Sunday, May 23, 2021

"Sometimes They're Blue"

 Orange orbs, big huge ones, not the little light spheres so prevalent in the skies. But also, blue. Blue orbs, giant ones as well, have been reported. So here is a little drawing of a large blue orb, complete with one of those "invisible" aliens/entities/non-human beings, at the waters edge. 

Inspired by the 1975 UFO sighting and abduction of Charles Hickson and Calvin Parker Jr. in Pascagoula, Florida.

 "I looked up and saw a blue flashing light. Calvin turned around too. We saw a 30-foot-long object with a little dome on top.” (Hickson)

 "Sometimes They're Blue," oil pastel on paper, Regan Lee 2021

Thursday, May 20, 2021

Fuzzy Puppet Wolves

A new drawing, trying to recreate what I called "fuzzy puppet wolves" -- entities that visited me when I was a child. 

Fuzzy Puppet Wolf Entities, ink pen on paper, Regan Lee 2021

I wrote this piece about a childhood memory for my Trickster Realm’s column at Tim Binnall’s Binnall of America back in 2007.


I had to be in bed, flat on my back. Concentrate on the warm yellow light shining under the bedroom door. Then “they” came, several of them, oh, at least four, and somewhere I was levitated, floating through the doors.

I don’t remember what they looked like, or if I ever knew. I do “know” they were small, about my size. Skinny too, not human, like us.

Sometime around age thirteen or so these episodes became less frequent. As I wrote recently on my blog, it was rare when I could intentionally cause these episodes, and when they happened spontaneously, they became scary. I’d often shut down before I could leave my body.

Another event that happened frequently was the “puppet wolves,” visitations, as I called them. These events were connected somehow with the above, but also different. They weren’t the same creatures, for example. It wasn’t quite as pleasant either. And I remember some events happening during the day; still in bed, but daytime.

The fuzzy puppet wolves were very small, not more than about twenty-four inches tall. They were fuzzy/furry, gray, and reminded me of puppets. They weren’t exactly malevolent, but they were quick to be extremely mischievous, pushy, and just not as “nice” as the others. I could see these guys, and remember to this day what they looked like. The other guys, I don’t remember at all, except that they were small. The puppet wolves would gather around my bed, several of them, and they were insistent. They didn’t take no for an answer, and I’d have to go with them. I don’t remember anything other than that.

Not long ago, my husband “Joe” and I were talking about our childhood “weird” experiences; memories of the paranormal, or whatever word you want to use. Before I said anything, he began to tell me of something that happened to him sometimes when he was a kid. While he was in bed, furry gray “things” would gather around the edges of the bed, and tug at him, taking him away. (Neither of us remember where we went.)

I asked him if they reminded him in a way, of wolves; he said yes. Small nasty little wolf puppet, or stuffed animal-toy beings. He had never heard my story before.

Another Synchronicty between us. When faced with all these parallel experiences, going back deep into childhood, I find that I can’t ignore things like karma, or metaphysical connections, or reincarnation, or. . . something. I’m not sure what it means, but to say it doesn’t mean anything is supremely incorrect.

The Wolf as Totem

I refer to these nasty little beings as “wolves” yet they didn’t hold the wolf spirit. In fact, the wolf is my totem, and the Wolf Clan is one of the clans of the Lenepe, my grandfather’s tribe. (So I’m told.) I’ve had amazing dreams of wolves; often in connection with white wolves and teachers. I call upon Wolf often and he is my friend and guide.

But at the time, a child unfamiliar with the gift of Wolf and all its meanings, I tended to think of these persistent unpleasant creatures as wolves.

Puppet Symbology and Invisibility

It’s interesting that I thought of these beings as puppets; that is, puppets without any people operating them. They were just empty moving “skins.” They were footless, too, no legs. A screen memory, a false impression to cover whatever was “really” there? Puppet implies that something else is behind it; that the puppet isn’t doing the thing, the person operating the puppet is in control. Whatever was behind the wolf puppets was not revealed. Or, remembered.

Invisible Aliens

In looking back over a lot of what I’ve written about aliens and odd experiences, I realize I use the term “invisible alien” a lot. I don’t recall what they looked like, these beings that came to float me out doors at night. I don’t remember parts of UFO sightings I’ve had; missing time. Whether these are connected or not I don’t know.

There are many layers to these kind of experiences, and I suspect symbols replace symbols that replace yet other symbols, all to make us more comfortable, to protect us, — or us to protect ourselves — as we try to exist in the mundane world. Our journeys into the astral/other worlds remain submerged in our subconscious. It’s been so for a very long time, as has our need to go down and retrieve these memories. Retrieve the correct memories. With each “dive” into our subconscious, we move closer to some kind of understanding.

(for example, I wrote that I had to concentrate on the yellow light underneath the bedroom door. I told my mother about these experiences, and she insisted that there was never a light on in the hall after we went to bed. I asked her, then, what light was it that I was seeing? she had no idea.)

Was my memory of the light a true one of the hall light, and it is my mother that is incorrect? Or is my mother right, and my memory of the hall light a cover memory for a very different kind of light, from a very different source?

I wonder if I’ll ever know.

#ufo #supernatural #paranormal #astral #dreams #art #cryptids 


Tuesday, May 18, 2021

New Drawing


'Blue Ones in the Orange Orb,' oil pastel on paper, Regan Lee 2021
#art #aliens #ufos #paranoraml #supernatural

Monday, May 17, 2021

Marilyn Monroe's Stomach

 On Facebook, Nick Redfern posted a funny comment about beards and "poet fucks." No fan of poetry, he. I kidded him about that. His new book Diary of Secrets: UFO Conspiracies and the Mysterious Death of Marilyn Monroe reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago about a strange conversation with some weird Hollywood guy about Marilyn. Here it is:

Marilyn Monroe’s Stomach
Dripping from his fork
the rare steak
as he thrusts it at me
We’re sitting inside
Musso and Frank
“They lost Marilyn’s stomach you know,’
he said, chewing with his mouth open.
“Doesn’t that tell. you something?”
I shrug. He should know. Probably.
He’s worked the lots. He wears a fedora.
He motions the server without looking.
Orders another drink.
Me, I stay sober. I have to get out of here.
“They don’t tell you the whole story,”
and he slurps the last of his drink.
“Lots goes on ... no believes anyone.”
Swirling the last piece of meat, he nods
“I’m telling ya kiddo, it’s the goddamn truth.”
What am I supposed to do with this information?
I’m just a naive hippie girl living in Hollywood.
Right down from Paramount Studios.
“Sure you don’t want a drink?” he leans in.
I shake my head.
Settling back into his belch
he breathes out the mantra once more:
“Damn liars, The cops, the studios, everybody.
Never the damn truth.”

#ufos #poetry #free verse #hollywood #paranormal

Two New Drawings: Dark Aliens, Praying Mantis

 'Dark Aliens,' pencil on paper, Regan Lee 2021

Playing around with monochromatic looks, and a sort of Shadow Person/Alien being.  I think this will become a painting.

'Insectoid Visitor,' oil pastel on black paper, Regan Lee 2021

Experimenting with drawing on black paper, and the giant insect alien imagery. 


Monday, May 10, 2021

Why the Urge?

 Not a new question. But wondering today, why do many of us have the urge to tell our story?


The hucksters and liars and deranged aside, those who are just in it for the attention, or hopes of making money (oh make me laugh so funny!) why tell others of our weird experiences? 

We see something weird. Unusual. Even at times, profound. Baffling, at best. Maybe missing time, an uncomfortable nagging feeling of something not right. That deer, that owl? Was it really?

Some of us of course never tell anyone. Or, tell a stranger, but not our spouses, siblings, parents, best friends. Because they will think we're crazy. So we don't tell them, but will share with an outsider who promises not to laugh and assures that they will be discreet.

But the rest of us, we feel compelled. Why? For me, it's not for money (again, I laugh. Laugh I say!) but ... well, because I believe we need to be reminded that there is more Out There than we suspect. That, I am NOT crazy. I work with you. I live with you. I am your friend. Your neighbor. You didn't think me nuts before. So why do you think that now? 

Also I don't like being called al liar. No, I'm no pure as the driven snow dame, but I am not liar. I just don't make up shit for its own sake. 

And I don't like hypocrites. It's okay to accept someone's belief in a religion, Christianity say, on its literal terms, but my seeing a white light around a Bigfoot is somehow... nutty? Lies? Psychotic?

Nah. I started calling out people on their responses to my stories a long time ago. Love their reactions. Lots of backtracking going on there.

Is this need to tell our stories based on the thing witnessed? Some aftermath? Or is it more just our the individual -- some of us are stubborn and blatant while others are prone to being more private? (Even so, they do need to tell, just not share with those close to them.)

.Weird News I Like

Searching the web for weird things. Because that's what I do. I particularly love items having to do with animals, as long as the animals aren't hurt. In fact, I like it when the animals turn on us. Poetic justice. 

Pandemic Tarot

Yesterday, I posted Boing Boing's link to a tarot deck with the Covid Virus as its theme. And here's another one on Bored Panda.

Today, this item about Covid vaccines being given at Dracula's castle. 

Escaped Animals

Sadly, this bastard kept a tiger in his house in Houston, and it got lose. And a scared zebra  wasn't having any of it -- it escaped from an "exotic livestock auction" (they have those?!) in Tennessee. These animals are not pets! 


Lobster saved from being someone's dinner at a Red Lobster. 

Thieving Ravens

Ravens are stealing Costco customer's food in Alaska.


A giant squid sculpture in Japan, thanks to a town's Coronavirus relief funds.

Along the same lines sort of, vintage photos of dinosaurs. Not real dinosaurs of course.

Sunday, May 9, 2021

Corona Tarot

Saw this on Boing Boing. A new tarot deck, the Corona virus the theme. 

Steve Speer, the creator of some very out-there, psychedelic animationsfrom the early 1990s, brings us the magical CoronaTarot. Speer collaborated with occultist Ami Lahoff and Pantheist Lena Strayhorn to create this one-of-a-kind deck. (Boing Boing)

Some very creepy and fitting images. Damn interesting. I don't know that I'd want to use it for readings, but it does make for one hell of an interesting deck for those who collect decks.  

Thursday, May 6, 2021

Tuesday, May 4, 2021

New Season of Skinwalker: Follow the Thread. . .

 More later, assuming my rant beams are still up and going. Meanwhile, this is my recent post on Facebook concerning current Skinwalker "investigations":

Follow the money they say. Okay: Bigelow, billionaire, uber secretive, Vegas, paranormal cahoots with government,ex-Skinwalker owner, buddies with Fugul who now owns Skinwalker, sudden in charge scene guy Travis who was one of many pundits on various "science" shows where many of them were ex-CIA operatives. Hmmm. nothing to wonder at here just keep moving.

I just don't trust 'em. 

Friday, April 30, 2021

Aliens on Cliffs; New Drawings

 Three new drawings. I call them "aliens" though I've never seen beings like these, at least, not that I remember. I notice that they don't have eyes, and most of my alien creature drawings don't have eyes. I think it's because, while I remember entities from my childhood, I really remember the sense, the feeling, the almost visible but not quite. They were real, they were there, but . . . like my missing time events and UFO sightings, and the sense I was inside craft, I don't remember beyond just the feeling. 

Aliens on Cliffs, water soluble Neo-crayons and ink on paper, Regan Lee

Alien on Cliff, Neo-color crayon, pencil, on paper, Regan Lee

At Night, oil pastel, ink, on paper, Regan Lee

Saturday, April 24, 2021

Mystery Tree Cutters, Mystery Trees. . .

 Who, or What, is Cutting Down Trees?

Recently on an episode of Coast to Coast, Tim Binnall reported on a strange happening in England. Someone, or something, has been cutting down trees. What makes this an odd story (as well as sad) is that there are no witnesses. No one in the area of these trees hears anything. No sound of chain saws, etc. The trees are there, and the next day, people wake up to find they’ve been cut. In the middle of the night, apparently, some entity, be it human or other, has been cutting down trees.

I was struck by the coincidence of this local story; here in Eugene, someone had cut down a tree in our very large park by the river.  Pure vandalism of course, but who, and why, remains a mystery.


Floated Out to the Fir Tree

My sister (I’ll call her Lola) called me to tell me she had listened to the Six Degrees of John Keel podcast, hosted by Barbara Fisher and Morganna. Sis told me she enjoyed the interview.

She also told me that when I was talking about being floated out the doors of our house and out the front door, Lola had the distinct thought: “I bet she’s going to say they put her in the tree.” And indeed, that is what I said. 

The night of the podcast, I had a dream where I was back at our childhood home, and I was telling Lola some of my experiences. And Lola was telling me about hers, things she had never told me. I don't remember what those things were, but I do remember being excited, and very surprised, that Lola, too, had had Very Weird Experiences.

In Waking Life however, Lola says nothing UFO wise happened to her. She doesn’t remember anything like that every happening; no sighings or floatings through doors.  However, she does remember crying at times, waiting for “them” to come and take her back to their planet, because she couldn’t survives here on earth  much longer.

I was sad to hear that, for many and probably obvious reasons. Our childhood wasn’t the greatest. Children sometimes think they might be adopted, or, hope that’s the case. They wonder “how did I get here, in this family?!” I remember, as a kid,  searching through my mother’s bedroom for proof I wasn’t her daughter.  So there’s that aspect of childhood. Could be childhood trauma responding to environment, or, more. 

Mrs. T, Her Tree, and Her Round Living Room

Our neighbor -- I’ll call her Mrs. T here -- planted the large fir tree with her husband when they were first married. When we moved into our house, Mrs. T had been a widow for some time. She was always very nice to us. Four loud, fighting, kids always losing their ball into her yard and she never got impatient with us. 

I remember going into Mrs. T’s yard -- she let us do that -- and sometimes standing on her front porch. But neither I or Lola remember ever being inside her home. Yet both Lola and I have had many dreams where we’re inside her house. Specifically, her living room, which was a strange shaped room -- round.  A round living room.

Why dream of round living rooms? Child sized non-human beings floating myself through doors? Waiting for "them" on beds, and inside giant trees. Lola said she doesn't have any sinister memories of the tree, just that is "mythic." That was the word she used. It was mythic; a neighborhood beacon. 

What part are dreams, what part real, do the two merge -- I believe they do, and that doesn't make events any less "real." 

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

 Recently, I was interviewed on Barbara Fisher's excellent podcast Six Degrees of John Keel. It was so much fun! We talked about many things, including tarot. As I said on the podcast, The Fool is my favorite tarot card. 

Of course, we also talked about orange orbs and all manner of weirdness.

Fisher and her co-host Morganna were fantastic hosts and I was honored to be on their program.

While you're over on the site, check out Fisher's art. I love her art; the use of mixed media, her vibrant colors, and her overall style. 


THE FOOL, from Barbara Moore's Wonderland Tarot

I recently bought this deck. There are a few decks out there with Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass themes. This deck was created by Barbara Moore.  

The Fool, from the Diamond Tarot

This deck is a Rider-Waite-Coleman deck but with vivid colors and psychedelic, colorful borders around each card. The deck is out of print and hard to find, and expensive! I've seen the deck offered at $300.00 and more. But I found the deck on eBay for about $30.00 after months of diligent watching. Today however, I saw the deck priced at $20.00. 

Monday, March 29, 2021

Childhood Memory In the Fir Tree: What Happened Next?

 I remember waiting for them at night. I remember the process -- the ritual -- I had to go through. First, lie on my back. Be still. Watch the yellow beam of light under the door. Be patient; they would arrive. And they always did. Then they’d float me out of the bed, through the bedroom door, through the hall door to the living room, and out the front door.

They’d set me high up in the large fir tree that grew on our neighbor’s front yard. That tree was a landmark; you could see if from all around the neighborhood. I don’t know why they put me in the tree, at night. But I had to sit there and wait, again, for them. 

I was never afraid. In fact, I was happy and excited. Sometimes my friend from school would be with me. Same friend, only her. But usually it was just me.

So there’s that memory. But last night, I wondered: what happened after that? What happened after I waited in the tree for awhile? Surely they didn’t take me just to have me sit in a tree at night and look at the stars.

I do have memories of sometimes, seeing a very silly bathtub type kind of ship. A child’s cover memory? 

Something must have happened after waiting in the tree. But I don’t remember. It simply doesn’t make sense that I would have gone through all that and then, nothing. Just a relaxing few moments in a fir tree. For what purpose?

And why can’t I remember what happened next?

Not only do I not remember what happened next, I can barely describe what "they" looked like. I don't remember -- not exactly -- what they looked like. I never really saw them, and yet, they were there. I know they were small, about my size. They were spindly, and had the triangle faces, but they were also transparent. Big black eyes, I don't remember.  Why can't I remember? Why do I remember only parts?