whoopdyprompts

"Why are we going there?" I ask, wondering where we were going. I'm the type of soul that wants to know before it goes.

"It's where the planes are," he said, backpack on his back with a son on his shoulders, another son beside his left, his wife on his right, and me on his trolley that he's pulling.

We were in the middle of barren lands. Even though it seemed illogical to live in the desert plains, I know that it's where the low vibrational people live.

There they are, trying to tower each other just to get into "where the abundance lies."

Abundance is having the infinite overflow.

This abundance is created through mind washing the people and exploiting their needs by telling them they aren't inherently worthy of it, and then using that inflicted wounded as a hole to crawl in in order to exploit this need, as if the same people that took your power away from you could give it back.

Planes are here? I asked in my mind, and then my vision goes bird's eye view.

They're dropping bombs here.

I heard my guide say.

I have guides that help me in the spiritual realm, overlapping the physical one I'm currently in.

Earth.

I looked back at the moving planes with carts of boxes with red inks of large caps, "EXPLOSIVES."

Still thinking they were giving us food and shelter (in the middle of a barren land wherein water and needs aren't supported in the middle of a "war"),

"But they told us airplanes would be dropping by and-"

Wait.

"The planes! They're dropping the planes?"

"What?" My father had asked loudly, trumping nearly towards where the people are, brainwashed into thinking what they need is in the government's hands. Little do they know, that it's a bait for them, to lure them into the trap, their original plan.

To eliminate us all along.

"They're dropping planes to drop us bombs!"

Suddenly there were planes passing by. Far enough to give us a good distance when they would send out bombs, but still large enough to see them accelerating.

Realization hit before the dropped bombs did.

And so the ran began.

I was on a wheelbarrow now, my father pushing the cart among the growing cabbages around me. Oddly enough, the only color in my black and white dream was red.

Blood? War? WW2? 1970s?

Were we, as humanity, stuck in a time loop, wherein as dense as we go, as fast we make haste, and as long as we hurry as long as we are late?

We go to a cave, a hideout wherein "Old People Came Here To Die To"

My mother was acting strange. It's as if she wanted to kill me.

Wanting to leave me behind in a war when I was the one who indirectly saved her.

Odd.

A conversation went up between two lads. Since I, a child, was young, the adult men talked while I climbed the insides of the cave.

I played with the webs while they were talking, spidermanning in my little 1970s outfits while they conversed.

Their voices muffled as I got more into my own world, fully aware of the destruction outside but not the enormousness of it. Like an innocent child with the aspects of naivety and hyper-awareness.

My father had asked the old man, sitting with a cane and other older people, men and women, who were going "Into The Light," as physically described with the bright white end of the cave (Why wouldn't they go there? Why wouldn't they escape being killed?"),

"What are you here for? The donation packages and refugee camps were there outside," he'd asked, bowing as the small cave was small for an average man like him, putting his cap in his hand as he folded it out of courtesy and meekness, like a boy with a family going to his dad.

"They just told us to go here." (Where, where a cave is an easy hideout for all the enemy onlookers to see, the enemy planes to bomb?)

I went back to climbing another edge of the wall. Funnily enough, my mom doesn't seem to stop me, caring less of me now. My brothers are neglected, my youngest brother crying in his walker, my brother sitting there in thought, ignored by the lack of role or purpose, prohibiting him from being important or needed to the family.

I was a child, playing, when I was aware of everything.

"Oh, they told us it's where old people go." The lady in a pink shirt and white hair on her head laughed and looked towards her left, which is where the portal was sitting at. Some old people are already walking up and leaving their canes, standing and walking towards the light, disappearing as though so did their back and bone problems.

"This is just where the old people die."

This is where they want us to be, I heard her think.

We have nothing to do with ourselves, another lady at the opposite end of the cave, the portal by her left, thought as well.

All the three of them- the man, the pink woman, the yellow orange woman with her hair in a bun and hands on her cane, smiled sadly.

They've all been bamboozled to think that their death and the government's causations of it are exclusive unrelated.

They've all been bamboozled, I think, my little 4 year old's fingers scratching through the spider's web, pulling it back to examine it.

As easy ass to weave a web, as easy as it is to break through.

Swat it with a hand.

The people think the power is in the government, when the power is taken from the people by the government, the old people are relocated and made to think as if they're only meant to death, and

Oh shit.

There's a lady, as I'm remembering this dream, smiling at me, standing there in her office outfit from the 1940s, hands and arms lengthy and the side, smiling and standing so cheerily it's creepy.

Her smile and the knowingness in her eyes, showing that she's American, hoping for the fall of the other countries.

THe people keep screaming and pushing the gates of the compound forward, finally breaking through the gates of the compound, (why am I repeating this phrase: gates of the compound, as if it's fucking dogs) overstepping the metal fencees of osion death, not seeing as though the reason why there were no houses in the middle of the

(the lady keeps smiling on me SHIT.

GET THE FUCK AWAY.)

[You can't suppose to know this, she thinks. I tap into her mind. She sees me, sitting on the red wheelbarrow. Family out of sight. A war between the freedom child and the oppressive adult.

You're a child.]

I tap back into my dream body. I looked at the people. I had modest clothes on. They were dressed in rages, the lack energy manifesting through physical appearances.

They were kicking, forcing the others to go through the fence. Overhead, the planes were big, nearing.

I knew I was protected, as I, and the lady, was standing by. Mere observers to a mass murder of a government's crime on the country, later to place in the battlefield themselves.

The lady keeps looking at me.

Those sickneing (I'm getting sick as I type her in this submission post.) eyes, soul-sucking drying, soulless being, looking at me, wanting me to note of her presence without seeing the truth of the situation.

The military was dropping of boxes and bombs with the words EXPLOSIVES on it on the ground, the men inside pulling the man back up, the anonymousity of his face showing as though the government is both brainwashing people into being in a cult and forgetting their

(WHY DOES BETTY WHITE KEEPS APPEARING SMILING BRIGHTLY AT ME?!!)

-identites, as they afeel encompassed through a collective cult identity as "THE GOVERNMENT." Bombs were made as thought to drop as foods but then are LABELED as EXPLOSIVES while the PEOPLE WERE JUST FUCKING AWAY.

I went away, going back to the cave as I heard multiple bombs went off, exploding everyone there, even the ones who were on top of the pile of humans they've just walked on for some title they felt entitled to, "I AM DESERVING OF THIS HIGHER POSITION OF WORTHINESS THAT I WORKED FOR" falling into the trap of chasing worthiness out of the feeling of unworthy.

Two things were happening at once. I had visions of the people I'm leaving behind, I saw the cave I was once headed, but seeing as though the people at the bottom fo the massive stockpile of herd mentality of the humans crumble down, led the entire workforce to crumble.

Planes ahead of me, as small and far away they might seem, are actually ones that bomb up the things most.

Like the cave I was going into, for example.

"Come!" My father gestured me to go faster, a man with a checkered blouse an red pants from the 2020s are now reahchig out his hand for me to grab once I come closer.

As I began nearing the entrance of the cave, I saw small plane, one size of a car, appear from nowhere and bomb the opposite of the end of the cave.

THe old people in the portal were gone, and all the three adults that we had talked to (why did i refer to adults talking as we?) were staring straight into the distance, haze in their eyes,

Better to see daydreams than it is to see reality.

Outside the cave, I stopped. As I stood off the (SHIT THE 2020s GUY WAS THE ASTROLOGER FROM TIKTOK. REFERENCES TO THE FUTURE I'M IN WHILE IN THE PAST I'M WITNESSING?? AKA WITNESSED??) red wheelbarrow. Somehow it's as red as Clifford The Red Big Dog. In fact, every red was like that, except for explosives. Oh, and the planes and the government's military men where dressed in camouflage jungle, which was odd when we were from the plain fields, no trees or grass around, which had meant that they were bombing a neighboring country whilst dropping theirs alone.

America with the wage of the war all over the world?

I mean, America waging a war-

America with the wage of the war?

All over the world?

I stood there in the sunlight, my outfit like the guy in Tiktok, leather coat lavishly over my shoulders as I looked at the fast small planes. I had been fearful of spotting another one near the caves, but it was fine.

My head took a mental note that (BETTY WHITE?? KEEPS REAPPEARING??? YOU CAN'T DISTRACT ME) the small, easy, missile planes were gone, pacing slowly as the distance made them look and move so, but screaming as the big plane that had just exploded every poor person into bits in half as they were baited into the needing food, wanting power, climbing on top of other people as a trap, and being sent to the "where the airplanes drop" message was there.

The military guy saluted to my father, who came out of the cave.

"Nice to see you going there," he had said. Mask off, his eyeprotecion wear was still there.

"Ah, yes! Nice going." he had said.

I could see the excitement as he had "gained" respect from someone dangerous. I see this as a trap and a manipulation form that the government uses.

A form of plor and play in order to get enemies who might stand up to it as "powerful with me" only respecting you when you were with them, making you feel as though you're making an alliance out of both mutual best interests while their plan is to get you to feel unworthy ad powerless outside of yourself, similar to the poor people, but with the middle class, the surviving or "thriving" group of people, making them feel as though they could only gain the amount of power and food and shelter that they deserve because they were average, young, and healthy, but not too healthy, rich, but not too rich, able, but not too able, and powerful, but not too powerful, in order for the middle class to prevent an uprising wherein conditions that should be inherently met are only guaranteed if you play along, seemign as if to grant you a win over others when it's plying you in their game.

Once the helicopter cop was gone, a vision fo the dead people where there, a mile away from the cave hideout of the once were alive adult people. The white corpses of the humans starved by work to death, wear there, piles of bodies just the same, adults, youngsters, and children at the bottom, adult men at the top, dead and white, in cartoonish style of the 1980s comics, as their red blood piled under them as they lay on top of it. Like a feats fit for a king cannibal for his servants, there they lay, lifelss as their bodies are in half, raw white meat and bones and teeth and stones.

I went back inside the cave, clutching the leather jacket around me. My family was there, but my mother was more than disappointed that she hadn't gotten rid of me during the war. She had wished to not have a spoiled and disappointing and mischevious child like me, hoped that my naivety of going into the battlefield would keep me there, dead, and long gone, when hoping and continouing to go on for the hope of a light (myeslf) was the one that helped me bring back inner peace as I strived through it (the battlefield). I passed her in the cave as her eyes blink and close out of disapproval of my essence and the form I had chosen to take.

I looked at the once-now-corridor-once-was-portal haven was. It was a hospital corridor, as if old people who get treated where treated to die, instead of live.

The old man was sleeping, slouching as though there weren't any walls behind him, the pink lady looking through the smoked end of the cave, revealing yet another light, but one that we can't go to, given the previous way of peaceful passing as once now gone, and now replaced by the sorching hot desert death with the white gleaming reflection fo the bright usn, brought by the baarren land that encompasses the angel view of the cave from its soil, effectively rephrasing the white portal from "realm we're going peacefully into, away from all of this," into "a portal of the open physical realm, preparing you for strike. embrace me"

The orange lady sat there, starign straight into the bald man's head.

"They all want us dead..." she had said, this time with the haze of the old woman as she watches were years go by, frozen as time struck with move.

There's a piranha slappign on the ground, jumping to move, but moving and coming closer at the edge of the antrance nonethelesss.

It was actually the actual gore fishes that had lightbulbs on their carrote head broomstick of bait, telling me a message.

"Tell the world what you see." He slaps his tail as he jumped again, water dripping from its scales to the sand, his head bobbed towards the bleeding corposes and the airplanes dropping. There are now white leiutenants in white caumoflages (fighters in the spiritual realm, but in a more unsettling way?) drops to the ground, blasting their bazookas off as it vacuums the bodies into dust like a blackhole in their hands, leaving the few remains of a few corpses, the corpses of a girl, her father,r, and her mother, on the ground, seeming as though it was a mere murder family that had it coming by going through the fence of the government. He cleans up, and sits at the helicopter, a white one, blank of its crime sins, dressed up as though they were innocent of the job.

but it wwas playing innocent for the job.

The man sits there, looking past the fog that enclosed the once desert plain land population as protection from the wars of the outside world.

But now it made sense. The government was wagigin war on us, and it led us to knowing that other countries fought back in return, and yet the government keet screwing us over, blaming the corruption and prevalent poverty on those suffering from it, no the system causing it itself, as a way to prolong the abuse of the tenants of a foreign land to its owners.

The helicopter was gone, adn so did the military camp base. THe scenery kept changing, until I realized one thing.

They conquered them first, I thought as I looked as how the military campaigners brought the fog border with them as they strode off through the cave's location.

Now they're coming for us.

THe fish slapped itself on the ground by jumping on it again.

"Go tell them to the world."

There's a spiritual warfare happenign in the world whilst the physical manifestations come as the symptoms of mysoginy, rampant abuse, taking power and control over the women, the children, and the youth, the lgbtqia+, minrotiies, indigenous groups, and older people, whilst the middle class, especially adults, are being made to feel as though the world is wrong and is broken place, and they, the ones who can fix it, are the ones who are supposed to, by enforcing more rules and lawws, perpetuating the abuse of constant loops of cycles of disempowerment by corrupted people in the government and powerhouse itself.