In 1987 I returned to McLure’s Beach and climbed the rock I fell on. I was utterly alone. There was no one in the parking lot, and thus no one for miles. I had gone thru the New Hope Program and had a year of sobriety. I had been in hypnotherapy. I had to do this.

I had not climbed but thirty feet, and was heading for the bridge, when I came upon a plaque nailed into the rock.

“6 KNOWN DEATHS”

This plaque was not there in 1967, and the thought that six people who came after me, met their death, was otherworldly. I was entering The Land of the Known Dead. I thought about the collective grief of their families. Their tears had come here. I closed my eyes, took some deep breaths, told myself I can do this, and proceeded.

I do not think Keith and James knew I was going into shock, because they were in shock at seeing me wounded. The powerful dose was incapacitating. We could not walk. Like a heavy gravity we were pinned to the sand. We could only watch and wait until the inital impact subsided.

After James tried to wash my wound, and after I got soaking wet, I told him to leave me be. He went and sat with Keith about fifty feet away. I sat at the edge of the water listening to the strange sound that the gravel made as each wave receded. It sounded like many engines. All of a sudden landing craft were coming out of the ocean, and I was in the a middle of horrendous battle. A young man fell next to me, mortally wounded. When he died, and with his last breath, he uttered his last word;

“Mother!”

I believe I was that soldier.

I watch that scene from Saving Private Ryan where the captain goes into a tunnel of silence. The engine of war is grating up and down my backbone. My teeth are chattering. I can not make it stop.

Jon

http://wrybread.com/gametone/leftcoast/mcclures.shtml

Above is the cave Keith Purvis took me to with his kin and our mutual friends. It is located a hundred feet from the rock I fell on a year later. When I was authoring my theological novel ‘Where Art Thou?” I found myself sitting in front of this cave beholding ‘The Tree of Life’ in the back of this abyss, surrounded by a hundred galaxies. I had pondered God’s first question to the man and woman he created, and believed I had come upon the answer as to why Adam and Eve became invisible.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cave_of_the_Apocalypse

I had just finished reading Tolkien’s Ring Trilogy when Keith Purvis, James Taylor, and myself, set out for McClure’s Beach to drop Stanley Augustus Owsley’s latest and most powerful dose of LSD. On the beach, Keith suggested we each drop two doses. That was our first mistake. We had stopped and got some hotdogs and buns which was a cosmic joke, because you can’t eat anything – on two doses! We brought no water or soda – our second mistake. The date was February 11, 1967. It was unusually warm. However, the nights were still cold.

As we climbed the large rock at the end of the beach, I began to feel the effects of the LSD. I looked up to see Keith and James disappear into the sun that was setting atop the rock. I had a vision of us as Hobbits taking the Ring of invisibility to the mount to cast it in so we three could end the War in Vietnam.

When I stood up at the zenith, I was in a flash of bright white light. I lost my footing, and was tumbling down the rock. I put my hands out to stop my slide, and cried out as a sharp piece of rock tore into the palm of my hand. My feet were dangling over the edge. I looked down a hundred feet at the sea lions on a rock. I went into shock. I did not have the strength to pull myself up. That’s when I felt my friends grab the army shirt I was wearing, and pull me up. I looked at their eyes and they were black orbs due to the dilation of their pupils. They could barely move. We were in deep trouble for it was a treacherous climb up, and would now be a life and death struggle to get down. Keith and James had to hand me down to one another because my legs were gone. It took us a half hour to get down, and by that time, the LSD had become a monster. We had taken too much.

James tore up my army shirt to make a bandage for my wound that exposed a bone. He took me in the water to wash my wound, and we both got soaked by a wave. We had made the final mistake. The sun was setting, and it was getting cold. Then, I saw them, these beautiful white horses coming out of the waves. It was a very peaceful sight as I sat in the sand. Then, they came, with their beautiful banners flapping in the sea breeze. They contained the cote of arms of their noble families. My ancestors were amongst them. The Lords of Rougemont and Guyere, sent knights to capture Jerusalem. We were captured in battle and hung together on a gutter of a Crusader Castle we could not defend. We were left their for weeks, in our white tunics stained with blood.

Not once in my blogs have I mentioned John of Patmos. When I read Revelations many years later, I wondered. I wondered if we had fought the coming battle of Armageddon – and won! Had we prevented a worl war?

As the knights came out of the sea, row after row, I knew I was about to die. These knight meant business. All of sudden I felt and smelled their fear. People were going to die. These knights were riding into hell. Much blood would be shed. Why? I was powerless to stop them. I was wet and cold and going into shock. We had no warm blankets. And then I heard the helicopters and the tracks of the landing barges. I was in the present. I was in Vietnam.

Jon the Nazarite

Copyright 2012

To be continued

John of Patmos is the name given, in the Book of Revelation, as the author of the apocalyptic text that is traditionally canonized in the New Testament. According to the text of Revelation, John is living on the Greek island of Patmos, where by some, he is considered to be in exile as a result of anti-Christian persecution under Roman emperor Domitian.[1][2]

In Christian denominations, John of Patmos is regarded as a prophet and a saint who receives divine revelation. He has been referred to as John the Divine, John the Revelator, John the Theologian, Eagle of Patmos[3] and John the Seer.

https://rosamondpress.com/2012/07/25/the-kingdom-of-truth-found/

https://rosamondpress.com/2016/09/22/enterprise-to-the-rock-of-michael/

Marilyn Reed bid me to see a woman, a Seer, and alas own a picture of how my late sister died. She asked me if I would abide by her findings. This is to say, what if I am wrong, and the written version by the hired ghost writers is correct?

Several days later, I remind Marilyn she asked me to get a reading at the Berkeley Psychic Insititute back in 1987 where a woman said this at the beginning of my two hour reading;

“You own your own creation. You died!”

In the second hour of the reading I got to ask questions. I began this reading as a skeptic, but, I did own a picture of where possibly my death took place.

“If it is true what you told me, where was I when I died?”

“You were on these beautiful rocks by the sea. You were in much pain. You had to let that pain go.”

http://www.berkeleypsychic.com/

My fall on a dramatic rock that buttressed into the sea at McClure’s Beach came to mind. My feet were hanging over the edge of a hundred foot drop. There was a bad gash in the palm of my hand. I could see my bone.

Yesterday I read Julie Lynch has sold an idea for a Televison series that might come out next year. She claimed a famous director bought her script about Christine Rosamond, several year ago.

“Before the Wave: The Life Story of Christine Rosamond
Drama
Not yet released
When the idealistic artist known as Rosamond defiantly emerges from a dark childhood, suppressed by abuse and alcoholism, and rockets to worldwide fame, becoming the world’s most published painter, she discovers that her road into the light is twisted, wrought with sabotage, and at the tips of her reach.”

Christine and I – DIED! I am dead to my family because they keep competing with one another and me in order to get close to the Fame & Money they hope outsiders will give them. I will never lay eyes on a family member again. You got to let us go. You got to stop feeding off us, feeding off the dead! Alcoholism is a disease. My sister died on her first sober birthday. I will be sober twenty-nine years in April. Christine and I do not want to see Julie Lynch exploiting our disease – for money!  Go do your own paintings. Try writing a poem. Leave us alone!

Here is a good view of the house Christine stayed in. Look how steep it is to the water. Shamus Dundon claimed he was jogging here to get warm because it was a “blustery” morning. Christine is free of your lies! Stop feeding off our energy.

Jon Presco