VENUS-1 As my book's first episode readies to be published, a drawing portraying a Venus vision from 40 years ago was pending completion. This picture unexpectedly sparked an emotional reliving unlike any prior. In the picture’s foreground, a semi-transparent master stands glowing in a blue flame. To his side are three more, their colors representing a different plane of expression. About them are seven pillars, each lit atop with flames each representing one of the seven colors of Unarius. The architecture of surrounding buildings is Arabian or Moorish-like, observant to vision details. Interestingly, Venusians drawn by the artist have a “Spanish” look to them.

I received an email from my dear brother Gary Kainz in which he advised that I put myself down way too much in the book’s story. He was absolutely correct, but I seriously started pondering about it unsure why at the time. I was driving home from work when suddenly, the foreground master’s image came to mind and I thought; "he looks so pale, he looks as if he's dead, or on fire." That immediately alarmed me. Minutes later, the flaming towers impressed upon me an image of people burning on stakes. Shortly after, the three other masters seemed as if they were also on fire, then the glowing buildings. Then, I freaked out. Anywhere I looked, bright colors seemed to be on fire and I became even more frightened. My eyes began to burn, and so did my mouth and body, ridden with sores. Then suddenly, I started crying profusely unable to control it, feeling these four masters represented my family. From where, I did not know.

I hastily placed fault on myself, but then I thought, no, that's not right. There had to be another explanation, the previous one just didn't set right. Spain and Inquisition then came to mind, perhaps pre-1400's timeframe, but had no other critical indicators. Then, the artist working on the picture called up from Mexico (a Spanish connection) saying he couldn't finish the drawing because his PC was unexplicably overheating and crashing; another flaming consequence, but I could not yet tie facts together.

That night, my wife decided to steamroll me for the longest time for publicly going against the church. "You have no grounds for your claims, you're going against God by disclaiming the bible. You're lost reading those other books. Don't you think God protected His word? You need help, and your beliefs are all wrong" she said angrily.

I didn't argue, but gently maintained the bible was a forgery and shared sample mistranslated words responsible for numerous human ills today; standing for the Jewish version of these words. "So, you're still denying Jesus is our savior? Are you crazy? What about prophecy, his return, our praise for God?" she added.

I didn't want to further infuriate the situation, it would go nowhere, so I explained there was nothing I could say that would convince her, for her mind was made up. But if she had any questions, I would gladly answer them. She continued her rant, but I refused to give into fear, anger, or the church. "I will not join the church!" I replied staunchly. She then screamed and said several times; "you're a Jew, just like the others!" Suddenly, I knew. This had something to do with that Spain incident, and I was certainly being grilled by the Question - yet another religious arrest, this time, as a Spanish Jew.

That night and the next day at work, I helplessly bawled and quivered relentlessly; I could not stop. I hid my head the best I could, that wasn’t good enough. I embarrassingly shivered and gasped when I spoke, and the essence of fires was everywhere. In meetings, people were exceedingly accusatory of me without foundation, wondering why themselves. I started typing up an email to Cosmon but quickly exploded with emotional tears and tremors so bad I could not walk or speak. I locked myself up in a conference room, but could not find relief – I was reliving running away from persecution.

I called up Lesley to get Cosmon’s email address, trying to hide my feelings from her the best I could, but that didn't last long. She asked; “are you alright?” That was it, I really let go then, and my cry was so strong I thought I would come apart. Though I knew what this past was, and saw the scenes, I could not shake these powerful emotions and my heart could not stop tears while saying; my family is gone. This lasted into the night, when I was finally able to let go of this darkness and sores melted away.

Analysis. Location: Spain, Jewish/Muslim brutal massacre, possibly city of Cordoba. Timeframe: June, 1391. Event: mass murder of 2000 Jews unwilling to convert to Christianity and burning of synagogues, homes, warehouses, anything Jewish. My role: ran away and hid from mobs, captured, accused of being a Jew, though cowardly denying it at first as my family burned before me – perhaps, I followed. I feel I was a teenager that unwisely, selfishly, showed off his heritage and therein painted a bull’s eye against the local Jewish community. It was a time of grave prejudice against Jews and Moors brewed by Ferrand Martinez, the queen’s confessor. Seville was first, Cordoba was next.

Submitted by: Roberto Gaetan on 02/01/2014

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