Two Little Bits of Synchronicity

Love tracking those moments of synchronicity. I had two moments last night. Firstly, working with my Deviant Moon deck. Not wearing my glasses, I misread/saw the Knight of Cups as the Page of Cups. When I looked closer, I saw that I had read the layout as if the Knight of Cups was the Page; so I drew a card from the top of the deck for further insight, something I sometimes do. That card was the Page of Cups.

Deviant Moon tarot, artist Patrick Valenza

Deviant Moon tarot, artist Patrick Valenza

Later, listening to Coast to Coast with guest Robert Knight, discussing remote viewing. At one point as Knight was talking, I wondered why he hadn't included Ingo Swann in his list of researchers and thinkers. "Swann was one of the pioneers in all this!"I thought. How odd he doesn't mention him. A pause, then Knight goes into Ingo Swann.

Magnitude 4.8 - SOUTHERN TEXAS

Surprising earthquake in Texas today, listed in the "significant earthquakes" section of USGS: Magnitude 4.8 - SOUTHERN TEXAS. I posted last night that I've been feeling a strong sense that earthquakes -- or some sort of earth event to do with the ground/land, not clear on what that means -- that kind of activity will happen soon, within two weeks, sooner than not. Although I sensed west coast and/or Hawaii, Japan, not inland. Looking at the U.S. earthquake maps, there has been unusual inland activity lately. Texas: fires, dust storms, earthquakes. Very strange. 

Penguin Moons and the Dreaming Mind

I am fascinated by the way our dreaming minds work, and the dream realm as another reality. A parallel universe? I've often thought, in context of story writing, how dreams function, the whys, the whats... and, what happens to the essence, the memory, of a dream once the dreamer has awakened? The memory of the dream still exists in the mind of the dreamer, but, only what was remembered. What of those dreams not remembered by the dreamer, yet, dreamt? Do they still exist? Do they continue on their own? The recurring themes and landscapes -- are they on simply on hold and non-existent until the dreamer returns to them. Or do they live on with their own lives, and the dreamer has merely visited, returned to in sleep?

I have many "stage sets" or landscapes that remain constant in my dreaming life. They may change slightly but overall remain the same. I have plots or themes that recur as well. Are these living, breathing stories active whether or not I am present, or do they only activate when I dream them?

Some dreams are surreal, some are pedestrian, some are scary, and so on. Some are spiritual and astral and of a most emphatically transcendent level that goes beyond "mere" dreaming. Some are visitations by others, as in the death of both human and non-human animal who have come tell me something. Some are announcements of things to come.

And some are simply silly yet nagging and bizarre. Like the "message" I had waking up this morning. I was just waking up coming out of sleep, and the last thought I had, distinct, specific, was "Penguin moons." What the hell are "penguin moons?" I have no idea. As far as I remember, I had no such dream of moons, penguins, birds, planets... no watching of TV or movies with penguins or even wildlife of any kind. Penguin moons, can't get it out of my mind. All day my mind has returned to those two words: penguin moons. At least I could point to something esoteric, something UFO-ish, paranormal or mystic if it had been owls. Particularly in the context of moons. Owls, now that's a symbol we can get behind. Penguins? On the moon? Or penguins that look like moons? Just downright silly.

---

So I searched for "penguin moon" and found this link on Wikipedia: Penguins on the Moon is the title of a Sack Trick album. Not familiar, but they're "classic" according to those who know.  There is the children's book Penguin Moon by Annie Mitra:

Penguin longs to talk to the moon but the moon remains silent. Through the five wishes of the giant starfish and with the help of friends, he is lifted up to the moon and learns that the moon has always answered but was just too far away to be heard. Penguin follows a long tradition of characters who have sought to befriend the moon in this tale told in the folktale style. (Amazon.com)

Which sounds charming but I'm not familiar with the book. Something about the motif of penguin/moon intrigues, since it comes up in various ways. . .

"Clown Selling" : Circus Offers Therapy for Clown Fear

Wasn't sure where to post this exactly, so I'll just put it here. (Er, clown "selling?" ) Anyway, speaking just for myself, I don't exactly have a fear of clowns; I just find them disgusting, creepy and dishonest. But if you suffer from a fear (as compared with just plain old disgust of sleeze, cheese and nastiness) you can now get clown therapy, or some such: BBC News - Circus offers 'clown-selling' for people's big-top fear. And oh hell, yeah, I am a bit scared of them too.

Invisible Aliens in Boston: A Dream Inside a Dream

James Rich, Sentinels, acrylic on board

(edited to add: it was pointed out to me that this is my second Boston dream; I had one a week or so ago where Jim and I are in Boston, looking at the harbor, gently mocking the accent: "Boss-tan Haaar-ba" while looking at the beautiful, soft water, reflecting pale pink lights. No idea why Boston has been popping up. I've never been there, don't plan on going there, no family is from there...)

I hadn't been thinking particularly of UFOs, aliens, my own experience, or listening to C2C late at night while drifting off to sleep, nor reading a UFO related book; all things I do on a regular basis. If anything, the past day or two, while working like mad on the house, inside and out, and enjoying our walks, I've been mindful of the importance of stepping outside of all the UFO-paranormal-esoteric-Fortean realm that swirls around me. I realize you can never escape it, and that's not the idea anyway. It's not a dichotomy, no contest here about anything adversarial. Just a balanced perspective so one doesn't get sucked down into an unhealthy and murky place.

And I still managed to have the following dream last night, despite my intentions:

I'm very excited because I've been invited to Boston to meet/collaborate with a well known UFO researcher. (won't say who, he's big time in waking life, though he doesn't live in Boston.) As dreams are wont to do, "Boston" (which I've never been to) is just a town or two away from me here in Eugene, Oregon. At the same time, it's also very far and a huge city and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed but also excited. I go to where the researcher -- Joe X,lets call him -- works, which is a sort of university type setting, sort of huge apartment complex, sort of grade school. In fact, I see some of my co-workers and a few students from my waking life day job. Seems the school where I work has moved and they're already setting up offices for September. 


I have to sort of chase down Joe X, lol, he's so busy and it's hard to catch up with him. People are stopping him every few moments to talk with him, he's very popular and everyone wants to have some time with him. He reminds me of one my waking life professors and in the dream, the two people kind of morph back and forth. Joe X sees me and waves me over to catch up. As we walk (rapidly, lots of people, lots of hubbub) to a conference room he tells me "Lots of researchers have plenty of stories to tell about the witnesses they've worked with, the data they've collected, but I want to hear from the researchers themselves about their own experiences. There's not enough of that going on. So Regan, I want to hear about your whole thing: the orb, missing time, the aliens..." 


I tell him that's a good point and I'm interested in that as well, but as for my own story, I've told it plenty of times, no one wants to hear it again. I've put it out there already. Joe X tells me that not everyone's heard it, there's always a new audience and venue, and he bets he can get to deeper levels about my experiences.


We go into the conference room -- comfortable but funky, old, like an old university setting would be -- still lots of people just coming and going all around. Joe X starts asking me my UFO experiences, and then, the aliens. And I start to get very frustrated as well as a bit panicked. I don't like this and I'm frustrated because I can't remember seeing any damn aliens. I've sensed them, had communications with them, felt their presence (verified by others) but not seen them. Why, why, I ask Joe X, can so many witnesses remember these things but I can't? He is very kind and supportive and steady, just keeps at it. Then abruptly, I "see" in my memory, little bits of what "they" look like. Just an image of a hand, or a foot, or a glimpse of some part of them. I'm surprised because, for one thing, they're tall, not the short grays that's typical. They're somewhat gray like in appearance, meaning those spindly buggers, but tall, six feet or so. They're a sort of tan, dark beige or sand color, not white or gray. I still can't see all of them, completely, but it's the closet I've come to actually seeing aliens in my dreams.


I say to Joe X that in my other dreams, I can never remember what they look like. And even now, I tell him, in this dream they're still being elusive. "Even in my dreams, I can't remember!" I tell him in exasperation.


Later, walking around this place, I run into one of the teachers I work with. She asks me about my summer and if I did anything fun, I tell her I went to Boston. She says, well, that's huge, tell me more! I say, well, it wasn't really anything, it was just a day and a night, then I was gone. As I walk away, I realize that I just told a co-worker I had been to Boston, but I didn't go to Boston, I just dreamed that I did. I just told her I thought my dream was reality. Now I have to think of something to tell her if she asks about it again. I'm very worried about how it looks, that I think a dream was reality. Then I wake up, and for a few moments, still have that thought, worried about telling her I didn't really go to Boston, just dreamed it. Until I realize, that was a dream too -- I only dreamed that it was reality. 

Airship UFOs and Dreams

Recent posts at the C Influence about air ships reminded me of some of my own experiences in my personal UFO journey.

I have a lot of recurring dream landscapes and imagery; shifting, ever changing sets, like the production stages in movie making, or sets on stage of a theater. One of the constant images and sets has to do with UFOs. It's a specific image, always the same, and it always occurs in the same place. That place is in front of the house I grew up in in Los Angeles. The time is always the same as well; night.

I've had this dream for as long as I can remember; just popping up now and then in my subconscious, even up to the present. And while it's a dream, and remembered as a dream, there's the other thing: memories of an actual, literal event. Not remembered as a dream, but as really happening.

My Invisible Friends: Floating Out the Door
The real event I've discussed many times on-line and on podcasts. (You can hear more about this on the podcast Jim and I did with Bill and Nancy Birnes on Future Theater.) Briefly; I'd wait in my bed, flat on my back, for "them." They were invisible, kind of sort of, but small, happy spindly things. My "friends." I had to be still, on my back, at night in the dark, the bed, and focus on the yellow beam of light under the bedroom door. Then they'd come, and float me out through the door, down the little hall, out that door to the living room, and out the front door to the big tree on the corner. The big tree was a huge fir tree on our neighbor's property, and I'd have to wait up in that tree for the ship to come.

The Dream
My dream begins with me either out on the sidewalk, or in the tree. The sheer exhilaration of looking up at that rich Prussian blue sky, and the dusty sparkling stars, which are so close, is almost too much for me to stand. The anticipation, waiting for "them," is exciting and pleasant.

Soon the ship comes. The description sounds downright silly, but it's what I've seen many times. In the dream, the ship makes me happy. Sometimes a little sad. Not sure why it's a little sad, maybe because it's, they, are going away, and I'm not.

My ship was like a basket, with an inverted bathtub over it, a domed type covering, yet the thing was open. Sometimes the bottom part was made of planks of wood, like a wooden fruit crate, but still had the bathtub type covering. The beings in it were small, but adults, and human looking enough . . . almost. While human like in many ways, they weren't quite human. Not exactly.
As I said, silly. Steam punk, old fashioned, and reminiscent of air ships. As I say, I've had both the memories and the dreams, forever.

No Owls, But Hey, There IS Frankenfish. . .

Not much, owls are gone, oh, there's the occasional owl motif/image but that's about it. No synchronicities, no sightings, and I don't have much to say, for now anyway, about recent UFO events. Everyone else is saying things, and I simply don't have anything to say, yet, about things like "missiles" in the skies, authorities and their passive-aggressive attempts at appeasing the mainstream media and populous,  and so on. So here I am, saying how I don't have anything to say.

There is my response to a blog post about airships on The C Influence. And a new post on my blog Animal Forteana about what's cutely being called Frankenfish; genetically altered, DNA tweaked, Dr. Evil enhanced salmon that the FDA, corporate entities (like the prettily named AquaBounty, which lulls us into peaceful accepting slumbers of an endless supply of soothing hued foods from the sea to ensure we continue to exist in an endless stream of plentiful fishiness. . .) don't think we have the right to choose or think for ourselves. Oh it gets worse. . .

Meet Me in the Orb: Jim’s novel

Yesterday I wrote about something Jim had written in his novel that reminded me of our missing time, our "dreams" of UFOs and our Orange Orb sighting.

The following is an excerpt from Jim’s novel. It’s difficult to describe what it’s about or what genre to put it into. Sci-fi, kind of. Conspiracy novel, definitely; there’s a lot concerning MKULTRA and mind control. But it’s more than that as well, with metaphysical aspects, estoeric themes. . . This is from the rough first draft which fills several notebooks -- yes, he’s writing it in longhand!. Jim estimates the book would run about 600 pages; he’s considering creating three seperate books; sequels. I realize the reader won’t know the characters, or where in the novel the following two scenes take place, but here they are:

Untitled Novel by James (Jim) Rich, copyright 2010.

[The following scene takes place on an ocean liner. Martina is on the deck of the ship with Dr. Bremoli; it is her voice that’s speaking:]

I noticed that there appeared to be a light, just off the bow deep beneath the surface . “Another way for what?”
“Another way for you. Your way is the most difficult.”
For the first time, he seemed old and scary. The light was growing bigger and brighter. Something was rising out of the depths; something huge. “What's that?”
“I haven’t much time. You must listen very carefully: you won’t always remember this.”

The light resolved into a bright central light surrounded by a ring of smaller multicolored lights that rotated around the perimeter of an immense, circular, metallic object. Dr. Bremoli put his lips to my ear speaking softly in a lilting language that I almost understood. It was a song, or a poem, or a lullaby to calm a distressed child. It sank deep into my unconscious tickling the hairs of memory, rustling the leaves of my senses. The craft (at this point I could think of it as nothing else) emerged from the sea like nothing I’d ever seen its passage seemingly displacing no water creating no wave, leaving the sea undisturbed, as it hovered just above me a dozen yards off the bow.

Morning Shower, James (Jim) Rich, acrylic on canvas

It was dry as a bone. Not a drop of water clung to it; strangely it reminded me of Jillian in the shower. It was incompressible, defying all reason. It was immense - at lease a mile in diameter - and there it hung, motionless, suspended, silent, but for a faint hum so low that I felt it in my gut rather than heard it. Unlike the top, there were no lights on the vast, featureless underbelly of a dark matte finish metal that was practically invisible, blending in with both sky and water. It seemed impervious to the laws of nature, like Magritte's Castle of the Pyrenees.

 “What did you say?” I asked, glancing over at the doctor, but he was gone. I spun around; he was no where to be seen among the still, almost motionless passengers. I looked back at the craft, just in time to see it depart, which it did in a fashion I never experienced, moving off in a direction perpendicular to everywhere, shrinking away into nothingness. I turned back around; once again the passengers were promenading around the deck, enjoying the now cool evening air, oblivious to the strange event that had transpired between moments.

Castle in the Pryenees, Rene Magritte

[A scene or two later, Martina goes down into the ship to meet with the very wealthy genius -scientist, Rainier Brancusi, in his labatory:]

I set off on my journey, taking the elevator to the lowest deck, where I switched to a service elevator which took me deep into the bowels of the ship. To the rear was the engine room. The air was hot, thick with diesel fuel, throbbing with machinery, but I made my way forward through a maze of narrow passageways to a hatch, beneath which a rusted ladder disappeared into uncertain darkness, and from which a nauseating stench issued like the breath of some infernal beast. “Really?!” I thought attempting to deal with my growing sense of claustrophobia, “was all this necessary? “ I considered turning back; after all, why was I going in the first place?

“Because he knows something,” said Medusa. [Medusa is an MKULTRA created personality that resides within Martina] and we need to find out what.”

I started down the ladder into the unwholesome darkness, like Orpheus descending into the underworld. I preceded rung by rung, my footsteps preternaturally loud, reverberating in the cavernous space accompanied by the creaking of stressed metal and the listless lapping of the liquid below.

The dim interior was lit primarily from a number of small unknown sources above, and an eerie bioluminescence billowing in the water below. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a catwalk leading from the platform where the ladder ended, across the looming, phosphorescent abyss to a geodesic sphere suspended from cables in the center of the bilge. A figure was waiting for me on the platform.

I found the orb/sphere imagery interesting, as well as the description of time standing still, the unwareness of the ship's passengers of the USO/UFO, and the scientist character hidden away in the depths of the ship.

Looking at this the same way I've been looking at dreams and other expressions might reveal something about our experiences.

Synchronistic Linguistics and Twilight Language

I'm not sure what either one of them means; like other terms, such as exo-politics, disclosure, and post modernism, the definitions seem murky and ever shifting. But I like what I think I think those terms mean. Anyone out there who wants to educate me on these terms -- synchrnonistic linguistics, twilight language -- feel free. I know Loren Coleman refers to twilight language a lot, but haven't figured out exactly what it is.

In the meantime, I found the following article on the Paranoia Magazine site: Synchronistic Linguistics in The Matrix; Or How Bob Dobbs Became the Tetrad Manager, by Robert Guffey.

I do know I've been fascinated by juxtapositions and images as language for many years. Patterns, comparisons, startlingly little items that seemingly have nothing to do with each other and yet, for whatever reason, I see a connection. Or a . . . something. Maybe it's just the Fortean inclined mind.

You Get What You Ask For: Flying Saucer Car and Power Outage

I'm reading Andrew Colvin's Mothman's Photographer III, and it's fantastic. I really do think that this book, as well as MP II, is in the top 10 books anyone obsessed with esoterica should read. Something I read in the book last night about intent and focus in the context of paranormal or esoteric symbolic events inspired me to include that with my daily intent. So I focused on asking for something to come my way today; some kind of symbol, sign, etc. of an esoteric nature.

I spent most of the day driving, coming back from the coast where I had spent the night. So I'm driving along on the highway at about sixty miles an hour, and I see in the oncoming lane an object going a good seventy ... and it wasn't until it was right by me and whizzed on by that I realized -- it was a flying saucer!!!

I looked in my rear view mirror, yep, I saw what I thought I saw! It as very low to the ground, disc shaped, with a little point in the middle. It was a medium to dark blue color. It looked like it had three small wheel but it could have had more. I couldn't see any windows; I don't know how the driver could see out. Or fit in the thing, for that matter. It was pretty small.

If it was remote controlled, I don't see how they could get away with that. Highly illegal. And dangerous. This is a major, busy highway with lots of traffic both ways, coming and going from the coast inland. And on a holiday, more traffic than usual, with people visiting the coast for the day, or the three day weekend. Seems like a dumb thing to do, but who knows.

This area of Oregon is full of alternate technology loving people; you see all kinds of hybrid, electric and pedal powered vehicles. I have no idea what this flying saucer "car" runs on, etc. but it was damn cool.

I tried to find something on-line about it but haven't found anything yet. I'll try to draw a picture of it and post it later.

Another thing that happened: I stopped at my favorite crystal store, Planet Yachats, in Yachats. As I was chatting with the owner, I commented about the "buzzy" feeling-- I get that a lot in those kinds of places -- just then, the power went out! All the lights went out; we stepped outside, and all the little shops in the small row or block had the same thing happen; no power. From looking across the street, the power was still on over there; signs still on, etc.

Quote of the Day

The Regan Lees, Frank Warrens, Don Ledgers, Moulton Howes, Steven Greers, Chris Rutkowskis, et al. are the UFO proletariat; they don’t count or matter. ~ UFO Provocateur(s)

Heh. Hey, I made it first on the list! Hooray for me.

Proletariat: pro·le·tar·i·at (prl-târ-t)
n.
1.
a. The class of industrial wage earners who, possessing neither capital nor production means, must earn their living by selling their labor.
b. The poorest class of working people.
2. The propertyless class of ancient Rome, constituting the lowest class of citizens.


All their other nonsense aside, they sure are a snooty bunch, aren't they?

Mating Hedgehogs: New blog

FYI, it's been around awhile, but I hadn't done anything to announce it. Formerly called "ear mouse" until I discovered there's already a lot of things named "ear mouse." Go figure. So now it's
"Mating Hedgehogs," in honor of my favorite debunker theory to explain crop circles. Take a look.