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

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I’m Not There: Alien Sketches

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.

 

invisible dancing aliens rlee12.18.jpg

 

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.

 

i'm not thererlee12.18.jpg

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.

 

corningstcreaturerlee.jpg

A Comment on my recent Stint on Jeremy Vaeni’s ‘Experience’ Podcast

It’s very difficult to mine any information from this interview. Regan was good at expressing her own bafflement and confusion with her experiences, but not at describing them with enough detail that we could either sincerely share her bafflement or perhaps provide some clarity. She says she’s trying to understand them better, and I believe her, but I also sense an unwillingness to open her experiences up fully to outside commentary. One thing that was obvious is that she’s concluded far more about her experiences than she expresses outright, and perhaps she fears that opening up her experiences to outside comment will challenge those conclusions and throw her back into a worse confusion, or confirm the worst of them which she is not ready to hear, but that looks to me to be rooted in a lack of self-confidence and a disbelief that anyone could really offer her anything truly beneficial.

I apologize to Regan for being so critical, and perhaps I’ve got it all wrong, I share my thoughts freely and whether she considers them or throws them into the bin I’ll take no offense.

A comment left  on Jeremy Vaeni’s Unknown Country/Experience podcast site in response to my podcast appearance on Vaeni’s program several weeks ago, (Which I greatly enjoyed, and once again, thank Jeremy for the opportunity to talk with him. Always truly wonderful, and funny, and “real” to speak with Vaeni.)
No offense taken dear commentator, I agree with many of your thoughts.
I am only trying to figure it out. Being human, and having all kinds of experiences involving  trauma — extant of any paranormal/supernatural experiences, I have my blind spots. Some I’m aware of, some I’m not.
We’re all in this together, trying to figure it out, find our way. Find those to trust, who will listen. Find others who’ve had similar experiences, who will share, and, listen to us without a knee jerk reaction of rejection.
Search, research, study.
But yeah, I’m human, and like everyone else, have moments of clarity, then, those muddled moments of what-ifs and it-couldn’t- possibly- be. Even fear. Okay, FEAR.  At times.
I don’t doubt at all that there’s a part of me that is afraid. Fuck yeah. Missing time? Not once, but at least twice. It’d be bad enough if it were only me present at those times, but, no. Others were present who confirmed the experiences.  Same with the invisible but no less real presences, (alien? not human, anyway) again, confirmed by others. And, so on  . . .
And I will acknowledge that yes, there are still some private, intimate episodes that I’m not willing to share now, or, I might find, will never be willing to share. Fear, shame, confusion, self-protection, … who knows. But it’s my right  to decide when and  where I will share these episodes. Will they be useful to the meta-data? To women in this field? To me?! Probably.  Yet in the meantime, we have to allow ourselves the time and space to process all this stuff.
We have to respect witnesses and let them speak, encourage but not harass or persecute those who share their stories. There will be a time when they’re (and when I’m) ready  to be even more open.
Being so-called closed shouldn’t imply a dishonesty, but foster a sense of compassion and patience.
True, there are those are coy for whatever reason (er, um, well,  David Paulides . . .) but the majority of people sharing their stories are being truthful. Sadly, but reallistically, there are always those who are hoaxers, liars, or sloppy and sleezy creeps (David Jacobs, in my opinion) but it’s a given that in any field — you name it, any field — that there are the liars, creeps, psychos, and huskters.

Mermaid Archangel Dream

(cross posted on my Orange Orb Tarot blog)

Had an interesting dream the other night, involving a family of another country and culture (true; I really know these people but not listing those details here) but, in this dream, involving music, dance and drumming, among other things, the following:

I’m in the room with this family, and lots of other people as well. Up on a little platform, is a long table with a dark haired (long dark hair) woman (around 40? maybe 50) who is reading from a deck. I assume it’s a tarot deck, but can’t get close enough to see. The backs of the cards are beautiful; greens and blues, mermaids. 

I can’t hear the woman too well; can’t tell if it’s a traditional tarot deck or an oracle deck. I notice the woman doesn’t have any clients; she just starts reading out loud to no one. Is she giving the whole room a reading? Reading to someone invisible? I still can’t see the deck up close. I want to, because it’s so beautiful, from the backs. I’m all about mermaids! But I’m confused as to the nature of the reading. Also, I realize I don’t much like her. I don’t like her style; she seems almost rude, and very loud. Not my approach. 

Yet after awhile, I realize what she’s saying is more important than the way she’s saying it. And, with a sudden awareness, I just know that she’s more than human, if she’s really human at all. She’s an archangel! She’s a mermaid archangel. 

When I understand this, I feel better. I’m awed, actually. And I realize her reading to the room is for anyone out here who cares to listen. It makes sense now. It’s not important that I don’t dig her style; it’s not about that.
I want this deck!

Donovan Concert: A Shared Experience — Maybe?

 

donovan69.jpg

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.

Found Journal: Memories, Voices, …

More from my found UFO notes from decades ago . I had forgotten so much of these experiences. Is “forgotten” the right word? How can a person forget these types of things? Maybe suppressed might be a better word. Below are two journal entries. Slightly edited for clarity, names have been changed, etc.

April 1991/Eugene, Oregon

Meditating the night before I met with Diane and George. I had an abrupt “waking dream” (I call them “mind post cards now) — I am awake, but having a vision, transported somewhere. I’m about ten years old in the dining room of my childhood home in Los Angeles. I see a man, in gray,  squatting on the floor. He’s busy doing something, and there are about four or five steel boxes about the size of bread boxes near him. They have lights on them, some of them are flashing; yellow, green, blue, red. This man is small with blondish- red hair and he’s human — almost. He seems three quarters human and one quarter something else. He suddenly looks  at me, and I get such a hit of hostility and anger from him! It’s obvious I am not supposed to be here, not supposed to see him. I get the sense in a few moments he’ll be gone; I just happened upon him early, too soon. I’m a little scared and well aware of his feeling I shouldn’t be here, but I’m also angry at him! This is my house! My dining room! I “wake-up” snap out of it is more accurate, for I wasn’t alsleep — as if someone’s turned the switch off and the “movie” is gone. I feel very uncomfortable.

May 1991/Eugene, Oregon

First UFO Study and Support Group at the library. Put up three flyers, about twelve people showed up. Good meeting — our agenda is to not have one. Research, study, compare notes. A couple showed up with their daughter who was about eleven. The daugher had heard voices all her life, and is in counseling. Diana and George (not their real names) really felt for her and felt as if we’ve seen her, or know her, somehow. The mothter seemed receptive — knew a little about stones and crystals. Diane upfront about her Wiccan, pagan path. No one batted an eye. I was slightly open regarding that.

The mother now tells me she feels Diane is “bringing demons” to her, into her house, because of her “witchcraft.” Discouraging. Odd, too, because she was very open and told me she’s glad we had the meeting and wants to meet again, but not if the meeting takes place at Diane’s.

One man who attended told a story of seeing a creature/visitor/intruder/alien/forgein other with witnesses. This creature was standing on the sidewalk, daytime. A definite negative presence. While he and the people he was with saw the creature, those passing by did not.

The next night, as I was leaving work, opening my car door, I heard a voice inside/outside my head. (to my left, by my left) (note: when I do encounter spirit voices it is always on my left) and I told myself it was just the sound of the car door opening. Two “words” came through. I don’t remember what they were.

Last night, I heard voices again. And an odd thing: eyes closed, suddenlty shapes taking a life of their own and forming into the black eyes, and I felt a presence (to my left.) I opened my eyes suddently, did not see anything, but really felt “it” — before opening my eyes I said “I don’t want you here!” and it left. On my way to the meeting at Diane’s when the phone rang — no one there. Diane saw a UFO the next morning. That night her oldest son had an emergency regarding his hand, he also gets frequent nose bleeds. (note: why I wrote that last sentecne at the time I don’t know, must have felt it was related.)

What’s interesting about these experiences is that they happened after my orange orb sighting. Eugene and surrounding areas were full of UFO sighitngs; many friends, “believers” and non-believers,  were seeing things. Local media reported on these sighitngs. I was having an incredible amount of synchronicities, precognitive episodes, my own sightings, “visions” during meditation and out of body experiences.

It seems the sighting of the orb opened up something within me that has been there all along.

Ancient Aliens: Mystery at Rudloe Manor

Little update: After posting this, saw on Facebook from friend and UFO scholar Scott Santa, that Ancient Aliens didn’t discover this — the existence of Rudloe Manor has been known for a long time. Timothy Good, author of Above Top Secret, addressed this years ago. A book that I’ve read, of course, but many years ago, and clearly, forgot all about it.  Still, it was a good episode for those who have not read Good’s book, or, who simply suffer from occasional bouts of senior-moment brain.

Last night’s episode of Ancient Aliens:The Mystery of Rudloe Manor was pretty good. Nice to see an Ancient Aliens where there wasn’t a rehashing of the already rehashed ‘aliens from millions of years ago had seeded us’ … not that I don’t believe that, I do, (yes, I do) (in part) but enough already.

Refreshing and surprising. I hadn’t known of the underground chambers in Wiltshire, England at Rudloe Manor. From the Ancient Aliens site, a bit from the blurb:

In the southwest corner of the Wiltshire, England countryside lies the mysterious structure known as Rudloe Manor. On the surface, it appears to be nothing more than a quaint English manor house, but researchers have argued for years that it has been the epicenter of British research into UFOs since World War II. British Ministry of Defence (MOD) insiders claim that an astounding 2.2 million square feet of vast caverns divided into many smaller chambers lie buried underneath Rudloe Manor (Ancient Aliens)

Watching the program last night, it seemed to me a safe theory to suggest that crop circles are the work of some shadowy black ops faction. Not aliens, not earth fairies, not Doug and Dave. Not even mating hedgehogs. Many disagree with me on this including many a UFO researcher I respect. But I am still convinced that some governments — certainly including our own — have been manipulating technologies and energies of non-human origin for their own agendas.

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