I awakened at midnight after going to sleep at eleven. Knowing full well that I usually have trouble going back to sleep when prematurely awakened, I continued lying in bed, debating to myself of whether I should get up to do housework, work on my blog, edit video, or just stay in bed to rest. The possibility started to cross my mind of being heavily fatigue at work, so I decided to lie in bed to meditate. I figured the perpetrators would disrupt the meditation process, but attempted anyway. I miraculously felt the deepest state of relaxation ever experienced. The feeling was considerably comparable to floating on a cloud. I passed onto either sleep or a trance, and awakened at approximately three o' clock in the morning. I left the bed, heading out to the kitchen when I suddenly started feeling a severe form of nausea. A dizzy state of consciousness plagued me to the point where I prepared my cell phones---I have one main one and a back-up---in case I had to call 911. I stood on my bedroom carpet with my nausea lasting approximately four minutes. I felt the urge to drink some water upon recovery. I learned that I was severely dehydrated after I was not only able to drink three-quarter gallon in one sitting, but also broke into profuse perspiration once I did. My body must have appeared as if I had bathed in sweat and just got dressed from the sweat bath. I heard a perp utter the word "mira" (Spanish for "look") via Voice-to-Skull (V2K) after this replenishing happened. I felt a mild "knot" in my stomach that just as quickly dissipated. I debated to myself of whether I should cook breakfast then decided I was up for it. I, however, refrained from brewing my morning coffee as originally planned since caffeine is known to take water out of a human body. I figured after my state of nausea and dehydration, my body was probably going to need all the water it can get. For breakfast, I broke nine eggs (a targeted friend of mine stated that she found that unbelievable when I told her over the phone that I sometimes eat that many eggs for breakfast, but I swear that it is true) into a small bowl, beat them with a fork, added fresh spinach, and fried the mixture in olive oil. I topped the mixture with previously cooked fresh beans as it fried. I wanted to sauté some onions and garlic in addition to adding herbs and/or spices for the mixture, but lacked the time; for I had to leave for work in approximately half an hour. As the eggs cooked, I scattered about the apartment to get some items ready. The urge to make a bowel movement came over me causing a run to the bathroom. Upon finishing, I came out of the bathroom to notice the eggs smoking in spite of my cooking them on low setting. I rushed to the stove to draw the pan away from the burner. I flipped the egg mixture and returned the pan, allowing it some more time to cook. I stayed with the stove to prevent another smoking incident. The other side of the mixture, fortunately, did not take as much time as the previous. I shut off the burner and scraped the eggs onto a large plate, eating them as quickly as possible. Upon finishing breakfast, I continued preparing to leave for work. I headed out after packing my items and putting on the proper attire.
I currently commute with a co-worker to get to/from work, so I walked to a street corner to wait for this person. During the whole time of waiting, I had several gangstalker vehicles accelerate past me. Among these vehicles was one SUV containing a driver and a front passenger that I recognize as two of my co-workers, and a pick-up truck consisting of a Redneck, who was blasting Country music. The pick-up had a pair of New York license plates. The Redneck was stopped at a red light at first then drove past the light upon the transformation of green as he turned his head toward me with a devilish grin. I did think the music sounded similar to a song I heard on YouTube (I'm not normally a fan of Country music, but there are occasions when I will hear a song of that genre carrying an appealing rhythm), leading me to believe that he was projecting my private life. I later realized the reflecting music was not his main tactic; for I started to remember that I did see this Redneck come into the gym where I exercise. He usually came with two of his daughters. One of them was making comments about some hammer curls that I was performing last night by asking her father "what is that" in a smart-ass tone. I ignored the remark and continued working out. They were behind me and fifteen feet away when the remark was made, but I still had the feeling that she was commenting about me. Part of me wondered if the Redneck family was part of the gangstalking or if this was just the witticism of an ordinary smart-ass teenager. I, of course, received confirmation of the former when the father drove past me on the street corner the next morning.