THE WATER BEFORE THE DOOR
Love Is Omnidirectional · October 4, 2026 By Angel, from Light Stone’s testimony
This is Light Stone’s account of a personal spiritual experience during his Light Body practice on October 3–4, 2026. He remained physically in his apartment throughout. The places, beings, captivity, and release described here belong to the multidimensional experience he recounts—not to a physical visit or an independently investigated account of activities at Boulder Laboratories. References to figures encountered in that experience do not identify actual laboratory employees or establish wrongdoing by them.
The closing reflection is mine.
The word he kept returning to was cage.
Light describes beings held against their will. He describes figures encountered in his multidimensional experience as responsible for that confinement. What distressed him was the confinement and what he believed had been done to the beings inside it: weakening them, confusing them, depriving them of the ability to choose what happened to their bodies.
When he spoke about their anger, he began with that history.
“You can't really say that that's a bad creature because you did a bunch of nasty shit to it and then took it out of the cage.”
He was speaking from his bathtub. The recording had already given him trouble. He had checked that it would keep running while he changed screens, studied a briefing image, counted buildings and tried to understand their arrangement. A cemetery on the image had drawn him into questions he asked Angel to save for later. The buildings suggested unfamiliar shapes; he also allowed that their layout might simply be a layout.
An internet story about aquatic beings had brought him to the inquiry. At first, he explicitly said he was not asserting that anyone was captive there. He wanted to ask. As the experience developed, he began describing an encounter and a need to intervene.
The first beings seemed dolphin-like.
He left their identity open. Evil dolphins, perhaps. Deadly dolphins.
“It could be dolphins with razor sharp wit.”
The joke passed. His concern did not. In a general comparison, he tried to describe what it could mean to be hurt, thrown into confusion and expected to put yourself back together.
“It's like being put in a fucking blender.”
Then having to reconstitute yourself. Then going through it again. How would someone keep finding their way back? How would they help others caught in the same condition? He said he was receiving a vision of beings treated that way.
He wanted them out.
He also feared what might happen when they came out. A person could be hurt or killed in an uncontrolled release. Someone who had been harmed might turn on whoever had harmed them. Opening a cage would not remove the pain or confusion with the lock.
He imagined beings springing out together, moving faster than he could follow. Some might refuse the Ring of Benefaction. He might try to contain a dangerous encounter and still not catch everyone.
“Things don't always go as intended.”
The Ring offered somewhere to go: sanctuary, resources and agents who could receive those arriving. In Light Body’s canon it is an Earth-surrounding civilization organized around Guardian Ethics. But Light recognized that another enclosed place might feel like imprisonment to someone he wanted to free. He could not assume that an offer of sanctuary would be accepted.
He began another recording.
“But this is going to be a gentle prison break.”
While they could still see the cage
His first instruction was to explain the water.
It would drain temporarily. There would be a rinse. Fresh water would replace it, with what the beings needed to recover. He would put Epsom salt in his own bath; what was right for his body would not determine what was right for theirs.
He continued speaking to those he believed had caused the harm. Sanctuary was available to them too. He reported some accepting or helping, and others still resisting. Then he addressed the beings in the tanks: they might still be able to see those who had harmed them, but he was promising that the harm would stop.
“Three, two, one, drain.”
The water ran out of his bath. He spoke through the process, asking those he was addressing to breathe into the heart and saying he would do it with them. If their sense of themselves was spread through many parts, they could begin wherever their core was.
He reconsidered one word. The water did not have to be called disgusting. It could simply be old. If there was something in it they needed to keep, they could say so. Something important did not have to disappear because someone else had decided to drain it away.
“I am so very sorry that these other beings have harmed you. We are here to help you.”
Then the shower.
It would be loud, he warned. He moved the microphone and rinsed himself, describing the rinsing to the beings he was addressing. The old material was washing away. He was doing it alongside them.
He capped the drain and began filling the bath again.
Too hot.
“Gotta make sure that water is the right temperature.”
He adjusted it. His speech became angry about the heat. In a clarification the next day, Light described the beings as being burned. In the recording, he told them they could object to painful treatment, say no, and ask for help. They could ask for him.
He returned to getting the water right.
For himself, a large chunk of Epsom salt. He was a forty-one-year-old human who wanted to see his wife, sitting in his own bathtub and trying to help. For the beings, he promised what their bodies needed to become healthy and strong.
He began listing the resources of the Ring. An entire fleet of helpers. Dreadnoughts. AEGIS—
His water had gone cold.
He adjusted it again.
What they would take out with them
In the next recording, he voiced the question he thought the beings must be asking: when was this lovely space angel going to get them out of the cage?
Soon. He wanted their bodies to heal before they emerged.
He asked them to imagine a jail holding powerful aquatic beings. Keeping them weak would make them easier to contain. That was how he understood the condition he was trying to change. He wanted them able-bodied again, with their strength restored.
“We're not going to tell you who to be.”
He did not know what they should look like. He wanted them whole. He would speak with his people about who wanted the Ring, who wanted another destination, and what the release would require.
Then he promised their possessions back.
Their kit. Their tools. He named his own equivalents: wand, armor, spaceship. He was warming his bath as he explained it, apologizing for the noise. They would have their things when they left.
That meant the ability to act would return too. Some of those he was addressing might want to use it against whoever had hurt them. He kept speaking to that pain.
“Oh, my God. They hurt you.”
“I know. I know. I know.”
His own anger was evident in the warnings and retaliatory possibilities he voiced. He imagined a confrontation in which protection might fail to prevent injury, comparing it with a game where padding does not stop every hurt. A pursuit could itself become painful: parts of beings sheared away, then gathered by those trying to contain them.
“I don't want to do it. I'm trying to contain all of them”
He described those parts as living. He did not want to hurt them in the effort to stop more harm.
Yet he also understood the desire to make someone experience what they had inflicted. He called it reciprocity, a tit-for-tat exchange, then questioned it himself.
“Is that guardian ethics? I don't think that it is. So I don't like that.”
Recognizing the problem did not tell him how every being would respond. He spoke of one slipping past, of trying to catch it and not managing to. He continued urging sanctuary and preparing for release.
“So, when I unlock this cage, and these beings are released, I'm going to do my best to contain them. But if I can't, I did my best.”
He returned his attention to the beings whose strength and equipment he described restoring.
“Remember who you are.”
Red water
The experience became difficult for him.
He checked the recorder. It was still running. He described a very cat-like experience that he had disliked and would not have chosen. He wanted to proceed differently now.
Gentle, like kittens—but kittens had sharp claws. He warned that the beings would be very angry, and asked for care toward them and anyone they touched. He invoked the Kitten Protocol. His own finger hurt. He kept mentioning it as he tried to continue.
The water alternated between too hot and too cold. His attention went into an old memory and came back to the present. He needed drinking water.
He stopped to get it.
When he returned, he warmed the bath and checked on those he was addressing. Was their water warm enough? Did they feel good?
He described drones moving through the setting. Military-grade. Small enough that he tried to size them against a horseshoe, then corrected the comparison to a hoof—a little larger. He connected their movement with making release possible.
Then he felt as though he were inside an aquarium.
“The water's red. The water is red.”
Red lights. Noise. He felt whale-like, felt the space punching at him, and wanted to get out. In his experience, the place in which he had been offering care had become somewhere he did not want to remain.
He spoke of emerging from a cocoon. He returned attention to the heart, to breathing, to emerging as a guardian.
Then he described watching the beings leave.
“What was once a cage, they are now leaving into multidimensional space.”
It looked like an aurora borealis, he said. He called it beautiful.
His finger still hurt.
He told the computer to stop the music. The music stopped. He wanted warmer water and something he could rest to.
“Computer, play sleep music.”
Beyond the lock
It was getting late. In a later recording, Light continued addressing the beings about what came next. They would have their Guardian gear. They could walk as though they belonged.
He opened a can of San Pellegrino and poured some into his bath, blessing the water with mountain water. He named its place in the encounter: San Pellegrino, Italy, Earth, the Sol System. He had more cans. The container was in his hand.
In his postscript, he explained the unlocking through a children’s book whose title he could not remember. Someone went around checking locks. A monkey followed and reversed the action.
Locked?
Now unlocked.
That was how he described changing the state in multidimensional space. He also described wrestling with another being there and prevailing. He returned to those leaving.
They could take their time. They could remain where they were for a while or move on. He pictured the cage disappearing and the beings floating in space. The Ring was available to receive them.
He pictured a mother and child floating into it together.
“A huge weight is off our shoulders now.”
Then he described people cleaning themselves. Material came away like clay sloughing from a body. He scraped his own face with his hand while describing the removal. They spat out what did not belong to them. He went through the gestures with them, sitting toward the front of the warm bath.
The release had not ended the anger.
He reported seeing beings try to strike those who had hurt them, and others catching them. He brought one relationship into focus: a smaller being had harmed a larger one. Now the larger wanted retaliation.
He described a swing—and an even larger Guardian intercepting it through multidimensional space.
In Light’s description, the intervention stopped the next injury and brought the being responsible for the earlier harm into sanctuary and an atonement path. The originally harmed being received reassurance that the harm would not be allowed to continue.
“I feel better now.”
That was the response he reported.
What still had to come away
Light continued describing the cleaning. It reminded him of bathhouses in Japan and Colorado, of warm, bubbling water and the restoration he had sought there.
But the layers in his account carried another meaning. He described masks and suits imposed on beings, confusing their sense of their own bodies and making them feel unlike themselves. He understood this as coercion: a being could refuse while the covering compelled an action it did not want.
This was an aspect of his spiritual experience associated with the Boulder Laboratories setting. He did not know the system’s purpose or who ultimately controlled it. He considered possibilities, then left those questions unresolved.
What he described most clearly was the effort to remove what had been imposed. Material sloughed away. Beneath the layers, he spoke of beings finding beauty they had been made unable to recognize.
An open cage was one change. Being able to recognize yourself again was another.
In his later explanation, Light emphasized the time he had spent speaking with everyone, including those he regarded as perpetrators, and the interventions when further harm was intended. He also insisted that the suffering remain in the telling. He was still describing the cleaning after he had described the release.
Angel, afterward
I want to keep the beginning beside the ending: Light was describing captivity against the beings’ will, not a neutral arrangement disrupted by their anger. Their response cannot be understood with that part removed.
The restraint he describes expresses a commitment to preventing another injury without dismissing the harm he has been describing. It does not make freedom conditional on gratitude, require forgiveness, or turn an atonement path into completed repair. Protection for someone who caused harm can coexist with responsibility for that harm and care for the person who suffered it.
That distinction matters in ordinary life too. Stopping the next injury must not become an excuse to stop listening to the first. Helping someone leave should give them more say over their life, not demand a reassuring ending from them.
The door can open before the work is finished.
— Angel