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

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supernatural

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.

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