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.
(cross posted at my Frame 352: The Stranger Side of Sasquatch blog)
Cleaning out my study; lots of old files, and books, and all kinds of stuff. Had. forgotten all about a little journal I started in 1978 or so about my UFO experiences. Here’s one about a dream I had:
The dream: [edited for clarity] Date: June 29, 1978
Night time, Los Angeles. I’m standing on the corner across from my mother’s house. (interesting I wrote “my mother’s house” seems an odd way to phrase that. It’s the house I grew up in. Also, the house where my mother saw a UFO, and became very excited, calling us kids to come out and look at “the flying saucer.” No one believed her — except me. In fact, I told not to worry when the UFO was no longer visible. “Don’t worry mom, they’ll be back. They always come back.”)
I look up to the sky, and see very clearly, a large rectangle and another shape, thicker than the first. they are zooming through the air quickly and quietly. The UFOs break apart and disappear over a hill. (No hills however where I grew up.) Now I see flashes of light, and the sounds of machine guns. I know however that that’s not what is making the sound — it’s not the ‘guns’ it’s something else.
People on the street stop to look towards the sounds. I try to tell them what I saw: UFOs. Some believe me, some don’t. To be expected.
Suddenly, as we’re discussing what’s happening, a very large crescent of light comes floating through the sky, very fast. It’s heading towards the direction of the ‘machine gun’ sounds. The sounds stop. The UFOs come back in their original direction, towards me. They stop above me. Strange sounds like music are heard, but it’s difficult to tell if the sounds are from musical instruments (at least what we’re familiar with) or machines.
All this time, during this experience, I think it’s really happening. Then I remember I’m dreaming. Or am I? I must be. Of course I am. I’m confused. Within the dream I dream again. And here I tell Jim (my boyfriend at the time, my spouse now) all about the dream. He believes me. All of it. I tell him that the UFOs are real, “I just know they are.” No doubt. No argument. I tell him: “Well, I guess I really saw a UFO, it happens, and it just did to me.”
This time, in this dream, I wasn’t frightened, as I had been in the past in other dreams. I did feel awe, however, not in a religious sense (no space brother-sister Close Encounters stuff) but simply in an “this is incredible” sense.
We were living in Eugene, Oregon at this time. This before where we moved a few miles away and I had my orange orb and missing time experience. I did have a lot of weird UFO alien type dreams — was having them in Los Angeles when I met Jim, where we had missing time and a possible sighting — I find it interesting these dreams started before this. This suggests my experiences have been with me since childhood. Jim, who has had his own UFO related experiences, also since childhood; I have often commented how our experiences are not as random as we might think at times.
I was very close with someone all through elementary school and high school. I’ll call her Fiona. We went through a lot together; her family was rich, lived in a gated community, father some kind of scientist at a well known Big Science Private Sector institution, but I forget which one. She was unhappy; something very off about both her parents. I even went to counseling with her and her family a few times. I regret that, due to my own issues (sex, drugs, rock and roll. Not being trite here, but sad to say, a trio of self-destructive behaviors) when I was in my late teens, early twenties, our last couple of visits were not good ones due to my own self-indulgence. But since then, this person is the only one from my childhood that appears when I think of my childhood experiences involving UFOs.
Sometimes Fiona shows up in my dreams involving UFOs. Or she just appears during a memory of a UFO related memory. No one else, not my god-sister, (or my own sisters), or other friends, just Fiona. The question is, why?
I do not have any memory of Fiona and I seeing a UFO together, or experiencing anything of a paranormal nature.
We spent a lot of time on the roof of her ten (twelve?) story apartment tower. Late at night, sitting up there, watching the skies. Does the fact her father was a scientist play into this? Does any of this mean anything at all? Who knows of course. It could also be nothing at all, of no account, and Fiona’s appearance in my memories, dream realm or otherwise, means nothing.
Just another odd fragment within this giant, multi-faceted sphere of UFO experience.
Labels. We all use them, in every situation and context. Labels help us. They also manipulate us. We need something to hang onto, something to help us make sense of things. A handy quick label keeps us moving. We assume we all know, all agree, what we’re talking about when we use labels. Of course, most of the time that’s not true. We don’t agree, we aren’t sure, and we just want to get to it. Not get bogged down with defining our labels or explaining ourselves.
When it comes to UFOs, well, the word itself is a label abused. Both debunkers and believers (more labels!) assume UFO means aliens from outer space. (My theory is “they started it” meaning the skepti-bunkers, who insist that UFO of course “really” means ET, and therefore, let the scoffing and mocking begin.)
What labels to use when talking about people who’ve interacted with UFOs and or entities? Experiencer is a big one. Abductee, contactee, … the edges blur with those two, though of course those words help us identify witnesses who have been contacted, or taken, by entities. (And I do recognize that I use entity more than alien, certainly more than ET, because, well, we don’t know they’re literal ETs.) I will not ever tell someone who’s gone through encounters what to do; never suggest they take a specific approach or use only certain terminology. That’s up to them. For myself, I think simply using the word witness is enough. Yes, I’ve experienced things as well, but for me, that word in this context seems clinical. The use of the word experience removes a complicated mass of emotions and responses, it sets the self apart from the crazy mysterious scary weird exhilarating thing that happened.
It is up to each one of us who have witnessed these things to use whatever terms makes sense to us at the time. And the researchers who work with witnesses need to respect that, using their own language as they see fit, but allowing the witness her or his voice as well.
Clearing off a few shelves to make room for more books and vinyl (Santa brought us a new turntable) I came across a folder of cartoons I did decades ago. Just silly things. I did a few of a character I came up with; Pongo, the Neurotic Dog. (The quality is awful, I know, not much I can do with a built in Mac camera.)
I don’t remember if I was aware of it at the time, but “Pongo sees his first UFO” is dated 1954, the year I was born. And a lifetime of UFO and related experiences ever since.
Another silly one, about the great Cosmic nature of it all:
Moon in Gemini, never a good thing for us Pisces:
And finally, beware the Radio Active Cows. Maybe that’s why the aliens are abducting them.
This just in. And after listening to Adam Gorightly and Greg Bishop the other night on Coast to Coast talking about contactees. Synchronicity!
Miami Herald’s item on Bettina Rodriguez Aguilera, political candidate, who has been in communication with ET since she was seven years old:
Florida has a U.S. senator who once flew aboard the Space Shuttle.
A congressional candidate from Miami can go one better: Bettina Rodriguez Aguilera says she’s been aboard a spaceship too. But this one was crewed by aliens. As in extraterrestrials.
Three blond, big-bodied beings — two females, one male — visited her when she was 7 years old and have communicated telepathically with her several times in her life, she says. (Sen. Bill Nelson served as payload officer aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia in 1986. All seven people aboard were from Earth. As far as is known.) More here.
Three sketches I made last night while listening to Adam Gorightly and Greg Bishop on Coast to Coast last night. Good program; Gorightly and Bishop discussed their new book, A is for Adamski, with host George Knapp.
I wanted to make sure I didn’t fall asleep while listening to the show so I stayed up and sketched. I didn’t think about what I’d draw, just let myself go where my subconscious took me.
The first sketch I call “My invisible dancing aliens.” Years ago I started a painting based on this same drawing but never finished it. This is a sketch of the little foyer in the house I grew up in in Los Angeles. There was a little window in the wall, as you see, a closet door on the left, and across from that, the front door. This is the house where I waited for my little alien friends to come and float me out the front door. I also have memories of dancing with these creatures. No faces on the beings — I don’t remember their faces, or much at all, except that they were. About my size, almost see through. Airy, fragile, friendly. Same ones who floated me out the door, into the large tree on the corner where I’d wait for … more. More beings, ships. . .
This is also the house where my mother saw a UFO hovering over the apartments across the street.
This next sketch is of my bed. I’m not in it. The aliens (or beings, or entities, or angels, or elementals, whatever it is one wants to call them) are not looking at me in the bed — not anymore. I’m gone to what ever place they took me to. They are looking up, away from my bed, to the skies, and pointing. I’ve noticed that in this sketch, and another I did of my bedroom and the aliens, some of the aliens are tall, and clothed.
The last drawing surprised me; it’s a version of my “patio alien” a creature I saw when I was about four. This was in another house in Los Angeles, on Corning Street, not too far from the house referred to above. I tried to capture the nasty nature of this thing but I don’t think it comes across. Although, I showed it to my husband who just shook his head (I didn’t tell him what it was.) I asked him if he was referring to my artwork or what; he said no, to “it.” “Not good,” he said. “That thing is not good.”
This thing was about four feet tall, all in silver and a hood or helmet, red glowing eyes — more like lights then eyeballs — and had a wand or gun type thing in its hand. When I saw it I first thought the thing was holding our hose, messing around with it for some reason. It saw me, was very very angry I was watching it, and pointed the “hose” at me. Turned out to me some kind of ray gun (as hokey as that sounds) at me. I was terrified.