Johnston took me the short distance from his General Dynamics Corporation provided office to the Barksdale Air Force Base airfield. He was apparently well known at Barksdale, and a small cargo plane was ready to lake us to our destination-Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma.
Once we were airborne, Johnston accessed my sex programmed personalities for his own aggressive perversion. His use of cocaine further accentuated his hyperactive demeanor as he brutally slung me around the back of the small plane while he had sex with me. At one point the pilot hollered from the cockpit "Hey, you're creating turbulence. Knock it off, will you."
Johnston laughed and responded, "What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" By the time we arrived at Tinker A.F.B., my arm was beginning to show a dark bruise that extended from my shoulder to my elbow. A uniformed man greeted us as we walked across the airfield. Johnston apparently knew him quite well, and referred to him as "Cap'n" (which tied in with the Peter Pan theme programming I was about to endure). When he noticed my arm, Cap'n reminded him, "Hey, that's not necessary, you know."
"Yeah, I know. Take care of it for me. Here…" Johnston took the straps of my tank top and pulled them down around my forearms (which still could not cover the bruise.) "There, that just about covers it." He smiled and continued, "You look like a Southern belle that way rather than a damned ol' Yankee anyway,"
Cap'n said, "She'll be a Tinker-belle by the time we're through here today." Then, referring to Johnston's primary purpose in actually escorting me to Tinker he asked, "How are your South American operations progressing?"
"I've got to talk to you about that," Johnston answered. The two talked as though they had worked in tandem on given mercenary operations/assignments in the past. "I may need a few of your boys to back me on something."
"Back you, or cover you?" the Cap'n retorted.
Johnston laughed, "Both if you'll front the operation."
Johnston had previously «justified» his use of Tinker (Peter Pan theme) programmed niind-controlled mercenaries to me by saying, "Mercenaries are missionaries who follow their inner guidance system rather than their old Uncle Sam. Politics hinder the route to freedom, and these boys slip under international laws, undetected, to carry out the work the military boys only dream of doing.."
I was escorted away from the two by a nurse, who purported to be tending to my injured arm. In fact, she was preparing me for the "Tinker-belle cage"[16] — an electrified metal cage with an electrified grid bottom. Locked inside, I was subjected to high, direct current voltage to compartmentalize the Peter Pan theme mind-control programming that I endured. Like Peter Pan's Tinkerbelle, I learned to "ride the light" as a means of travel[17]. Additionally, my instilled Tinker-belle theme mind manipulation included a sense of Never-Never-land timelessness that was rooted to my «natural» inability to comprehend time due to my MPD/D1D.
Back in Louisiana, Cox and I shared a subconscious understanding of Peter Pan themes and "riding the light". The difference between us was that Cox consciously activated Tinker Air Force Base programming within Johnston's band of mercenaries, while my trance was perpetual whereby I could "Never-Never-Land."[18]
I was with Cox on numerous occasions when he was running guns and/or cocaine, and activating specified mercenaries for operations as instructed by Johnston, In the course of these travels I saw numerous underground arsenals and stockpiled weapons that were known to Senator Johnston, but were not on. military installations. I was also privy to government sanctioned cocaine operations.
On one such cocaine run in 1979, I traveled with Cox to a remote area in the Ouachita National Forest near Hot Springs, Arkansas to "watch for fairies like Tinker-belle" and "ride the light".
We sat in the brush near a railroad track until we saw a light approaching from the Eastern sky. At the time I thought I would be "riding the light" as I was led to believe, but in retrospect I recall my personalities being deliberately switched and a helicopter landing in a nearby clearing. Cox and I unloaded approximately 200–400 pounds of cocaine from the van he had driven, and stacked it in the helicopter. We were then flown to a small airport that appeared to be no more than a dark, fenced-in clearing where I saw a row of metal buildings that looked like mini-warehouses. While the cocaine was unloaded into a warehouse, Cox and I were taken by car to a nearby grey stone hold. The driver led us upstairs, and knocked on the Penthouse door.
"Yeah," a voice answered,
"I got a Tinker-belle and a Peter Pan here to see you, Sir," the driver called.
"Send 'em in." Cox and I walked into the suite where then Governor of Arkansas Bill Clint cm was shuffling through a briefcase. Clinton and Johnston were cohorts in illegal covert operations that emanated from Tinker Air Force Base.
Cox spoke up. "Senator Johnston said a little (Senator) Byrd told him that you are one of Ours."
"So what does that make you?" Clinton asked impatiently.
"A Chosen One," Cox nodded his head toward me.
Clinton asked me, "Chosen by whose order?"
I cryptically delivered the proper coded response, which cued Clinton to proceed. "What brings you here?" he demanded.
17
"Riding the Light" scrambled my future experience of being transported by military helicopter or airplane to robotically carry out some program for the government. This «trance-dimeasional» travel caused my earthly experiences to be perceived as having occurred in another dimension.