The Orange Orb: Crop Circle Dream Memory: Beep!

I had a dream the other night involving the beeping sound that some experience during paranormal, UFO and anomalous events. In that dream, a crop circle appeared, along with skeptics. Here's what the dream; for the rest, including the beeping (with links) go to:The Orange Orb: Crop Circle Dream Memory: Beep!

There's a large, beautiful and intricate crop circle. We're all amazed and wonder at how it came to be. It literally appeared, not over night, but over a few minutes. One moment we were looking over at the large field where there was no crop circle. Turned our attention elsewhere for a few moments. Turned back, and there, was the crop circle. Huge and intricate.


Then a group of skeptics come along. They're loud and arguing and demand that we listen to them. The crop circle is a fake! They shout at us. And to prove it was a fake made by man to fool us, they throw little pods of dirt on the crop circle. These pods, the debunkers smugly tell us, contain a chemical that "exposes" the fakery, and bright yellow squares will show up within the crop circle. The yellow squares are proof the circle is a fake. So they thrown the pods on the circle, and stand back, big stupid grins on their faces, waiting for the proof that will reveal how fake the crop circle is.

We wait and watch. At first, the yellow squares begin to pop up. The debunkers are overcome with joy. Ha! they say. But a few moments later, the yellow turns red, then other colors, then "over rides" the crop circle. In other words, the "proof" the skeptics have shown us hasn't proved a thing. In fact, the "real" crop circle takes over, obliterating the debunker pods.

The skeptics are mad and embarrassed. Most of all, they're baffled. Confused. They can't understand that the crop circles are real and have an as yet unexplained source that transcends prosaic explanations.

More on Surrealist Painter Leonora Carrington

Leonara Carrington, Jack Be Nimble

Many thanks to dia sobin who shared this link of paintings by surrealist artist Leonaora Carrington, who passed away recently: Leonora Carrington.

Her paintings are beautiful. Some of them remind me of Tarot cards, others, of esoteric alien-abduction-ET realms, even though, I am quite sure, that was not Carrington's intent, I'm simply saying they remind me of that a bit.

Enjoy.

Green Warty Things: Capes and Entities

The Shaman's Cape


 A Strange Green Cape
About twelve years ago I was visiting friends who were house sitting for a mutual friend of ours.  The home owner traveled to Mexico frequently on business; he owned a store in Oregon, and brought back folk art, books, and ceramics to sell in his store.

As I was wandering around the home looking at his extensive book collection, I noticed a large cape hanging on the wall. This cape was very unusual. It wasn’t made of any type of cloth, but seemed waxy and stiff, with little “horns” or  large thick thorns protruding from it. The cape was a darkish lime green color. While the cape wasn’t made from any cloth like material and didn’t look like it’d be comfortable to wear -- certainly not practical -- it was obvious this was a cape indented to be worn.

I touched the cape,rubbing my fingers on its smooth surface, being careful of course to avoid those white yellowish stud things that were clearly sharp enough to really hurt if touched.  I appreciated the cape for its history (whatever that may be, since I didn’t have a clue) and was drawn to it for some reason -- I couldn’t stop running my hands down the cool smooth surface.  Even while I was attracted to the cape, I felt uncomfortable around it at the same time; I didn’t like it. It was big and ugly, a sickish green color, and subconsciously, it annoyed me. It just seemed out of place.


Overcome with Fatigue: An OOBE
I had planned on staying to visit with my friends but suddenly felt extremely tired. It was the middle of the afternoon and a beautiful day, but I had to get home -- I was just so suddenly exhausted. Fortunately I didn’t live far, just a couple of miles. Yet riding my bike home on that beautiful day was so damn exhausting. I was losing focus; as if I were coming down with the flu yet I didn’t feel sick, as in ill, just ... inexplicably tired.

As soon as I got home I headed right for the bed, flopping down and grateful to finally make it home. Almost immediately I began to leave my body; one of those OOBE states that happen to me spontaneously and that I haven’t been able to control since I was a child. I wasn’t asleep, but not awake exactly, yet I was consciousness of the bedroom, the open window, the sun coming through the screen and other mundane things. At the same time I was paralyzed  but felt myself rapidly leaving my body. I could hear the sound of whistles and flutes coming from a distance away, then getting closer. These musical sounds were not coming from outside (like a neighbors house or stereo) but from whatever place my astral body was going towards...

The next thing I knew I was in a deep sleep.  I remember visions of chanting and signing, the flutes and whistles again, the cape draped around someone, a man. I couldn’t see his face. We were somewhere in the desert, or some rural country area. It was night and the stars were numerous and very close to the ground; I could touch them if I just reached out far enough. This was no dream; it was as real as this moment now, sitting here typing this. The memory of the desert ground; so hard, with dusty brown bits of soft dust, the coolish night air, the smells of earth and night, the music of flutes, bells, chanting. I was next to this man in a cape, his cape, face unseen, doing a jerky kind of wheeling, turning movement beneath the stars.

Add caption

A History Revealed
When I woke up, it was dark, and I felt as if I’d been poisoned. Not actually physically sick  but I mean, I felt as if someone had given me some kind of sleeping pill  or drugged me in some way. It took me a very long time to get back to reality. I felt sluggish and my tongue felt thick. This feeling lasted for a couple of days.

A day or two later I found out that this cape was from Mexico and had belonged to a Shaman. It was used in special ceremonies. I hadn’t mentioned this to my friend; it was the other way around. He had told me, quite spontaneously, that he was told that the cape was used for magical purposes that involved whistles and dancing, and was performed out in the desert, away from towns and especially the Church. How or why our friend managed to get this cape I don’t know, except that was a collector of what we call folk art and folk religious items. To those that participated in these dances and ceremonies, those are just labels used by outsiders.


Desert Visitation: The Green Warty "Man"
This incident happened about twenty-five years ago or so.  I was sitting on the bed reading. It was still early, around 7:00 pm, maybe earlier. I was simply on top of the covers, dressed, reading my book. My husband was in the other room. I had what I call a “mind post card,” -- it’s an experience that happens every so often, where the picture, absolutely vivid 3-D full color image,  is “inserted” into my mind with a sharp suddenness. It’s as if someone had literally slid a postcard or a slide  of an image (and very often a moving image) into my head. I don’t know where it comes from, or why it happens. Usually it’s a telepathic thing: a preview of something that occurs later that day, or within a day or two. This time however, it wasn’t a prediction of something; it was a “visit.”

source: UFO-FYI

The Lime Green Warty Man in the Desert
This “mind post card” was of a dirty lime-green being with warts or bony stubby nubs all over his body. He had two little stubs or buttons at the top of his forehead; not horns or antlers, but the suggestion of such. I just “knew” that this being was male. It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t animal. It was maybe closer to human than not, but definitely not human. He was sitting in profile to me, squatting down actually. We were out in the desert -- or, he was. At this point it doesn’t matter; it was as if I was transported, or his whole world superimposed itself onto mine. I was there with him/it. We had entered each other’s realm of existence. Somehow I had been transported to his desert, and his desert had moved closer to my world. He looked a bit like this ubiquitous image of the alien in Varginha, Brazil without the red glowing eyes, and much greener.

He saw me -- or sensed me --  and turned his head to look at me. He slowly grinned at me, but this was no happy smiley expression! He was a nasty piece of work! It was clear he knew exactly how I was feeling, and thought it very funny in a sadistic way. He was also a little irritated I was there -- or, he was here -- that we were in each other’s worlds. He didn't like that I had, however unintentionally, managed to cross over and into his realm.

Coming Back in a Flash and a Scream
I was so damn startled that I screamed. With that scream he popped out (or I was snapped back to my own reality.) And again he seemed irritated, it as if he wanted me to stick around so he could toy with me. He was mad I had screamed and ruined the fun. Such a temporary and special event gone in a flash. I was so damn unnerved by this, frightened, that I was annoyed at my husband. "Didn't you hear me scream?" I asked him. "Yes," he said, but told me he didn't come into the bedroom because he thought I was dreaming, or just stubbed a toe or something. Of course there was nothing he could have done about a green warty desert dwelling entity that appeared on the astral plane, but I was so unhinged by the experience I wasn't thinking logically.

Image: Brain Froud

To this day I remember that experience with a chill. I don’t associate any UFO experience or connection with this (although, with all the high strangeness that often accompanies UFOs who knows) and I wouldn’t say it was alien. Not alien from another planet; not even alien from this earth. But  I had the sense it very much belonged here and was of the earth, and it belonged here, if such judgments can be made on these things, more than humans. I had the feeling it was indigenous to the earth.

Ida Craddock: 'Sexual Outlaw, Erotic Mystic'

Reviews of: Vere Chappell's Sexual Outlaw, Erotic Mystic: The Essential Ida Craddock.

A skeptic view (fantasy prone, sexual abuse, etc.) on the following but still interesting: THE MAGONIA BLOG: Sexual Outlaw, on the story Ida Craddock. Craddock (1857-1902) was a sexologist, who learned about sexual pleasures from 'Soph' a ghost. Parallels to Mary, to contactees, succubi and incubus, and to all those sexual-supernatural unions are obvious. I haven't read the book; I'm not familiar with Craddock  but I'm looking forward to reading this book.

I notice that the forward is written by Tarot author and scholar Mary K. Greer. 

Craddock was the victim of her times; the moral setting she lived in would have put her in prison for her attitudes, (she was the target of "Anthony Comstock and his Society for the Suppression of Vice . . ." according to this review on Vere Chappell's bio page.)  Instead, she committed suicide.

Deirdre O'Lavery's Queeranormal blog: Dreams

Women Of Esoterica contributor Deirdre O'Lavery has a new post at her blog queeranormal on dreams. An excerpt:

... we dream, and in those dreams we experience emotions, tastes, smells, texture. So vivid are these experiences, that they can feel as real as our waking world. And when we do wake up from our dreaming -- if the dreams are vivid and emotional enough for us to recall them in detail, it isn’t uncommon to experience what I call ‘the dream haze’, which is the kind of foggy feeling left over from the events that transpired while asleep, coloring our daily life with sadness, anxiety, elation -- what have you. We are affected by our dreams sometimes as much as we are affected by our ‘real’ life.

More here Queeranormal

New Age Clown Fish Dream

Wonderful dream last night in a kind of goofy way. There is much more to this dream that goes along with what I posted about awhile ago on Snarly Skepticism, and maybe I'll post about that but for now, I'll just share this one part:

I'm some kind of psychic/healer/medium and am hired by a family to heal their fish; a clown fish. The clown fish is beautiful, but much larger than clown fish in waking life. This dream clown fish is about two feet long, almost eel like, but very friendly and beautiful. The orange color, all the colors, just lovely. But the clown fish is sick, so I'm hired to come and help.

The family is a blended family and a large one. Mostly Caucasian American and Indians, Hindu and Buddhist. 


I go into the room where the fish is. There are two tanks. One on a shelf, the other tank on a shelf higher and off to the left a bit. A tube connects the two. After looking at the fish I know the fish will most likely be all right, though it's sick now, but the rest is up to the family, I tell them. They really love this fish. I tell them the fish has a "Forty seventy" chance of living (I realize when I woke up you can't have a "forty seventy" but that's what was said in the dream) and that, instead of being sad that there's a seventy percent chance it might die, be grateful and concentrate on the forty percent that he'll live.


I show them how to sit with the fish every day, for at least ten minutes a day, and just concentrate on the fish being well. Send it love, literally, white light from your heart to the fish, and back again. Everyone in the family has to do this, and even when away from the fish, think about the fish and send it love and light.

I tell them it's important to keep the tanks clean, make sure the water is fresh and running and let the fish go back and forth between tanks. The fish follows the tube between tanks.  And indeed, as we're there in the room and I'm talking, the fish is happier and brighter and swimming back and forth between tanks.

I think this dream has something to do with the subconscious and the whole circus discussion surrounding UFO experiences. The clown fish, aside from the name, is orange (orange orb.) The clown fish was not just a happy go lucky rather silly fish; it was actually very beautiful and intelligent, as well as happy.

Emma Woods and David Jacobs

In February, Paratopia hosts Jeremy Vaeni and Jeff Ritzman aired tapes of conversations with Emma Woods and Dr. David Jacobs. Woods is an abductee, and was a client of Jacobs, undergoing numerous hypnotic sessions.

There is much to say here, starting with the important reminder to us all that we weren't there, we don't know these individuals, etc. Having said that, after listening to the Vaeni/Ritzman program --- wow. Jacobs does not come across well, and I'm surprised at the lack of UFO blog/researcher comments on this.


Deirdre, of Interstellar Housewife, and a contributor here at WOE, did write a post about this a while ago. You can also visit Paratopia's site and message forum for more. And, of course, there is Emma Woods herself: Emma Woods: Is it Alien Abduction...?

Antediluvian Dreams and the Collective Unconscious: An essay on the late, great Alexander McQueen

I have a confession to make: I am passionate about fashion design's occasional ability to tap into the zeitgeist. Not every designer can do this-- it is relegated to only a rare few at any given point and time in my humble opinion. True, it seems strange that a practicing psychic such as myself would be so focused on an industry so seemingly absorbed on the "surface" "frivolous" and "irreverent" as fashion, and indeed, it can be that to a large extent. But when fabric is molded and shaped in the hands of someone such as Alexander McQueen, all bets are off. Indeed, truly great designers give birth to realities by a combination of fixation, symbolic transference, and forecasting, not entirely unlike what good psychics do.

The genius of Mr. McQueen's approach that was so different than his peers was that he frequently mined the subterranean depths of his own dreams and nightmares and came out with something that Jungian psychoanalysts could only refer to as a byproduct of the "anima"-- that of the feminine unconscious of the male, the shadow self, the primitive feminine, the Hindu goddess Kali the Destroyer compassionately rebuilding the lover she has thoughtlessly trampled in her blind dance of ecstasy, the witch, the Cassandra, the reptilian part of our gene code, the canary in a coal mine laying in wait in all of us, waiting to reveal the message.

Forecasting indeed.

Many of his designs and fashion shows featured a curious combination of vestigial tails, strange bumps and lumps on clothing that gave the effect of genetic mutations growing on the person wearing the outfit, fins on heads, and a primordial stew revivified in a swirling kaleidoscope of a very future-long-past gene pool of which McQueen was taking a snapshot just before waking. There was also a "cyborg" undercurrent mingling with this liminal state that always seemed to encapsulate the pervasive, almost symbiotic role technology has become in the lives of many in the industrialized world.

It was with great interest that his second to last collection of clothing came to my attention, but through most unfortunate means: on February 11th, 2010, Alexander, or "Lee" as he was known to friends and family, distraught over the recent death of his mother not a week prior, took his own life. The shock of his passing was only barely surpassed by my shock in finding how accurate he had been in unearthing a memory of our galactic history.

The Spring 2010 collection:

Many fashion editors and fans refer to the shoes as "alien", and upon further viewing of the appearances of the models, many associations were made with depictions of the facial structures and builds not unlike tall blonde human extraterrestrials/"middle earth inhabitants" whom abductees and experiencers see and occasionally "speak" with telepathically. There is a referencing to technology in all of this as well, but of one ancient and lost; seemingly inseparable from the fantastic and physical. Holographic and pixelated fabrics mingle with the morphing of the reptilian/amphibious/hybrid human theme.

Life will find a way to reinvent itself to somehow evolve and then crash from its own arrogance, the designer seems to be saying. Just like ancient Atlantis.

Indeed, he was influenced by Plato's depiction of the lost civilization; if only from the Wikipedia version. Nonetheless he ran with it and succeeded wildly:

"... while the silhouettes and accessories presented were futuristic (ask yourself: what in fashion history can you really compare them with?), they were also strangely familiar, but in a time-dilated way...like a long-buried memory of a future life.

Plato's Atlantis was initially inspired by the Wikipedia version of the philosopher's vision of the lost continent, a former naval power which "sank into the ocean 'in a single day and night of misfortune'" and receded into the mists of time, only to end up "a byword for any and all supposed advanced prehistoric lost civilizations." But whether it actually existed wasn't the point for the designer. "Atlantis is like, to me, a metaphor for Neverland. It can be anywhere in your mind, anywhere where people find sanctuary in bad times."

The article goes on to add:

"According to Plato, the residents of Atlantis began valuing money over spirituality, and became "faint and weak." Though blessed, they "were filled with lawless ambition and power." Are we any different?"

It is a sad farewell to a man who was just beginning to grasp that which is potentially a breakthrough in how we evaluate and look at, well, the superficial. He will be greatly missed.

SOURCES:

"What Alexander McQueen Knew (aka Why You're Beyond Bored with New York Fashion Week)", Lesley Scott auth., FashionTribes.com

Images: Alexander McQueen Spring 2010 via style.com

About the author:

Anya Briggs is a practicing Psychic, Medium, and Channel.

She also really, really likes fashion, interior design, and afternoon tea.

She can be contacted for readings at: http://www.bestamericanpsychics.com/anya-briggs/

For all other inquiries email her at: anyaisachannel@gmail.com

1961 One Step Beyond on The Sacred Mushroom

A clip from a 1961 episode of One Step Beyond on sacred mushrooms and ESP. Dr. Andrija Puharich, author of the book The Sacred Mushroom, appears, as well as others involved in related research at the time.

From Hidden Experiences: "five owls"

Another poetically moving piece from Mike Clelland's Hidden Experience blog, this one another entry about the appearance of owls. I like this blog because it's very personal, and the author seems connected with nature and signals around him -- listens to them -- as go-betweens and guides from one world of awareness to another. As Mike has written in the "about this blog" section:

Events can be hard to recall. Especially when these memories seem to stretch my psyche in ways that can be distressing. If these memories and events are just tiny clues, what do they point to?

I feel strongly that something is going on. But what that might be, seems beyond my ability to solve

.
I think for many of us with experiences of the UFO/paranormal/Fortean kind, these clues, signs, messages, synchronicities . . . act as reminders and guides to these experiences. Often something triggers some nagging feeling or bit of memory or a dream or something that I know has to do with "the other" but not sure why, or how, not just yet. And this absolutely includes UFOs.

That is why I am always urging others in the UFO field to include these reports and types of witnesses and accounts instead of rejecting them as nonsense or irrelevant. It's also why I am so appreciative of those who, like Mike, put themselves out there and so willingly share their experiences. A big part of this, I think, is that we just can't help ourselves but also, we hope that in our sharing of seemingly unrelated, vague, so-called "so what" moments we'll find that someone else knows what we're talking about. I can't speak for Clelland or anyone else of course and maybe I'm presuming much here; but I do see connections with these kinds of things. It's like looking at some types of art or listening to poetry or jazz; an abstraction or symbolism that doesn't, on the surface, "mean" much but yet resonates with the viewer anyway.

Pointless Blog Quiz for the Day

Usually I find Lesley Gunter and I get the same results with these; not this time. She had "I Want to Hold Your Hand" (on her The Debris Field blog) this is mine:

You Are "Across the Universe"

You are spiritual, deep, and at peace. You try to keep life in perspective. You can't help but realize how small you are in the universe. You're just thankful you exist. You tend to be a stream of consciousness thinker. You just let your thoughts flow, even when they don't make sense initially. You trust your intuition to guide you. You know that whatever is in your heart is right and true.

What Beatles Song Are You?

Blogthings: Cheaper Than a Therapist

Down, Up, White, Water . . .

In the previous post, I described a dream I had involving water in a small man made pool, in a white marble setting. I used my pendulum to find out what the crop circle in the water meant. . .

Last night I had a dream that was similar in many ways, but different as well. In the dream I find that I'm leading a small group of people to an abandoned building, a large 19th century apartment type building used for residence but also some kind of school. It turns out I, or my husband, owns the building but haven't been near the thing in years. I get the key, and we arrive, and want to go up to the top floor, but find it barricaded with a weird, rickety, sloppy kind of staircase. The intent of the staircase was to discourage people from going further. "Screw that," I say, "I own this building!" and we manage to climb through everything and get to the apartment at the top.

Once inside, the apartment is lovely. Very nice, clean, and mostly in white, but not sterile, very warm and comfortable. The living room is a sunken living room, the kind popular in the 1950s, '60s, and some of the people sit down in there on the furniture. In the center of the sunken living room is a pool, very much like the one in the previous dream. Just water inside, no crop circle or anything.

One of the men in the group takes off his shoes, which seemed funny since he's wearing a business suit, tie, the works. He stretches and asks if he can put his feet in the water: "It sure would feel nice" he says. I tell him it's important not to put his feet in the water, no offense and it's not personal, but it's important we don't contaminate the water. That's not what it's for.

However, I point to the open door to the right, which leads out onto a lovely patio and garden, with a swimming pool. I tell him it's fine if he wants to go out to the pool and swim. Not just get his feet wet, but his whole body.

Up/Down
The previous dream had us going down, this dream had us going up. In both dreams I was a leader, sort of. Both dreams had small pools of water. Both dreams had white as the dominant color, and both dreams had the water as something clearly sacred. Both dreams had abandoned, or no longer used large buildings that once held a lot of people, and related to learning.

Connected
I think of "as above, so below" when thinking on these dreams, and that the subconscious and mundane is connected to the higher self, astral realms. . . we are all connected, not only with each other, but all living things, which is, in my little belief system, everything.

Dreams
I've used dreams as tools for years; I think we can learn from many of our dreams to help us on whatever path we're on, or are about to step upon. I think these two dreams are signals to me that I'm about to start something new. . . and the dreams are confirmations of my recent desires to do work in teaching/healing areas.