Hypnotic "Thinking"

August 8, 2013

I was at work yesterday (8/7/13) when my supervisor called my name. I approached him to find a clipboard in his possession. He asked me to sign a personal slip for the time I was absent due a co-worker with whom I'm commuting being unable to start his car---I suspect that my perpetrators caused this disturbance. My supervisor then pointed at a fiber drum located in front of a door that he had previously identified as an emergency exit. He stated, "...and I thought I told you not to block that door." I looked at the area, surprised as hell about the drum being placed back in front of the door after I had moved it. There was part of me however, that wondered if I moved it back at some point and forgot about it. "I thought I had it over there..." I replied as I pointed at an empty space across from the door. My supervisor made a statement of which I could not discern due to the high noise of the work area. I replied by saying, "huh" as I came closer. He repeated, "don't start thinking. It will get you in trouble. It gets me in trouble everytime I think." Surprised, I stood there wondering why my supervisor made this statement and what he means by it. I wondered as I moved the drum, if this was some sort of intimidating psychological-operation (psy-op) because the gangstalkers don't like something that I did at home---waking up at midnight and being a little more active inside my apartment, perhaps. My supervisor did seem awfully pissed with me later in the day. He watched me more than usual and he seemed disgusted when I told him about a machine breaking down. This led me to wonder if this was an additional psy-op. The shift ended in the afternoon. I was in the backseat of my co-worker's car when it dawned on me minutes later that I was using a hysterical tone when trying to explain to my supervisor that I thought I had the drum moved out of the way. I even recalled moving my hand in a frantic manner. I wondered if the perpetrators had me mind-controlled into sounding argumentative or combative toward my supervisor. I have read that they can manipulate a target's emotions causing him to use a certain tone and I did feel a high level of exciting astonishment earlier that day. I also started to recall that I was barely in my own body after my supervisor stated that "thinking" will get me in trouble. I became riddled with shock and awe upon this realization. I wondered if they would sooner or later make me do something worse that leads to my discharge from work, yet I would not be intimidated. I vowed to continue living my life to its fullest potential (as full as a target's life could be) for I could die tomorrow. It would matter not how I live my life or don't live it. Other than the possibility that I could acquire an electromagnetic field (emf) related illness or injury, there is also martial law. During this time of unrest, a time that survivalists call when "Shit Hits The Fan (SHTF)," I could get detained and sent to a FEMA death camp. Internment in the United States is real ladies and gentlemen. Uncle Sam has done it to U.S. Citizens before and he will do it again. There is even a leaked U.S. Army document known as FM 3-39.40, stating that they would intern citizens. There were some additional episodes with my mind on the way home; among these were some V2K along with falling in/out of vertigo. I, at one point, became unconcious, waking to the sight of the car being parked along a curb with all of the seats empty except for the one that I occupied. There were two other passengers besides myself who were all apparently dropped-off with my co-worker leaving his vehicle afterward, presumably to run an errand. I sat in astonishment of this episode when I received some clicks to my skull. The co-worker returned minutes later. I arrived home minutes later and entered the apartment building, hearing a perpetrator yell something inaudible from across the street. I began to ponder about the earlier episode with my supervisor, wondering if it had been mind control when my thoughts became disrupted (in a non-Voice-to-Skull [V2K] manner) by a loud, long blowing of a vehicle's horn.