My own story

by Commander Lyur
I do not find my adventures extraordinary or different from many hundreds of other commanders on the planet. This is just one of the many regular Starfleet missions.

But I know that you like somehow to have some confirmations, some personal concrete stuff, some positive proofs, something that you may say "Maybe that incredible is credible after all". Here we are.

Cdr.Lyur personal log. Local space/time; end 40s, planet Earth time. Starship "Light" in stationary orbit. Officers and crew all standing in the main mighty hall, golden radiance from the crystal walls. Laughter and tears past, good-byes have been made. It will be a long time before we meet again. All ranks to attention. Separation of ship underway. Officers and crew have splitted in half, on each side. Captain Awaana is as beautiful as ever in her golden uniform. I am on the other side. "Everything in order. Going to be all right, number One. You all will have full back up. Shuttles on patrol and rolling round the clock for each of you." Sure we will all be fine, Starfleet never fails. "Engage ship separation" That's it, we are gone, the Starship split, she separate her atoms, she duplicate herself, a genesis, a birthing.

Earthlings will record these splitting of spherical Starships, photos, and even films by Russian military. The away team feels itself in a golden orange ball, separating from... "mother'? There will be a mother all right, for each of us, and pretty soon.

A last thought transfer, a telepathic love kiss between us. See you down there. Hey Lykan, have you chosen them? No, I go on automatic. How are we to find each other? They will put the magnetic tracks to gather us at phase 4. Magnetic tracks, how in heaven could they work in such a heavy soup? "Hold on, boys and girls, we go now. Good luck to each of you. The ship #2 will wait for us, orbiting right here.

Now, go!"
This is a black hole; the stepping-down training was not like that... Too dense black. Shrinking, falling... And that hurting light... Only a few days, I remember. So difficult to stay in that tiny body, energy spiraling all over. I have seen the ears, why so. Big. Yes they are not telepaths, they need them. Talking, how to communicate with only talking. And they listen only to their own voice. Feel so alone. They too feel so alone, all of them. No thought-transfer, they are all isolated inside their bodies. Did not think that would be a problem…

Maybe I could communicate with the others of the away team. Children time. Sweetness, play. I met them, the one from the ships, more and more invisible. Memories lock themselves, fade away.

A mother is always OK. But him, this is not my father. Works opposite, too. I am a stranger for him, from out there. He knows it. Don't understand. This is why he beats me; he wants me to shrink even more. Skin and bones, but I am still too much for him, like my brothers up there. I got three of them, big, blue color. Others here have family guides, my guardian angel, well there are spacemen, and three of them...Funny... Older kids protect me also, always an older girl. Maybe guided by the golden one, far above.

That's it, I have forgotten it all, almost. I have seen some dead bodies around. Potato sacks squares of whey. I tell them, they are not dead, that does not exist. They look at me, strange look. I don't cry when I see dead humans, but I do with animals, always. They are not responsible; they did not wanted that. But the humans, sure, they are talking about it all the time, they surely want to die. They are even proud that our great commander Sananda "died for them"!

Nobody church type in the family. except my sweet grandmother, yes, very much. She has a paper from the Pope, John 23, in the kitchen, like a diploma. He said that she is forgiven for all sins, past, present and future. Signed by him in person ! What a piece! Grandfather loves me, he knows. He says humans are fools, mad. He was at Verdun, the Great War, and artillery. Ordered to fire on our own troops, in the back, so they would advance. Germans were doing the same, on the other side. Grandfather said the bankers, they control that planet. He protects me, from the father.
They have sent me to the kid church school. The priest recites the stories. I tell him, no that's not true, it did not happen like that, to Moses. And Ezechiel, and Enoch. And Jesus. Not true. They got rid of me, finally. Never seen a bible at home, but I know, that book, something wrong.
There is another one, a girl, same age, in the village. Same class. My father is the school teacher, the great man. He specially beats her physically too. She likes me, protects me. Teenagers. Happy times. The sixties. I meet her, sometimes. She talks differently, she knows too. Does not believe in death, either. She helps poor children; people call her the "angel of the village".

Father has stopped to beat me. Too old now. For good measure, has broken my nose, the last time. I feel more free, stronger; I am going to date her.

Summer holiday, back from uncle. In the train, suddenly she is there around me, invisible, so sad. Could not see her, but I know. Father is the first I see back home. He is there, up on the stairs, large smile at me. First words "Your girl friend, she is dead, car accident, two days ago". He is jubilant.

That's it, too gentle, like me. Never could say no, she has boarded that car, with the other girls. That macho Earthling guy, so much like my father, he was drunk. They told me, she knew it, bought a black dress, just before the accident. That macho killed them all. I told myself, never be like that, like father, like that stupid killer. Man energy is very bad here. Now she is gone, just sweet sixteen. She died at the hospital, doctors crying, could not save her, saying that it's a crime to bury a beautiful being like that. I am alone, again. Where are the others, those like me?


I am a rebel now, without a cause, like Jimmy Dean. Everything's wrong at college. Father got crazy, he his punishing my younger brothers too. not physically. He has found other ways. No gifts for Christmas, nothing. I steal toys in stores for my brothers. Rock n' Roll time. We have good French rockers. Rebels. Black jackets. Night belongs to us. I have dreamed of her, gone not long ago. She said we will meet again one day, and she will send people to me.

Our black jacket band has heard of these, plenty of strange objects around, that the steelworkers see coming back home early morning. Sky always red, night and day, iron dust, the French Pittsburgh, but the workers say "flying saucers". They have seen also a big cigar in the sky near the border from Luxemburg.

It has happened. The guys from our band have called me "Come on, tonight, it will come at eleven, every night"
Red sky night, Vulcan fires exploding over giant steel factories. Iron smell. But it is dark where we are, a few hundred yards from the Belgium border. One of the guys is crazy about UFOs, has build radio receivers. He has leukemia, but is full of hope to the new. He says, you are going to hear the sound first, big slow nice buzzing, and it will be right there, over the forest, just over the border, sharp at eleven. Now it's all around like a million of bees, and suddenly it's there, up in the air, a big orange glowing object, beautiful, awesome.


Mouth wide open, we feel a tremendous energy from it, the Earth seems to reverberate, they have all the iron mines under, tunnels that makes a huge echo instrument for the object to play with. All TVs shot down in the neighborhood. The object suddenly disappear, and reappear a few hundreds yards to the left. Mighty power, out of this world. This is a big shock. Big shot. Well done, guys. Every night the ship will come, staying for more than one hour, close to the house of my parents. They would never to come to see it, of course.
After one week of that treatment, they got it right. I rush straight into the bookstore and pick-up a sci-fi book. Title: "My name is All"

I have moved to Paris, on my own now, free, finally. Everything is speeding up, I have connected with spiritual and psychic group's precursors of the New Age. I meet hundreds of people in the crazy city. I am already writing in UFO newsletters and mags, telling the story, and writing theories about UFO routes, magnetic lines with invisible beacons. The other UFO researchers still believe that the ships follow fault lines to got "fuel". Stupid humans.
Back in Lorraine for the summer. This is a new house now, in the country. Almost every night, they would come; I have a UFO detector, buzzing all the time. Grandfather is there, watching with my brothers and me. The parents are not interested. We see projectors from the sky, no noise, big flashes. Luminous objects on the hill, staying all night sending like signals. Grandfather say, it is like Morse signals, but different. He understands what that might be. With my brothers we discover some burned traces on the ground.

This is the eighties now. Much experiences, many psychic ones, many awakenings, many sightings of spaceships. They seems to follow me whenever I go. A story has broken wild. A young guy has been seen boarding a flying saucer near Paris, is gone. All Europe is waiting his return for one week, all TV channels and radios on the scoop. One week later the guy reappear in the same field, in a ball of Light. The best known French UFO writer, Jimmy Guieu, takes the story. A book is published, is in all stores. They have performed hypnosis; there is channeling and everything. They say they are from Orion, they will land if people are ready, on august 15, 1980, a 'marial' date (apparitions of Mary). I start to have thought-transfer flooding my mind. I write to Jimmy that they would come but stay invisible, and will not land, forget it.

On the day I am on the field. There are hundreds of cars from all over Europe and thousand of people, waiting the flying saucers to land, right here near Paris. They do nothing, just wait cameras ready. I have bought infrared film for my camera, remember they say they would be invisible. I don't care about the Orion story, seems too corny, but I know that my friends will come, this is a good test for Western Europe, not to be missed. 'My' ship will be there. During the night I would take these infrared pictures, on tripod, while I could see nothing with the eyes.

Somehow they would operate a synch operation with my finger on the trigger, I do not know. but a few days later, after processing, the ship will be there on the photos. I have been guided to go near the only group trying to do something, some kind of yoga, and the ship, still invisible, for me included, would come closer to the ground, above that group. At the end of the night the Starship will finally go, but just before, I would get a very strong thought transfer. "Humans are not ready yet for mass landings, they do not know how to get the correct frequency to be in tune with us. Now you go public and you teach them. Now we will be in touch with you all the time."

Back home, I would fall in a kind of comatic sleep for 3 days and 3 nights, with strong sensations on the back of my neck. They would do something in my brain; I would awake suddenly sometimes because of a strong voice in my head, telling me something, and then falling back straight on the bed. I am 33 years old; they have prepared me for 14 years.
I would bring the serie of pictures to infrared experts from the European space missions. At the end of examination, they would tell me, we haven't seen you, that thing does not exist, but off the record, it is an object of 150 feet diameter.
Because of the photos, Jimmy would put the story and address on national magazines, and within a few days, I would be very public. At once my phone would be taped. I knew it because I was leader in a trade union, and the comrades at the Phone Company would tell me. But they could do nothing to remove the system. In the bunch of letters, one woman is telling me to go to see her, Danielle Leclerc (Amassia). The first thing I could only notice when entering her home is the original painting of Awaana.

She is my Captain, as nice as Captain Janeway, and very beautiful. Amassia has represented the energy pouring out of the members of the Command, sometimes in a very graphic way. So Awaana has normal shining golden hair. She is in command of the Starship "Light", dedicated to beam Christed energies on Earth and to awaken the Starfleet personnel on the ground. That color golden represent that energy, the plan of Sananda was often called "Golden Light Program" by contactees in our European countries.

"That's her, that's my captain". "I know, the painting is yours" For two years, Amassia would be my instructor, to finish my preparation for the mission. Through many adventures, she would always point out that her strongest wish was that the pictures of the Command would go to be known largely in the USA. I would not be with her for too long, because she too, would transit soon, at the age of 42. Finally, today I carry out her wish.
To be continued.....

Note from Cdr. Lyur : I would like to point out something that my instructor Amassia taught me. In order to be fully operational, credible to your own eyes and the eyes of others, to be sure that you are not running on your imagination, or mental body alone, you have to have positive personal proofs for you and to show to people. Saying your are a Space commander or channel or whatever is not good enough. That is NOT a proof that you really are. So Danielle/Amassia, for herself, was always asking from "The Brothers" positive proofs, concrete signs. She will request that very strongly - I have seen her ! - before every new step in the mission. I have done the very same, and, like her, I would never take the next step untill I have the sign or the proof, the OK from above, very concrete things like sightings with other withnesses, photos, videos, or tangible events. That way I am sure I am on the correct path, and in true connection with the Ashtar Command. Unfortunately, many New Agers, channels, and even "Ashtar leaders" don't do that. This is very unfortunate, and I feel the very reason why this is quite messy and foggy in that milieu today.(except for Native American channels or contactees, always in the security of traditional ceremonies and guardians) I have spoken. Captn' out.

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