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Courage as Criteria

I'm often asked, on email, what it takes to become a Zeta Emissary.
There are lots of volunteers.
People see the success of the ZetaTalk website, and want to be a part of this process.
'Can I too, be a Zeta Emissary?' they ask.
There is more to this process than an offer, however.
Per the Zetas, many give the Call wanting a role, but for this role to succeed requires more than an offer.
First, the person must be suitable, in the right body, in the right place and time, having the right soul history, and with the right spiritual inclination to do good.
As an example of how the Zetas sort out who should be supported in a role, and who not, is their explanation of their vetting process when a contactee want to bring forth technology to mankind, with their assistance.

ZetaTalk: Technological Call, written Jul 15, 1995
Many call for assistance with technological advances, such as free-energy-machines. At this time we are restrained from simply giving mankind a gift, by the rules set by the Council of Worlds. Mankind, as scientists or researchers, can however give The Call for assistance on technological progress, and it is possible that this call will be answered. How are these calls sorted out, and what determines whether a call such as this is to be answered or not? Many things. The true intention of the human giving The Call is the first and foremost determinant. As we are Service-to-Others Zetas, we consider The Call in this light. Has the caller a true desire to help others, or is The Call weighed primarily in the direction of profit and fame. If the caller is truly in the Service-to-Others orientation, we look to the result of fulfilling the request. Will the technological device be used by others, stolen or coerced, so that it will become a device for profit and fame rather than the intended result?

If the situation has what we would deem adequate safeguards, we would proceed to the next determination. It should be pointed out that there are scarcely any situations that meet the previous test. If this test is met, we then consider whether the human giving The Call has the personal capability to bring his request to fruit. In the main, there is far more desire than capacity. The caller must be able to understand our instructions, our explanations. This requirement again narrows down the possibilities, as perhaps only 1% of the callers who are positioned to assure the technological device will not be misused, and who are truly of the Service-to-Others orientation, qualify.

The Zetas have stated that for ACCEPTED Calls asking for a particular role that would require Zeta assistance, only 1 in 20 succeeds.
Thus, even after the person qualifies, based on all the factors to be considered, there is still failure.
Thus, the Zetas, or any group of visitors from other worlds wishing to communicate to mankind, must chose wisely.
That said, what was it about Nancy that qualifies her for the job of communicator?
It has certainly been pointed out that others have higher IQ's, are better educated, more attractive and personable, positioned to command respect in human society, and less hampered by poor health, so why the heck is Nancy given the time and attention that she obviously gets in order to be the Zeta Emissary?
Per the Zetas, they were long familiar with the soul being incarnated into Nancy, and could trust this soul to stand staunchly against the intimidation and manipulation likely to be cast against anyone delivering the ZetaTalk message.

ZetaTalk: Why Nancy?, written Jul 15, 1997.
Of course, we and others speak through a number of conduits. Many but not all channels are valid, and some of these on occasion carry our voice. Nancy edits our words but also contributes to the content by suggesting points we have failed to cover. Nancy is unique as to her telepathic communications, though many others, seeing the success of ZetaTalk, have asked for this. It is not so much her body, or her IQ, or her age or location that determined our decision to accept Nancy's offer. She has other qualities, missing in others, and in abundance in Nancy - courage, the ability to stand up to Service-to-Self methods, absolutely, and a track record in this regard that allowed us to trust her with this mission. Nancy is also unique because she has placed herself at great risk. Nancy entered into an unlimited engagement with MJ12 in order to further certain goals. It was her perception that MJ12 was a highly cautious organization, and would not act or move on matters of concern to her unless they were guaranteed utmost control. She gave them that control by granting them, in essence, the ability to execute her should they deem that necessary.

For those unfamiliar with what an unlimited engagement is, this is outlined in the Rules section of ZetaTalk where the rules whereby alien groups of different orientations engage. In essence, it is a no-holds-barred engagement, unlimited, so that such an engagement bound Nancy for life. Of course, it also bound the old MJ12 for their life, and when this arm of the government ceased to have official status, her engagement was at an end too. They too, as an organization, could and did die. Between alien groups of differing orientations, an unlimited engagement means that the groups engaged can savage each other, without bounds, or manipulate circumstances, without censure, until the matter at issue is settled and beyond. Such engagements are extremely rare, and normally do not involve groups, but rather individuals or dedicated teams. Within the Service-to-Other groups, such teams have resigned themselves to death at a minimum, and more often to experiences worse than death, in order to secure their goal. These are suicide missions, and Nancy understood the risk she was under when she engaged MJ12. Several other humans had done so, and only one besides Nancy lives today. The others died at the hands of what was then the predominant CIA influence over MJ12, brutally.

Because we, the Zetas, operate under the Rules of Engagement, we honored the unlimited engagement that Nancy entered into with MJ12. Thus, if MJ12 wanted to meet with her, she was picked up and delivered to them by us, just as we would haved delivered one of our own to engage the Service-to-Self they had engaged, even if this meant the death of a friend and cohort. Nancy survived by her wits and passion for truth and justice, and an almost uncanny ability to sense those members of MJ12 who are strongly Service-to-Others. She made allies, and swayed agendas, and argued alternatives, so that many programs operating on automatic came under question and were changed. These are matters neither she nor ourselves, the Service-to-Other Zetas, can discuss in detail. Thus, just as we engaged the old MJ12 in a limited engagement in the hope of making alliances for the better, and just as we gave this old MJ12 a travel service without censure or comment from us in the hope of getting beyond their deep need for control, just so Nancy went into an unlimited engagement and likewise gave them complete control over her life, should that be deemed necessary. They did not control Nancy, her thoughts and words and opinions, they simply held a death sentence they could implement any time they wished, instantly.

My engagement with MJ12 started in mid-1994, and ended when MJ12 closed itself down, just prior to Bush and Cheney taking office in early 2001.
I would like to think I had a role in MJ12 closing itself down, as during my engagement the governing board increasingly learned to chat freely with the Zetas, and this process pryed the grip that the CIA had over MJ12 away, and allowed the governing boards to see more clearly that alien groups had different spiritual orientation, STO or STS.
Was my engagement with MJ12 necessary for the ZetaTalk message to flourish?
In that most chatter about Planet X on the Internet and airwaves stress that Planet X is out there someplace in the future, or not existant at all, and in that ZetaTalk insists on telling the truth and pointing out how the common man can check this out for themselves, the ZetaTalk message should, by all rights, be snuffed.
Yes, debunking occurs, but exposure on the media continues apace: live morning radio shows, C2C radio and other evening radio shows, the Rense Sightings radio show, Strange Universe TV in 1997 and on TV prime time in New Zealand in 2003, and lots of chats and webcasting.

Rather than proceed as strangers, my engagement with MJ12 allowed us to get to know each other, and hash it out behind closed doors.
Have I been threatened? Certainly, and tortured in the early days of my unlimited engagement with MJ12, in ways that the CIA uses that leave no marks, but as the man assigned to torture me said, seeing he was getting nowhere 'we'll be here all night, this isn't working'.
So where MJ12 wanted a relationship that was a dictatorship, they command and I folow, what evolved was discussions and eventually teamwork.
This teamwork was with those within MJ12 that were Service-to-Other, and this teamwork exists today with the breakaway group that formed the new MJ12 after the old group died.

ZetaTalk: Suicide, written Jan 15, 2001
Because, over the years, Presidents have tried to prevent the incoming President from knowing about and using MJ12, it has increasingly been cut away from the White House and became an independent arm. MJ12 has been populated by various civil servants, in the intel organizations to some extent, and some individuals who have never had any government service but who were pulled into MJ12 service due to their expertise or their position to help on a particular issue. All of the approximately 2,000 people who entered MJ12 and became members agreed, and signed an agreement, to allow MJ12 to assassinate them should they begin leaking information or financially gaining from information they learned from their MJ12 association. So it wasn't a large group, and the governing board of 40 was certainly not a large group, but the governing board in particular was very independent. The President could not pull their strings. The Vice President was a member, but not a member of the governing board.

Because of the distress the governing boards of MJ12 felt over what they were certain were plans to misuse the Zeta travel service, they disbanded themselves. This happened in December, after the election, and they allowed a two week closedown. During that period there was a reforming of a new group composed of MJ12 members who had no association with the government in their past or present, because this was deemed to be a loyalty problem where they could be pulled in more than one direction.

So the primary reason I, Nancy, have the role of Zeta Emissary, is not IQ, or physical looks, or position in society, or genetics, it's that my soul, the incarnating soul, can be trusted to be fearless in standing up to the intimidation.
And sometimes such courage reaps remarkable rewards!

Contactee Status

I was 55 years of age when ZetaTalk began, only learning that I was a contactee a couple of years before that.
How is this possible, that I could have been prepared for this role all my life, yet be unaware?
Per the Zetas, many contactees are sleepers, deliberately keeping themselves consciously unaware of their contactee status, so they can live normal lives.

ZetaTalk: Timed Release, written Dec 15, 1996.
Many contactees express a feeling that they are aware of things that are likely to occur in the future, are emotionally ready for these occurrences, but are consciously unaware of what they may be. Of course, in human society, those who prepare too soon for the coming cataclysms will be viewed as odd and consequently laughed at or harassed for sounding an alarm unduly. When life today seems much like the life of yesterday, the average human in any society on Earth today will not listen to a message about coming cataclysms with much patience. However, contactees who have been open to the message that Service-to-Other aliens have been willing to give know that the Earth will receive renting changes soon, and are subconsciously prepared. The schism in thinking leads many to believe that this knowledge is encoded with some kind of timed release, where the knowledge is not truly available to humans until scant months or even days prior to the cataclysms. This timing may in fact be correct, but the contactees are fully aware of the circumstances. They are simply choosing to be unaware during their day to day existence in human society. When the time is right, they will get in contact with their subconscious knowledge. For many, the conflicts that early conscious awareness would present are best left alone.

In my case, preparing for a communication role, an earlier awareness of my contactee status may have caused me to talk about this, seek support groups, talk openly at work about my experiences, and perhaps thus not be promoted at work as a result.
By being a timed-release contactee, I was open to the possibilities of ghosts and spirits and visitors from elsewhere zipping about in UFO's, but didn't have firm opinions.
I worked in the computer field, first a programmer and then a systems analyst, finally into Project Management responsible for the development of large systems, and put my children through college, all while seeming to be quite normal.
Had I been awakened earlier, I might have been considered 'that crazy lady who talks to aliens', so that when the time was right, the Earth changes quickening, debunkers would say 'she's always been like that'.
I arrived, thus, as a communicator, just as the Earth changes were quickening, in 1995.
Ignoring, all those decades, any indication that I was a contactee.

There were indications early on, however, that I was a contactee, and indications during my first meeting with the Zetas that I had a pre-birth agreement to be a communicator.
During recall of my first meeting with the Zetas, they kept asking me if I knew why there were there, as though they were asking little Nancy's soul to update her young brain.
If the soul knew, little Nancy the human body did not.
Here, in my own words, was what I recalled from that day in the swamp, my first meeting with the Zetas as a young girl of perhaps 7 or 8.

ZetaTalk: First Meeting, written Sep 15, 1995
I was a little girl. I had coveralls, blue coveralls and maybe a red T-shirt underneath. I'd go down in those woods there and I would be very observant. I would expect to find almost anything. I was very curious about animals and I would be very quiet and watch for them. This time I think I'm standing still. But it's actually somebody watching for me down in those woods. I'm standing still and have that feeling going up my spine that you do when you know somebody's around but you don't know where they are or who they are. So I have that feeling up my spine. I'm by a fallen tree. I can't see what it is that I feel nervous about, but out of the corner of my eye I see a movement, from the left, coming out from behind a tree. I think there's something to the right too, but I'm not sure. Somebody just steps out from behind a tree. It's one of these skinny guys, very gray, light gray actually. They almost look smaller than me. I don't know what to make of it. Nothing's said and I'm just staring. Then I feel like there's more people to the right and to the left. I guess I'm not alarmed by this, because I'm so used to wild creatures like the rabbits that we had for pets. So many wild creatures are very quiet, like deer, they only show themselves when they feel safe. So I'm not alarmed by this.

I think a couple of them come up, from the right and the left of me, from behind, and take my elbows. I'm still not alarmed because I'm just not getting any vibes from them that are hostile. I think we move, backwards rather than forwards, and away from that fallen tree. I'm seeing some sort of a disk shape, small. There's really only three or four of these guys. It's a small disk shape, maybe 12 foot across, not that large. I'm pretty curious. I guess my initial reaction was curiosity more than fear. I'm trying to figure out what this is. I don't feel anything hostile. It seems like we just walk toward that ship, and there's a ramp that's let down from it. I feel a little nervous at one point, when we're going up into the ship and I'm thinking it's a tight enclosed space and I don't know why we're doing this. The trees are dark, just very dense woods, and the weeds along the river made it very enclosed. I don't think I'm doing any resisting. They seem to be interested in my head and my hands and my wrists. They seem to be examining my hands and my wrists, the way my wrists bend. They seem to be putting their hands on either side of my head, almost like they're sizing it. Looking at the very top of my head for some reason. Curious little creatures, very gray, light gray, even slightly smaller than I am, although I couldn't have been more than eight years old or so.

One of them looks at me, puts his face close to mine, eye contact I guess, and seems to be trying to communicate something. Maybe he's saying, "Do you know why we're here? Do you know what we want?" Maybe it's because I'm not afraid, maybe that's what he's thinking, that I already know. I'm just trying to search and find if I know. But I just keep thinking they're really curious little creatures. There's something at the side that looks like a little tray at the dentist's office where they have this little mirror on a stick and things like that. It's off to the right hand side and it makes me just a tiny bit nervous to think about that. I think maybe they're going to do something with my right forearm, like when someone takes blood or something like that, poke around in your forearm a little bit. But I don't think anything's happening exactly. Maybe up by my elbow somewhere they do something, toward the back of the elbow, but it's nothing too significant. I'm more interested in the dark eyes and how he seems to be trying to communicate something. He keeps saying, "Do you know why we're here?" and I'm not sure why. It's got something to do with the greenness of the woods and the way I love nature. I'm always wandering off and spending time alone in nature. I actually just watch nature, kind of get into it, empathize, just lost in it, observing it. I'm very comfortable with it, very open. He's telling me that my grandmother's like that, she loves nature, is very curious. He's telling me I'm going to have a role because of this. He says, "Do you know why we're here?" It's got something to do with the vastness of the woods and how beautiful that is, how it should be that way, it should stay that way.

I'm trying to think what else. Let's see, he's telling me about my grandmother and how they talked to my grandmother about me too. It seems like I laid back down on a table but it wasn't really flat, something more like a chaise lounge. They want to look at my feet. I would go barefoot a lot. How my feet bend at the ankles, and checking out my wrists, how they bend, and I think they're going to do something with my forehead. They don't take my clothes off, they just bend my head forward a little bit and kind of shield my eyes or tell me to close my eyes now. They do something to my forehead. I'm not really aware of any discomfort. I think, basically, I trust these guys. They have their hands at the side of my head, pulling my head face up, trying to check it out. They've got my head at an angle and do something to my forehead. They position my head. They were checking out the top of my head earlier. It's a little bit sore, but it's a very dull ache. Now I don't feel like thinking so much about what he was saying, "Do you know why we're here." I'm a little more distracted. I don't think they ever closed the door. It's a small ship. It's probably no larger than this living room. I tell them I want to go back to my frogs and he says, "We'll be back". And then I just put it to the back of my mind, what just happened, that little guy coming out from behind that tree like in the comics where somebody would pop out from behind a tree, just lean out, and the other two coming up behind me. I was standing. I had a fallen tree in front of me. Tall, big trees down there. It was a primordial forest. He said, "We'll be back."

After this recall, I backed up to a mirror and indeed found a scar behind my right elbow, looked like a mouse had nipped me there.
One would never notice a scar in such a place, and I could not recall ever being injured there either.
I considered this confirmation that the recall was valid.
But there was more confirmation, something that happened to me at the age of 12, confirming what had occurred at this first meeting.


During my first meeting, the Zetas did something to my forehead.

I think they're going to do something with my forehead. They don't take my clothes off, they just bend my head forward a little bit and kind of shield my eyes or tell me to close my eyes now. They do something to my forehead. I'm not really aware of any discomfort.

They have their hands at the side of my head, pulling my head face up, trying to check it out. They've got my head at an angle and do something to my forehead. It's a little bit sore, but it's a very dull ache.

What was done to my forehead?
When I was 12 years old I had sinus infections.
My mother sent me to the doctor who stuffed medicated cotton up my nose and put a diathermy machine over my sinuses.
The pad ran from the middle of my forehead to below my nose.
Diathermy works, in part, by reflecting the body heat, so one should never have a diathermy treatment if they have a fever.
The doctor took my temp, no fever, and we proceeded.
My forehead had a dull ache, seemed too hot, and I asked the doctor if it should get this hot but he seemed unconcerned.
Just a child, complaining.
But when the treatment was done, he said 'uh oh', as there were blisters and white skin in the center of my forehead.
Third degree burn, cooked all the way to the bone!
No such burn occurred on my eyebrows or nose, which were more exposed and had thin skin.
Just the center of my forehead, in the shape of a circle about the size of a silver dollar, just where the Third Eye is located.
My mother, who was a nurse, was very casual about it, unlike her normal self.
But then she had that odd scar over her temple, the one neither she nor her mother could ever figure out as she had never been injured there.
The doctor had the diathermy machine checked out, but it was OK, and returned to using it on other patients.

All this remained a mystery until I was 53 years old and my son got the notion that he was a contactee, perhaps our family was a family of contactees, and set out to prove or disprove this.
He went for hypnosis, and was thinking about getting an x-ray of his head to look for implants.
What came out under hypnosis was a session with the Zetas where they were taking little metal balls out of the center of his forehead, and thereafter he had an odd sunken area at his Third Eye, a depression about the size of a quarter and about 1/8" deep.
This subsequently filled in and smoothed over, but my scar stands as a white flag, an area that will not tan, and thus I tend to wear my hair over my forehead in bangs.
Did I have little metal balls inserted into my forehead at the age of 7 ot 8, and is this the source of the burn?
Metal WOULD be more reflective than body heat, and would raise the temp of the surrounding skin.

Why the Third Eye?
For one thing, the brain behind that area is a conceptual brain, perhaps the area where the heart of telepathy lies.
Were there more modifications, intended to enhance telepathy?
Indeed, in my late 20's, I had some Zeta DNA inserted, infused, into my brain.
This carried the risk of interfering with other brain functions, thus the concern of the Zetas, during this procedure.
Here's what the Zeta had to say about this operation.

ZetaTalk: Communications, written Sep 15, 1995.
Our emissary, Nancy, allowed her brain to be implanted with Zetan genetic material, on more than one occasion, in preparation for her role as a communicator during the Transformation. Such procedures, done by us, do not put the contactee at risk of injury or infection. We work in completely sterile environments and through the use of what you might call a growth hormone, stimulate the body to heal within minutes. Nancy's head was opened - the scalp was pulled back, a bone plate pulled up on one side, and material implanted into sites deep within her brain by an infusion technique that works on the molecular level so that no brain cells are damaged during the procedure. As Nancy's telepathic communication center was enhanced during her 20's, she also began to receive more communications from her fellow humans. As she did not allow herself to realize that she was a contactee until her mid-50's, this put some 3 decades of enhanced telepathic communications with humans into her consciousness, before she realized why this came about.

Here, in my own words, is my recall of the operation.

The first time they picked me up they were checking out the top of my head, bent my head down and looked at the top of my head. When they put the stuff in my forehead, whatever they did, it hurt. I don't know what they did to the forehead, but it hurt so that I didn't want to talk about forest and trees and stuff like that any longer. I couldn't concentrate on those things any longer because it hurt enough that it was distracting me. Dull ache on my forehead. But they were definitely checking out the top of my head, and they did the same thing at the berry patch. They were turning my head. If you tipped it back you could see my forehead in the sunlight. But when they first picked me up they had their hands all over my head, sizing it, was the way I would put it. So, I'm just going to concentrate on my head, and think if there was anything that was ever done. I can feel the pain. I can feel the pain right here, and a feeling of pressure on either side. Pressure. Let me think now.

And taking my breath in short breaths, like gasp-a, gasp-a. Like that. Like your chest is tight. A very bright room. Sitting in something that's more like a reclining lounge chair, maybe like the dentist's chair, that type of thing. I think that my head was in a brace, around the chin, and my arms were down, sort of into my lap, almost in some kind of armrest. I think they've got little snap things. They don't completely close, like hand cuffs, but they just partly close. They're around the bone structure enough that you couldn't pull your arm away. One here by the elbow and one here down by the wrist, more up on the forearm, maybe another one on the thick of it, up above the elbow, but definitely the two below. I don't think my feet are restrained at all, but my knees are slightly bent. There wouldn't be much I could do with them anyway, in that position. Then someone's saying, "Don't think about it." They're saying, "You won't remember this. You're not supposed to. This is for your own good, so we can talk to you."

I'm trying to think how old I am. I keep thinking I'm in my twenties. "Just lay there now." I think I'm sort of trembling all over, just because it was a very nerve racking experience. This is not like a spasm trembling, just that I'm trembling all over. I feel pale and very shaky. Someone pats me on the hand, something like that. I'm thinking, "What was that all about?" One of them bends down and is looking at me eye-ball to eye-ball. The eye contact thing. It's like he's checking out my reactions, my facial reactions, because they're looking at my eyes. But he seems satisfied at what he sees. I'm not trembling any more now. There seems to be three or four of them in the room. They're the big ones. I think there's one little one in the room. There's three or four of these larger guys. They're as big as me or larger than me, not smaller than me. There's a counter around this chair in the center of this room. They're all sitting and looking at me now, at my face. One of them is kind of sitting on the edge of this lounge thing, and the other is kind of leaning over. I have three faces looking at me, about a foot and a half away. They're all just staring at my facial expression, but they don't seem to show any alarm. They're not asking me how I feel or anything like that.

I think one of them says that I should move my arms and legs around, and see if I can do it OK. I do kind of wiggle things. They ask me if I, "Feel like going to the bathroom," or anything like that, and I say, "No." In other words, do I have an urge, an uncontrollable urge or feel like I'm about to lose it. I know that means something neurological. "Feel sick to my stomach?" "No." "Hurt any where?" "No." I say, "What did you do?" I'm getting no comment back. "What was that for?" They're just not communicating anything. They say something about, "This is so you'll think about the universe more," or something like that, and, "We know you like that. And this is so we can talk to you." I look at their mouths when they say that. I'm thinking, because you don't talk that way. I guess I say, "So now what." "Now you will be free to think more about the universe," or something like that. I'll be, "More free," I'll feel more inclined and less restrained.


So a Zeta Emissary must have courage, a prove track record in this regard, and be willing to have things done to their head.
Anything else?
They must be willing, apparently, to be known to MJ12, the Secret Government, and at an early age, too.
If my recall is to be believed, then I and my children were taken off world by the Zetas, in the era after Roswell when they had agreements with MJ12.
Apparently, any US citizen being taken off world was to be registered with the US Military within MJ12, as my son says 'like customs'.
This trip, per my calculations and based on the ages of my children at the time, probably took place in the very early 70's.
Per the Zetas, this was indeed an encounter with MJ12.

Nancy accompanied her three children during an interview, where having passed the first phase they were taken to the later phase of the interview process elsewhere in the Universe. As was our practice at that time, in accordance with our agreement with MJ12, they were notified and allowed to monitor the exit and entry. Nancy will tell you the story in her own words.

Here, in my own words, is my recall of the encounter.

ZetaTalk: Customs, written Sep 15, 1995
It's dark out and I'm at the tent door. I'm seeing two or three of these guys coming up through the shadows, coming up through the dusk toward the tent. They've very, very skinny gray bodies, and it looks like they're walking up a slight incline to where the tent is. The tent door is facing down the incline. They seem in that position, like they're leaning forward a little bit, coming up the incline. I think one of them comes in the tent, and he's got his finger to his mouth, saying, "Shush," that kind of thing, like a motion, like, "Don't say anything." I think they put their hands on top of the kids heads, and this wakes them up but they're walking up semi-sleepy. They don't wake up with a start. They don't act alarmed. They're doing this shush motion again. They're motioning to come on. We all have our little pajamas on. I don't think it's that cold out, because the door to the tent flap is back so that we could get air coming through. We all trip out, sort of single file. One of the guys is leading in front, and then the kids and I after him, and the last two bring up the rear. We walk down the hill in the direction that they came from, down to the left, which goes into the woods down into a little clearing. They have a ship that's not a 12 footer job, it's more 25 foot, the next size up.

When we get there [the oldest] kind of looks back at me. I put my hand on her shoulder, indicating it's OK, and we just continue to go up into the ship and sit down. They seem to have semicircular seating. It's smooth, so that it's like a curved bench, and it has little rounded places for each individual ass. We sit down, and I feel a motion. [My youngest] is looking up at me, but I'm not giving any facial expression of alarm. [My middle child] seems to be more curious. She's just watching what they're doing. They're across the room over there, at some sort of controls. I don't seem to be asking any questions but they don't seem to be offering any kind of agenda either, other than, "Shush," and, "Follow me." That's about it. Now it feels like we're arriving somewhere. I have that feeling like when a bus brakes, the motion that you were experiencing before is changing. It seems like all three of them are gathered out in this room, like we're going to open the door and go down. One of them reaches over and takes me by the hand and so we all latch up, and we all walk like so many elephants, trunk to tail. I think [my youngest] is reaching back, he wants a hand from one of the other guys. He's just little. We walk out and we're all in a row. Everybody's holding hands in a line, tripping along in our pajamas.

It's a rocky area, and desolate. No street lights or anything like that. It seems to be a desert area. It's not paved. If anything it's a little sandy. I don't feel that the ground is full of briars or branches or things like that. It's more sandy, but there's big, big rocks behind, not any mountains, but chunky rocks and sand. Very, very dark. I don't hear any sound of water, lapping motions or anything like that. Cool sand. It's very dark. Doesn't seem to be a moon-lit night. I think the instruction is to sit down in the sand. I think there's something coming, a large ship, something with lights on underneath coming down. We've got our heads turned, and we're looking. It has different colored lights on the bottom, not any one color, maybe more white than anything. I keep wanting to say, that people in uniforms come out, but that doesn't make sense because these people don't wear uniforms. I mean, they all look like they have these little gray bodies, unless they're suits but you can't tell. It almost seems like a tan, or moving toward light brownish kind of uniform. Half a dozen people, and they come out, sort of two abreast, but not in a formal kind of structure. A little informal. They move around like they're talking to each other. They don't seem to have any kind of gold braid on or anything like that, but maybe some kind of insignia to bespeak officialdom.

I even want to say that these are people, that there are some people here, Homo Sapiens, three or four of them in these uniforms. This is a twist. They're talking to each other and they seem to have flashlights in their hands and they're walking over toward us, talking to each other. Not arguing exactly, but talking, maybe more in a heated manner. They're not passive blobs. Discussing something, possibly arguing, it's hard to tell. One of them says, "Oh, here they are," and the other one says, "So, what do we say to them?" The first one says, "Just follow instructions." Hah! "How do you do, Ms. [Nancy]," one of them says to me, "This is Lieutenant," oh, I don't catch the name, introducing the person next to him. "We're from MJ12." I'm trying to think if they're saying, "We requested this meeting" or "We were requested." I think they're saying, "We were requested to meet with you and explain a few things. This is difficult, and I know this seems odd, but I was told you would understand. We want you to come with us. Don't be alarmed." I'm saying something like, "It's OK." They say, "Bring the kids," or something like that. He's motioning to the kids. So now we're walking toward the larger ship, all sort of in a clump instead of hand-to-hand. [My oldest] and [youngest] don't look at me for reassurance because apparently having people there makes them feel a little less irritable, I think. We all go up into the large ship. I think it has a moving stairwell. It's enough for one or two people abreast, rather than a ramp or staircase.

Then later,

We get dropped off right in front of our tent, more or less. It's dead of night. We go back in the tent and crawl in our sleeping bags and settle down. But I do remember there was one time we went camping and when people asked me what we did I was hard pressed to describe what we did, over the weekend. We hadn't gone to see horses or gone swimming or climbed around the bluffs - we hadn't done anything in particular. So it was different, because normally we would do some sort of activity to break up the weekend, but we didn't seem to have much to say.

Do I have any confirmation that I, as a contactee, was known to MJ12?
I do indeed, from a surprising source!
My brother alerted me that our family appeared in Carl Sagan's book, Contact.
His full name appears in the book, which is what caught his attention.
Contact was written around 1980, and Carl Sagan has long been suspected of being a member of MJ12, in the know about the alien presence.
He is rumored to have been given a choice, either be an advocate or a debunker, and chose the latter.
He attacked Imanuael Velikovsky, who documented the Earth changes and folklore lending to an understanding that the Earth was periodically racked by poles shifts from a passing planet.
But Carl Sagan appoligized to Velikovsky, had regrets, as his life was drawing to a close.
Carl Sagan died in 1996.

Quote from Carl Sagan, in his book Cosmos, 1980, page 91.
The worst aspect of the Velikovsky affair is not that his hypotheses were wrong or in contradiction to firmly established facts, but that some who called themselves scientists attempted to suppress Velikovsky's work. Science is generated by and devoted to free inquiry: the idea that any hypothesis, no matter how strange, deserves to be considered on its merits. The suppression of uncomfortable ideas may be common in religion and politics, but it is not the path to knowledge; it has no place in the endeavor of science. We do not know in advance who will discover fundamental new insights.

If Carl Sagan was in MJ12, and MJ12 was aware of my, and my family's, contactee status, then did he leave a clue for my brother, and thus myself, to discover in the book Contact?
Beyond my brothers full name appearing in the book, here's the parallels to my life with one of the main characters, Ellie.
Ellie's father dies, suddenly of an apparent heart attack, when she is a young girl, prior to 7th grade, per the story.
My father died of a massive coronary, also unexpected, when I was 9.
(p. 10) 'Oh Ellie, she whispered, something awful's happened.'

My mother suffered a depression after my father's death, lying on the sofa and fearing she also would suffer a heart attack.
Ellie's mother likewise.
(p. 13) 'Ellie's father had died, her mother had grown distant.'

Ellie was very bright but hated the rote memory requirements of school.
(p. 17) 'She consented to rote memorization, but knew that it was at best the hollow shell of an education. She did the minimum work necessqary to do well in her courses.'

I had straight A's in middle school, in addition to playing lead in the Operetta and playing both Viola and French Horn, and was allowed to walk out of any class that bored me as long as I kept my grades up.
But when I got to High School, I started to question why we had to learn this or that.
Not getting any real answers to these questions, I allowed my grades to drop but only to the point where my mother would stop screaming at me.

Ellie attended a vocational class, by choice.
(p. 17) 'She arranged to spend free periods and occasional hours after school in what was called shop - a dingy and cramped small factory established when the school devoted more effort to vocational education than was now fashionable. .. There were lathes, drill presses, and other machine tools.'

While rebelling against my mother's edicts that I be an honor student and go for higher education, I tortured her with a plan to go to British Guiana in S. America and live with the Indians there, leaving books about on the floor in front of the TV showing all the poisonous snakes to be found there, and even writing to the Consulate about how to get a visa.
During this phase, as a teen, I signed up for a Summer carpentry class, voc ed, where the instructor was agast and didn't know what to do with a girl in a class full of grown men.
He had me make a doll house, exact replica of a real house with beams and studs and roofing shingles.

Ellie rebells against religious education, refusing to go.
(p. 21) 'She told her despairing mother that she had done her best, but wild horses wouldn't drag her to another Bible class.'

At the age of 12 I told my mother I would stop going to the Luthern church, having decided that the Christian concept of God as a man with a beard in the sky, who could be jealous and wrathful, sounded too much like a human, not God.
She made me go talk to the Minister with my complaints, trying to intimidate me, but I held firm.

Ellie did well on her SAT's, spectacularly so.
(p. 21) 'But Ellie had done spectacularly well on the standardized college entrance examinations and found to her surprise her teachers telling her that she was likely to be offered scholarships by well-known universities.'

I was an honor student, and due to SAT's got a National Merit Semi-Finalist scholarship offer, college or U of my choice, all expenses paid, but unlike my brother and sister who went on to get Masters and Phd respectively,
I rebelled and did not go to college!

Although I did not read every page, I could not find in the book something that was in the movie, Contact.
They named the big machine 'Elmer', Ellie's former boss telling the news media 'we affectionately call him Elmer'.
My father's name was Elmer, certainly not a common name.
He was considered the expert engineer for steam turbines, and was sent to Germany after WWII in this capacity to help get the country back on its feet, appointed by the then President to this position, Truman.

Alien Introductions

Most of the contactees working with the Zetas on the hybrid program, volunteering their ova and sperm or volunteering to carry a fetus for a few short weeks, are quietly doing this behind the scene.
This role is certainly not necessary for a communication role, but it helps.
This is an important part of what mankind will experience soon, encountering the hybrids.
I participated in the program in my teens, and as I was a virgin until 19 it never would have occurred to me I might have been pregnant, a few weeks pregnant, on occasion.

In preparation for my role as a communicator, I was given a number of life form orientations,
Introduced to alien life forms, intelligent, brought in from other worlds.
I was not the only such person to receive such an orientation, per the Zeta.
The first lineup was of hominoids, and thereafter moved onto to more bizaare types.
Here, in my own words, is my recall of these introductions.

ZetaTalk: Variety of Life Forms, written Jul 15, 1995.

Horned Toad Man
Horned Toad Man was presented in the lineup of hominoids. He was less than 4 foot tall and wore clothing. His skin was covered by large humped plates similar in appearance to the top of a turtle shell, but with more flexibility. When asked, he explained that his home planet was a dry, rocky place. There were two of these, one smaller than the other, but I failed to ask if they were from different planets or were different sexes.
Broom Stick Man
Broom Stick Man is the very tall and skinny alien from Close Encounters, the one with a small thin head. He appeared to be in charge of presenting the hominoid lineup. He seemed responsible and sensitive to the varying discomforts and expectations of the group.
Slinky Man
Slinky Man was presented in the lineup of hominoids. He was short and appeared to have no neck, wrists, or ankles - all was one round tubular shape like connected slinkies. He wore an outfit with a high collar and his hair was clumped and still, black, standing straight up along the back of the head in peaks. I asked about his home planet but received for an answer this movement. His right leg stretched out to twice its length and landed to the side, then retracted and came back. He stretched like a slinky, without sign of bones inside. Persevering, I next got the following motion. His head rose up on a stretching neck 2 feet above the shoulders. His neck didn't get thin, all just rose up like a slinky.
Octopus Man
Octopus Man had a body and tentacles like an octopus. He was chocolate brown on the outside and cream colored on the underside of the tentacles. I was delighted to find him very chatty. I asked what his home planet was like and was telepathically shown a planet of water with only an occasional rock sticking out - very windy above the water line and inhospitable where the water was warm and inviting. We shook hands at the end, hand to tentacle. He had a special pink tentacle like a long earthworm that wrapped around my wrist, to improve communications it seemed. I had no problem with that. It's not the life form, it's the vibes coming from the soul within that matters.
Bean Bag Man
Introduction to this intelligent alien caused me to faint for the first time in my life. The Zetas dragged me to my feet and the introduction proceeded. Bean Bag Man has 2 eyes in a broad round head, and a single mouth. Asked what his home planet was like, I received a telepathic explanation of a green hothouse kind of place. Bean Bag Man looked like a round green blob with no bones. When I asked what he ate, I got a telepathic view of a bug like a beetle being crushed. I gave Bean Bag Man a telepathic view and explanation of our custom of shaking hands, and he extended one of about fifty little claws that fringed around his waist. After a moments hesitation, and I took and shook one of the claws.
Dino Man
Dino Man looked like a small Tyrannosaurus Rex, but was no taller than a large man. He was dark green, with a ridge down his back, and stood erect while leaning back on a large fat tail used for balance. The end of his tail had a couple of pointed yellow barbs, which looked fluid filled and puffy. The mouth was lined with many teeth. He was not a telepathic conversationalist except to insist that I was to obey him, a command he repeated several times. When this was refused he opened his mouth to show all his teeth, leaning toward me. When he found he could not intimidate me, he lost interest and turned his back.

In sum, being the Zeta Emmissary has involved
over 1,000 lifetimes, past lives, demonstrating a staunch resistance to those in the Service-to-Self, a pre-birth agreement to accept the role, with all its risks to safety and comfort, being known to the Secret Government, and having the courage to stand up to Service-to-Self or dictatorial elements therein, participation in the hybrid program and life form orientations, and once the role is activated, as it was for me in 1995, essentially dedicating one's life to the effort.