Brice Taylor 2 – Child abuse at Disneyland

These Brice Taylor posts are to bring attention to Brice Taylors book, which is free online on this link [1a]. Please read the book as it will show a great deal about the criminal cabal that rules us which is ruthless about abusing the people like us.

Brice Taylor was a Presidential Sex Slave abused by many Presidents. The previous post was on Bill and Hillary ‘s use of sex and child slaves Brice Taylor 1 – Chapter 33 Bill Clinton and Hillary [2] 

This post is about how Brice was mind controlled at Disneyland. Other people were also abused there as Fiona Barnetts emotive drawings show in the blog My Story Fiona Barnett – “Hang on for the Ride” [3]

6f 6g

Disneyland

When I was five years old my mother and father took me to the
newly-opened Disneyland in Anaheim, California. As we walked
down Main Street, we ran into Walt Disney and my father stood
aside as Walt Disney, larger than life to me, bent down and shook
my hand. He told me that if I would write to him he would write back
to me.

I didn’t consciously remember anything else after that. What
happened next, though, as I later recalled, was that Walt Disney
looked at my father with eyes that said important things I couldn’t
understand. My father then led my mother in the other direction
and I was left alone with Walt Disney. My parents never said
goodbye or anything, they just left me and walked away.

I was terrified and confused at realizing that my parents just
disappeared. Walt took me to an office, lifted me up on a big desk
that had a glass piece on top and told me that he was my real
father. He said the Mickey Mouse Club was my real family-where I
really belonged. Everyone was always telling me I belonged to a
different family than my parents and I didn’t understand, it was all
very confusing.

Walt Disney seemed nice but I wasn’t with him
very long. He called another man in and that man took me by the
hand and led me away. This man was a very bad man and he
really scared me. He took me into another room and gave me
those viewmaster box glasses to look into.

He showed me pictures in them that were so scary that other parts of me had to
come to see them. It was too much for a little girl to see. Dead
things–cut up bodies, dead cats skinned with big eyeballs and
their tails cut off, people cut up, etc. We had that toy at home but
mine had cartoon pictures in it. This event involved several of my
personalities.

Next, the man took me to scary rides and poked me with
needles in my waist and legs while he said things during the Alice
in Wonderland ride, like, “This is not really happening. I am not
really sticking this needle in your leg. You are just like Alice. You
also ate the large mushroom and feel funny– this is not real.”

He kept laughing and acting like all this was fun and games and really
amusing, but it was terrifying and confusing to me, and I couldn’t
understand why he was hurting me. Parts of me split off as they
withstood the abuse and I pushed the experiences deep into my
subconscious mind as my programming dictated.

Then the man took me to Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and sexually
abused me by taking off my panties and pushing me up and down
on top of his penis while we were going through the dark, enclosed
ride. During many years that followed, I got hurt on Mr. Toad’s ride.
I was instructed to be extra sexy and wild
and crazy in order to be “good” and not get hurt.

If I did it right and performed on cue, then I didn’t get hurt when it was over.
When we came out into the light from the darkened ride, it was
over and if I did it right I could stop and go back to my Mommy.
If I did it wrong, I had to do it all over again until I did it right. They
always hurt me real bad if I made a mistake. I tried my best.

It seemed like I had to stay at Disneyland for a long time, but at the
end of the long day, I got to have a pretty balloon that I looked at as
I laid in the back seat of the car all the way home.

I was devastated, exhausted and out of it during the ride back to
Woodland Hills, but looked up at the pretty Mickey Mouse ears
balloon or the Mickey Mouse balloon within a balloon, before I
finally fell into a long deep sleep.

We went to Disneyland yearly, often for birthday celebrations.
On another visit, a suited man escorted me to the front of the Snow
White ride. As he guided me on board the boat, he flashed a
badge to the attendant and explained that he had special
permission to take this special guest on the ride.
We entered a boat and rode through the canals while he refrained the fairy tale
themes.

As we passed them by, he stuck needles in my thighs at
different times after he finished a line about a story. All the classic
fairy tales drifted in front of us–the Three Pigs and the Big Bad
Wolf. He told me that the big bad wolf could always find me and get
me, even if I was in the well-built brick house, and that the wolf
could huff and puff and blow my house down.

He told me my parents couldn’t protect me from the wolf either because he was
big and bad and wild. I can still hear the Big Bad Wolf song
playing. The man kept poking me with the needle and it hurt. I
kept watching his hand with the needle trying to anticipate the pain
and he kept telling me the scary stories.

I didn’t know what to do and couldn’t get away because we were in a
boat and I couldn’t get off. Then he almost choked me to death in the
front of the boat but kept talking and telling me the fairy tales, as
if nothing had ever happened. I was terrified.

Later on, in the dark of the night a man in a suit took me on the
Matterhorn and stopped the rollercoaster ride at the waterfall where
he told me everything that happened was washed away and gone
forever. He made me get off the ride and stand on the rocks high
up inside the Matterhorn all alone in the dark that night.

I was really tired. He said they were leaving me there alone because I
didn’t do it right and I didn’t listen well. I was terrified in the dark,
wet, rocky area that was whooshing with the sound of the wind
and cars from the ride speeding by. But it got even scarier when
the area fell silent.

Cold and tired, I was left totally alone for what
seemed to my child self like forever. When the man finally came to
get me, he asked if I was ready to be good. Then he said a lot of
words while he carried me to my parents. Handing me, all limp
and wet, over to my mother, he said, “She’s asleep.” My mother
was crying, my father was smiling and the man in the suit said, “It’s
been done, she’s now ready for the next level.”

My father carried me out of Disneyland but stopped to buy me
a Mickey Mouse balloon to look at, to, as he said, “remember the
good time you had.” Disneyland was never really fun; there was
always pain and torture.

Another night at Disneyland I climbed the steps to the Swiss
Family Robinson Tree House. Once inside one of the rooms a man
grabbed me, slapped my face really hard and flashed a bright light
in my eyes. He said, “Your mother is not your real mother, your
father is not your real father.

You are made of much greater things,
so great in fact that Walt Disney would claim you for his own. So
remember what I’ve said about who your real parents are.” When
he was finished with me I climbed down from the treehouse,
sobbing hysterically with each and every step. My mother was
waiting for me at the bottom and took me over to the Fritos snack
stand to try to get me calmed down.

It’s A Small World ride was purposefully used to create the
reality in my mind that I was really just on a ride at Disneyland
when later I was taken to foreign countries for use. The
programming that blossomed up into my conscious mind after such
travel was that I was merely at Disneyland. One day my father
accompanied me into the international phone display. I picked up
many of the colored phones and listened to the different languages
and my mom stood close by while my father appeared to walk
away.

But my father really hid behind the phone display and talked like
he was sending a message through the phone. Initially, I thought
it was someone else talking to me through the phone, someone
who mysteriously knew my name. When I caught on that it was
my father, I knew better than to let on and continued with the
charade. Soon a man in a Disney uniform came and linked arm in
arm with me like the characters do in the Wizard of Oz, and
escorted me over to the main headquarters near the dog
kennels.

On another trip, I was taken on the Jungleboat ride at
Disneyland at night. It was very dark and I noticed that no one was
in line as my parents guided me through the area where people
normally waited to enter the ride. We were all alone and I was
terrified, anticipating what was to occur next. I had learned early
on, and knew at a very deep subconscious level that my parents
were of no protection to me; instead they were often the very ones
that delivered me to very terrifying people, experiences and places.

This night was no different. I was taken to the very back of the
boat and a man in a dark suit emerged, and said, “I will take it
from here,” at which point my father took my mother by the elbow
and escorted her robotically away. I was afraid.
“Laura, “the man called out. Laura was my school personality
who was programmed to be cooperative and helpful. He said,
“Laura, I need your help so that things run very smoothly tonight.
” “Yes, sir.” I replied, now switched to Laura.

“I want you to turn around, 7 times and I will be tying a rope
around your waist so we don’t lose you here tonight.”

I couldn’t imagine how I was about to get lost on this big boat,
but I complied as he tied the rope around my waist and as
commanded, I began turning as he counted, “One, two, buckle
my shoe, no, three, four, shut the door. The door to your mind, that
is, five, six, pick up sticks, and …seven will do the trick.” I didn’t
know what the trick was but I was soon to find out.

“Here, now you just sit down right here,” as he pointed to a place at the back
of the boat, while he held onto me with the rope like I was a dog
on a leash. Before I knew exactly what was happening he lifted me
up and plunged me into that cold, dark water. As I hit the water, I
was sure that the alligators that I’d seen earlier that day on the
Jungle Cruise were going to get me and eat me alive in the dark.

The boat was going and I was being dragged behind it. I held onto
the rope so that I could stay facing forward. Reminding me of the
Wizard of Oz programming theme, the man yelled, “Lions and
tigers and bears, oh my.” Then pointing into the dark water near
me, he tapped into the Peter Pan theme I was also programmed
with as he anxiously warned, “I believe there’s an alligator there on
your left, no I mean on your right, right there behind you, he’s
swimming right up behind you on your other left.”

I was frantically panicked; and in an attempt to make it all go away I squeezed my
eyes as tightly shut as I could, and held onto the rope for dear life.
“You’re a very strong little girl” he called out, just like your
father told me you were. You know, the survival of the fittest.”

Then he began to reel me back in and
lifted me up by the rope as I climbed over the railing to get back on
the boat. “You passed that test with flying colors! Your father said
that this test would be easy for you.”

I felt numb and my teeth were chattering from the cold. My
dress was all wet and so were my shoes and socks and panties.
I was freezing. My father always did talk to me about the
‘survival of the fittest’ and how I would be strong.

“You, could fly. like Tinkerbell does, across the sky at night
attached to this rope like you are. Should I leave it on so that
you can fly with Tinkerbell tonight, high up in the sky?”
“No, sir,” I replied looking down at the rope and shivering.
He laughed real loudly.

“You know that you fly with her every
time you see her fly; you fly high, high away from all the things you
think you remember here, but none of those things really happen;
they are all just figments of your imagination. Do you know what
figments are?” I shook my head no.

“Figments are fruit that you eat. And you have enjoyed all the
rides here tonight and had a lot of fun and now it is almost time for
you to go home. You know, like Mickey says in the song, “Now it’s
time to say good-bye to all our company, M. I. C. K. E. Y. M. O. U. S.
E.; you know the song on TV, the one that you hear when you
watch the Mickey Mouse Club?

“Yes,” I said, now in total hypnotic, robotical program.
“When you see Tinkerbell and all the beautiful fireworks here
tonight, you will remember the good and only the good things that
happened here today and tonight. All the good will float up into your
conscious mind just like Tinkerbell flies high in the sky, so will all
the good things [that happened] fly high up into your conscious
mind. You have had the best day here at Disneyland and want to
return as soon as you can for more fun.”

In a complete hysterical panic, my mother rushed up and threw
her arms around me as if she was rescuing me. She threw some
sort of dark cloth over me, and she and my father took me off the
boat. She took me into a bathroom to change clothes near the
Jungleboat ride. My mother ushered me into a stall and began
changing my clothes without closing the door behind us. I was
embarrassed. A lady came into the restroom and my mom said to
her, “My daughter fell into the water and we are changing her
clothes.”

No wonder it has been difficult, at times, for me to trust my own
awareness, even as an adult.

One night, my programmers decided I was to actually replace
the real Tinkerbell in flight over the park at night in the dark. The
men in park uniforms walked up behind the real Tinkerbell who
was actually an older lady and this night she was in costume, ready
to fly. The men told her to step aside, that I was going to fly that
night. I didn’t know where my mom and dad went and I was cold
and scared.

The woman was very angry. She wanted to do her job
and yelled at the men but they told her just to relax, that she
would still get paid and that no one would have to know she didn’t
fly and she could go home early and still collect her paycheck. Still
angry she left and the men dressed me in a white Tinkerbell
costume and strapped me into the flight harness.

After I was secured, a man asked me if I was ready. He showed me where to
hold onto the front straps so I wouldn’t get my hands or arms ripped
off while I was flying high above the Magic Kingdom. The whole
experience was terrifying. They must have given me a drug
because everything appeared to be in lots of pictures like a
camera with a whole circle of lenses of the same picture, like a
kaleidoscope.

As I flew, I felt afraid that I would fall out and splat
below on everyone, but after a little while I became numb. I could
no longer think or feel. I must have fainted because when I got to
the other end of the sky ride, a few men removed the harness and
tried to get me to come to. One man slapped me but that didn’t
even wake me up, then someone else put smelling salts under my
nose and I woke up.

I don’t remember much else except I couldn’t
walk very well and had to be carried out of Disneyland. That night
there were no stops on Main Street to get toys or a balloon or
candy. I felt sick and laid in the back of our old Buick until we got
home. My brothers didn’t go with us, it was just my mom and dad
and me. My father said I was the ‘star’ of the family. I didn’t like
being the star if that’s how it was, but he seemed very excited
about it.
Twin Sister Programming

My neighbors, my “second mother” Mary and her daughter
Peggy, took me to a Hollywood theatre to watch The Parent Trap, a
1961 Disney Movie starring Hayley Mills. The theme of this movie
helped to shape the reality of my inner “twin sister,” Sharon. I
was Susan and my twin sister was Sharon.

This Sharon personality was created in an attempt to further split my mind and was anchored within my personality structure in order to house a
vast reservoir of experiences with the elite. Sharon was to
identify herself with “high society.”

Now of course, my inner twin sister Sharon also had to have
programming experiences at Disneyland. To accomplish that our
neighbor Mary took me to Disneyland with her daughter Peggy,
who was my age. At one point we visited the beautiful Magic Castle
that is located in the middle of the Magic Kingdom.

As I walked through the Castle, exploring the area, I rounded a corner and as I stepped into a darkened area, a man in a black cape that had been
hiding in a dark corner of the castle stepped forward and grabbed
me. He put his hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream and
he elbowed me in the stomach before he raped me.

Then he took me in the direction of the dog kennels in the front of Disneyland where other bad things happened. Every year, Sharon had to watch the “President Show with Lincoln” that played in a theatre on Main Street and in order to keep her secret experiences hidden from her conscious mind, this twin sister part of me also had to be exposed to many
of the same kinds of trauma.


Henry [Kissinger] linked a whole array of different programs to the It’s a
Small World ride and said, “When you walk up to the clock you will
hear it tick-tock and then you will dock; tick-tock, ticktock. Keep all
information separate. Keep all information clean and neatly in its
space with little walls in between.”

I walked up to the ride, and saw
the huge clock tower going tick-tock, then I was told to file through
the turnstile until I got to the ride. Henry meant for me to think my
actual trips abroad were really just memories about this ride. Due to
this programming I had trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy.
Disney fantasy was really meant to hide my international
experiences from my conscious mind.

Once I got off the ride Henry said something hypnotic to me
to lock in the program. He spent a good part of the day with me
at Disneyland. He was really funny to the personalities he
was programming. I almost laughed when I first saw him.

I knew it wasn’t allowed, but he did look really funny in the disguise. He
had on a beard, wig and hat. He looked okay, but I knew it was
really Henry, and so I said, “Henry, why are you wearing those silly
things?” I couldn’t comprehend why he needed to pretend he
wasn’t himself.

In his .thick-accented, deep, monotonic voice, he told me to
be quiet and with irritation in his
voice said, “You, my child, are too precocious.”

Henry put me on ride after ride, and after I got off the
rides, dizzy, nauseated, lightheaded, disoriented, frightened, or
whatever, he told me to “listen intently,” while he programmed all
sorts of things into my mind file system.

Please note that victims of abuse may be triggered by reading this information. These links are generally UK based.

  • The Sanctuary for the Abused [A] has advice on how to prevent triggers.
  • National Association for People Abused in Childhood [B] has a freephone helpline and has links to local support groups.
  • Other useful sites are One in Four [C]
  • and Havoca [D].
  • Useful post on Triggers [E]  from SurvivorsJustice [F] blog.
  • Jim Hoppers pages on Mindfulness[G]  and Meditation[H] may be useful.
  • Hwaairfan blog An Indigenous Australian Approach to Healing Trauma[J]
  • Survivors UK for victims and survivors of male rape or the sexual abuse of men [K]
  • Voicing CSA group [L] helps arrange survivors meetings in your area
  • A Prescription for me blog Various emotional support links [M]
  • ShatterBoys -“Male Survivors Of Childhood Sexual Abuse Inspiring change, Through Shared Experience Whilst Building Connections…Together We Can Heal” [N]

Links

[1] Brice Taylor Thanks for the Memories
https://archive.org/stream/BriceTaylorThanksForTheMemoriesLARGEFONT_201603/Brice%20Taylor%20-%20Thanks%20for%20the%20memories%20LARGE%20FONT_djvu.txt

[1a] http://archive.is/7Za1i

[2] 2016 Dec 26 Cathy Fox Blog Brice Taylor 1 – Chapter 33 Bill Clinton and Hillary https://cathyfox.wordpress.com/2016/12/26/brice-taylor-1-chapter-33-bill-clinton-and-hillary/  archive http://archive.is/RFxJ3

[3] 2015 Nov 30 Cathy Fox Blog My Story Fiona Barnett – “Hang on for the Ride” https://cathyfox.wordpress.com/2015/11/30/my-story-fiona-barnett-hang-on-for-the-ride/   archive http://archive.is/mzDkp

[A] Sanctuary for the Abused http://abusesanctuary.blogspot.co.uk/2006/07/for-survivors-coping-with-triggers-if.html

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About cathy fox blog on Child Abuse

the truth will out, the truth will shout, the truth will set us free...
This entry was posted in #OpDeathEaters, #pedogate, cathy fox blog, Child Abuse, Child sexual abuse, Child trafficking, Criminal Cabal of People in Power, Mind Control, US of America Child Abuse, VIP CSA and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Brice Taylor 2 – Child abuse at Disneyland

  1. Pingback: My Story Fiona Barnett – “Hang on for the Ride” | cathy fox blog on child abuse

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