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Operation Disclosure Official
By James O’Brien, Contributing Writer
Submitted on May 16, 2025
Time Traveling Trumps
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1VjmjkeODs
Excerpt from Alias John Titor – Time-travel and the 2024 Election:
gone in 60 nanoseconds
I heard John Titor’s voice in my dreams…
Super conductive microchips… Infinite energy… Tesla… 3 6 9 key… Anti-gravity… planetary cloaking technology… white hats… military intelligence… dimensions and timelines… levitation… zero resistance… quantum locking… avalanche ionization… 5D… Sky Event…
Then, I heard Janelle’s voice.
She told me that her name meant: God is Gracious.
I reached out for her in the dark and found her. I awoke with her in my arms, her face nestled against my chest. It had been years since I could sleep soundly through the night holding a woman’s body close like that.
John was outside revving up the Chevy. It was time for us to go. There were two coffees on the counter waiting for us. He really knew how to motivate a move. I found myself ceremonially saying goodbye to each location, each room as we left it, as if it was an entity, a living character in my life. I thanked it for providing us a sanctuary.
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We took the coffees to-go and drove through Idyllwild on a fall day resplendent with foliage color. We were going back to the Calvary Church lot to launch, to where I did not know. Titor was tight-lipped, circumspect. I knew that the other version of myself was somewhere in that mountain town, probably in his cabin writing or researching the forums, or maybe on the Ernie Maxwell Trail for a hike. I wished him well.
Janelle sensed Titor’s reluctance to give us our next plan and she engaged him in dialogue.
“John, I had a strange dream last night,” she said, “With your voice telling me many things.”
I had a similar dream and was all ears on this convo.
“We call it a dream forum,” Titor replied, still somewhat remote. “It’s better than any school class. The knowledge comes through, but not as memorization. It’s recalled as it’s applied, or whenever a momentary impulse requires the information. Do you remember anything in particular?”
“Something about… the formation of regions of plasma… of sufficient density to reflect waves,” she answered. “The word aim sticks in my mind.”
“That’s Artificial Ionic Mirror, or a plasma layer in the atmosphere. AIM for short. It can reflect energy over great distances. A tiltable AIM is created by a heater antenna controlled in phase and frequency. The heatable antenna phase shift scans a beam to paint a plasma layer. Frequency is changed to focus at continually higher altitudes to tilt the plasma layer.”
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Normally, this would be all Greek to me, but I found that I almost understood what he was talking about, at least enough to follow the conversation.
“What about you, Evan?” John continued. “Do you remember what follows?”
I was quiet for a moment while I considered, then said: “Avalanche ionization.”
“Yes!” exclaimed John, his glumness rapidly dissipating. “That is what we were foruming. Focusing a phased array heater at a sufficient altitude to cause an avalanche ionization area to be created in the atmosphere. And controlling the frequency of individual radiators of said phased array heater antenna to refocus said altitude of said avalanche ionization area.”
“But for what purpose?” Janelle and I said at the exact same moment. She looked at me with a smile, more surprised that I was following any of this than her. She squeezed my hand, winked and bit her lip, which related to the moment we shared before the dream forum, equally magic, but far more carnal.
Titor steered the Chevy into the Church lot in Mountain Center. He turned the engine off, looked at us in the rear view, and said:
“Communicating to the radiating elements to the base station can be via WiFi.”
“This can affect mass populations?” Janelle asked.
“Of course.”
“Could it even awaken them?” I inquired. “From their historical slumber. From all of the full scale mass media brainwashing? That would be Biblical.”
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John now smiled warmly, like a teacher with good students.
“In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the Last Trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”
∞∞∞
Alias John Titor
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWT4KB4D
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