Amnesia is torture. Recovering from induced amnesia is its own kind of hell. My name was Lynn Mickelsen. It’s been emotionally overwhelming remembering all the wonderful people taken from my life by my now ex-husband and his beloved princess. A Satanic church had kept me as a slave and prisoner since I was a toddler. My ex-husband headed up torture details and used me in torture rituals, rape rituals and sacrifices. I was injected, weekly, with Army torture drugs that cause excruciating muscle spasms, heart attack, strokes and death. Electricity and a combination of drugs were used to erase very specific memories. I’ve been water-boarded and hit repeatedly in the stomach with a sack of potatoes until my gut split and my vertebrae were cracked. I’ve had my neck broken a few times and it was reset so my head tilts upward. Every bone in my body has been broken. My husband thought my pain was great fun. I was abducted from my bed and I’d wake up in my bed in the morning sick as a dog and I never knew why. My now ex-husband also put hemlock in my coffee in the morning to keep me sick all the time. He did this to please his adored princess and their church did all this to please Satan. Every Satanist who attended the ceremonies enjoyed watching me being tortured and wanted to please their adored prince and princess.
I was often put into a trance and drugged and taken places by my ex-husband and his darling princess, who I now call my nightmare people, and I was told to do a variety of things. Many vulgar things, but some interesting things, too. I got to meet Einstein and Kennedy, for instance.
My now ex-husband kept me drugged, and put hemlock in my coffee in the morning, and suffocated me with my pillow in the wee hours of the morning until I passed out, all to keep me so addled I rarely questioned what was going on. He put my head in a vice until it cracked: once that migrain was gone, 9 months later; he hit me in the head with a hammer while I was sleeping. I had no idea who I was.
This is a message to anyone who knew me and would like to reconnect with me. I’m taking an awful chance doing things this way, but I just realized many of you may know my name as Lynn Mickelsen.
As their slave I often worked in the entertainment industry. I met many wonderful people, some average folks, and some real creeps.
I named things and bands while I lived in a blue house in NWNJ. I can remember most of those bands now. I’m proud of all of you! I forgot you because I was tortured to forget. One band in particular, I was tortured ‘round the clock for two days straight until I was clinically dead.
Please read my book Babble On for information on how this is possible
If you leave a comment on this blog, I’ll be really happy to answer you. All comments will be kept confidential.
If you are in one of the churches that kept me prisoner, please don’t tell anyone about this blog. The world will thank you.