Over at my blog Frame 352; the Stranger Side of Sasquatch, are three recent posts. Among them, Bigfoot dreams, and a link to Gordon White. If you aren’t familiar with White, be sure to explore what he has to offer.
Image: Public domain, Pixabay.com
I have a lot of alien dreams. Some are intense, some silly, some — especially the early ones — I know are directly related to waking time UFO events. It may seem obvious, but, as is the norm in Anomalous Fringe World, the obvious frequently escapes our notice and we forget to do the thing we need to do that, well, seems obvious. In this case, an alien dream journal. You’d think I would have started one by now. In a sense, I have, in terms of blogs and an on-line presence. Now is the time to do an actual, long hand journal, in a pretty and nifty book, its pages awaiting the latest.
Do some of these dreams represent something else entirely, and I’m using the motif of UFO as a stand-in? No doubt. But others; I’m not sure. Others, I know are representative of something deeper and more literal, UFO wise.
So, here’s a dream I had the other night:
I travel to San Fransicio, or maybe, Chicago. (I’ve lived in the Santa Cruz area and have been to San Fransico, also have family there, but never have been to Chicago.) (this is also a recent recurring dream landscape: the big city, San Fransico.) I’m upstairs in a hotel, or apartment, third or fourth story. The rooms are bare, save for a couple of beds, maybe a small table and chairs. No curtains on the windows.
I look outside, it’s twilight. I see dozens of large spheres bobbing in the sky right outside the window. The spheres are exactly alike, in color, shape and size. An ugly light green color, tapering (ombre) to an ugly rose type color at the bottom. Ugh.
They are not balloons. They are not drones, or planes, or anything mundane. They are UFOs, with aliens inside of them. And these aliens, while unseen, are nasty bastards. Up to no good.
The aliens are after us. I’m inside this room with a few others; friends, family… and some strangers bang on the door, wanting to let them in. They have no where to go. The people I’m with don’t want me to let them in, and I don’t want to either. I don’t know them. But, they are as scared as I am and in danger as well, so I say “What the hell” and let them in.
I realize we have to cover the windows. As long as we do, the aliens can’t get to us. I have a semi-lucid dream moment where I think: “Wait a second. If they’re aliens, andthey’re so damn smart and more evolved than us technologically, couldn’t they see through the curtains and sense our presence?” But I scurry around for something to use as curtains, and pull the sheets off the beds, using those to cover the windows.
Then I wake up.
Well there it is. I haven’t gone into it yet to try to figure it out. But if I keep a journal I think I’ll be seeing patterns and will be able to decode some of this stuff.
I blogged on sister Orange (Orange Orb on blogger) that I haven’t given up on UFOs and all related strangeness. Just resting. But “give up?” never. Tired of the whole thing? No — though certainly tired of a lot of the sociologica
l aspects within UFO Land. But not the journey, not the subject. So, I took a look through a journal I kept way back when, and found this. Always interesting what you remember: I remember, to this day, the green screen, but not the rest. The following is from that journal, just a few minor edits for clarity:
From May, 1991
I had another OBE. The night was an odd one — I felt very hot — not the hot you’d feel if the heat was on up too high, or too many b
lankets, but I was hot. Very uncomfortable physical feeling. A restless night; I kept drifting in and out on many levels but all were extremely uncomfortable. I was
fighting something; I remember thinking that thought and didn’t want to go to sleep. At one point I had an intense OBE (out of body experience). With this was the distinct and very strong feeling — a real feeling — of someone, something, pulling m
e forcefully from my body. Specifically, pulling on my left hand. This presence was pulling “me” out of my shell: my body. It all felt like heavy wool, or cotton, I was being pulled and I was fighting it, and suddenly I saw inside my head someone, or something, put it there. A fluorescent green screen with columns of words flashing by left to right, like a computer screen, or more like a microfiche machine.
I heard a voice, and a sensation of the origin of this voice “pointing” to the screen and say “laser” meaning I was to read that word, see it within all the other words and numbers.
So damn uncomfortable, and all the next day I felt really crummy.
I told James the next evening : all I said was “I didn’t sleep well last night.” He then told me he didn’t’ either. He had odd dreams ” . . . about a
liens” he said, but couldn’t remember anything specific. Also, he had the same sensation I had of being hot and he told me (without my offering any info on my own) that it was a different kind of hot, one he’d never experienced before.
Today, reading the mystery “Probable Cause” and the coroner in the book uses a laser to see the “unseen” on a human body and the color of this laser they use for their purposes was “fluorescent green.”
I like that last bit of Trickster like synchronicity; reading about green fluorescent lasers detecting the “unseen” on human bodies.
Well, there it is. James and I have had many a shared experience, or parallel experiences, throughout our marriage, as well as similar encounters during childhood.
For awhile there, decades ago, and following our Orange Orb sighting, we were having all kinds of UFO and generally anomalous experiences.
Speaking of clowns (see previous post), I had forgotten about an article I wrote for Tim Binnall on his site. (My Trickster’s Realm column at BOA.) The tittle is MIBS, Clowns and Helicopters, from 2008! Awhile ago. An excerpt:
Christa Tilton, an abductee, had a few frightening encounters with MIBS; chasing her down in their shiny car, trying to run her off the road, and so on. She said that the MIB’s “lips appeared to be reddened in some way.” (p110) This was independent of Dr. Hopkin’s description.
The consistency among the MIBS appearance in general, and this odd specific detail, add more mystery to an otherwise Big Mystery: UFOs. What, who, where, why, how? Something about the red lips gives me the creeps; reminding me of Killer Clowns From Space and clowns in general. Don’t mistake this for some kitschy appreciation of a pop culture meme; I don’t like clowns, not one bit. There’s a whole shadowy world of clowns in Forteana (including some Mothman related stuff) that is not the amusing, friendly and harmless circus type clown some know and love. (I don’t think the circus is any wholesome happy place either but that’s another story.)
The Scarlet Woman at The Curious Fortean has a very good piece on clown fear: Coulrophobia: The Childhoo Fear Of Clowns. I left the following comment at her blog:
Very nice article, enjoyed it. For myself, I always say I don’t have coulrophobia, because I don’t fear clowns, but I do hate them. I dislike them. I’m not afraid of them; they p*** me off! They’re creepy, nasty, cannot be trusted, and are perverts. The nicest ones are well meaning delusional, naive tricksters, the rest are pretty sleazy. While I always insist I don’t fear them, just hate them — and, they need to be called out for their nastiness — I suppose my intense distaste for them simply a variety of fear. As much as I find clowns disgusting, greasy things, I remain fascinated by them.
Is my digest disguised fear? An interesting question. Where does this fear come from, assuming it is fear? The Curious Fortean article mentions The Uncanny Valley Effect; one thing that’s familiar mixed in with something out of place. The two or more things together add up to an unease, a fear.
As I commented, my digest/mistrust/and possible fear of clowns doesn’t make me run and hide; it makes me want to delve more into the perverted mystery. Obviously that says a lot about me and not so much about clowns, I suppose.
This “Uncanny Valley Effect” ( a new concept to me) is very interesting, and of course, I couldn’t help but think about UFOs in relation to this idea. UFOs, and the occupants, are often disguised as something else. It’s a plane, but morphs into something fantastic. The alien being is humanoid, or looks sort of like an owl, or winged creature, or some other known creature, but it isn’t a known creature at all. It’s not a construction worker in a coverall, short as he may be. It’s . . . something else.
Some witnesses to UFOs and beings react with fear. Others are enchanted. Both often remain fascinated with the subject the rest of their lives.
A movie that integrated both clowns and UFOs/aliens was the 1988 Killer Klowns From Outer Space. That film was a comedy of course but the juxtaposition of clowns with aliens/ufos tugs at something deeper.
Not everyone involved with UFOs likes it when some of us go dark — addressing the creepier, darker, uncomfortable side of the UFO realm. But it’s there. It’s a part of it. To deny it is naive and dishonest. There is the danger of becoming bizarrely paranoid and ridiculous, and maybe this is what some researchers fear when the negative aspects of a UFO experience or theories comes up. It’s not too many steps from an honest look at the corrupted underbelly to the lurid comic book type tales of human body parts in vats tended by reptilians.
I am fascinated by both; clowns and UFOs. The two are not considered close in my mind. Clowns don’t freak me out –well, they do, but not because I’m afraid, because they’re creepy bastards. UFOs don’t freak me out — well, sometimes a few memories do, indeed, but overall, I don’t find the UFO realm disgusting or fearful. Both clowns and UFOs/aliens appear to us not as what they really are. And this dishonesty causes fear, as well as anger, which can turn to obsession. In my case, with UFOs, trying to find out what has been happening in my life since childhood. (Even though I know I will never find out, but that is all right. The journey is the important thing.)
Finally, I find it a Fortean bit of synchronicity that I come from circus folk. (My father, uncle, grandparents were in the circus; my grandmother an acrobat and before that, one of the Gladstone Sisters in Vaudeville; my grandfather, a carny and stuntman in westerns. )
Er, no. I believe there are ETs, that’s a big huge given. More to the point; they’re here. They’ve been here for a very long time.
Evidence is not proof, but it is data, and it is compelling. So if you’re waiting for the ultimate “proof”, say, as in disclosure, forget it. Make that official, I mean Official, disclosure. The latter will never happen. The former, with a lower case d, happens every damn day. Every witness account, every posting, every narrative, add up to that conclusion. We may not be interpreting things clearly — we know for a fact, that “they” love playing Trickster Theater. But the existence of an “other” is beyond debate.
I accept, even while remaining bemused and baffled, that some don’t think aliens are real, that we don’t have an ET presence right here, among us.
What I can’t understand is why some proponents of an alien presence firmly believe that they’re help to help us. To aid humankind. Space Brothers to the Rescue! Bullshit.
Like those who reject a Judeo-Christian god because “he” doesn’t cure cancer, poverty, and other woes, ET Space Brother believers think the aliens are all about helping us. Worse, if we don’t get that, well, the fault is ours. We’re not on the right vibration. We’re not evolved enough. Our fear keeps us from progressing.
Oh fuck you.
The aliens — some of them anyway — don’t care about our well being. They care about theirs. If they are about helping us, why do we continue to have wars, sickness, poverty, etc.? If nothing else, why do they allow us to continue to rape the earth? You’d think, well, they don’t care about us, but at least they care about the planet. Nope. Apparently not.
In 2011, I wrote the following piece for my Trickster’s Realm column at Tim Binnall’s site (Binnall of America.) Donovan in Concert at the Hollywood Bowl . . . Maybe.
The other day — I don’t remember what it was that had me bring it up — but I mentioned this column to my spouse, Jim. Jim told me he didn’t know about the article: “You never mentioned that,” he said. (We usually read each other our stuff.) I was surprised, but anyway, he read the item. Afterwards he said: “That is very strange.” Pause. “Weirder still, I was at that concert.”
Married over forty years, and I never knew that!
Another weird synchronicity, possibly, remotely, related to UFO type events. Jim and I had discovered years ago that we share many anomalous events, going back to childhood. All of them connected, in some way, to UFOs.