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"The part we ignore…may contain the clue to the whole subject." ~ J. Allen Hynek


June 2019

Tell Me More About the Beeping Dear

Just read my post (see previous “My Mother’s . . . Abduction?”) to my spouse. He and I have had several weird UFO related experiences together, including missing time, as well as our own in childhood, before we ever met.

When I got to the part about my mother talking about “the beeping” and my own beeping sounds in my head, Jim says, casually, “I’ve had that beeping too.”

After forty plus years of marriage, you think you know it all.

So dear, tell me more about this beeping!

My Mother’s . . . Abduction?

Again I say, oh the dreaming mind. The other night, the dream was about Mothman. Last night, my mother.

This is difficult. My mother died four years ago. Her last few years were terrible; dementia. Kidney, heart failure. Not to mention the depression, the anger, the fear.  Since her death, I’ve had several dreams a month about her. My non-paranormal writing has included a lot about my mom. Tough childhood, for all of us. For her, when she was a girl, for us, when we were kids.

Why am I telling you all this? As a bit of background for the following dream. My mother and I would talk about these things; UFOs, Mot
hman(she had a theory about the Moon, Mothman, etc.) She saw a UFO once when I was a kid. I was the only one who believed her. In fact, I told her, she insisted, not to worry, since “They’ll be back. They always come back.” My mother was aware of my interest in this field, and always found it interesting. She never thought I was silly or lying for my interests. She knew better; she had her own UFO sighting, and a ghost encounter. When it came to these areas, she was open.

I don’t know what to make of the following dream. Why two worlds came together: the paranormal-UFO-non-human realm, the working-through-my-mother-issues realm.

My mother is in bed. She’s ill. Dementia has not gotten ahold of her yet, thankfully. But she knows she’s dying. We’re in the home I grew up in L.A. (the one where mom saw the UFO, the one where I’d have all those waiting for the aliens to come encounters.)

My mom is in good spirits, considering. She wants to tell me something. She asks me if I remember the time she went away for a few days, now and then, I say sure. She says she didn’t go where everyone thought — out of town, whatever — but that she was abducted. By “them.” Aliens, for lack of a better word. 

I am shocked, of course. Also terrified. Confused and not sure what I just heard. She then tells me about the “beeping.” Beeping sounds that would pop into her head before a visit from them, before an abduction took place. I tell her about how I hear that beeping too (true.) 

My mom has covered up these UFO-alien experiences her whole life. Missing time, encounters. I tell her of my own. As we’re talking, a huge wind comes through the bedroom, really, a mini tornado. It scares us but we manage to stay in place. Nothing is wrecked. It’s clear this “wind” was really some type of entity, intelligence and didn’t like us talking about these things. Sharing our mutual experiences. 


I woke up feeling very odd about this dream. A little unnerved. Confused. Do I think my mother was ever really abducted? No, — I don’t even think I was ever abducted — but, well, something.

I don’t know what to do with this. Except put it out there. More data. Another angle of approach in our attempts to figure all this out. Which is all we can do, it seems. Share and explore. Which often includes the very personal. It’s scary and weird and one can be accused of oversharing. Well, okay.  True and fair. But sometimes if we withhold some things, we’re only keeping ourselves locked into our present state of Not Getting Anywhere.

Here are links to my other blog posts elsewhere — like on my Saucer Sightings blog — about my childhood memories, dreams and UFOs:

One Hell of a Dream about Aliens

The Synchronicity of Puppet Wolves

Mothman, by Thor: My Mothman blog

I’ve pretty much have stopped blogging on all my blogs on blogger, though I keep my paranormal Bigfoot blog: Frame 352, The Stranger Side of Sasquatch,
and my mothman blog: Mothman Flutterings Two. I’ve been trying to post everything here. But do over to Mothman Flutterings for a post about a mothy dream I had last night.vintage butterfly lady.jpg

Objectivity. Feh. And Meh.

“Meh. Feh. People have experiences. People, being people, then interpret those experiences according to their cultural, religious, spiritual, political, etc. beliefs, contexts, upbringings. Nothing new there. All this stuff about being objective — well, we sure do need that! Except, within this holy chase of being objective, we forget that people have experiences that are, at best, weird. Some of us put those experiences into a comfort box where All Is Explained. Others, like myself, don’t know what the fuck happened, except, it DID happen, whatever it was, and it was weird, and continues, and so now what?” ~ Regan Lee on Facebook, June 2019


That’s what I posted on Facebook this evening in response to a thread about the need, and lack, of “objectivity” in UFO research.

Two minds here. One, sure, I think one should be objective. Especially if you’re a researcher, or simply an interested on-looker of UFOs. You can’t go in there with a pre-determined idea of What This Whole UFO Thing Is All About. You don’t know — you don’t! — and neither do I. We have ideas, theories, speculations, and that is not a bad thing. At all! At all! But it’s not the truth, or that utopian idea of “objectivity.”

The other mind, says, “Oh, well, clearly — CLEARLY!!!!! — it’s angels. Or demons. Or fairies, dark projects, weapons technology, and the list is just endless.

The Reptilian that comes, or the angel, or the alien, or the lovely sexual/asexual Space Sister/Brother, with messages of peace and gentle chidings of care for the planet, may be the message.  But does that mean it’s the truth? The entity may be real (or, not) but its message may be pure bullshit.

Or, it could be, most likely is, a little bit of all of those things: some conspiracy, some non-human entity melodrama, some sci-fi-yet-all-too-real DARPA weaponry, etc.

Meanwhile, we’re still left with experiences. Sightings. Encounters. The researcher out there who doesn’t know me, didn’t see what I saw, can only be “objective.” Up to a point, that’s good. A different perspective, a needed reminder to stop, breathe and think.

Thank you. I needed that.

At the same time, for many a witness/experiencer/your label here, our experiences continue. And we still don’t have answers. We don’t have solutions.

The mystery continues. Many of us are stuck in a created answer. I can’t speak for others. But I also know that many of us remain stuck for different reasons. We don’t have answers. We reject a one size fits all, be it a religious, cultural, or whatever the fuck explanation. All we know is that weird stuff has always happened, and continues to happen. We want to know why, and how, and, what.

So while “objectivity” from outside can add insight, it isn’t an answer.

And this perspective that I’ve presented here is an old one, which proves that we haven’t gotten anywhere, really. Except for, very possibly, the recent revelations of various government data concerning UFOs. While that may be objective, it isn’t an answer. We still don’t know the whys, and the wheres, and the hows. We just know that there IS.

That’s objective. IT IS. Old, old data. Only the most stubborn, the most dense, the most thick headed of skeptic-debunker of the thick-headed-debunkers, can deny the existence of Otherness.

But that’s all we have really. The data that tells us that there is truly other shit out there. Doesn’t take us too far.

We need a kind of Zen approach, a real balance. Get out of our comfort zones in terms of frameworks that make us feel better, yet reject the blindness that can come of objectivity. Because, in the end, whether it’s gorillas or bees or the mating habits of heterosexuals on the west coast of the U.S., there is not true, real, objectivity.

So everyone relax. And listen.


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