Tag Archives: UFOs/UAPs/NHIs

Dreams, Time Travel, Ghost Cities, and Reality

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When a dream seems more of a portal
than a fantasy during sleep

Had the strangest dream last night. This morning, actually. Monday morning, the 21st of April 2025. Seemed so real. So real. What does it mean? Sometimes a dream is just a dream, and sometimes one feels much more is going on deep down in the subconscious. Or maybe one’s dream opened into the astral realm. Perhaps the dream is prophetic. Or rich with the late Joseph Campbell’s mythos of the Hero’s (or Heroine’s) Journey. Then again, perhaps as Sigmund Freud supposedly declared over a hundred years ago, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” The dream is just a dream. Or is it?

Inside the Dream:
Was busy working on the sales floor at the Downtown Seattle REI store, but inside didn’t seem like any place I recognized. At the same time, however, I seem to know it anyway in some weird fashion. The store seemed familiar and purposeful even tho I did not recognize the interior as the same Downtown Seattle store I worked at in real-life, in the awakened world. I remember being aware of this contradiction while dreaming this dream. Does such self-awareness of dream while dreaming define this as a lucid dream?

Was startled and awed by the superimposition of Ancient civilization from far away phased into the same timeline and geographical place in space as Postmodern, 21st Century Seattle, Washington. I felt the ghostly shadows and outlines of an Ancient Middle Eastern civilization transposed upon the Downtown Seattle REI store. Lots of old stone, clay, and brick buildings. Tall columns with arches and layers of stairs and stepped platforms and cobblestone streets. The old city was not in ruins, but alive as if I could step across time into both. The people native to this old, long ago city dressed in a mix vibrant colors and plain clothing. They moved with mundane purpose, and sometimes with excitement. Scenes shifted as if I was in a reel of some old documentary at the same time I watched it. Shifted in seconds. Another oddity was I navigated the corridors and spaces of both the REI Store and this ancient city with ease, as if it was natural. Didn’t felt weird in the dream. Felt weird while awake after the dream looking back. Customers actually in 21st Century Seattle only sensed the Store, not the transposition of the old city. Continue reading →

Sometimes in quiet moments

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On “hearing the Call” beyond prayer and meditation

I hear the call. Perhaps best to say I sense the pull of a call. Feel the pulling of it, a calling that groans as it waits for me to respond before I run away into death. At first glance it feels energetically as a call to ministry, to be a pastor to the people for God.

Am not clear exactly what this call is. It is clearly spiritual, mystical, divinely directed. By The One God above all other gods and goddesses? Or by those spirit guides and guardian angels? My spirit guides and guardian angels? Do such spiritual beings exist? I know they do, but how many? Are they one and the same? How many deities are truly divine aspects of a greater Oneness we call God, a god without gender or ethnicity or even good pronouns? How many deities are biological entities from other planets, dimensions, and vibrational densities our awed ancestors erroneously deified in our long ago past? Or perhaps these “aliens” fooled us? Deceived us? Continue reading →

The UFO that wasn’t

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Sometimes a strange, unidentified flying object can be correctly identified as human with patience … & be distinguished from non-human anomalous objects

We saw a UFO whose appearance and movements stopped us in our tracks. Our little gang stopped in the bushes on the edge of a cornfield to look up past the trees into the sky. An object flew overhead, too slow for an airplane at first, with lights appearing to revolve around it as around the rim of a flying saucer.

Our small group of neighborhood teens were out in the fields and woods exploring and hunting one autumn evening. Was already dark as shortening days slid into lengthening nights. It’s been many decades now, but it was me and two sets of brothers. The two Moore brothers whose father worked on my family’s farm and who lived down in what was back then called the Work House or the Tenant House. The two Vernon brothers accompanied us. They lived nearby over on one of the Gates’s farms where their dad worked for the Gates family network. I don’t think my then-little brother Joe was with us. Often he would be as all 6 of us played together. It was late after dark, however, and our mama was the kind of momma who made sure her little bitties were in bed on time.

The time period was during the mid-1970s. Must’ve been anytime from mid-October to mid-November as the fall colors have already come and gone, and while the air was chilly it wasn’t yet damp and freezing cold. The location was my family’s working dairy farm out in the rolling hills and wooded gullies and ravines of the Virginia Piedmont. Riverview Dairy Farm, as we called it, was in Prince Edward County partway between the town of Farmville and the village of Rice. Little Sandy River and Sandy River flowed thru and around our woods and fields. Those streams flowed into the larger Appomattox River, which in turn flowed into the mighty James. We were in Southside Virginia, the rural counties and small towns that sprawled south of the James River into the upper North Carolina countryside.

The Cold War raged in its own bizarre way as global superpowers threatened each other and the world with thermonuclear annihilation while millions died in their proxy hot wars. Waves of mass UFO sightings, called flaps, swept around the planet. Strange, spooky claims of alien abductions, encounters with beings both enlightened and malevolent, and claims of flying saucer crashes with denials from those in power churned in the background.

My family’s encounter a decade earlier with a gigantic metal sphere over the field behind our house was still fodder for conversation. Wasn’t that long ago an actual saucer-shaped mystery craft was spotted zigzagging at high speeds over the main cow barn on our farm before it tacked out of sight. I missed that particular one. There was also a thunderstorm incident in which swirling orbs that behaved as if alive, conscious, and intelligent zoomed along the electrical wires going in and out of the cow barn and knocked cows down in the process. We assumed these orbs were ball lightning, and they acted differently from what we learned how ball lightning usually performed. It was a ferocious summer thunderstorm, too, with lots of thunder and lightning and torrential downpours, and I saw those particular orbs outside the barn. The cow was down on the ground in the pouring rain. An orb or ball lightning or whatever those things were had touched her and disappeared as it did so. Still don’t know what those glowing plasma things were. So we were abuzz and hyperalert with a sort UFOmania. Continue reading →

What did I see at the door?

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A simple thing becomes an eerie mystery

Was it her? A ghost? What kind of apparition was this? Or was it merely some form of psychological projection from within the mysteries of the mind? Or a projection from her via an unconscious spooky action at a distance entangling time lines and quantum places? Perhaps simply mental errors in the interpretations of what my bodymind perceived amidst reflections of lights on glass conflated with old memories? Doubt is indeed corrosive.

Strode out of the elevator thru the lobby towards the double-doors of the entry to the apartment complex where I lived. My long-time friend Syd was coming over to visit me and my wife Faithlyn this Wednesday evening on the last day of January 2024. Entered the lobby looking down at the floor as I stepped over the boundary between elevator and the lobby floor. Don’t trust those two to be even. Seen too many movies of bad things happening with elevators and elevator shafts. 

Looked up and there she was, standing on the other side of the glass. Syd wore a white rain coat, one I’ve seen here wear many times before. Her longish blonde hair was out and down to her shoulders. The rainwater, glass, and lights slightly distorted her face, as if it was somewhat folded in as she looked back at me. I smiled, looked down to check my clothes, then grunted as I pushed open the glass doors to the lobby to open the outside doors for her. She wasn’t there. What? Confused and perplexed, I pushed open the door and stepped outside. Maybe she had to scoot back to the car? Except there wasn’t anyone there. Whoa…there was not a single human visible anywhere along the sidewalk or walking up to a quarter of a mile away. The only people I saw were off in a few cars and trucks or still back inside the lobby. That was so weird. Our texts indicated she was near so I quickly went down to greet her. Then got a text something urgent came up – she was still at work, I learned later – and would be a half an hour late. She did not already come and leave. Continue reading →

Why I left the Radical Left

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This is not about the many serious issues we face, but about my experiences and the general mindset of the many groups reacting to these issues from the Far Left side of the spectrum

For what reason did I leave the Far Extremes? Why did I leave the Radical Left? Who cares? Well, I care, and so do the people close to me. When you’re deep in the haze of revolutionary fervor blinded by righteous struggle, Far Extremist groups don’t seem far out at all but quite normal. Go too damn far to the Right or too far to the Left, however, and it’s a buncha damn crazy people. They’re obsessed with ideology. They worship symbols as icons. Their ego is inflated with self-righteousness and a distorted sense of history. Their self-confidence is poisoned by a wild, cerebral mix of low self-esteem buttressed by delusions. They focus on what should be, what could have been, what would come to pass, and what ought to be, not on what is actually true and factual.

So many people I encountered among the Far Extremes are paranoid, revel in feeling oppressed, and live in constant, never-ending “struggle.” And the struggle never ever ends. There’s always the next revolution, another group to demonize, another cause to get enraged and bitter over, and even deaths of “those against us” to celebrate. Acceptance is alien. Forgiveness is mocked. Compassion and empathy are absent. Love is conditional, prosperity scorned unless either shared or aggregated, and we’re all expected to march, fight, and struggle. Fight! Fight! Fight! Struggle! Struggle! Struggle! The big, evil “System” is to be overthrown or infiltrated and demolished. Reform is just a mask. The complexity and range of human nature is reduced to a simple “us versus them” mentality. Science becomes religion. Religion becomes science. Economics becomes politics. Imagine what happens when the race up the Tower becomes a race to the bottom…and one breaks on thru the bottom to the other side?

Economics is held up as some kind of holy religion, but few within these cults bother to check the math. Or even apply the math. Instead most just parrot, and they parrot nonsense. If one keeps hearing 2+2=5 long enough, and hearing it spoken as true by so-called credible authorities, and echoed often by one’s peers, then guess what one assumes is true? Why bother to check the charismatic demagogue’s math? Why have the demaguru and all your new cult friends mad at you and angry enough to revile and ostracize you? Hello? History, the interpretations as well as records of people and events, is instead gazed upon as a mess of tea leaves and goat intestines in search of arrows pointing to utopian futures. Go be the future now! Yeah, right.

Radical used to be a cool word. It means to return to one’s roots. We radicals would return to our roots and rebuild the foundations of civilization. We would destroy and wipe clean the earth to rebuild a better world for all. The problem with this thinking is believing the masses, the common folk, the working classes, whatever, regardless of how difficult their lives may be, would prefer instead to live amidst carnage, destruction, and annihilation. Few of those who have endured revolutions and civil wars have any desire to keep reliving such violence, bloodshed, and hatred in the pursuit of justice. 

A major reason I left radical activism is I grew tired of ideological rigidity and cultish groupthink. History and actual economics were ignored if they did not fit group ideology. Pragmatism and practicality were scoffed at. Any serious attempt to question and challenge ideological authorities led to demonization, ridicule, and ostracism. Group ideology became group idiocy, altho those within the group failed to recognize it as such. So many so-called radical intelligentsia confused critical thinking with harsh criticism of the Other and the Other’s minions. Critical thinking skills had atrophied inside the groups I experienced. Critical thinking was instead replaced by circular thinking and the babble of confirmation biases.  Continue reading →

Tears for Years over Eons of Blood

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Cry. Suffer. Violence. Cry all time. People suffer. No one cares. Just make money & go go go like a UFO!

Violence carves up the news. Violence renders history. Mutilates art. Destroys life. New wars break out as yet more bloody reruns of neverending dramas. Tears flow for years and years then dry up as deserts fill with sand and dust. Years of tears. The biggest desert, however, is the ocean, and it is full of salt.

Recently watched HBO dramas The Pacific and Band of Brothers on Netflix about American units in the Second World War. Was appalled by the savagery of high intensity combat. These shows captured the ultimate essence of violence, it’s banality and senseless destruction as well as how those contradict with the necessity for violence and survival. Grim. I felt the same watching the horrors of melee combat in films set in Ancient times such as The Gladiator and The Eagle. Felt the same grimness watching the Medieval combat within The Last Kingdom series, Braveheart, and shows set in the Crusades. First World War movies such as every version of All Quiet on the Western Front and 1917. There are amazing war films and shows set in Ancient and Medieval East Asia, in Africa, in the Americas, and many others whose titles jumble together in a carnage of memories set free with tears. The glory and the heroism itself brings tears as well as the horror of heroism.

Oh, the vastness of wars stretched out over time and place. Who remembers those where many hundreds and many thousands died in longago wars and battles so remote in the mind even history buffs must look them up? There are wars lost to history where not even the names and places are remembered. Often the tribes, cities, and civilizations of everyone and anyone who could and would are extinct. Continue reading →

Street Scenes from the Neighborhood

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Three Vignettes from Shoreline, a small satellite city on the NW border of Seattle

There’s a mentally unstable young bearded White fella dancing, leaping, and spinning around in the intersection of N. 155th and Aurora 99 near our apartment complex in the south-central Shoreline neighborhood of Westminster. He’s acting like a dumb ass goofball. The man dramatically waves around a cardboard sign as he squats and jumps as he begs for money. He acts silly because maybe he thinks his showing off out in the streets looks cute, but all he’s really doing is pissing off every driver around as he frolics right out there in the middle of the road as if he’s up on stage. At least he got some pants on, a pair of blue tropical-print board shorts. And they’re pulled up, too. Some folks out on the streets don’t even have their britches up.

Had noticed him earlier as I drove uphill to the pharmacy at Walgreens. Passed him crouching at the corner of McDonalds munching fiercely on whatever food he got a hold of. He chewed in a hurry as he peered all around with feral intensity. Reminded me of a wild beast backed into a corner and about to pounce up into your face. 

Drove into the parking lot at Walgreens and stopped. Parked. Garbage was strewn around the store on the Shoreline side of the Seattle boundary. Most of it was the kind usually associated with the trash left behind by homeless people and too many lazy ass bus riders who don’t give a shit about much of anything anymore. Not just metro riders either. Saw plenty of people pull up in cars, park, open their doors, and toss handfuls of garbage out across the pavement. A primal urge rose up, a desire to slam my car into theirs and dart over and smash them in their stupid fucking heads with … something … a caste-iron granny skillet, and, of course, the feelings pass and I shrug and let it all go like my parents, my teachers, my therapists, and the authorities have showed us over the decades. Yes? Pick your battles. Not worth going to prison over. No right to play god. We aren’t in their shoes. Practice acceptance, compassion, empathy, forgiveness, and agape. Yeah, I get it. Still wanna kick their careless, apathetic, dumb, stupid asses, tho.

There was a young White lady in Walgreens with longish blonde hair, dressed like a hooker in a tight pink stretchy outfit. She’s dirty and bruised. Maybe she’d been evicted from those two sleazy motels the cops shut down the other day on North Aurora for human trafficking, sex slavery, drug dealing, rapes, illegal prostitution, violence, shootings, and even a murder. Minors barely into their teens were being forced into prostitution. There pimps operated them out of the Seattle Inn and the Emerald Motel. Some pimps were teenagers themselves. All those hookers, however, had and have to go somewhere. Saw this woman moments earlier while waiting for the traffic lights to turn green on Aurora. She’d lugged an enormous tote bag full of her belongings across the street. Ah, gosh, I feel sad, curious, frustrated, and resigned. Wouldn’t it be so much better to legalize, regulate, and tax prostitution? Seems having licensed, adult professional sex workers would be a good idea, yes? What would the consequences, however, for all the illegal ones and their criminal pimps, especially the minors?

Here she was again, the woman in stretchy pink who crossed the street with all her belongings, now in Walgreens, bent over the check-out counter speaking agitatedly. She desperately tried to get the cashier to convert a wad of bills into … smaller bills? Didn’t make any … sense. I couldn’t hear them well. Difficult to understand. Hard of hearing anyway, I am. But the cashier, of an East Asian ethnicity, a woman who struggled to speak English clearly, could not understand the young White woman either. She quickly got frustrated, saw a line of other customers forming behind the dirty, bruised lady, and tried to wave the assumed-hooker away out the door. The hooker lady grew more desperate and tearful. All this transpired in seconds as I walked slowly down the aisle past the counter. Walked slowly because my low back and knees hurt like hell from chronic injuries. OMG what are we to do? What are we to do? I texted my wife about this. My wife and I are both messed up as it is, lol but not LOL, as we have our own problems piling up, but at least we aren’t like those fellow humans. Our fellow humans.

Makes our squabbles over messes in the closets seem utterly frivolous by comparison. Continue reading →