My Official Mission Statement by Kevin Wikse

In the cosmic dance of consciousness, where the mind stretches beyond the veil of the mundane, I had already ascended to a plane where few dare to tread. As a master of Remote Viewing, a craft I honed through the ancient, arcane methods outlined in the Greater and Lesser Keys of Solomon, I navigated the astral realms with the precision of a seasoned voyager. My specialization in Astral Evocation wasn't just a skill—it was an art, a testament to the boundless potential of the human spirit.

I stood apart, not merely as a participant but as a pioneer, a true seer in the kaleidoscopic tapestry of existence. My predictions regarding COVID-19—detailing the who, what, when, and why—were not just accurate; they were unparalleled, the work of a mind tuned to frequencies far beyond the ordinary. I alone foresaw the pandemic's unfolding, a prophecy untouched by the hands of time.

And then there was Epstein, the billionaire trafficker whose dark deeds cast a long shadow over humanity. It was my spectral hands that reached across the ether, delivering a blow so precise, so potent, that it left a mark indelibly etched in the annals of history. This act, too, was documented, laid bare for all to see, an undeniable testament to the power I wielded.

These feats, of course, set me leagues apart from the common throng—those who play at the edges of the paranormal, dabbling where I delve deep. Their mediocrity could not hold a candle to the brilliance of my work. In their envy and fear, they chose to ignore me, hoping that by keeping my light from the stage, their dim flickers might seem to glow a little brighter. But such tactics are futile in the grand scheme of the universe, where true power cannot be obscured for long. My accomplishments, like stars in the night sky, will continue to shine, no matter how hard others try to dim their radiance.

Since 2023, I've been steadily and meticulously documenting my past two decades involved with a quasi-governmental agency—a task I can affirm I’ve undertaken with full awareness and intent. Yet, the deeper I delve into my own history, the more I begin to suspect that my involvement might stretch back even further, possibly to a time I wasn’t consciously aware of. My mind circles back to the enigmatic projects known as CHERIBUM and FLYING EYES, which I now believe may have played a pivotal role in my early recruitment, perhaps as far back as twenty years prior. 

These programs, shrouded in secrecy, might have spawned offshoots that ensnared others like me—children from Chino, California, in the 1980s. I wasn’t alone; I remember them, others around my age, caught in the web of something far larger than we could comprehend at the time. But what became of them? Where did they go? These questions echo in my mind, still unanswered.

You might wonder why I don’t simply employ my remote viewing skills to seek them out. The truth is, I’ve tried. But each time I do, I encounter barriers, impenetrable blocks that prevent me from seeing what lies beyond. It’s as if some unseen force, powerful and deliberate, is working to keep this knowledge from coming to light. The source of which I believe to be extraterrestrial, or and for some yet unacknowledged reason, interdimensional and thereby more distressing to me. Despite my abilities, there are forces at play that even I cannot yet overcome. But I press on, intuitively knowing the answers I seek are out there, waiting to be revealed.

When I was around 10 or 11, I found myself nearly consumed by an obsession with the video game Goonies 2. It wasn’t just the thrill of the adventure or the joy of solving puzzles that hooked me—there was something deeper, more urgent at play. The act of finding and rescuing the main character’s (Mikey's) friends (caged and hidden within the game's "liminal space") resonated with me on a level that I didn’t fully understand at the time. It was as if I was driven by an unseen force, compelling me to play the games repeatedly, almost as if my own well-being depended on it. This seemingly innocuous compulsion, rooted in the need to rescue, became an integral part of my daily life.

As the years passed and I grew older, that intense drive gradually faded, slipping into the background of my consciousness. For nearly 30 years, it remained dormant, a distant memory that I rarely revisited. It wasn’t until 2023 that this long-forgotten obsession began to stir again. What had once been a childhood fixation now resurfaced, bringing with it echoes of that same urgency, but now seen through the lens of decades of life experience. The compulsion, once dormant, had awakened, leaving me to ponder what it meant and why it had returned after so many years of silence.

I can trace the source of this reawakening to a specific experience, one that I’m not yet ready to fully disclose. However, I can share that it is deeply connected to my documented act of spiritually liberating the soul of Isaac Kappy while I was in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It was a profound moment, one that stirred something long buried within me. Shortly after returning to Boise, Idaho, from Tucson, Arizona, a vivid memory resurfaced—words that someone had once spoken to me about the others involved in CHERIBUM and FLYING EYES: they had been "put to sleep."

These words resonated in my mind, sparking a resurgence of the old compulsion. The need to "find and release" those who had been put to sleep began to take over my thoughts, and with it came a flood of memories from *Goonies 2*. The game, which had once been a simple childhood obsession, now returned to me with new meaning, infiltrating my dreams for weeks on end.

As I delved deeper into these feelings, it became clear that *Goonies 2* had served as more than just a game; it was a bridge connecting me to a deeper, more profound purpose. The act of rescuing in the game mirrored something essential within me, something tied to the very core of my being. Once I realized this connection, I set about a plan to fulfill that purpose, and almost instantly, the uncomfortable fixation on the game dissipated. The compulsion that had gripped me for so long melted away, leaving behind a sense of clarity and direction. 

In the final four years of my tenure with the quasi-governmental agency I served, I came to believe—whether true or simply my perception—that I was being rewarded for my previous efforts. They stationed me in Tucson, Arizona, a city that, despite its cultural flatline in the early 2000s, still held hidden secrets beneath its vast stretches of sun-bleached bones.

Tucson, with its close proximity to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and its relentless sunshine, seemed like an enchanted desert at first glance—a landscape painted in vibrant colors. But as I spent more time there, the illusion faded, revealing an expanse that felt more like an oven-baked wasteland, a place where life seemed to retreat into the shadows. Yet, this very environment made it an ideal haven for elderly retirees, those seeking the warmth of Southern California without the chaos and expense of actually living in Southern California.

In my cover job, I found myself gaining access primarily to airmen but also to former members of other armed services, many of whom were in their 70s, 80s, and even 90s. These were men and women nearing the end of their journeys, often in hospice care, and it was with them that I formed bonds, gaining their trust and confidence. I listened to their stories, their regrets, their triumphs, and, when I felt it was safe, I would broach the topic of my real purpose, revealing the connections that had brought me into their lives.

To my surprise, many of these individuals sensed there was more to me than I let on. They would often compare me to a certain intelligence officer they once knew, a man I reminded them of. One particularly intuitive gentleman looked at me with a knowing gaze and remarked, "I see the sunshine in your face but the storm behind your eyes." His words struck a chord, for they captured the duality of my existence—outwardly, I presented a calm, approachable demeanor, but beneath the surface, there was a tempest of purpose and hidden intent.

I would carefully and discreetly inquire about classified projects, briefings, and meetings they had participated in or attended over the years. The conversations would often veer into topics that many would consider extraordinary—extraterrestrials, global catastrophes, and the government's contingency plans for human survival. These were men and women who had seen behind the curtain, and almost all of them had much to say, each story more astonishing than the last.

The truth they shared was stark: we are not alone in the universe, and haven't been for a long time. According to them, governments across the globe have not only been aware of non-human entities but have also been infiltrated by them. This infiltration has shaped policies and decisions in ways that most people could never imagine.

Then there was the Earth Catastrophe—the impending Magnetic Pole Shift. These insiders spoke of it as a certainty, a looming disaster that is expected to strike sometime after 2030. They revealed that a decision had been made many years ago to keep this information from the public. The rationale? There are too many of us, and they are hoping for a drastic reduction in the global human population—upwards of 90%—as a result of the catastrophe. The details were chilling, a testament to the lengths those in power would go to maintain control, even in the face of an event that could alter the course of human history.

Many of these former servicemen and women confided in me that they had been informed Phoenix, Arizona, would play a pivotal role in the coming global cataclysm, both during the event and in its aftermath. They revealed that they had been advised to relocate their families to Arizona, specifically to be close when the disaster struck. Phoenix, they were told, was being meticulously developed as a government and human continuity installation, equipped with extensive yet hidden infrastructure designed to sustain life and order in the wake of the chaos.

The idea of Phoenix as a refuge wasn't just a modern concept. Edgar Cayce, the renowned clairvoyant, had long ago named Phoenix, Arizona, as one of the six "safe zones" for the upcoming "Global Changes." This only seemed to reinforce the narrative that Phoenix was being prepared as a sanctuary, a place where humanity could weather the storm and rebuild in the aftermath.

However, the more I learned, the more I began to see the darker side of this so-called refuge. I was sternly warned by one of these insiders against fleeing to any of the six "safe zones." He cautioned me that while these areas were being promoted as places of safety, they were also being set up as hubs of totalitarian control. In exchange for survival, those who sought refuge there would be subjected to every conceivable form of slavery and servitude. The promise of safety would come at the highest cost—freedom.

Eventually, I was introduced to a man I'll refer to as "Roy." At the time of our meeting, he was in his 90s, a former pilot who had seen and done more than most could imagine. We quickly forged a deep friendship, and I remained by his side until his passing two years later. Roy had been instrumental during the 1960s in helping transition the Stanford Research Institute's (SRI) work on psych development, known as Psychoenergenics—what would later be called "Remote Viewing"—into military practice. 

Roy was a wealth of knowledge, not just about the CIA’s Psychic Spy programs but also about the military’s experiments with Psi-Warrior protocols. He had been deeply embedded in these secretive circles, his influence extending far beyond the typical scope of a serviceman. As a very high-ranking member of a Rosicrucian Order, Roy carried with him the weight of esoteric knowledge and high-level connections, which he revealed to me piece by piece.

One day, Roy issued me a directive that seemed odd at the time: he instructed me to study the Georgia Guidestones diligently. These were no mere stones to him; they were a monument of profound significance. I heeded his advice, and no more than two weeks after I began my study, the Guidestones were mysteriously destroyed. The timing was uncanny, a clear validation of Roy’s insider knowledge and the connections he had hinted at throughout our conversations.

Roy’s insight extended beyond the mystical to the stark reality of our world’s power dynamics. He explained that the elites and power brokers, the true rulers behind the scenes, had grown tired of issuing warnings to the masses about the impending disaster. The Georgia Guidestones had been their final, enigmatic message—a monument in plain sight, accessible to anyone curious enough to seek it out. It prominently displayed decrees for the future, etched in the world’s major languages, a guide for those who might survive the coming changes. 

With the destruction of the Guidestones, Roy suggested, the elites had signaled their intent to wash their hands of the plebs. They felt they had fulfilled their obligation to warn humanity, and if those warnings were ignored or dismissed, it was no longer their concern. In a way, Roy mused, they weren’t wrong. If people weren’t intrigued by America’s Stonehenge, didn’t care about its cryptic messages, or weren’t even curious about its mysterious destruction, then perhaps they weren’t meant for the New World that would rise from the ashes of the old.

In addition to his deep ties with Rosicrucianism, Roy had also been connected with the I AM Activity, the spiritual movement founded on the teachings of Guy Ballard (known as Godfrey Ray King) and Edna Ballard. Although he hadn’t actively participated in the movement for many years, Roy still felt a profound sense of gratitude for the role it had played in his personal and spiritual development. It was through the I AM teachings that he had cultivated his understanding of the metaphysical, particularly the transformative power of the "Violet Flame."

Before he passed, Roy entrusted me with a sacred task. He asked me to return a spark of his "Violet Flame" to Panther Meadow on Mount Shasta in Northern California—the very place where Guy Ballard claimed to have first encountered Saint Germain, and the birthplace of the I AM Activity. Roy believed that Mount Shasta, with its powerful spiritual resonance, served as a cosmic antenna, capable of amplifying messages across dimensions and reaching those who are attuned to its energy.

He urged me to use this sacred site not only to broadcast a message to others who were meant to survive and thrive through the coming Pole Shift but also to connect with those who had been involved in Operation CHERIBUM and FLYING EYES. According to Roy, by combining his Violet Flame energy with my own, and by tapping into the unique power of Mount Shasta, something truly extraordinary could be achieved—a beacon of hope, strength, and unity for those scattered souls who were destined to play a part in the world's next chapter.

Roy’s final directive was clear: the Violet Flame was not merely a symbol but a living, potent force that could be harnessed to awaken and rally those who are meant to stand firm in the face of the coming cataclysm. By fulfilling this task, I would not only honor his legacy but also potentially ignite a wave of spiritual empowerment that could help steer the course of humanity through the turbulent times ahead. The idea of such a profound responsibility filled me with a sense of purpose and reverence for the journey that lay before me.

In this, my mission statement is made known. 

-Kevin Wikse.

Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE. 

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24. HERE

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE. 

Please visit my Official Site HERE.