OctoWeen: Season of Death

 
 

 

Mango, our friend for nineteen years.

 

Our nineteen year old cat Mango has, we believe, gone over the Rainbow Bridge. Mango went deaf this past year, had a cataract, lots of aches and pains especially in his back legs due to an attack by a pit bull  some years ago, yowls in the night, etc. Typical senior cat behaviors. Poor lovey.  The past few months, it was clear he was on his way out of this realm. Today he was asleep on the bed, suddenly woke up and just YOWLED/cried. It was heartbreaking. As he sat in my lap (for the last time, it turned out)  I told him it was okay, it’s time for him to go. I told him how much we loved him.

The past few months, he didn’t really want to go out, even though it was summer. As soon as the weather changed from summer to that magical velvet Fall a week or so ago, he wanted to go outside. He would sit on the porch for a few minutes then come back in. Today he wanted to go out so we let him out, thinking he would come back soon. We were sitting on the porch. Mango went over to Jim, which was hard for Mango, poor stumbling guy. He just looked at Jim, the sweetest look. Jim petted him and then Mango left.

We haven’t seen him since. That was around five in the afternoon. It is now past midnight and he hasn’t come back. We have looked everywhere; no Mango. UPDATE: It is now two days later; he is gone. It is clear he went off to die on his own terms.

I knew Mango was dying and we were discussing taking him to the vet to be “put down” (great fucking goddess I hate that term) but Mango decided to go the way he did. Which I prefer except I would have liked closure, to be sure, and I hate the idea of him being alone out there. But I trust he knew what he wanted.

We tune into Netflix for distraction. Comedy special, and while funny, the theme was death. Death. Death of his sister, death death death. Earlier mind numbing TV and it was all about death. Was i just picking up on what was random stuff or something more pointed? My attention is hyper.

Tuned in to Coast to Coast late that night. The subject involved communicating with the spirits of dead children. (!) Death.

I set up my Octoween altar September 30th. A sort of Dia de los Muertos, All Souls Day, Dumb Dinner, pagan/witchy memorial to my ancestors and those I  miss and loved.

It’s also been a hell of a year for both of us. Jim had a heart attack last September, died for a full minute in the ER (which I witnessed) several blood transfusions, a severely bad hernia, ... oh it was bad. Came home from the hospital only to return two weeks later due to complications.

Thankfully he is better than ever now.

Then, it was my turn. Diagnosed with cancer in February, operation, six months of chemo, ... now waiting for the ostomy reversal. The cancer is gone. Close calls for both of us.

This time of year is when the veils are lifted. The spirits come through; we reach out to speak to them. We create altars, perform rituals, pray, make offerings. Even those who don’t believe in such things participate, unconscious of the meanings behind, while they enjoy Halloween and the spooky movies and costumes.

I’ve been hoping to communicate with Mango. Nothing yet. I read something author and psychic Taylor Ellwood wrote recently about mediumship. We can’t demand that the spirits respond to us, instead we should offer our thoughts and allow them to communicate as they see fit. (I’m paraphrasing.) So instead of telling Mango to come to me and communicate (and this is also for my ancestors) I’ve been sending him the message that when he’s ready, and if he wants to, to just let me know how he’s doing. 

Kitchen Fairy Strikes Again: Missing (and found?) Fork

 

 In the past I've posted about weird episodes of missing items in this house, particularly in the kitchen. We had a fancy fork we both liked, nothing expensive or anything, just a cool looking fork. About a month ago it went missing. We looked everywhere for it. How could a fork just disappear? But it was gone. 

Last night, while cooking dinner (okay, putting a frozen pizza in the oven) I mentally called out to the Kitchen Fairy, as we have taken to calling the energy that makes things disappear, that I want my fork back. 

This morning, I needed a paper bag. I go into the bottom drawer and take out a folded paper bag that's been in the drawer forever. I open the folded bag, and there is a fork. But not the fancy fork, just a plain ol' fork. How did a fork get placed into a folded paper bag that has been kept in the cupboard for ages? I had the feeling the Kitchen Fairy was messing with me.

 

House fairies, etc. often take items, exchange items, find items from and for humans. Google "fairies and missing items" and there is all kinds of information on fairy lore and missing items. 

I will try making an offering to the Kitchen Fairy  and see what develops.

And that's the story of the Case of the Missing Fancy Fork.

Our Kitchen Spirit

 We've lived in our home for almost thirty years. From the first day, we felt odd vibes. Not that the house was haunted, but...something. Impressions of previous owners, residue. Like I said, something. 

One room in particular that has always been active is the kitchen. Once, Jim lost one of his favorite chopsticks. They were beautiful; handmade by a friend, wood. Really nice. We looked everywhere for it, never found it. Until. . . one day, months later, I found the chopstick stuck on a pantry shelf high up in between a food storage bin and the wall of the pantry. 

Many other times, looking for an item suddenly gone from its usual place. A day or two later, it's either back where it always goes, or is found in a really weird place that makes no sense. Even if misplaced, neither one of us would have misplaced in such a crazy place.

Tonight, I found the missing half of the wooden salad fork and spoon. The spoon went missing a few weeks ago. It always gets put back in the little drawer near the cutting board. We looked everywhere, every drawer, etc. Could not find it. We've been in the little drawer many times since, nothing. Tonight, I open the drawer and right there in front, are the salad spoon and fork. 

Things like this have happened in other rooms but nothing like what goes on the kitchen. 

I should try making friends with the kitchen spirit. It doesn't seem negative, just playful. 

Exploding Head Syndrome

 Recent Boing Boing item on Exploding Head Syndrome. Yep, I have the same thing. Long ago worried about it. Do I have a tumor? Am I psycho? What is happening? But it's "just" Exploding Head Syndrome. Bright lights, flashes, weird beeping electronic sounds. No explanation for its cause, but, not to worry, say the experts. It's harmless.

Exploding head syndrome (EHS) is an abnormal sensory perception during sleep in which a person experiences unreal noises that are loud and of short duration when falling asleep or waking up. The noise may be frightening, typically occurs only occasionally, and is not a serious health concern. People may also experience a flash of light. Pain is typically absent. Despite the name, the sufferer's head does not actually explode. [wikipedia, via Boing Boing]

That may be. Seems to be. Fine. I'm good with that. But. . .

It still is at thing. What is it, and why? And is there some connection between other sleep related phenomena, like sleep paralysis, OBEs, (out of body experiences), lucid dreaming, vivid dreams, dreaming in color, sleep walking? All of which I've experienced since childhood, and still experience.

Combine that with a long list of supernatural/paranormal/UFO/anomalous episodes, there has to be a connection here. A clue. More than meets the eye than "just" some seemingly random odd but harmless (and therefore, don't worry about it little missy) occurrence like Exploding Head Syndrome.

Vintage Find: Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book 1

 Found this today in the book section of St. Vinnie's.  A 1911 edition of Spenser's Faerie Queene Book 1.

And, as I was leafing through this delightful find, this little owl fell out! Perfect.

Now, to find Book 2.

Regan Lee,The Fairy Killer

 Robert Moss on Dreaming

Listened to Robert Moss last night on Coast to Coast. Moss is author of many books on dreaming. As readers of The Orange Orb know, I am fascinated by dreams. I had not heard of Moss before, but after listening to the interview last night I have ordered his recent book. 

Moss suggested setting intentions for your dreaming journey. I have many themes going on in my subconscious -- one thing I dream about a lot are animals.  For example, this is a mail art card I created recently and sent out:

Did I dream of a giant snail? And if so, what did I tell it?

“I’m going back to sleep” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“I need to find out what I said to the snail.”             

MAIL ART by R. Lee 2020

 I set an intention last about my cat. I made up a little mantra: 'Manifest Mango Mind Meld.' Asking what Mango wants me to know. (He is fourteen and has been having trouble with his back legs.) 

Nothing there. But I did have the following dream:

Regan Lee, Fairy Killer

The curtain opens, revealing a kitchen set. My back is to the audience. I am wearing a white shirt, dark brown palazzo style pants that are short; the stop at the knees. A wide belt that holds a few daggers. 

I am looking quickly through the cupboards, on the counters. Now and then I spin around and look off to the sides, then go back to what I was doing. This goes on for about thirty seconds. Then I turn around, and face the audience. I go into a monologue. I talk about what I do, which is hunt fairies. "Oh, don't be fooled," I say, "these little glittery fairies, with their pink and violet and transparent wings and tiny sweet bodies are full of it. They are not to be trusted. They are often invisible, and are out to trick you. They are dangerous."

I show off my daggers. I assure the audience I know how to handle them. There's a slight comedic air about the whole thing though. A dagger accidentally slips from my hands and lands a fairy -- it goes "Squeak! Ack!" and dies. I say, "Oops, well, sometimes . . ." everyone laughs.

When my monologue is over, I leave the stage. End of Scene 1. Applause. They love me! Backstage, everyone tells me how great I was. "You're a really good actress," they say.

I feel great. 

 

Robert Moss said to check in with how you feel about the dream. The dream could be about anything, and for one person, that dream could be a nightmare, for someone else, it could be healing. My dream of being an actress and a fairy killer was a good dream, as weird as that may sound. I woke up feeling fantastic. Empowered. 

The Kitchen Fairy

Jim and I often say we have a kitchen fairy. We're not joking. This house has always had a slight other-presence vibe to it, especially when we first bought the place twenty-five years ago. The house was built in 1927.  To this day, things go missing in the kitchen, only to be found in the weirdest places in the kitchen. There are only the two of us here (and Mango!) and neither one of us is a prankster kind of person. I've never had a negative feeling from this kitchen energy, but not a super helpful friendly one either. Maybe it just is, and wants our attention. I don't know if this kitchen fairy of ours has anything to do with last night's dream, but I don't think it does. Just the feeling I have about it.

Fairies, Animals and The Stage

I also dream often of being on stage. Of performing, sometimes signing which is funny since I can't sing at all. I wish I could, that's one of my fantasies, that I am one hell of an amazing singer. I come from circus folk (literally) and a family involved with acting. I was a theater major at one time. 

Last night, before I settled on my Mango intention, I was bouncing around with ideas. So many dream themes and landscapes and questions! For awhile I was thinking about animals; why do I dream of animals so much, big cats but all kinds as well? And why do I dream of my performing on stage, and in circus like traveling groups, often with Jim, and often taking place hundreds of years ago? One powerful dream I had of us both as performers in Western Europe has both of us intuitively knowing that it had to do with a past life.

 Last night, I'm on stage, talking not about animals but fairies, which are not human, not animal. Something else, an other. I am banishing them. I see them for what they are. And yet it's a performance.

I was acting.  And yet, on the stage, it felt real. I was really sincere about the fairies, and the fairies that appeared on the stage were real. At this point, all I can say is reality beyond, or behind, another reality, that seems like a cover or not real, but is, even while being presented as "only acting." 

Channeling/Possessed by Mom's Spirit

I have had hundreds of psychic episodes in my life. I've seen, heard and felt ghosts -- their presence. Felt their energy, their personality. Received images, and experienced all kinds of communications via dreams and OOBEs. (Out of body experiences.) I've seen UFOs, and encountered entities. I seem to go into a mild trance/channel mode when I read cards for others. But I have never experienced the following, not until my mother passed away a year ago.

I've experienced the following only twice. The first time was a couple of weeks after my mom died. I was at my sister's, at the home where my mom spent the last four years of her life, and my sister took care of. The other experience happened last night.

What happened was brief, yet incredibly intense. Both times I made a motion, a movement, a facial expression, that was "mom's." We all have those habits, micro-expressions, sayings, that we unconsciously inherit from our parents. Many times I'll say or do something that is "just like" my father or mother. But on these two occasions, it was much more.

Both times, when I made I was no longer me. At all. My mother was inside me. She had entered me -- it was her that was present, even if briefly. I cannot describe this yet in an articulate way. But it was so damn weird and different. I have never had anything pass through me like that. The closet I came to experiencing something similar was when I was walking through a home that was haunted. I suddenly felt an intense, burning heat "beam" go right through me. But even that was something that passed through. With my mother, she took over. 
a quick movement or expression that my mom would make,