All this time off. By the way, I am very grateful for all those who continue to work — health care workers, fire fighters and police, grocery store clerks, etc.
Social isolation, distancing. Staying home as much as possible. Wearing a mask when I do go out. I know — it “doesn’t do any good.” They say. But first of all, allergies. Living in the ‘Valley of Death’ (Oregon’s Willamette Valley) allergies are a major source of discomfort, and worse, for many of us. Aside from that, much to my surprise, wearing a mask makes me feel better. No doubt purely psychological, but so what. You do you, I’ll do me. And I know they say wearing a mask doesn’t do any good, but what if someone sneezes or coughs all over me — isn’t a mask some sort of protection? A teeny bit?
Anyway. with this time off (and how goddamn lucky are some of us who can stay home and not worry too much about money? I am so damn grateful. It’s not much but it’s something. Better than those who are truly struggling.)
Since our studio has been trashed due to heavy storms — it’s absolutely unusable — I haven’t painted in some time, or really done any artwork. This social isolation distancing had me bringing out the inks and pens and doing some drawings. I just started without thinking about it, but quickly realized all my little drawings had the same theme: The Virus. My husband said to me “You’re expressing out the virus. A magikal act.” True.
So here they are, all done within the past two days. I know, I could be doing something more practical, like weeding the yard, etc.
I had a dream that I thought was real, then realized at some point I was dreaming. Until, in the dream, I was explaining the dream to my husband — complete with a physical demonstration — thinking that that was real, until, I realized I was still dreaming. Layers upon layers.
I hear sounds of animals (I assume they are animals, cats maybe, raccoons) fighting in the yard next door. Abruptly, the sounds stop, and I hear just one sound: the crunching of leaves and gravel as a seven-foot, bi-pedal creature walks into our backyard.
I don’t know how I know the creature is seven feet tall, but I do. The nature of dreams. This creature is somewhat reptilian-is. Highly intelligent, and nasty. This thing claws at our bedroom window,trying to get in. I’m terrified. Try to wake up my husband but he’s out. All this time, I think this is really happening. Not a dream.
I hear the creature walking around to our other bedroom window. I get out of bed, pound the walls with my fist and shout “GO AWAY!!! GO AWAY!!! WE DO NOT WANT YOU HERE!!!”
There’s a moment where I am frightened because I know. — I can see it in my mind — that it’s thinking. Deciding whether to burst in or leave.
Later, I am explaining this dream to my husband. I show h
im how the creature walked, using my fingers to walk across the table. (As if he doesn’t know a bi-pedal creature would walk.) I think: thank god that dream nightmare is over.
Then I realize I’m still dreaming.
Like most of us, I assume, the coronavirus has shifted things within in a deep way. I’m confused, operating in a state of surreal acceptance. I want to be safe and responsible but am not sure what to do at times. I know what not to do – – I’m not an idiot. Am I scared? Yes, sometimes. I don’t want to feed into it. I’m not hoarding toilet paper for instance.
So the fears and anxiety, the uncertainty, is always there.
And I know I am setting myself up for the wrath of logical intelligent fellow saucer heads, Forteans and the like to be flung at me but I can’t help there is more behind this. Much more, including conspiracy and manipulations and even the interaction with an other.
But none of that really matters. Because this is here, it’s real, and it’s affecting all of us at all levels of our existence. Children at home, unsupervised, people out of work wondering how they’re going to pay their bills, . . . the fallout is immense.
My little dream, exposing layers of reality (I’m dreaming, I’m awake, it’s real, oh, I’m still dreaming) presenting a Reptilian Alien monster as an unwelcome and nasty intruder. It did go away however when I confronted it. So maybe this dream was a reminder that I am responsible for myself and to calm down. Not to be cavalier about things, but, find that balance between acceptance of this new reality while remaining sane.
Don’t give up on Orange Orb over here. I’m still here. In fact, watching Ancient Aliens right now. Why I’m watching it; good question. I mean, oy. Let’s rehash Roswell-Area 51 blah blah for the elevenity hundredth time. I’m also (as I have been for years) baffled by the mix of good solid researchers (Dolan, Birnes, and yes, von Daniken) with sleazy MUFON types. And, aside from Linda Moulton Howe and a scant others, where are the women???????
Haven’t posted much lately. Not for lack of interest or the usual topsy turvy stuff in UFO Land. Plenty to write about there. (Like Tom DeLonge’s Academy to the Stars whatever. Oy.) (Speaking of, Peter Levenda, who I like, has been in cahoots with that whole mess. I don’t understand.)
I’ve been focusing on my non-paranormal UFO side: fiction. (Ha ha, I can hear some of you out there now: “Fiction?! Isn’t that what UFO Land is all about?”) Mainly, my Haiku Daddy-Opage on Facebook (join if you like) and trying to self-publish some of my collections. One which is about the realm of the weird. It’s titled Orange Orb/Silver Sphere. I hope to have at least one chapbook up on Amazon soon.
For many years I tried to keep the two worlds separate; the UFO world and my creative writing world. But now, I’ve decided to just go where it all takes me.
Speaking of writing and creativity and one’s real UFO experiences, my husband is writing a novel, semi-autobiographical. Parts include when we first met and shared our UFO experiences. So in literature, “fiction,” the realm of the weird does have a place.
I think they do. Some scientists think so too. I write a lot about dreams here at the Orange Orb, as readers know. Combine my intrigue with dreams and my love of octopi, and I’m in a very nerdy place on the astral plane.