Thursday, June 22, 2017
I have lectured and written extensively on the topic of alien communication. In addition to research on the ways in which aliens communicate (telepathically, verbally, linguistically, and written), depending upon the species of alien, I have had my own personal experiences. I have written about this in my book "How to Talk to an Alien" (2015).
I speak with many people who have their own personal experiences or knowledge of alien interactions. I have often offered certain types of guidance or psychic interpretations of various types of communications to people who are often left confused and bewildered by their own memories or channeled speech or writing of alien-sounding languages.
Anyone who has experience or knowledge in this area knows that aliens are best known for communicating with us telepathically. They are also, apparently, quite able to read our minds and control our states of consciousness. Many contactees are often left with a sense of being helpless at best or a victim at worst. During contact or abduction experiences many people explain that the ETs are able to implant thoughts in their brains and also to extract thoughts - as a kind of one-sided communication. Humans are often left feeling like they are an open book.
I have taken part in several CE-5 groups, as well as privately with friends, where we have been able to successfully "call in" or "contact" UFOs in the night skies. The UFOs generally manifest themselves by "communicating" back to us in the form of seemingly "impossible" manoeuvers with the craft (e.g. rapid figure eights or right turns at phenomenal speeds) or flashes of extraordinarily bright and huge bursts of light. But who are we really kidding here? Did we "call them in" or were they waiting for us already having implanted certain ideas or scenarios in our heads? Did we really "communicate" anything at all other than "Hey there, if you're out there, could you give us a sign of your presence?" - similar to the ubiquitous calls of paranormal investigators seeking to make contact with intelligent ghosts!
It did not occur to me until recently during a psychic reading I gave for a client that it would even be possible for the human mind to "tap into" the mind of an alien. It always seems to operate in the reverse way. However, my client, an abductee, requested that I offer psychic confirmation of certain alien communications stemming from my client's alien abduction. The strange thing was that when I psychically "located" the event, I found myself viewing it, not from the client's point of view, but from the aliens' vantage point! Not only was I viewing my client's old residence from the skies, but I described it very accurately. I was able to describe the characteristics and number of aliens involved, the manner in which the client was transferred to the craft, and also an accurate description of some of the alien technology shown to the client during this UFO experience!
My immediate disclaimer is that I do not recall ever having had any abduction or contact experience in my life. I have never manifested any "classic" signs of an abduction like a physical implant, peculiar imprints or rapid healing of scars, symptoms of radiation sickness, etc. Yes, I have read accounts of such things and have spoken with people who have experienced them. But other than my UFO sightings and some odd telephonic communications, I would have no way to have "guessed" the facts I gave in the reading.
What it suggests to me - a flash of insight - is that we humans have the ability to literally tap into the minds of ETs! It is not simply a "one-sided" type of game of telepathy or clairvoyance. If we can do this, then we can learn even more about their origins, behaviors, and thoughts. What a concept!
Monday, April 24, 2017
|A Civil War battlefield leg amputation|
The inn was full that night - all the other investigators were staying there - so my daughter (who accompanied me on this trip) and I stayed at a nearby farm. It had also served as a battlefield hospital during the Civil War. The farm was located on the road used by the Confederate soldiers on their long march out of Gettysburg toward the end of the war. We chose to sleep in the allegedly most haunted room in the farmhouse. It was the room where the doctors had conducted their "treatments" of wounded soldiers.
Given the state of medicine at the time, and the fact that most of the bullet wounds suffered by the soldiers were devastating due to the enormous grape-sized bullets used in their muskets, most of these treatments consisted of amputations of legs and arms. I have visited many such homes that were converted into temporary Civil War hospitals and most are haunted. It was reported that many such hospitals had piles of amputated limbs that were stacked so high they reached the second floor windows!
After two days of long investigations into the night at the Fairfield Inn, I just wasn't in the mood to be dealing with more ghosts in my bedroom at the farm. I tried to tune out all thoughts of spirits to avoid inviting them into my space. I tried to make sure the loud clanging in the room at 4 AM was just old pipes in a hot water heating system. I checked to make sure the little footsteps in the room at 3 AM was just one of the owner's seven cats coming to pay us a visit. I tried to dismiss the fact that the lamp had abruptly turned off by itself while my daughter and I were talking earlier in the evening.
|Ingo Swann's "Millenium" triptych painting displayed at the American Visionary Art Museum |
( photo by Nancy du Tertre)
At any rate, I didn't sleep much and woke up frequently both nights just to double check the state of the room. The last night we were there I must have relaxed my guard a little bit. I had the most peculiar set of three related dreams - like a triptych painting.
In the first dream, I was strangely in charge of preparing Ingo Swann's corpse for burial. This included cutting his toenails. Ingo Swann, known as being the creator of Remote Viewing (psychic spy techniques) for the CIA, was one of my mentors. I knew him for about a decade and was very sad when he passed away in 2013. I woke up from this bizarre dream fragment wondering why I was dreaming about Ingo and why it was related to his corpse. I reasoned it must have been because I was sleeping in a room where, in all likelihood, many corpses were probably prepared for burial.
However, when I went back to sleep, the dream continued - as if on cue - and this was certainly not voluntary or desired on my part. In the second dream, I was now attending Ingo's funeral service (which I did not attend in real life). I was now more of a consciousness, and less a physical person, like a fly on the wall, observing the people who attended his funeral, including some of his family members, like his sister and niece. I woke up again.
I couldn't understand why I was fixating on Ingo and his death. No obvious reason to me because I wasn't thinking about him at all. Granted, thoughts of him may have slipped into my subconscious mind due to some recent events.
- True, I recently was asked to write a foreword to a book and to include some stories about Ingo. As soon as I was asked by the author (in a private text on Facebook Messenger) to see if I would be willing to write the foreword, I received a friend request from none other than the deceased Ingo Swann (!). It was was obviously a fake profile. I am not an idiot. But the timing of its appearance shook me to my core. I have never mentioned Ingo to anyone on Facebook and this one time on Messenger was in a private text. Even more weirdly, the friend request disappeared off my chronology within the next hour. When I searched for this Ingo Swann profile in Facebook, it would not open. All other profiles opened without a problem.
- True, I recently learned the film documentary about Ingo (for which I was interviewed about a year ago or so) is having a screening next month in May. While I was interviewed for this movie, the director's still camera, pointed at me, had taken a picture with a large flash by itself. No one was near the camera at the time...
- True, I recently went to the Baltimore American Visionary Art Museum and saw the rare display of many of Ingo's paintings, including the huge triptych painting (yes, I get the significance only now) which I had seen so many years ago in his studio in New York City.
In the third dream, I was now with his real estate agent and his sister and some other presumed family members (I have never met any of them). We were now in the bedroom of his house. It did not look at all like his real-life bedroom. People were haggling over the distribution of his various assets. His room was mostly empty and very stark - almost monastic. I remember his preference, in real-life, for unusual or second-hand furniture, plates and decorative objects. He wasn't fussy. He didn't care much for "stuff."
I have never had a dream that continued, like a movie, in three distinct parts. The "intermissions" were my waking moments. It was even more odd because I did not understand why I was dreaming about Ingo or his death. Perhaps, having attended this paranormal investigation, I had inadvertently tuned my psychic receptors in the direction of the dead. Perhaps this was Ingo making yet another appearance in my life...
Monday, February 27, 2017
Dreams have fascinated us since the beginning of mankind. Some people remember them, and some don't. Some people dream in color, others don't. Some people can control the action or outcomes in their dreams, while others cannot. Some dreams predict the future or reveal hidden concepts, others clarify our emotional reality or psychological concerns. As for me, I have been a lucid dreamer since I was a young child and learned how to understand I was in a dream and could control the outcomes. I always dream in color. I have had many predictive dreams that later came true (usually they had nothing to do with me or my personal reality). I generally remember my dreams every night. The point is: I have a fair amount of control over my dream life.
A couple of months ago, I experienced a highly unusual dream. I was able to enter my husband's dream! This is different from the more common experience of two people sharing the same dream - I actually entered his dream - it was not mine! Here is what happened:
In my dream, I was located about 8 feet away from my husband, Patrick. He was either seated or kneeling in front of an Asian-looking woman with long black flowing hair who was seated or kneeling facing him. They were only about a foot apart, fully clothed, and staring lovingly into each others eyes. I believe Patrick had his right hand around her waist. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! I stared at Patrick's face, scrutinizing every detail, and the more I stared, his face began to appear younger and younger. He suddenly seemed to become aware of my presence in his intimate dream. He turned his head slowly in my direction and our eyes locked. After a couple of seconds of staring at each other, he turned his head away and then leaned in toward the Asian woman and was about to kiss her. I became outraged at his behavior but I was suddenly awoken out of my dream when the phone rang.
I went downstairs to get some coffee. Patrick was already pouring his coffee.
I said, "You know, I had the most unusual dream just now."
He quickly said, "Yeah! So did I!" (This was highly unusual for him. He almost never remembers his dreams and always dreams in black and white).
"I dreamt you were with a woman!" I announced.
"Yes!" he shouted. "I was with a woman in my dream too! She was Asian."
"I know," I said. "She had long black hair."
"But she wasn't exactly Asian," I said. "She looked sort of Polynesian or Middle Eastern."
Patrick looked at me with a stunned expression.
"Well, come to think of it, you are absolutely right. She looked kind of Polynesian..."
"You were sitting opposite her and you were about to kiss her!" I snapped.
"Yes, we were sitting facing each other, and I had my arm around her, but I wasn't going to have sex with her!" he yelled defensively. "She was the one who was going to kiss me!"
"No! You were going to kiss her, Patrick! I saw you pucker your lips."
"Well, nothing happened because the phone rang and woke me up," he said. "And besides, there was another woman in my dream. I don't know who she was, but she was sitting not far from us and she was just staring at us. It was some blonde lady."
"Are you kidding me?" I said, "That was me! I was staring at you both!"
"Oh my God," he said with a stunned look on his face, "You're right. That was you!"
Suddenly, it dawned on both of us, that we had both been in his dream. The verifications were astounding - including the fact that the "action" had been halted at the exact same moment for both of us when the phone rang and woke both of us up. The only discrepancy that we could find between our two dreams was that in my dream, I was located to Patrick's left side, and in his dream, I was located to his right side. We both recalled the moment where our eyes locked and we stared briefly at each other. I have never entered another person's dream before. There were absolutely no reasons in our reality together that would have constituted a subliminal storyline in this dream. Patrick and I have been happily married for nearly 30 years without any incidents!
Of course, I now tease him that he can never be unfaithful to me - even in his dreams! Clearly, he has been on his best behavior since then!! That is the problem when you are married to a psychic.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
We live in a highly fragile state of planetary peace. The new American "shock-jock" President Donald Trump not only caught most of the world off-guard with his presidential win, but in a whirlwind of signing controversial executive orders within the first weeks of his presidency, has managed to incite what amounts to mass hysteria on a global level. Elected officials in governments around the world have started sounding the alarms about Trump's presidency. No one has a clear understanding of how he intends to diminish the NATO Alliance or rearrange global politics by slamming Chinese trade and cozying up to Russia. Everyone is universally confused and bewildered. There have been protest marches around the world, not just in America and not just by Democrats, against his new policies.
One of Trump's most recent edicts, an order abruptly halting all immigration of refugees from seven predominantly Muslim Middle Eastern countries, has caused chaos in the airports and immigration departments. It also led to Trump firing the Acting Attorney General Sally Yates immediately after she publicly stated her belief that the executive order was unconstitutional and should not be defended by her Department of Justice lawyers in court. And the hits keep coming. Trump may have decided to ditch his own recently-selected national security advisor, Lieutenant General Michael Flynn, in favor of promoting Breitbart conservative news media mogul and White House strategist, Steve Bannon, to a spot on the National Security Council. It seems Trump's television persona on the show "The Apprentice" ("You're fired!") is surfacing as his true real life persona.
I am not generally inclined to get fired up by politics. I tend to stay out of it, since my childhood days of living in the ultra-liberal Democratic city of Boston during the Vietnam War protests (remember the famous bumper stickers: "Don't Blame Me I'm From Massachusetts") in one of the only Republican families, probably made me gun shy.
The problem, as I see it, is related not only to Trump's policies, but primarily to his style. His personal style is abrasive, bombastic, confrontational and autocratic. From his years of being able to run his own companies according to his personal whims and wishes, firing and hiring at will, litigating anyone who dares to dispute him, he had developed an "in your face" style of leadership. I believe Trump's leadership style was actually very appealing to many American voters - particularly in contrast to what was often called the "feckless" and "ineffectual" leadership of Obama - because it seemed like finally we found a leader with some real testosterone. Testosterone translated into security and protection for us, as well as giving the average Joe a fighting chance to challenge Washington's inept, bickering and corrupt political system.
Trump has an ability, by making blustering outrageous statements and then to "double down" on them no matter how shocking, to push people into extremist positions. They feel they have no choice. Even mild-mannered, apolitical, middle-of-the-road folks are suddenly feeling compelled to react and take political sides. People who are normally polite and respectful, now feeling bullied and disrespected by Trump, are getting powered up and feel the need to fight back. In other words, Trump's style of delivery (forget about the actual policies) are eliciting mass hysteria. He does not evidence any intention to listen, be conversational, engage in dialogue with those who disagree with him, or - heaven forbid - change his mind after listening to the facts. This is not only his biggest problem, but it will create global chaos and - I am deeply concerned now - war... domestic and international.
This past week I have received information from several sources and psychic colleagues, none of whom know each other, suggesting we are at what is perhaps the crossroads of a very imminent global catastrophe. The psychic visions of the future of our planet are truly horrifying. I have felt and seen them intuitively myself. I imagine most people feel it also. I have spent months trying to calm my clients, friends, colleagues and social media friends. It is terrifying and I am generally not a person to feel panicked.
What can we do to defuse this future scenario? My suggestion is that we all: 1) calm each other down, 2) understand that style is different from content, 3) realize we don't need to react emotionally, and 4) give Trump's policies a chance.
What Trump fails to realize is that there is nothing more dangerous in the entire world than frightened people - and he is frightening masses of people around the globe and destabilizing our collective relationships. The most dangerous beast in the jungle is not the most powerful animal - it is the one who is most frightened. A frightened animal will kill everything around it for no reason at all.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
I discovered decades ago that I do some of my best psychic work while getting a massage. That's because I'm so relaxed that my thinking brain is turned off. It wasn't until the last few years that I discovered that the spirits of the deceased also seem to show up while I'm relaxing. The spirits often insist I deliver certain messages to my unsuspecting massage therapists (often from their relatives) while they are working on me. I frequently oblige the spirits and give the info, and the therapists react differently. Some are cool about it and others are shocked - one was so genuinely freaked out she actually made sure I could not be her client again!
Anyway, for the last two and a half years or so, I have kept the same massage therapist at the same salon in a local New Jersey strip mall not far from home. She doesn't mind when I give her psychic or spiritual information. It's usually pretty accurate.
The salon is set up with a long hallway and seven rooms. We have always been in rooms # 2, 3, or 4 (on both sides of the hallway near the front desk and waiting room). About two months ago, my therapist told me some of the massage therapists had discreetly exchanged stories among themselves of seeing a dark shadow figure of a small child darting around the empty corners of Rooms #1 and 2. She herself had been alone in one of those rooms and heard something roll and drop off the counter even though she wasn't near it, and it spooked her.
Shadow figures weren't the only odd phenomenon at this massage salon. At the very end of the long, dark hallway, the last room at the end, Room #7, reserved for couples massage and physical therapy, often had such a peculiar horrific stench that rendered it completely unusable. No one seemed to know the source of the odor. The foul smell seemed to arise from in between the walls and floor, and invade the entire space, sometimes pouring over into Room #6. Then it would disappear just as mysteriously. Most of the massage therapists instinctively avoided the room. We walked down there together and I was able to catch a whiff of it. It had the sickening smell of death.
I knew the place was haunted. I suggested we do a paranormal investigation one night after it had closed if my massage therapist could get her manager's permission. She liked the idea and said she would ask.
On Monday, November 21, 2016, I showed up for my massage and my therapist gave me the bad news. Her manager had denied permission to do an investigation.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because she doesn't want to stir up any paranormal activity," explained my therapist. "Besides, she says ghosts don't exist."
Huh? That didn't make any sense at all. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be able to ever investigate this haunted massage salon.
My therapist led me down the long hallway to our little massage room. For the first time in two and a half years, my massage was in Room #6. We had never been in there before. As I lay face down on the heated table with my eyes closed facing the back wall, for the first half hour of my 90 minute massage, we chatted about family and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. I began to get into the zone. Then I think my therapist mentioned that it was a good thing our room didn't smell bad because some of the therapists had smelled that stench from Room #7 and this time it had the smell of gasoline. Well, suddenly something dawned on me.
"You know," I said, "I was having a psychic moment. I 'heard' the word 'blaze' in my mind a couple of minutes ago. I thought it was intended for the client I'm doing a reading for later today, but now I think it was meant for the ghost who is here!'
"What do you mean?" asked my therapist.
"I believe the spirit who is haunting this place died in a fire in the space next door where Room #7 is now. I think there was a 'blaze' - you know, like a big fire. Now, I'm thinking someone poured gasoline on it, which means it was set intentionally. And that means... this poor spirit was murdered!"
Holy shit. As I pondered my own strange revelation, with my face buried in the massage head rest and my eyes closed, I suddenly began to smell that strange odor as if it were slowly leaking through the wall from Room #7.
"Hey!" I said. "Do you smell that?"
"Do you smell that nasty smell from next door?"
"No, I don't smell it," said my therapist, who was standing at the end of the table working on massaging my feet. (Obviously, my feet don't smell either!)
"Well, I smell it. The spirit is in here right now!"
This was not the first time I had smelled a spirit. I had actually written about smelling a spirit in my book "Psychic Intuition." I explained the way you can tell the difference between a "real" smell and a "psychic" smell is by the way they travel. A psychic or spirit smell breaks all the rules of chemistry and physics regarding how odors appear, travel and dissipate. I explained that spirits manifest this way and need to be recognized by the living in order to move on. Sometimes they smell like sickeningly sweet rotten death.
I suddenly transitioned from massage client into full blown mediumship mode.
Speaking directly to the spirit, I said, "I know you are here with us. I want to talk to you and find out more about you. But for me to understand you better, I need you to do something for me. You see that light up on the wall? I want you to make it flicker when I ask you a question, but I only want you to make it flicker when you want to answer 'yes' to my question, okay?"
Then my therapist suddenly dropped both my feet unceremoniously on the table, "Oh my God, the light just flickered!"
She could see the light from her vantage point, whereas I could not. The light had not flickered at all for the half hour or so that we had been in the room up to that point. In fact, for the next half hour during this interrogation, the light flickered immediately without any delay in response to my questions just as if we were having a conversation. My therapist would shout out whether the light had blinked since I couldn't see it.
"Uh, okay, let's see, are you a man?" I asked. (The light didn't blink).
"Are you a woman?" (The light flickered immediately).
"Were you killed in a fire?" (The light flickered).
"Did the fire happen right here?" (The light flickered).
"Was the fire an accident?" (The light did not flicker).
"So, the fire was intentional?" (The light flickered).
"Did someone try to hurt you?" (The light flickered).
"Was it someone you knew?" (The light did not flicker).
"So, someone you didn't know, hurt you here by lighting the place on fire with gasoline?" (The light flickered).
"Was it a man?" (The light flickered).
"Were there more than just one man?" (The light did not flicker).
"Was it in the basement of the building?" (The light did not flicker).
"Was it upstairs on the first floor or second floor or upstairs?" (The light did not flicker).
I was momentarily stumped until my therapist wisely interjected that before the strip mall was built most of the property was probably still pasture land and fields. She suggested the fire may have actually taken place outside. I realized my mistake in assuming there had been a house on the property before the strip mall.
Based on another psychic hunch, I asked, "Was this fire in a barn?" (The light flickered).
Although one generally should avoid asking spirits about their own deaths since they are often unaware that they are dead, I decided to ask anyway.
"Did you die here in this fire?" (The light flickered).
Now I felt deeply saddened. I paused for a few moments but then continued my questioning.
"I'm going to ask you how old you are. But in order to get the answer, I will have to break it down into segments, so just flicker the lights when it applies to you, okay?" I said. "Are you 20 years old or younger?" (The lights flickered).
"Are you younger than 10 years old?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Are you 15 years old or younger?" (The lights flickered).
Yikes. This poor girl was just a very young teenager, between 11 and 15 years old, when she was murdered.
"Does anyone know you are here?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Does your family or any of your friends know what happened to you?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Okay, now I need to know when this happened to you. This is a little complicated, but I'm going to start listing the name of each decade starting with the year 1900 and I want you to flicker the lights when we come to the decade when this happened to you, okay? You ready? So, 1900." (The lights did not flicker).
"1910." (The lights did not flicker).
"1920." (The lights did not flicker).
"1930." (The lights did not flicker).
"1940." (The lights did not flicker).
"1950." (The lights flickered.)
"Okay, so it happened in the 1950's." (The lights flickered).
My therapist said, "You know, we could check this out in the historical town documents to see if there was a fire here in the 1950's..."
It was somewhere at about this point that I lost it emotionally. I was gripped with goosebumps and chills with the realization that I was talking directly to the spirit of a young teenage girl who had been murdered by a man in the 1950's who then set fire to a barn with gasoline on a property surrounded by fields and no one knew where to find her. She had been roaming the same location through the misty layers of time seeking help and recognition.
It was then that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that the skeleton of this poor child was situated directly below Room #7. I wanted to know her name, but knew it was no longer important. What was important was that she had finally been "seen" and "recognized" by me.
"You know, there's no reason for you to hang around here anymore," I said to her. "You need to go be with your family and friends now. If you follow the light, and I'm sure you can see the light now, don't be afraid, just follow it, and you will find everyone waiting for you. Your family will be there and God will be waiting for you. There is nothing left for you here. Go ahead now."
As soon as I finished saying this, according to my therapist, who had long since stopped massaging my feet with any enthusiasm, the light went back to normal. It completely stopped flickering, blinking or occasionally blazing with extra intense light. The foul odor also dissipated. I knew our gentle spirit had followed my advice. I knew it in my entire being.
This entire episode with the spirit probably lasted about 30 minutes. We continued on for the balance of my massage time, another half hour, in almost total stunned silence, broken only by my muffled sobs. This was odd for me, since I'm not really the kind of person who cries for stuff like this. For some reason, I felt like we were the first and only people who had actually grieved the loss of this little girl at what was the equivalent of her spiritual funeral.
"I have a feeling there won't be any more smell in Room #7 from now on," I said. "We need to document the timing of this... Don't you think there's something strange about the fact that we ended up in Room #6 today for the first time ever and your manager just told us we couldn't do a paranormal investigation?"
"Definitely," said my therapist.
"One more thing," I added without knowing why. "Can you please make sure someone puts a small piece of rose quartz in Room #7 as a kind of memorial to this spirit? They don't need to know the whole story."
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
The new movie "Arrival" was released by Paramount Pictures on 11/11 of this year. I knew about it in advance because several people had recognized that the story was remarkably similar to my own. Without giving away the story, I can tell you it is about a woman, Dr. Louise Banks (played by actress Amy Adams), a professor of Romance Languages, who is engaged by the military to try and decode the strange communications made by aliens who have suddenly landed in giant egg-shaped spacecraft in twelve locations around planet earth. She and fellow theoretical physicist, Ian Donnelly (played by actor Jeremy Renner), repeatedly enter the enormous spacecraft with other military officers and come face to face with weird, floating, octopus-like creatures that make odd rumbling noises and squirt circular ink-blot shapes into the atmospheric mist when communicating with the humans. Ultimately, Dr. Banks is able to decode much of the basic language. She also begins to understand that part of their "language" includes a psychic way of comprehending the nature of time and that allows her to see forwards and backwards in time. As the United States and other foreign nations struggle simultaneously to understand the meaning of the aliens' sudden command that they "offer weapon" to the other nations - the world verges on war with the aliens. The solution exists in the meaning of those two specific words. "Weapon" turns out to mean the alien language itself and not an armament. I will not give away the ending. Go see it. It's a great movie.
For those of you who don't already know, I have written a book entitled "How to Talk to an Alien" (New Page Books, 2015) and have lectured around the country on the topic of alien communication. I have called this new field within ufology "Exolinguistics" and I have proposed a new method of attempting to crack the code of various alien languages (yes, I have established there are many spoken and written alien languages). This method involves creating a kind of "Rosetta Stone" comparing 1) actual alien artifacts, 2)recollections of writing/symbols/sounds and 3) channeled, dreamed or automatic writing/speech samples. This has already yielded interesting results. I am in the process of setting up a worldwide database of alien speech and written communications. This has become my passion. I have been invited as a guest on several radio shows because people immediately recognized the similarities between my work on alien communication and the subject matter of this movie.
The number of similarities between myself and Dr. Banks went beyond the obvious superficial one that we are both linguists attempting to decode alien language.
- Romance Languages. In the movie, Dr. Banks is a professor of Romance Languages. I majored in Romance Languages in college and was awarded best thesis prize in the department. I have also studied German and Thai languages. She also studied Chinese.
- Residence. In the movie, Dr. Banks lives in a house with a living room overlooking a large lake and there is a telescope looking out over the lake. I live in a house on a lake and have a telescope in my living room looking out over the lake.
- Recorded Alien Speech. In the movie, the military intelligence officer Colonel Weber (played by actor Forest Whitaker) plays a recording of alien speech sounds to Dr. Banks and asks her to translate it. I have received many telephone call interruptions from what I can only assume are aliens and have listened to recordings made by others of alleged alien speech recordings.
- Physicists and Intelligence Officers. In the movie, Dr. Banks works with a theoretical physicist, Ian Donnelly, and other intelligence officers. In my book, I talk about well-known theoretical physicist Dr. Jack Sarfatti, with whom I maintain contact, who also received phone calls from aliens or what he assumes was some kind of alien artificial intelligence from the future, and know many people in the intelligence world who are extremely interested in this topic.
- 11/11. The movie was released on 11/11 of this year. In my previous book, "Psychic Intuition: Everything You Ever Wanted to Ask But Were Afraid to Know" (New Page Books, 2012), I devoted a section of a chapter on the relationship between autistic savantism and psychic ability to a discussion of my own personal experience with the number 11/11. I strangely and for no obvious reason began seeing this number everywhere I looked at random moments starting in May 2006 and this phenomenon has continued daily for more than a decade. I have analyzed it from a number of standpoints but still do not fully understand its significance. It has since become a worldwide phenomenon known as the "11:11 Time Prompt" and is experienced by many, many people. The number eleven is known in numerology as being the "master number" for spirituality.
- Connection to Amy Adams. In the movie, Amy Adams is the main star. It turns out our paths have crossed before. DreamWorks producer Steven Spielberg picked my daughter Celine to play herself (Celine du Tertre) as a little girl meeting actor Leonardo DiCaprio (playing real life con man Frank Abagnale Jr.) in the 2002 blockbuster movie "Catch Me if You Can" and Amy Adams to play his girlfriend. (Prior to that, Spielberg had selected my daughter to play an alien hybrid in "Taken.")
And then there are some strange inexplicable seemingly paranormal events tied to this movie beyond the merely synchronistic events...
I was invited by Paramount Pictures, the studio that released "Arrival," to come to New York for a pre-screening of the movie several days before its actual release date. Several days later I spoke with a friend of mine who saw the movie after it was in the movie theatres. She made an offhand comment, something about wasn't is interesting about the fact that the alien space ships landed in twelve locations and that 144,000 might be saved. I laughed and agreed with her. I told her I was surprised she picked that up. I recalled the very subtle line in the movie delivered by, I thought, Col. Weber, while in the military bunker, about how only 144,000 people would be saved. I recalled thinking at the time that the Biblical reference to Revelations 6:7 and the 144,000 people that would be "sealed" and "saved" from the 12 Jewish tribes would be too subtle for most movie-goers to digest.
Anyway, I quickly forgot about my friend's intelligent observation. I saw the movie for a second time the following night in a movie theatre. The following day, I was folding laundry when it suddenly occurred to me in a terrible flash that the second time I saw the movie there was absolutely no reference to the 144,000 people. That line was gone. Missing. Poof! That couldn't be correct, I thought. I had distinctly heard it with my own ears, the line recited in the movie in NYC, the first time I saw the movie. I immediately called up my friend.
"Remember what you said about the line in the movie about the 144,000 people?" I asked her.
She immediately responded, "Oh, that wasn't in the movie. I was just making an allusion..."
"Yes it was in the movie!" I insisted, almost shouting. "It absolutely was in the movie the first time. I heard it with my own ears. I know who said it. I know when it was said. But it was gone the second time I saw the movie. That's impossible!"
And so, I am deeply troubled. I know what I heard. And I am sure there is a reason why I heard something that apparently does not exist in "reality." I believe it has something to do with the future of our planet, when aliens will arrive in their craft, and only certain numbers of individuals from the human race - hopefully more than 144,000 - will be "saved" or "transported" to a different planet. But obviously, for now, I cannot confirm this interpretation. Like Dr. Louise Banks in the movie, I "hear" things and "dream" things that seem to be jumbled up in the sea of time where it is difficult to judge whether you are moving forwards or backwards in history.
Finally, another strange synchronicity occurred. I was talking to a contactee who has been writing in some kind of unusual, possibly alien, language for many years. I had originally been a guest on his radio show and when he had asked me to analyze his alien language while on air, the show was abruptly shut down. All internet was cut to my home. We could not re-contact each other. That was odd to start with. Since then I have examined his alien language, which resembles ancient Sumerian in some respects, and we have maintained contact. In our texts, I asked him to try and find meaning in his writings. He said he was sure the alien language was very condensed and compact in the way it communicated meaning. Then he gave me a little example that nearly knocked my socks off.
"But strangely enough now that I'm concentrating on it," he said, "an example would be: 'Carry conceal permit' would be translated as 'Permission/weapon'"
He has not seen the movie "Arrival" yet and didn't even know the plot. His apparently "random" choice to show me an alien language translation of "Permission weapon" blew me away. It sounds just like the alien command that is at the heart of the alien language issue that nearly ignites world war in the movie: "Offer weapon."
When I told him how many people had spontaneously told me they thought this movie was about me, he laughed and said, "It IS about you!" Who knows. Time will tell.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Like most thoughts that come from dreams, they are often best told in the strange unfolding of imagery that seems to bear little or no relation to chronology. It occurred to me, as one of those intangible "thoughts" that lie between the layers of "real" thoughts, that the battle over the name of "ISIS" holds a mystery that has a hook deep into our collective consciousness. ISIS is the common name for the terrorist jihadist militant group that follows a fundamentalist Wahhabi doctrine of Sunni Islam and intends to build a "state" under this repressive and violent religion. It generally goes by the name of the "Islamic State of Iraq and Syria" (so-dubbed by most American media). However, American government officials have - strangely, in my opinion, and stubbornly - continued to refer to this group as "ISIL" for the "Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant." I have often wondered why. I have even queried some in the government who might know - and never received a satisfactory answer. And so I meditated on the answer and found it in my dreams.
Isis is one of the most revered and important of all the ancient Egyptian goddesses. She became known as the goddess of knowledge, magic, healing, fertility and protector of the dead. She was a role model for all women and the first female deity to achieve parity with male gods. In fact, her name is the Greek word for an ancient Egyptian word for "throne." The cow horns and sun orb ornament on her head create the symbol for the word "throne." She was worshipped from England to Afghanistan, and by many pagan worshippers.
Isn't ironic that this jihadist terrorist group "ISIS" has usurped the name of the most important goddess of Middle Eastern antiquity? At least - and let's me clear here - we Americans have chosen to call this group "ISIS." Most Europeans refer to it by its Arabic acronym "Daesh." The ironies are multiple. First, this group - let's call it Daesh - believes in the most violent repression of women and girls of any group on this planet. Isis was the goddess of women. Second, the United States, while it claims to fight Daesh, has "inadvertently" sided with it and other rebels in Syria. This may explain our "schizophrenic" approach to using the names "ISIS" and "ISIL."
Ultimately, it occurred to me, looking into our future, is that we will do unto the name of the goddess Isis what we did to the symbol of the swastika after its similar strange political perversion in Hitler's Germany in World War II. Today, it is illegal in many countries to use the swastika as a symbol because its association with Hitler, the Nazi party, and the extermination of six million Jews and others, is so intense. Like the symbol of the goddess Isis, the swastika was originally used - for many thousands of years - as a peaceful religious symbol. It comes from the Sanskrit word meaning "luck" or "well-being." This equilateral cross with four bent legs swirling, like the energy of kundalini, either in a clockwise fashion portending evolution or counter-clockwise portending "involution" or collapse.
Swastikas were widely used by various Indian religious groups like Hindus, Buddhists and Jainists back to the 2nd century BCE, also by Native American groups and others around the world, going back to the Bronze Age, 13,000 BCE. The point is, the symbol has a very long history of peace, religion and magic - like Isis - and it only took one madman and his political group about ten years to steal the symbol, to try and steal its power for himself, and thus destroy it for future humanity. We are, unwittingly perhaps, in the process of doing the same thing with the name of the goddess Isis.
|Bull with wings symbol of Lords|
of the Black Stone
|View of Untersberg Mountain from Hitler's home|
Bottom line, Hitler spent more time at his home in Berghof than Berlin. He, like the Templars before him, was waiting for a sign from the goddess Isais at Untersberg Mountain. He was waiting for the alleged Biblical event described in Matthew 21:43 where God would take the kingdom away from the Jews and give it to the Teutonic (Aryan) peoples. This would happen at a cosmic moment defined by a ray of the "Black Sun" hitting the location determined to be the Untersberg Mountain.
The link between the swastika and Isis cemented.
But there was more, as my mind seemed to have foreseen before I had the knowledge. One of the main purposes of the occult group, The Lords of the Black Stone, seems to have been to locate the Holy Grail for the Aryan race.
Most people are taught that the Holy Grail is the legendary chalice out of which Christ drank during the Last Supper that mysteriously disappeared afterwards. Others have suggested the Holy Grail may have been more of a metaphor, suggesting it may have even been Christ's own female child by Mary Magdalene who was brought to southern France, and venerated by the Knights Templar and kept secret by those of the Cathar religion. Pope Innocent III initiated a 20-year military campaign to wipe out the gnostic-based Cathars which has been called a mass murder and genocide. Still others have suggested it is a black crystal that was smuggled out of southern France by four Cathar women in 1244 and, as legend goes, would be returned to its rightful owners 700 years later. The history of the Holy Grail is infused with a history of women - which is interesting since a "cup" is a "yin" or feminine symbol.
Interestingly, the word "Grail" comes from the Persian-Arabic word "Ghral," according to one commentator I read, which means "holy stone." This stone was said to be a black-violet crystal, half quartz and half amethyst, through which Higher Powers or deities could communicate with humanity. Let's suppose these Teutonic occult groups are looking for a magical black stone that communicates with the daughter of the goddess Isis.
Perhaps this stone has been hiding in plain sight.
In my considerable ignorance, I was not aware that the reason why Muslims are required at least once in their lifetime to visit Mecca, Saudi Arabia, considered the most holy site for the faith, where thousands of Islamic pilgrims are seen annually walking counter-clockwise around a large square box in the center of a huge plaza during the hajj, is to pay homage to the Black Stone. I was not aware that in the eastern cornerstone of that large square structure, an ancient structure known as the Kaaba, at the center of this swirling mass of humanity there is a silver frame containing the smooth, polished, fragmentary remains of the Black Stone. The job of the pilgrim is try and kiss the stone, or, that failing, to point one's finger in its direction.
The Black Stone was worshiped in pre-Islamic pagan times and according to Islamic tradition was placed in the Kaaba wall by the Prophet Muhammad in 605 A.D. According to the Islamic faith, this stone fell from the heavens as a guide for Adam and Eve to build an altar. This gave rise to many theories that the stone was a black meteorite, although current scientists have suggested it probably isn't. I find it interesting, as one commentator aptly pointed out, that the silver casing for the Black Stone, looks distinctly like female genitalia. Additionally, the energy generated by this human religious swarm is counter-clockwise, like the Nazi swastika, which tends toward involution.
The Black Stone brings us back to the Islamic world, and by its unfortunate association, to ISIS and the Islamic terrorist movement in the Middle East. In this strange circular journey of historical links and coincidences, it feels as if there is almost a cosmic pull toward a connection between the rise of Naziism and the rise of ISIS. Like the Nazis, ISIS states that one of its goals is to kill Jews. How ironic! It is as if they have both taken some of the symbols most precious to humanity and absconded with them, attempting to steal their supernatural symbolic powers as sigils, and abuse them until they lose their value for the rest of us.
The Black Stone, the goddess Isis and the ancient swastika symbol are all symbols that belong to humanity, to women, and to some of our greatest religions, including paganism. We should never allow these symbols to be stolen for political purposes.
POST SCRIPT: As with many things that occur to me "out of order" chronologically, I wrote this post today - September 26, 2016 - and yet my computer has insisted on labeling it as having been entered on September 10, 2016. I seem to have somehow manifested the reality of the first opening sentence of this blog: "[l]ike most thoughts that come from dreams, they are often best told in the strange unfolding of imagery that seems to bear little or no relation to chronology."