Now I'm made to realize that Stazi Ministerium Fuer Staatssicherheit Dir. Markus Wolf was my father

    Boy, does this now all make sense! The continuing and never-ending persistent attentions by Social(ist) Agencies to "Talk," by Cops and Criminals to "Confess," by endless hordes trying to "Befriend" me... My life forced to be in this box... ad infinatum.
    It's odd that I would remember this now (5/5/9), but such is the nature of my life's work in hypnosis - I usually subconsciously do something long before I remember being told to do so so long in the past.
    And the timing is simply superb: For me to publish this now simply reinforces what is surely an espionage investigation against my mother & others at this point in time regarding her true intentions in my Great Aunt Catherine's inheritance trust. If it went Mother's way, it would create a precedence for the long-term Communization of estates, industries, ranches, etc. etc. Even this is overall timely, when once considers (/)bama's traitorous actions in this same regard.
    I remember well, as a young child, my mother asking the man I would call "Father," but who never really accepted me, Army Sgt. Arthur Samuel Hyatt, if he shouldn't adopt me. They had just got together - I'd always thought again - & had picked me up from my Grandparent's house in Florida.
    My German immigrant grandparents had believed that I was the reincarnation of their young son who'd died in a boating accident, and had treated me royally. Mother was quite different, and quite vicious. Even this starts to make sense, now.
    She'd told my "Dad" that it would be better for my psychological well-being if I was adopted, one of her usual "Psychological Health" lines of B.S. The real reason he apparently did not even know yet, for I remember how we had to drive up to Wisconsin in his old VW Bug one winter to see Great Uncle Baxter. How he'd specially bought it because it plowed through snow so well, as he'd learned during our stationing in Augsberg earlier. When I was just in Kindergarten, and Mother had me meet Markus Wolf the first time, in a clown disguise (It was his craft to always wear high shoes & certain unusual glasses when he met agents clandestinely, so they would recognize it was he). Saying one day, I'd meet him again, and perhaps "Go up into the clouds away with him with the pretty multi-colored floating ballons..." that he was "Selling." A psychological thing.
    Who told him he stood in line for Aunt Catherine's inheritance, but her demise was long off in the future. So he told Mother that, who was furious, and wanted a chunk of it THEN. He also instructed me to never think of it - If it came, it did, but not to depend on it. So I repressed the memory of it until I finally could not stand the intense pressures government agencies have pressed up me these many last years. False suspicions, investigations, gun seizures, Court-ordered "Treatment" agendas, my financial, personal, societal, - Everything you can think of - ruin. Now I understand why I was forced to marry who I was, and why She does what she does.
    I finally understand. This is Espionage of the highest level. And they'd arranged, wanted, me to remember THIS, now, finally.
    I'd been scooped into US Army Military Intelligence by getting me fired from jobs & then offering a "Job interview," which turned into a hypnotic session.
    Once placed in M.I., they basically could do anything they wanted with me, and to make a long story short, I was assigned to the 4th PSYOPS Group in Ft. Bragg after German Language training. In the Spanish section.
    There, an intense background check was performed. For example, a fellow "New roommate" claimed to be an undercover FBI Agent, and wanted me to help him try and buy guns from the armory Sergeant. I quietly turned him in to the Security Officer, and was told I'd done a good job.
    One late Friday afternoon, I was assigned the floor waxing G.I. detail, which left me alone in the secure building. The Security Officer appeared, wanting me to talk to him in his office, and then in came Aaron Breitbart. He'd said he was on loan from the Simon Wiesenthal Center as a supervisor researcher, which we all did as our duties. There was that phrase that put me in trance, and then he wanted me to visualize his name. "Aaron," a biblical figure. "Breitbart" meant "Bright Beard," or "Bright Fellow," even though he didn't speak German, but did speak Yiddish.
    But he started talking about something else very strange. About how I would be used to lure out a certain Nazi SS Concentration Camp doctor from World War II. That I'd be sent to Germany, where I'd really wanted to be assigned. That I'd qualify for the reward that had been offered, motivating me to want to. The whole thing was so strange to me I just remember disbelieving it. But I detect a certain memory "Black Hole" at that point.
    That's part of the process I've been used for, so very much. I'm so familiar with it's effects, now: Some other "Conversation" happened, and I was ordered to memorize it, repress it, and remember it, upon proper stimulation. (And, of course, saying so immeadiately gives the local Mentals ordained permission to "Get me "The help I need at all cost, etc. etc.)
    For I have another, seemingly separate memory that would make no sense until now. For it is of two West German Intelligence Officers speaking in German. Thusly, until now, I have placed that time and placed at some time after I worked at a German safehouse in Munich in 1977.
    No, they came into the office, as well, deliberately speaking in German as Breitbart said they would. That memory "Black Hole" now fills itself.
    (My German's rotten, but as best I can remember) "Und Der Markus Wolf?" Said one.
    "Der weurde sein eigenes Sonn sehen!" (He would want to see his own son!) But I didn't understand who they were talking about.
    "Aber kommen von Ost Duetschland zur America?" (But would he come from East Germany to the US?)
    "Davon schicken wir ihm zur Duetschland!" (So we'll send him to Germany!)
    "Die selbst!" (Same thing)
    "Nein! Der hat so viele Kontacten ueberallhin! Von Ost zur West macht ihm nichts! Der hat immer falsche Documentationen und so was." (No! He has all kinds of contacts everywhere! From East Germany to West is nothing! He always has false documentation and stuff.)
    And, lo & behold, exactly that happened and I suddenly got orders carbon copied for "Alexandria, VA", which my NCOIC told me meant CIA duty. When I arrived in Germany, I was assigned to the Duesseldorf Consulate with daily duty being going to the German safehouse in Munich. I was driven there by "Mr. Willms" (Dir. Bush) and "Mr. Hein" (Former Dir. Colby) and told not to say a word while they had a "Conversation" in the full view of the known surveillance camera.
    I was told that the previous Army staff there derogatorily called the German Administrator there, a "Herr Krapp," "Herr Crap," and to be sure and not repeat the insult. To not give the Germans the CIA wall vault key, for they would try hard to get it. I guarded it with my life, yet eventually, again under hypnosis, I was ordered to go and give it to "Herr Krapp." About which a "Security Breach" was written, one of the sealed documents given to HI Judge Komo in 1994 by then-Secret Service Agent Brian Larkin. (I eventually learned, in 1992, when his photos appeared on the Internet, that "Herr Krapp" was actually for sure the real Markus Wolf.)
    The same way I was one day suddenly ordered to drive to the SHAPE HQ in Mons, Belgium, with a packet labeled "Cosmic Top Secret" and to give it to this "Herr Krapp," and to nevermind that the receipt form was misspelled, "Rupp." Again, a Security Officer (Probably US Army Capt. Berigan) made a "Security Breach" out of it. These "Security Breaches" have been the excuse for the Secret Intelligence Court to allow the FBI to run my life like this, since. (Not to mention the Patriot Act.)
    Over time, I was heavily impressed of the Germans' desire to find & identify the head of the East German Intelligence Service, Markus Wolf, and his name appeared everywhere in the library of computer files. (Now I know why...)
    At one coffee break, the other Germans degrogatorily called him "Herr Wolf," and he just sort of stared into space. I guess they'd finally made him, and he was in the process of being turned. I just figured it was more bullshit at the time, but he approached me outside the building one day (In view of the known surveillance camera) and told me that he might have to go to prison, for in that during the war, he'd been in the SS, and so subsequently knew intelligence officers on both sides since. Which had gotten him into trouble.
    And somewhere in all of that, the Germans had convinced me to go to the Ochsenbrauerei Zelt (Ox Brewery Tent - Year of the Ox?) at that Oktoberfest, and that contrived photo made.
    It's just like the contrived photos I have of Aaron Breitbart at 4th PSYOPS: As in the one, where I remember they'd deliberately had known dated models of cars parked in the background, to prove the date and place at Ft. Bragg. That there was a photo surveillance team in the van behind, I guess for further documentation, stashed away somewhere.
    Ah! I now flash on it! The man in the contrived photo with the black jacket, seated, looking up at the two of us! I just KNEW he was a German Intel Officer, but I've never been able to place him until now! HE WAS ONE OF THE TWO INTEL OFFICERS at the 4th PSYOPS deal!
    I was much in a fog of confusion by that time in my assignment in Germany, as so many wierd things had happened, and I simply just didn't believe half of what I was being told to be true.
    Yet I remember all taking their places, commenting on such, and the German Intel Officer in the black jacket talking with the photographer. Who'd asked why B&W film was being used.
    He'd replied that color film faded to quickly. If one looked at the photos in the archives, one could see that B&W photos easily lasted 30 years, the desired term of this one.
    Then the man in the jacket asked "Herr Krappe," as I'd known him, actually Markus Wolf if I wasn't his son. "Herr Krappe" replied that I was, and then asked me so. I muttered "I guess so," and just didn't accept what I was being told.
    Yet, as one can see the obviously contrived photo is deliberately made to show our comparisons: Even the photo of me as JFK Center Soldier of the Month is thusly angled, and I remember it being a special, German, photographer, too.

    Another contrived conversation that I've long documented in my writings concern "Herr Krappe" running into me in front of IRCD, the German Safehouse I worked at daily, right in front of the entrance. In those days, surveillance cameras were rather new, but this one spot was known to us all. Yet he wanted to talk about something, and I let him.
    He was depressed because he'd been charged with some kind of crime, and would have to see a Judge about it, perhaps going to prison for a very long time. I got the idea he'd been told to tell me some things.
    That, during the war, he as an Intelligence professional, had been in the SS and so now knew many of them still working on both sides. And that such had gotten him into trouble.
    Whether I'd been prompted to, or not, I don't know, but I asked him about his family. He said he had two wifes, both divorced, because of the nature of espionage. One lost trust. And the enemy ALWAYS tried to get at one through one's family.
    That he had a son, who was gay, but a fashion designer. He had designed the prescription glasses that wore, so that when he met his agents, they subconsciously knew it was he, in whatever disguise. That his son had his prescription, and he just sent for another when he needed one.
    That his health was good, but that he had a severe allergy to wheat and grains, so could not eat bread nor drink beer.
    That I probably had it, too. (Celiac's Disease) I told him I had no problems doing so, but who knew? I just couldn't accept half the things I was being told. And I'm not sure - Maybe blocking it out - That he may have mentioned being my father, then, as well.

    One of the stranger conversations, too, were with "Frau Schneider" (Actually NATO Spy Rainer Rupp's mother-in-law) one day exuberantly told me a bunch of stuff I couldn't believe.
    Showing me stacks of computer print-outs, telling me that my old roommate from way back (Kailua, I guess) was actually Ted Kaczynski from DLI, and was the "Unibomber."
    That "Herr Krapp" was actually STAZI Dir. Markus Wolf.
    That, while the Rupps were "Topaz & Tourquoise," I was SAPPHIRE.
    That I would, believe her, be "Eines Grosses Dingboompts, Eines Tages!" A really BIG SHOT, some day. Yeah, right...
    At least it all does "Dovetail," a word "LLO GS-12 Intel Officer Guenther Hein" (Former CIA Dir. William Colby, my OJT trainer at the time) didn't want me to use - Not until time.
    Another memory hole filled in: Elsewhere in this website do I describe an evening my Mother & her Commie friend, Donna had arranged for my "Dad" to find her in bed with my Stepdad-to-be, so as to drive him into an act of violence, and hence, "Dangerousness." She had already prompted me to tell my dad that "He was violent & I didn't want him in the house." He had, because of Her manipulations recently ordered me to obey Her, so I was forced to, ironically.
    I'd hoped in my hearts of hearts that I'd be able to talk to him in private, and explain that, for I did not mean that at all. In fact, my Mother was quite crafty in making sure I had no private contact with him after that, at all.
    So when the cops had him in handcuffs, he yelled out that She was doing it all to get at the inheritance, that he'd told the US Army CID about it, and that She had me brainwashed.
    He screamed at Her, "Why don't you tell him who his real father is?! It's some East German Communist Agent, that's who!"
    I'm trying hard to recollect this as true and valid, and not something I'm wishing to see. Yet, as I say, I know where there's a memory hole, and that's what this is: I NEVER wanted to remember this grand rejection, for it traumatized the rest of my life, the most horrible and deepest feeling possible. For decades, I would yearn for his return, and acceptance. My days in school were spent waiting for that knock on the door, for parents occasionally visited, and a tap on my shoulder. It was not until I'd been inducted into the Army, and was at DLI, did my kindly Marine NCOIC arrange to find his address, connect me up to him, and arrange some emergency leave for me. But by that time, I'd totally forgotten this bad memory, and couldn't tell him my true intentions of the time.
    Instead, when he did get to visit me & my brother one time, he totally ignored me. I guess someone had set him up with a quickie girlfriend, who later turned out to be on drugs, and he had a bad time of that, too. He had never truly accepted me, and thereafter only rejected me. I felt like I would never have any kind of future, whatsoever, yet knowing for an absolute that my Mother wished me to be forever miserable. That proved to be very true.
    But at least now I DO understand the immensity of all the attentions paid to me; Why the Director arranged for these decades of "Treatment" by an overwhelming number of people, for in that to remember this traumatizing event to its fullest. He'd called it the "Push/Release effect." Well, I've had my cry about it, hopefully they'll just leave me alone, now.
    He'd arranged so many things!... At the DLI NCO Club I'd cornered the music room and cried my heart out listening to Cat Stevens... ANOTHER paid script for a purpose. Cat Stevens never wrote anything good on his own...
    Wow. I finally feel like I've got a future of some kind now, if even at this age of 39. (Like Jack Benny...) WHO ELSE can claim to the world, and hopefully prove it, too, that they are the son of such a major espionage player as Markus Wolf?
    That therein lies the sophistication of the Enemy's attack of subversion upon our society? Upon our Constitution? Upon the capitalist right to even own property, prosper, and pass on estates to the next generation in the most efficient way possible, as we've done for 200 years?
    It's, indeed, part of the "Paranoid Schizophrenia" that was deliberately induced into my mind at the time, Mother's work, upon the advise of the Commie Intel Shrinks. No, I've never been "Dangerous," but I've been set up countless times to be as if so. Gary Condit being the paid assassin that thenceforth worked so diligently to frame me up with homosexually-related mutilation murders...
    To thusly so separate my own mind's value of my dad as I knew him... And my connection to Her, my Mother, is some pretty crafty stuff. So as to present to some inheritance Judge a pretty messed-up guy, when the time came...
    Such a vicious thing; I will NEVER forgive Her for it. But at least, for operative reasons, I've been made to understand it all, and at least have now my own mind back. Having dealt with that trauma in its fullest, I no longer deliberately flee the Here-and-Now to avoid this reality, this deliberate created "Delusionalism" or "Schizophrenia." The craftiness is on top of the Celiac's Symptomaticy, which mimicries such, as well.
    Which: Master Communist Spy Markus Wolf must surely have known. Perhaps aided by the research of former NAZI Dr. Aribert Heim, I take it. I now wonder if he hadn't also talked of his own diet, saying something about being allergenic to wheat? In that conversation in front of IRCD, the safe house?

    At one session, I was told how important it was that I remembered something by the 3rd of some month, and the tenth at the least ("Juu-ban," the worst in Japanese). By the Will this now be based on "Mayday! Mayday! (May Day, the 1st) I was wearing my Mae West jacket when I jumped over Chichi Jima..."
    "I was asked if that date meant anything to me, but there WAS one date I'll never forget. I promised myself I would jump again, the way I promise you, Rick, the day will come..."
    "My birthday is... And sometimes it falls on ..." Something about Queen Victoria... (May 18th, this year)
    "'V' for Victory, Rick! See the forest for the three's!"
    The special deal at the British base, dressing up & going to the Queen Victoria's Birthday Party...

    More to come...

    See my Zazzle Panel of bumper stickers I designed LONG AGO, "Weather Weapons Happen," and many others. Like the one that says, "That's not a baked potato, that's AlGore's brain..." On "Climate Change."