attempted mind scrambling time slip, to be reactivated at an upcoming meeting I
would have with him in Bel Air, California.
The motor home was packed to the walls, and the walls were packed with
cocaine as Houston, Kelly, and I departed on our long drive to California.
Houston had planned several "tourist stops" along the way that proved as"
nightmarish as the California ordeal itself.
In Las Vegas, Nevada, Houston kept Kelly and me busy prostituting us to
everyone he knew "in the know" and in attendance at the Country Music
Association's annual convention. Weary of being sent from room to room, 1
was back in the lobby literally trying to catch my breath when I saw Michael
Dante. He was dressed in an expensive, light grey silk suit and dark glasses,
looking more like a Fed than a mobster, leaning on a post, waiting for met
"Our love" he professed over the phone for mind conditioning purposes was
certainly not apparent now. "You're late," he growled as he looked at his
watch. He ordered me into the Ladies' Room to activate programming by
having me "lose myself in the infinity mirrors that lined the walls. With my
mind set like he wanted, he then used and directed me in commercial
pornography. Later, he did the same with Kelly.
At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and me in preparation for.
the upcoming events in California. While hiking down the canyon, Houston
attempted to anchor hypnotically all of the trip's events behind the death and
insanity programming to which he was subjecting us. When we stopped for a
late afternoon lunch in the Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of shock, unable
to eat. Houston was pleased because he "got to eat it all himself". I was, as