Trance Formation of America by Mark Phillips, Cathy O'Brien Page A

that interdimensions actually equated to the inner-dimensions of my own compartmentalized mind. Likewise, I did not understand that "Keys to the Kingdom" referred to knowing the codes, keys, and triggers to my controlled mind. "Guy said you like Cathy-licks," I said, repeating what VanderJagt had told me. "Are you the Keeper of the Keys?"
    Trudeau seemingly bore his cold, dark eyes right through me. "You can learn more from the school of thought than you can by asking precocious questions. Haven't you learned that children are to be seen and not heard?"
    "Is that a precocious question?" I asked. "What is a precocious question?"
    Trudeau sighed with impatience. "That is irrelevant. What matters is that you shut your mouth, still your mind, and enter the school of thought. Silence is a virtue. Listen to the silence in the stillness of your mind. Go deep inside your mind," he slowly led. "Deeper and deeper where it's quiet and still…"
    Trudeau expertly manipulated my mind with sophisticated hypnotic language. Not only did he enlist my Silence for the pedophile perversions he indulged in, but he instructed my "school of thought" in a manner that equated to programming. He laid a foundation for Air-Water programs that is a mirror-dimensional theme often used by NASA and others involved in Project Monarch. Playing off his own name "Pee-Air," he added a perverse twist to the theme that he accessed each time I was prostituted to him.
    Had I been capable of fear, I would have been afraid of Pierre Trudeau. Trudeau's slow, deliberate movements masked the brutal power of his body much the way his smooth, soft voice pierced my mind and intruded on my thoughts. The icey cold touch of his effeminate, manicured long fingers contrasted with the heat of his perversion… a perversion for which he blamed me and my "temptuous, contemptuous ways".
    In my childish ignorance, I believed Trudeau's demeanor and forward combed hair were characteristic of his French descent. "I know all about the French," I had bragged to my new «Grandpa» Van while visiting his home in Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
    My mother's father had died shortly before Kennedy was assassinated, and my Grandmother quickly latched onto a wealthy, highly political businessman from Milwaukee. She met Grandpa Van Vandenburg on the passenger/cargo ship that traveled the waters of the Great Lakes, the Milwaukee Clipper. The Clipper transported cargo including Cadillacs from Vandenburg Motors to Canada, as well as the drugs sanctioned by the local Coast Guard via the U.S. Government that my father distributed. Sometimes I accompanied my father to the docks in Muskegon to pick up the drag shipment, which usually involved prostitution. Jerry Ford and Guy VanderJagt combined business with pleasure in the ship's casinos on occasion, which is where the connection between my Grandma and Grandpa Van was reportedly made. Grandpa Van knew Jerry Ford, and subsequently was acquainted with Pierre Trudeau.
    "What do you know about the French?" Grandpa Van asked me as I sat on his living room floor petting the dog he just brought home. Improperly cued and dumfounded by his question I remained silent. "I know you've met Pierre Trudeau," he prompted. "I also know you love doggies. So I bought this dog for your grandma now, so you could enjoy him, too. His name is Pepe. He's a French Poodle,"
    "I know all about the French." I said, mentally comparing the large French Poodle in front of me to Trudeau. "They have pretty nails…" I stroked Pepe's painted toenails. "They have funny hair…" I petted Pepe's clipped fur. "And they pee a lot," I giggled.
    "You'd better take him outside, then," Grandpa Van told me, attaching Pepe's leash. After walking the dog past what felt like every tree in the neighborhood, I announced that I would call him "Pee-pee".
    Uncle Bob filmed Pepe and I pornographically on numerous occasions, producing bestiality films that I would later learn Pierre Trudeau was privy to. Pepe