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

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Bigfoot

Bubble Orbs and Dream Messages

August 15, 2019, Yachats, Oregon

As usual, looking up at the night sky for UFOs, — the daytime sky as well. Lots of UFO and Sasquatch activity on the Oregon coast and coastal range. But other than that, I wasn’t thinking of UFOs in particular. Hadn’t even been on-line because the wi fi is so iffy on the coast, and I  wasn’t reading any UFO books. (although I did have many with me, as well as notes on various UFO expereinces. My go to take along when I travel. Still, I hadn’t even looked at any of my notes or books.) The dream I had last night was just so damn intense. Interesting how the emotional  impact of a dream takes on such importance, no matter the subject or actions in the dream.

And, before this: I was having trouble sleeping. Not sure why. Mini migraines past two days and that’s unusual, I don’t get those on the coast. Had my sleep mask on. Felt something small get up on the bed; felt the pressure. It was definitely a small creature; it  kneaded the bed by my side a little and settled in.  At first I thought the movement  was from an earthquake. Or, that an animal had come through the open window, which of course makes no sense. (We were on the second floor.)  Then I got it: my cat had visited me. We left him at home and I was thinking of him, he hates it when we leave. Mango had sent me a ‘I miss you” message.

 

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UFO Music in a bubble

This dream was very intense. Throughout the dream was clear and strong message that I must remember this.

I’m standing in front of a large window. Black as black night sky. No stars. I hear music, but it’s not coming from where you’d think. Meaning, when we hear something, regardless of the kind of sound, it sounds. . . ‘normal’ it’s coming from somewhere. The sound might be odd, but the fact you can hear it isn’t. Hard to explain. But this sound, wasn’t in my head, and wasn’t from out there. It was from. . . another dimension. Inside a bubble  The best I can explain this is the sound I have heard in a few hauntings. Voices, EVPs, laughter, very clear, but not from . . . here. Not in my head, not from, say, the other room. But from another place. Another space. 

The music  I heard was classical, very nice. But not from here. Then white letters appear on this window, against the black sky. The dream itself is almost in black and white. Sentences  appear; “UFO. are REAL” and all kinds of other statements about the reality of UFOs. For emphasis some of the words get larger and move closer towards me. They — the aliens — are clearly communicating with me. And they want me to tell others. I can’t see these aliens, but their ship is clearly outlined in this dark sky. A very large ship. The words keep coming. The music is a part of ‘them’ — and it’s clear. Aliens (or at least these aliens) come from, not from outer space or within the earth but another dimension right next to us. All around us, all the time, they’re here, in bubbles — that’s how they travel. They’re aware of us and wish we could be aware of them. Some of us are. Most are not. 

And then, further information: these “bubbles” are related to the orange orb I saw, as well as other orbs. The message I received was: “These orbs (including your orange orb) are a part of this. We are UFOs. We are here. We are aware of you.”

Then theses aliens tell me I have to get the word out, and to help me,

I told my husband about the dream as we were driving back from the coast into Eugene. I mentioned that the emotional intensity, the importance of the dream, goes beyond the content. He said “It sounds more like a communication than a dream.” I agree. 

Sometimes dreams are “just” dreams. Other times, they are truly more than that; messages from the astral. From spirit. From . . . more. 

An added note: I love listening to the ocean while I’m going to sleep. Both nights we were on the coast, I tried very hard to ignore other sounds: my own snoring, my husband’s snoring, traffic from the highway, the occasional barking dog, people returning to their cabins. That night, I had finally succeeded in tuning out everything except the ocean roar, and had more than one “mind post card” — the brilliant silver tops of the waves jumping into my mind’s eye. It was intense, sudden and magnificant.

 

Tim Beckley’s Podcast: Attack of the Orange Orbs

I was a guest. It was fun. Orange orbs, Marian apparitions, and Bigfoot.

FBI and BIGFOOT

A link and a little cynicism on my Bigfoot blog Frame 352: The Stranger Side of Sasquatch.

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

Aliens Through the Wall: Then Why Did Ya Tell Me?!”

It seems when I sleep in the afternoon, the dreams are weirder. I’m recovering from oral surgery, feeling sloggy and groggy, and so, slept for a couple of hours. (And when I woke up, thought it was time for work and had a moment of confusion on what to wear.)

So, the dream. I’m working away on writing, reading, researching all about This Stuff. UFOs, aliens, with a few cryptids thrown in. The usual. It’s night; outside the window I can see the dark night sky, a few stars. A knock at the door, I answer. Three males, all very different and very odd, are standing there. Without a word they just come in, pushy!

They act like MIB but don’t look like MIB. (Men in Black.) One looks like a boy of about sixteen, but I know he isn’t a young boy. He’s not even human. In fact, I know that none of these “men” are human. The other looks somewhat like an human, except the he’s really tall, and the other, about five foot nine, well. He’s simply a humanoid outline full of purple glittery shimmering material that keeps swirling around.

These men warn me in very strong terms not to discuss my experiences, my research. They know all about what I’ve written in the past. Everything. Every blog post, every article, every reference to me, every journal entry, and every discussion I’ve had with others about UFOs.

I am very offended. I ask them, “Just who do you think you are?!” and they don’t answer. They then walk right through the wall! Now that terrifies me. Then they walk back out, into the living room. They tell me “Don’t fuck with us, lady. We’re serious. You CANNOT tell anyone about us!”

“Then why,” I ask, “Are you showing up here at all, and showing off your wall trick?”

That, they ignore. They just walk through the wall again.

Later, I’m at work, I think.  Somewhere. I get a few people close to me together, tell them they cannot, CANNOT, tell anyone what they’re about to see. We’re in a room, locked door, paper over the peep hole. 

I am telling these people because the “men” later told me I could, but only if we promise not to tell others. Turns out I have video of their going through walls.

After I show the video, some tell me they don’t believe it because it’s easy to fake things. True, good point. I don’t know what to say.

Then the “men” show up and go through walls again. That gets everyone’s attention.

 

What I found interesting in this dream was the show off nature of the aliens, or whatever they were, along with their warning not to tell anyone. I asked what I considered a very reasonable question: then why show me all this?

True, as we know, when weird experiences happen and we tell others about them, many times we’re not believed. But many of us are compelled to tell our stories anyway. And there is certainly a trickster element in the UFO/alien paranormal realm. Lots of bizarre actions — performances, really, by “them” — often with warnings of keeping the experience secret.

My (Past) War With Skeptics

Oy. Skeptics.

When I first discovered the internet; many years ago, I went after skeptics. I had many a name for these debunkers. “Skeptoids,” “skeptic-bunkies,” and more. I had Yahoo groups (remember them?) devoted to bashing skeptics. Blogs that went after them with a vengeance. Argued with them, and, was the victim of their pathological insanity. I was called many names, insulted, lied about, and threatened. (With violence, with rape.)

I would count up the astounding number of links on the JREF forum relating to Bigfoot — so many dozens of links attacking the existence of Bigfoot! For a creature that skeptics insist isn’t real, there were sure (and no doubt still are; haven’t checked in a long time) a lot of threads devoted to Sasquatch.

Finally, I quite. Started using my own, real, legal name on-line. Partly because, in using my own name, that would hold me accountable to myself. Also, letting others know: this is me. Who I am. Really, truly me.

As it is now. Still me.

After awhile, things died down, and they’re still fairly quiet in that realm. But overall, lately, there has been an uptick in the skeptical world. Lots of links (see Anomalist, and Coast to Coast, etc. for links) to skeptics and anti-skeptics.

Things don’t change. They rest, they retreat for a moment, but after a while, they return. Skeptics are always with us. Still showing their ignorance, their smugness, their refusal to consider — seriously, and more importantly, honestly, — the subject they’re refuting.

Finally, I’d like to say, to para-phrase, “nobody believes in ghosts, until they’ve seen one.” Except, even in those cases, I know that’s not true. I’ve met a few who have seen ghosts, heard them, felt them, along with members of their family, and still refuse to acknowledge their existence. I’ve had people walk out of the room, rather than talk about the things they’ve seen, be it UFOs or strange creatures or ghosts. I’ve had people refuse to talk about the very things the rest of their loved ones have seen, as they themselves had. Their love for their family — siblings, spouses, etc. — isn’t enough to cancel out their fear, or refusal, to accept the anomaly.  (And by the way, I have seen and heard ghosts, many a time.)

Why?

A question that intrigues me, but at the same time, I don’t pay much attention to anymore. I don’t argue. I don’t explain. Not now. Not anymore.

I will happily discuss my experiences. But explain? Justify? Apologize? Nope.

It is not my job to convince you. I don’t want to convince anyone. I simply  tell my story. My truth. It is up to you — your choice — if you believe me, or care to honestly engage with me.

Otherwise, buzz off.

Joe R. Blakely Writes About Bigfoot

via Joe R. Blakely

 

Local (Eugene, Oregon) author has written a few books (fiction) about Bigfoot.

Talking Bigfoot on Arcane Radio podcast

Earlier tonight, guest on Lon Strickler’s Arcane Radio podcast. An enjoyable conversation indeed, and many thanks to Lon. It was good to actually talk to Lon “in person” after knowing him on-line all these years.

Wapiti (Elk) and Sasquatch: A Memory

(cross posted at my Frame 352: The Stranger Side of Sasquatch blog)

[Preparing for my interview on Lon Stricker’s Arcane Radio podcast this coming Friday, I’ve been putting together my Bigfoot material. Here’s one of those things:]

This isn’t a particularly Fortean or cryptid sort of experience, but it was a profound one, and one I find revisiting more than forty-five years later. However, there is a piece of this experience that does fit in with Bigfoot and other crypto phenomena in a small way as we’ll see.
When I was a Girl Scout (Troop 1534, the Robin was our crest)  we went camping in Northern California. It was a great trip, and my first experience camping. We slept in tents, we hiked in the forests, … the whole real life camping thing. New to me but I loved it. The first night, I remember laying awake in awe at the strangeness of listening to the screams of a woman, or maybe it was a baby. On and on it went, and I couldn’t understand why none of the adults seemed to care. Finally, I came out of my tent, scared but also intensely curious, to find out what was going on. I was very surprised when the camp leaders assured me those “screams” were not the pleas for help from a human in trouble, but wild peacocks. It took some convincing. I simply had never heard such a sound before. I’d seen peacocks in the zoo, but they never cried out like that, just walked around, their brilliant green and emerald tails bursting into jeweled colors every few moments. It was hard for me to put that pretty image together with the sounds I was hearing that night. Of course, since then, I’ve heard peacocks call like that many times. In fact, in the hills surrounding the city where I live, the wild peacocks can be a nuisance.
It was during this camping trip that I saw my first elk. I’m not sure what I was doing off by myself; I only have the memory of the elk sighting, and not what I was doing before or after.  But I think I was just . . . walking around, which is a bit odd, since we were all about the buddy system and checking in with the adult staff and basically just not doing stupid things like being twelve years old and walking around in the forests by yourself on your first camping trip.
I come out on the side of the road; a highway or something. Everything is very still, and very beautiful. I’m surprised the road is here, I didn’t know there was one close by. We came in another way, that involved dusty dirt roads and turns. I just stand there, looking. It seems I’m waiting for something, and suddenly I hear a loud crashing sound coming from  across the road. I watch, and hear a snort, a kind of chuffing sound, and almost magically (or so it seemed to me) there was an elk. He came rushing out of the thick foliage and then stopped right at the edge of the road. We were no more than fifty feet from each other. I was amazed; what a beautiful animal! I wasn’t scared, but I was in awe. True awe. There he stood, looking straight ahead. He must have known I was there, but he didn’t look at me or come towards me. He seemed to be allowing me to look him over. (I’ve wondered, years later, if the elk wasn’t afraid of me, how did he know I wasn’t a hunter? Or was the elk unaware of me  — but I am sure he was absolutely aware of me.)
He just stood there — he had antlers and huge black eyes, and was very large. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at at first; I had never seen an elk outside of books before. At first I thought it was a very large deer, but realized this was no deer, but an elk. (verified later when I looked it up.)  And here we were, standing at opposite sides of a road. After a few moments the elk seemed to fly across the road; just bounded in what seemed like one long graceful leap, and into the dark green of the other side.
I remember thinking that this was a secret thing that had just happened, a glorious strange private thing. I walked back to our camp (I assume I did) and that was that.
Bigfoot and cryptid debunkers and skeptics often say that people mistake the usual for the unusual. A bear, elk or some other animal is mistaken for a Sasquatch. The wild calls of a cougar, coyote, etc. is believed to be Bigfoot cries, or possibly something even more preternatural: the Beast of Bray road, or some such. All mundane sounds of animals mistaken to be something paranormal by nervous humans.
It’s a disingenuous and insulting explanation, which is applied to all witnesses who find themselves out in the woods, regardless of their experience. The person who’s grown up with camping and hunting or who’s lived their entire lives in rural areas is considered in the same group with those unfamiliar with flora and fauna. Myself, at that time long ago. I had never heard the peacock’s eerie calls, or seen an elk in its natural habitat. Yet I didn’t jump to supernatural conclusions. At twelve, I was only vaguely aware of things like UFOs and strange creatures, but I did have an open mind, and in fact, assumed that things like ghosts existed. I don’t know where this trust in the “other” came from, just the way Im wired I guess. Even so, I investigated the call of the peacock, and simply accepted the gift of seeing wapiti. I didn’t assume those things were banshees or Bigfoot or anything strange.
I know too many people that I trust who have shared with me their Bigfoot encounters. To varying degrees, all of those people are familiar with the outdoors, having lived in the country, or hunted, fished and camped all their lives. To suggest they “mistook” a bear, or something else of a mundane nature for a Sasquatch is ridiculous. In fact, it is irrational to suggest that.
The debunker’s dismissal that “people see what they want to see” is also ridiculous. I didn’t, even in my twelve year old mind, believe I saw a fairy, or Bigfoot — I knew I saw an elk, even though I’d never seen one before. (Believe me, as wonderful and magical in its way seeing that elk was, it would have been much cooler to have seen a fairy.)
Another tactic used by uber-skeptics is the “life itself is magical enough, only the bored or disturbed need to create something –Bigfoot, ghosts, etc. — instead of seeing the natural beauty around them.” What these skeptics don’t understand is that both exist; it’s not a contest.  That elk was magical indeed.
And so is Sasquatch, (and that’s with or without the high strangeness aspects of the phenomena, another topic for another day) which, so far anyway, I have not been blessed to encounter. At least not in a literal, flesh and blood way.

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