The Great Remembering

Left Hook 7-18-2024

Excerpted from my book Royal Bloodline Wetiko & The Great Remembering: Chapter 23: The Great Remembering

It was five days before Christmas and 2023 was just around the corner. We got three feet of snow over the course of a week. A blizzard warning was issued and I-90 was shut down from Mitchell, South Dakota west to the Wyoming border. Then it got cold. Tonight the wind chill is forecast to drop to -55F. The yard light went out. It must have frozen. I shoveled snow for eight days in a row. Our shower froze. I was having a Florida moment.

I took Slow Loris for his morning walk. While he zoned in on the rosy finches hanging around the bird feeder, I noticed a herd of deer hustling up the hill across the road. Behind them, a large five-point mule deer buck waited and watched as the rest passed by and continued up the hill. When they had reached the top, three more deer ran quickly across the road and scampered past the buck on their way up. But still, he waited and watched. I did the same, becoming part of the herd for just a moment. The buck let me know that I was and thanked me. Then he trotted majestically up the hill behind those he loved and therefore protected.

The herd had huddled behind our apartment for four days, waiting out the snow. They used their perfectly designed hooves to dig through three feet of snow. At the bottom they found dry leaves to eat to get them through. I watched as the blizzard winds magically piled the snow on the hillside into the draws, clearing a path on the ridge for the herd to climb the hill. There, a pine forest awaited, which provided more forage and cover from the coming bitter cold.

It all seemed orchestrated by a maestro we could not comprehend. When I chose to become a part of the magic, I was welcomed by the protector of the herd. Liberal women would have seen the big buck as a dangerous pursuer of females, maybe even a male chauvinist. Conservative men would have objectified the buck and coveted his horns. Their perceptions having been poisoned by the Satanists. But I didn’t care. I was too busy remembering to be bothered by Crown narratives designed to destroy my natural relationships.

I was comforted by the fact that many other humans were now also remembering. As I was writing this book, nearly every day I would stumble upon information some other researcher had dug up that either reinforced or added to my own. Many times before I had seen this synchronicity, where humans attempting to liberate their species and their planet from the bloodline worked in unison and at long distances from one another to come up with the exact same conclusions.

Today, for example, the Twitter files released by Elon Musk by progressive journalist Matt Taibbi in a show of political unity, tell us that the FBI was actually paying the salaries of certain Twitter employees as they censored anyone whose information destroyed the Crown’s COVID-19 fairy tale. They were also providing Twitter with the names of people that they wanted to have banned from the platform. It was starting to look an awful lot like an electronic COINTELPRO – J. Edgar Hoover would have been proud.

In July 2022, someone blew up the Georgia Guidestones, a creepy American Stonehenge that recommended, among other things, a massive decrease in the world’s population. The fraudulent potential war criminal, Anthony Fauci, was forced to resign his post as the head of the NIH, where his salary had been the largest of any government employee. Even Australia, where lockdowns were especially brutal, was forced to allow travelers in without a COVID jab.

When we do this work, we get help from Wakan Tanka. Despite the attempts to ostracize and isolate us, our lives just keep getting better. Meanwhile, those who cower and climb the Crown ladder see their lives get worse, as they often hide behind alcohol to justify their cynical worldview while their health and family relationships deteriorate.

The animals, trees, mountains, rivers and lakes, as well as the sky and the sun, are all willing to help any time we ask. But we have to first remember that we can literally communicate with them, despite the Tower of Babel and DARPA net attempts to end these exchanges.

To remember, we must spend more time in nature and away from the artificial constructs of the bloodline. We are animals, not aliens. Our relationship with this planet runs much deeper than the Anunnaki realize. They don’t have the reciprocal connection that humans have with other creatures, plants, and stones because they are foreign to this planet. Neither they, nor their artificial intelligence (AI), are from here.

This explains why it seems like everything they do has to have the destruction of life on earth as its goal. They hate themselves, they hate humanity, and they hate this earth. It is for this reason that they are indeed synonymous with devils.

But Wakan Tanka is much more powerful than these devils. No matter how much carnage these insane wetiko invaders leave in their wake, the earth always bounces back. As an environmentalist, I’ve always been amazed at how quickly a clear-cut grows back or a stream cleans up after decades of abuse at the hands of some Crown timber or mining cartel.

Wakan Tanka allows this destruction to occur because not enough humans have remembered who we are. The minute enough do, as the Australian aborigines say, “the rocks and sticks go in the ground”. A Great Flood or an Ice Age may occur. Or a meteor may strike the planet as Creator purges it of evildoers while leaving a remnant of indigenous earth people to try again to get enough people to remember so that this vicious Lucifer-driven cycle can stop.

If we learn from these wise humans, we can return to the Garden of Eden.

But the intergalactic bloodline parasites have thus far also left a remnant. And instead of listening to the wise hunter-gatherer remnants, humans have listened to the deceptive Serpent. We have chosen discontent and restlessness over utopia. We have chosen the illusion of intellectual prowess over relationships. We have chosen to forget rather than to remember.

A few years back my wife and I embarked on a trip through Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Australia, and New Zealand. One day, we set out to hitchhike from Darwin to Kakadu National Park. It was a long day with very few suspicious Aussies willing to pick us up.

We finally made it there and spent the rest of the day looking around the park. It was beautiful, but we didn’t see a single animal the entire day. Somewhat dejected and exhausted, we decided to take the bus back to Darwin in the late afternoon.

Seated across from us was an aboriginal park ranger and her daughter, who I am guessing was four or five years old. The woman exuded a calm acceptance that I had not felt from a human being in quite some time. At some point during the trip, I busted out some snacks that we had bought. I noticed the child watching us as we ate, so I asked her mother if it was okay if I gave her some. The mother smiled and said it was. When I gave the little girl the whole bag, her eyes lit up. Her tiny hands could barely hold onto it.

For the next few minutes, we communicated without speaking, sending good energy back and forth. It was obvious that she had not had a white person treat her this way in a while, either. I let her know how much I respected her remnant clan, who believe that they sang the world into existence along a series of song lines that they use to walkabout to this day. She let me know that she felt this respect and appreciated it far more than the snacks I’d given her child.

When the child had finished the bag of chips, she began grabbing my arm, sitting on my feet, and doling out her own dose of loving affection. Almost immediately after that, communication hit its crescendo and wildlife began appearing outside the window of the bus.

First, we saw three wallabies, then a jabiru, then green and red parrots appeared, followed by some cockatoos. I settled into a Dreamtime state of absolute bliss, as once again I remembered the nature of reality. We had vibed the animals into appearing with our reciprocal kindness. They just wanted to be part of our herd, if only for a moment. They were now the ones reciprocating.

I was lucky. I had grown up in the land of Crazy Horse. My father was close to the Lakota people who lived on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation 50 miles west of our ranch. When I was a child, he would take me to the reservation to hunt antelope and grouse. He was one of the few whites the Lakota would allow to hunt on their land because they knew he respected them.

From early on in my life, I was given many opportunities to remember. I studied Lakota philosophy from a Sioux professor at the University of South Dakota, where I learned about the Sacred Hoop of life and that Indians had no desire to be capitalists and make money off the work of others.

The Lakota are also a remnant people. Their understanding of reality far precedes the Anunnaki intervention. They, like the Australian aborigines, know that the world does not exist in straight lines, but in circles involving relationships and reciprocity. It was from them that I learned to be semi-nomadic. It is better for the soul because it is how we were meant to live and how we did live before the Great Enslavement. Now, I was about to complete a major circle in that semi-nomadic life. I was going back to where it all started. I was going home.

---

ROYAL BLOODLINE WETIKO & THE GREAT REMEMBERING

In his seventh book, Dean Henderson tracks the royal Anunnaki bloodline from Sumeria through Babylon, Egypt, and Rome to their current power base in the City of London and deconstructs their methodology to keep humans enslaved and isolated during this relatively brief period of human history. Drawing upon ancient Lakota culture to remind us who we are, Henderson sees a great remembering unfolding which makes this royal bloodline very nervous.

---

---

Dean Henderson is the author of seven books, including, Big Oil & Their Bankers in the Persian Gulf, Illuminati Agenda 21, Nephilim Crown 5G Apocalypse and Royal Bloodline Wetiko & The Great Remembering. Subscribe free to his Left Hook column at deanhenderson.substack.com