Going through old files (see post below) and found these odd little gems:
Old 'Mad Libs'
back of postcard from the Unarious Academy of Science; Ruth E. Norman (Uriel) Cosmic Visionary and Cofounder of Unarius
Last night's Coast to Coast with host Connie Willis had alien hunter Derril Sims as a guest, discussing, among other things, the "seven different kinds of aliens" most reported by us humans here on earth.
I found Sims ideas interesting. As he said, he approaches the whole UFO/alien/ET phenomena differently than most UFO researchers. Sims, being an ex-cop and a private investigator, as well as an abductee himself, has a different perspective.
One point he brought up, that I had never thought of: the most common ET/alien types share something in common. Short grays, tall grays, Mantis/insectoid creatures, Reptilians, the Nordics, etc. while seemingly very different, are not all that different. Weird, I know. And by the way, let's just forget what we might or might not think of Sims in general. Like a lot of researchers, there are issues. THERE ARE ISSUES. But let's not kill the messenger because he or she is, well, the messenger. Part of what is so damn obvious in UFO Land is the fact that the messengers, be they human or not, are often full of crap, and yet, there are little glittering gems of truth, or at least interesting glimmers, of Pretty Interesting Ideas.
So. Sims said that these "aliens" are not strictly aliens, as in, from Outer Space, but from here on earth.
Sims referred to DNA. Mantis: they're here on earth. Reptilians: earth. (snakes, lizards, etc.) Nordics, here on earth. (humans.) Short grays/Tall grays: here on earth. In terms of stunted, or genetically alerted humanoid types.
And so, these beings are of us, in various ways. Way out there various ways, true. Still.
Of course, the question is, who or what manipulated these creatures to the point of being perceived as "alien" (after all, if I saw a ten foot praying mantis, or a human looking lizard being, I'd be, at best, horribly confused and think, maybe, "alien as all fuck!")
Aliens, There are aliens -- out there, far out there, and "aliens" in here. Right here. One begets the other. Or, not.
Food for thought.
But I have always thought that the message brought to us by "them" is ...just that. A message. Doesn't mean it's true. Doesn't mean it means anything. And who is behind the messenger?
Someimtes in UFO Land we forget to ask. Yeah, Reptialian. Weird, scary. Or, according to some, not scary but down right sexy. Intelligent. Bad, good, who knows. But, who is beind this, if anyone? Or thing?
We can't answer this question: who's behind this all? Why do we have so many different religions, and sects within religions? Because we don't know. Or some of us think we know, and believe no one else knows. And so on.
Well.
It is possible that the giant insects and Lizard Reptilians and grays and Nordics and so on are manifestations of the same thing. (Let's throw in Marian apparitions and such as well. Hell even ghosts, at times.)
Yes, that's Mamie (Sarah Paulson) and Valiant Thor (Cody Fern) getting it on.
I’ve been a fan of American Horror Story since its beginning. There were a couple of seasons I didn’t care for. But overall, oh it is a great show! I love the revolving cast, the stories, the direction, the credits, the acting, everything.
And they surpassed themselves with the second half of this year’s program: Double Feature.
I loved the first half, which had a family retreating to the east coast so the husband could work on his writing, and then . . . vampires and such. Excellent. But the best, the best, was the second half. UFOs! From Eisenhower to Nixon. Not just "the grays" but more than one alien race. Glowing eyes and exploding heads. Pink caftans. And Valiant Thor! Yes!
From the black and white to color, depending on the era, to Valiant Thor in the Whitehouse, to Mamie Einsenhower's glorious pink caftan, brilliant. (Pink was Mamie’s favorite color.)
I’m not going to get into discussing the “truth” of things because, after all, when it comes to aliens and ETs and UFOs, no one knows “the truth.” This is also a television program for entertainment. It’s not a documentary. But the writers who did the research for this season obviously had a good awareness of the UFO realm, and went with it. Sure it’s speculation and what ifs but it’s really good speculation and what ifs. It’s a throw back to classic sci-fi stuff.
The other day, I posted about my failure regarding a piece I was working on about the orange orb. (You know, that orange orb.)
But I also feel pretty good about other pieces, including these two, that have a slight weirdness vibe.
Like this one: "Mothy Owl" collage, paper and watercolor on canvas board.
Two strange dreams last night. Oddly enough, I had not taken any melatonin, which can certainly cause some deeply surreal dreams. Nor did I listen to any paranormal podcast or Coast to Coast, which I often do when in bed. The subconscious works in its own language for sure.
At night, a couple dozen people. Some kind of party -- more like a celebration, or an observance of something. A rite, an homage, a recognition. We either eat or drink something psychedelic. Not exactly that; more like this substance enhances in a way what’s already within. There is a beach ball sized globe, or orb, solid, physical but also made of light. Hard to explain. It’s a light blue color. We pass it around, balance it, play with it. Dance with it.
Someone has the orb now. There is a deep and intense connection here between me/this someone and the orb. Everyone else stands back. They know the orb has chosen its person.
The person is in rapture. Holds onto the orb, talks in tongues, falls down onto the ground. On his back, this person is holding up the orb, signing, talking in a strange language. Purple lights appear and swirl around him. Then he turns into a violet reptilian type being, with huge black eyes. I lean into this being and stare into those eyes. Nothing on this earth has ever been as black as the black of its eyes. Huge deep glossy black eyes.
There is nothing malevolent about this but it is terribly profound. True awe. I cannot believe this blackness, this never ending sea of dark. I am sort of screaming out about this -- wanting others to look, to pay attention to this. These eyes, this black it’s so damn important!
In the dream, I tell myself I have to remember this and write it down right away. The urgency is vibrating, I must get this down! I’m writing this dream down and Jim comes in to talk to me about something. I tell him to go away, I have to get this dream down immediately! Later, I tell him about the dream. And then it starts over again: the violet, the purple, the huge black eyes, the reptilian, the blue orb, the chanting and dancing . . .
Same night, different dream:
I’m in an empty room on the tenth floor of a building -- office building? -- built in the 1950s, maybe 1940s. dingy, frayed carpets, not many people about. I don’t know why I’m here. I look down into the street. Thousands of people, literally nose to nose. No room to move. Yet move they do. Crawling, scrambling, shoving, climbing on each others. Violence. People fighting. Something bout gas. Some force is stealing gas. I stay up here because I sure as hell don’t want any of that! A few people come into the building but they stay on the first few floors. Once they realize it’s an empty building (except for me or a few others in the upper floors) they leave.
After a few hours of this madness, two gigantic mothership UFOs appear overhead. They lift up two huge silver domes. Domes that have been covering the city. The aliens or beings or whoever, whatever, they are, put the domes in place to disguise their presence while they sucked up all the gasoline in the city. Once they filled their own tanks, they lifted the domes and left. Once they left, everyone was back to normal. No memory of what just happened.
This second dream doesn't make much sense to me, since, on the west coast, a lack of gasoline has not been an issue.
It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.—Aristotle
