That time Billie Eilish stole my music

Just kidding. But also, not just kidding. (It's complicated.)

Jun 23, 2025

Today, I’d like to talk about the phenomenon of “telepathic art theft.”

I first became aware of this phenomenon in 2020, when the COVID psyop compelled me to do some “rabbithole spelunking,” if you will.

I learned a real lot, real fast.

I learned about “the Illuminati” and other secret societies, black magick in the media, parasites, transhumanism, A.I. & technocracy, aliens… and so much more.

At some point, I found myself on a website all about ascension, parasites, and Jesus. The author of the website claimed to have been a victim of MK Ultra mind control, until she did a parasite cleanse — which, according to her, opened her eyes to how deeply she’d been abused. Among her revelations, she claims to have recovered memories of being forced to write songs for Paul McCartney’s clone. Or something.

And then I discovered Donald Marshall, who alleges to have been cloned and astrally enslaved as a songwriter for Whitney Houston, Tina Turner, and Madonna.

Could some elite group of evil occultists be harvesting creative energy from humanity on the astral plane? Sure, it’s possible. Anything is possible.

But then, around 2022, I got a request for “spiritual counseling” from a long-time internet friend who had always been troubled. Let’s call her Melissa.

Ears in the Walls

During our phone call, Melissa confessed something… dark.

She told me that her music had been stolen by a celebrity (though she didn’t say who).

She had been writing songs for years, but never shared them. In fact, during her one opportunity to share them at an open mic, she walked off the stage before singing — something her friends continue to tease her for to this day.

And now she was watching in horror as a major pop star sang her songs — melody for melody, lyric for lyric — and got all the credit.

So there’s no way anyone could’ve known what Melissa’s music sounded like,
unless…

…someone had put tracking devices in her walls, she concluded.

So she asked me what to do about the trackers. She asked me how she could protect herself, or stop them from listening to her private songwriting sessions.

But it’s noteworthy that she did not ask me what to do about The Fear.
The Fear that compelled her to walk off the stage when it could’ve been her moment to shine.
The Fear that compelled her to keep her music a secret in the first place, so now she couldn’t prove it was ever “hers” to begin with.

At the time, I told her what I thought was good advice — something about sodalite crystals and cloaking magick.

But now, I’d give her very different advice.

I’d give her the advice I learned from having my own music “stolen” — by none other than Billie Eilish.

You Should See Me in a Crown

From about ages 11 to 20-something, I wrote music. Lots of it.
It was creepy, eery, droning and monotonous.

I also made-up an alter ego named “Killish” and imagined her performing these songs. She had very light eyes, pale skin, and long grey hair. Actually, she was grey from head to toe. Her expression was always near-dead. And she had a creepy, jerky way of moving her neck.

As the made-up character of Killish, I wrote hundreds of melodies, and sometimes entire songs. I never performed them out loud, because I didn’t know how — I didn’t play any instruments. I didn’t even know what a “DAW” was. Thus, I kept them all memorized in my head.

Though I was too embarrassed to admit it back then, I believed that my music would change the world.

So for years, I told myself, one day I’ll release these songs.
One day, I’ll learn how to produce music.
One day, when I’m not scared.
One day, this will be HUGE!!!

But the years passed, and I never kept my promises.

Then, one day, I stumbled upon this music video by a swiftly-rising star.
Creepy.
Grey-haired.
Last name: Eilish.

Killish?, I thought in disbelief, as I watched spiders crawling out of Billie’s mouth. Is that you?!

It sure was.

Cosmic horror is the only phrase I can think of, to describe what it felt like to watch somebody else make my Art.

It was like the timelines had seismically split, and now I could only watch helplessly as my inheritance was siphoned by an alter ego of my own unconscious creation — and my destiny, carried away to some distant horizon I would never reach.

And I was sincerely tempted to have a psychotic break right then and there — to join the likes of Melissa and Donald Marshall, who fancied themselves to be astral-clone-songwriting-slaves or whatever.

There was no other way that this teenager could’ve nailed the aesthetic, vibe and sound of MY alter ego, Killish, with such striking specificity — unless some black magick fuckery was going on in the astral plane! Right?! I could think of no other explanation!

But as I continued to spiritually mature, I eventually arrived at an even more frightening explanation:

We are all One.

We are all telepathically connected, like it or not.

And Art needs an Artist.

Spirit that wishes to enter the realm of Matter, needs someone to give birth to it, so to speak. A portal-person. This is the Artist.

So the Muse goes searching for a worthy channel — a brave aspirant who is willing. Willing to create. Willing to work. Willing to stop making excuses, get up on the damn stage, and SING.

The Muse breathes inspiration, generously, in the aspirant’s direction.

But should the aspirant prove themselves unworthy — by cowering, resisting, putting-off the creation process, etc. — then the Muse moves on.

She goes and finds someone who IS willing. Someone who IS brave.

And that person gets to make the Art.

And that person gets to reap the rewards.

It is entirely fair.

Fortune Favors the Bold

This is the advice I would go back in time and give to Melissa, if I could:

Be not afraid.
Even if there were trackers in your walls, they would not be to blame.
It was only your own Shadow that got in the way of you being the one who released those songs first.
Everyone in the Collective gets a chance to make something of the inspiration the Muse gives.
But, due to shame, you cut off the part of yourself that did have the courage to walk onto the stage and SING, baring your beautiful heart to the world.
That cut-off part of yourself manifested as the pop star, who now serves as a symbol of the personal power you disowned.
The pop star could only ‘steal your songs’ because you cut her off from yourself, and therefore you believe her creation is your loss.
But no one is stopping you now. No one was ever stopping you, but you.
The songs are still yours to sing!
So sing! Sing! SING!

Fun fact: Michael Jackson, the most successful pop star in history, was known to act on inspiration IMMEDIATELY, even if it meant calling his team into the studio at 2am, because **he believed if he didn’t write the song first, Prince would get it.** Considering Jackson’s monstrous success, I think he was aware of a real phenomenon (telepathic inspiration transference) that many of us are unconscious of.

Shamelessness

In closing, I have one more observation to share about people who believe their creativity is being astrally harvested.

As I teach in my courses, everything in your reality is symbolic. Even fears and paranoia are symbolic.

Paranoia reveals a person’s self-concept.

So here’s what paranoia about “telepathic art theft” reveals about Artists:

I see Melissa, and Donald Marshall, and even myself in the story above, as people suffering from an inner conflict between shame and confidence.

There was a part of us that believed we were talented enough to be recognized on the World Stage… in conflict with the part of us that didn’t want to be seen, or maybe felt arrogant for believing in ourselves.

So — how perfectly precise! — this inner conflict manifested as us, indeed, having our music recognized on the World Stage, but by somebody else — so we could remain unseen!!!

It’s Genius, when you think about it.
Genius and fair.

«The world is an effect... a projection, not only of your ‘ dreams’ but also your nightmares. It can be a heaven or a hell. You alone decide.»
~ The Dreamer, The School for Gods

Thankfully, my story has a happy ending-that-is-also-a-beginning. I do make music now. And what a gift — it confronts me with my own fears and limitations every single day. This time, though, I’m up for the challenge.

In fact, in my next post I’m going to get even more real about how every aspect of reality is manifested from the inner world — even atrocities like sexual assault.

Until then, I will leave you with this message:

Make your Art. Live your Dream. If you don’t, you’ll have to watch someone else do it for you.

Now you’re moving towards horizons new
And the future is all up to you
Make it golden
Make it bright
Make it lovely
Make it light
Make it anything that you’d like
Make it anything that you’d like
Make it anything that you’d like

Alicen Grey

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