When I asked Uncle Charlie who my mother was he just nodded quickly and said, "You don't have one, it doesn't matter." He seemed busy like I was bothering him by interrupting his thoughts or something. I guess he didn't understand the needs of a child my age. So I went ahead and made up my own imaginary mother. I created her to be sort of plump and happy and she made great apple pies and cookies and all sorts of candies that we ate anytime we wanted. She was 'the perfect mother' for "Sharon."
So as I understood it from the other side of my personality structure, Charles L. Horn was Sharon's — my inner twin sister's — father. Uncle Charlie said he wanted me to call him Uncle Charlie instead of dad because he had "… some very important business contacts that just wouldn't understand if you called me father, so call me Uncle Charlie." Often he introduced me to people as his niece, Sharon Weatherby. Sharon, the wild personality, is who Bob Hope purchased from Uncle Charlie and it was Sharon who was trained to be stunning, smart, sexual, comfortable with wealth and elite family members. Uncle Charlie, who lived in Minneapolis in the summers and Scottsdale in the winters, said he loved me but couldn't spend a lot of time with me because of business, though he would be a powerful part of my life.
Uncle Charlie physically introduced me to Henry Kissinger one day in an open grassy park-like area when I was very little. I shook Henry's hand and Uncle Charlie explained that Henry was my "Uncle Henry." So I, as Sharon Weatherby, began to have a whole new family and it just kept growing and growing, adding «uncles» here and there and everywhere.
When I was little, with a short pixie haircut, Henry Kissinger would call me on the phone at home. In those days, those personalities who were created by and for him thought he was funny. He set up times of connection by telling me beforehand, "meet me on the comer at 7:00 p.m." and that meant to be standing at the direct corner of the kitchen cabinet desk at home at 7:00 p.m. to answer the phone. So I'd stand there when it was 7:00 p.m. and when he called I'd pick up the phone real fast like he had instructed me to do. Henry, who communicated to me as «Susan» rather than "Sharon," then said, "Hello Susan, how are you this evening? I am just testing."
"Oh, hi," I said as I smiled and twisted my short hair.
"You can hang up now, I was just testing." So, I hung up and went off to play in my room. Henry was in contact with me often. I think he had studied lots of psychology so he knew how to best control me. He used positive psychological means because he said he felt it would work better.
My mom said, "Who were you talking to?" She had on her red Christmas dress and her slippers. Her hair was still brown.
I shrugged and said, "No one," because due to the programming I was already under, my normal everyday conscious personality didn't house the phone experience with Henry Kissinger. I wasn't lying, the event was registered under a different personality than the one that interfaced with my mother. Henry could call anytime and 'get me. When I saw him in person he always said right off, in a silly teasing voice as he reached out and tickled me, "I'm gonna get you." Which switched me to the personality he wanted and in that way he accessed, or "got me."
Henry set up a group of personalities to be my neighbor's, "Joe's and Mary's child." He told people it was an experiment he was performing to see if one person could be brought up in two ways from two different perspectives to see how the physical/genetic influences really did work since both personalities' mindsets shared the same physical body and genetic structure. It was a controlled experiment about the role environment and behavior versus genetics played in IQ. They wanted to see how strong the mind could be — if it was the overriding factor. They were trying to see if thinking you were elite and being brought up elite would increase IQ or if a common child would have the same IQ if not stimulated as much. Susan was the common experience part of the experiment, the control; and Sharon, the inner twin personality counterpart, was the elite. More on this twin programming in the next chapter
I was instructed by Henry Kissinger to eat alphabet cereal on certain mornings and do mental exercises that he gave me. For instance, I had to get the alphabet sorted from the box and all lined up on the kitchen table. Then I had to put a piece of cereal that was shaped into an 'a' on my tongue and then hold up a mirror and look at it in the mirror. I had to do 20 of the alphabet backwards and 20 of the alphabet forward while I was looking in the mirror. It was usually only 20 because often some letters were missing from the cereal box, so Henry said to just do 20. I don't know why I had to put them on my tongue and then stick my tongue out with the letter on it and look in the mirror, but I did it just like Henry said. My mother got mad at me because she said I should eat my food not play with it, but she didn't understand my need for training. Henry said she was uneducated and ignorant, and that he was making me into a genius. I didn't know what that meant. Other times, I had to focus my eyes on a pin that was stuck into the top of a pencil eraser and follow it back and forth and up and down. And I learned to cross one eye. leaving my left eye looking straight ahead. All this was done in preparation for my later use as Henry's 'mind file'.
Following instructions, my mother took me to «meetings» at a church lady's home who lived behind our church. The purpose of these meetings was to instruct my mother how to "train me." She was given instructions on forms of punishments and abuses to give me at home if I didn't do what was "prescribed." Those punishments included being locked in a dark closet for long periods of time, having food withheld sometimes for a day or two, being slapped across the face or burned by a cigarette if I resisted any of the rules. Often I was abused in these ways, as my mother carried out her own programmed instructions, in spite of my "good behavior."
I was taught to write backwards at the age of four because my programmers felt that I would be more intelligent if I was forced to use both sides of my brain. In addition, I was given special eye exercises to perform several times a day. I began ballet at five and endured years of ballet training from a perverted ballet teacher named Madame Olga. Episodes of sex rituals and traumas were laced into our dance classes. At times the entire ballet class was abused out behind her little dance school that was located just off Topanga Canyon Boulevard in Woodland Hills.
My dentists, the Phillips brothers, had a dental office also located on Topanga Canyon Boulevard, around the corner from my ballet school. Acting independently of the church, but being friends of my father, they participated in my «preparation» by torturing me with sharp dental instruments by drilling my teeth and poking exposed nerves without the use of Novocain. Who could have known then that, when I grew up and married, my «chosen» husband would be first "in line" to purchase these successful dental practices, which is just what happened.
After I started kindergarten, my mother informed me that a group of people from the First Baptist Church were going to leave the church and form a new church called the First Presbyterian Church of Woodland Hills. In the beginning days, the church met at my elementary school, while we waited for our new church to be built on Platt Avenue. Our new minister's name was Rev. Alden McKelvey, and nothing seemed to change much, except the minister had a different name, we had a bigger building, and now more people were involved.
School was somewhat of a respite, but even there I was not always free from abuse. Starting in first grade, I was taken out of my class at Woodlake Avenue Elementary School (located a mile from the church), to attend 'choir practice' at the children's choir director's home a block from school. Her name was Mrs. Rebecca Muir. At her home, in conjunction with practicing church songs for performances at Sunday church services, I was trained to perform and participate in rituals and was forced to participate in child pornography films when a group of men entered her house and took over. Snuff pornography where little children or babies were killed was also filmed at her house. Like the other women involved, Mrs. Muir, publicly, a meek, gentle woman, dutifully complied with the direction of these men.