I am still in shock about Timothy Beckley's recent death. He was most definitely "Mr. UFO." I considered him a friend; he was always encouraging and published a few of my essays. I was fortunate to be on his podcasts a few times. I created this little collage in honor of one of UFO Land's colorful and knowledgeable characters.
Some time ago, I don't remember where it was, some interview, the UFO researcher commented that praying mantis synchronicities, in the context of UFOs and overall paranormal strangeness, happens with alarming frequency.
Last night, I listened to C2C interview with UFO researcher Preston Dennett. Which inspired me to create this collage, which I posted earlier today. When I walked into my studio this morning, I was startled to see looking up at me, two praying mantis. Not real ones, but images I had cut from an old National Geographic. I'd forgotten that I had set them aside on my work table. (Why had I? Hmm...)
Later, this evening, I visited my Good Reads page. I haven't checked into that page for many months. And the first book that pops up is this:
Looks like I'll have to read this one then! I'm not a huge Koontz fan -- more of a Stephen King dame -- but I do like Koontz (despite his conservatism) and have read many of his books. I don't know The Praying Mantis Bride is about but it'll be interesting to find out.
Among the hundreds of weird aspects of the UFO realm, the giant insectoid praying mantis beings really have my attention. It is just so bizarre, and out there . . . combined with my innate "Yikes! A BUG!" reaction to small insects, and the overall surreal and frightening encounters with giant insects, these narratives have me immensely intrigued.
Last night's Coast to Coast had UFO researcher Preston Dennet as guest; during the interview Dennet told a tale of a woman jogging in the wee early hours when she saw a fifteen foot praying mantis walking rapidly down the road. It disappeared into a corn field (yes! a corn field.)
That story inspired me to create the following collage, a new medium I've been having fun with. This is the first collage in a series of UFO and cryptid themed collages.
"Mantis," mixed media collage on 5 by 7 index card, Regan Lee 2021
Related links on this blog:
New Drawings: Dark Aliens
https://orangeorb.blogspot.com/2021/05/two-new-drawings-dark-aliens-praying.html
Shared Experiences: Rh Negative blood type
https://orangeorb.blogspot.com/2010/04/shared-experiences-rh-negative.html
Alien Ant
https://orangeorb.blogspot.com/2008/06/watercolor-alien-ant.html
UFO Geo Scan, oil pastel on black paper, Regan Lee 2021
Dream last night:
I'm standing outside my house, at night. Looking up at the sky. A voice over -- male -- from some podcast. I hear him. He talks about "orange orbs" and UFOs in general. Then, in the sky, I see colorful graph like formations appearing. Sort of like stationary fireworks. But not quite as spectacular. Very precise, geometric. Matrix type "drawings" in the sky.
With their appearance, I just know -- it is telepathically conveyed -- that UFOs are, often, ET, etc. But originate from a program. Geometry. Sacred geometry. And from that web, that mass of crossing lines and shapes, comes UFOs. And from the UFOs, all kinds of things. ETs, aliens, elementals, MIB, MIBLABS, what have you.
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.
So suddenly, here's Travis Taylor (Dr. Travis Taylor) all over the place on Skinwalker. Previous to Taylor's Skinwalker job, he was on various "science" type shows where the pundits were often listed as "ex-CIA whatevers."
And now, he is Travis Taylor on Skinwalker. And look at his bio according to Wikipedia. If people can't smell a very huge rat rotting away in this whole Skinwalker thing, then they need to get thee to a Nettie pot.
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)
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
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:
'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.
Not a new question. But wondering today, why do many of us have the urge to tell our story?
Why?!
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.)
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!
Saved!
Lobster saved from being someone's dinner at a Red Lobster.
Thieving Ravens
Ravens are stealing Costco customer's food in Alaska.
Homage
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.
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.
