Friday, December 6, 2013

Fortean Nerd Dreams: Of Mothman and Strieber

My new Trickster's Realm column is now available at Tim Binnall's BoA: Fortean Nerd Dreams: Of Mothman and Strieber.


Talking with a friend a couple of weeks ago who has had UFO and alien encounters since cTalking with a friend a couple of weeks ago who has had UFO and alien encounters since childhood — as her entire family — she mentioned that she had contacted Whitely Strieber years ago. She didn’t get to speak to Whitly, but did speak with Anne, who, according to this friend, kept referring to Whitley as ‘the master” and “the priest” which creeped out my friend. I can’t speak to anything other than reporting this little anecdote, and I’m not making any comments either way on Strieber, his work or his experiences. It’s just a background story to the following dream I had last night;
Jim (my husband) and I are walking through a large station of some kind, like a train station, or bus station. We’re pretty happy but in a hurry, we have to catch a bus somewhere. We’re going out of town; east towards the McKenzie river area.  We want to get there before the snow hits hard. (Now in waking life, snow was predicted for today, but it wasn’t snowing quite yet, and, while I like the McKenzie river area, it’s not where I particularly want to live or visit, certainly not in the snow — where snow hits hard up there — I don’t like snow!)  As we’re walking through this place, full of bustling people, a boy about seven or eight comes up to me. He’s wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt and has such large black eyes! He’s a cutie. He takes my hand, and is very self assured, leading us. He pulls up his hood to cover his head. I laugh and tell Jim that “Oh well, he’s just a kid,” and I worry a little about him being alone and so young, and not wearing enough warm clothing. He seems fine however. As he’s leading us, holding my hand, but in a very take charge way, he turns and asks me “Is Streiber still the Master?” This throws me for a loop; unnerves me a bit. Then he disappears, just vanishes before our eyes, as we step out onto the bus loading area. 

No comments: