Sunday, December 31, 2017
A few months ago, my husband Patrick casually mentioned to me, "You know, I was watching TV the other night and there was this ad for Hulu [the cable network] that came on. They started talking about you!"
"What?" I shouted incredulously. "What do you mean Hulu was talking about me? That makes no sense at all!"
"Yeah," he insisted. "They did."
"Well, what were they saying?" I demanded. "That's impossible!"
"I don't know... something about promoting you or 'presenting Nancy du Tertre...' something like that. I don't remember. But they said your name."
"That's ridiculous," I snorted. "You must have been dreaming... or sleeping. I've seen plenty of Hulu ads and I've never heard them talk about me!"
"No, not at all!" he insisted. "I was wide awake. I heard them play the ad more than once."
This made no sense at all to me.
"Well, why didn't you call me downstairs so I could hear it? Didn't it occur to you that that might be something I should hear?"
"I'll let you know if I hear it again."
A few days later, Patrick came running upstairs breathless and said, "Come on! Hurry up! It's the Hulu ad and you're on again!"
I went running downstairs and into the room where Patrick had put the TV on pause. He replayed the ad. I stared hard at the TV. I heard nothing unusual. Certainly, not my name.
"Did you hear the name Nancy or Nancy du Tertre or something else?" I demanded.
"I heard something like '... now presenting Nancy du Tertre.'" Patrick sounded confident. "There... right there! Don't you hear it?" He jumped up excitedly pointing at the TV screen.
"No. Play it again."
Anyway, we replayed that Hulu ad more than 40 times. I knew every word by heart and my name was no where in the ad. I began to feel sorry for Patrick. Worse, I began to wonder about his mental health. I asked if he had seen his doctor recently. He began sweating profusely.
"Maybe it's time for me to get a brain scan," he conceded nervously.
So I recorded the relevant portion of the Hulu ad on my iphone. Patrick suggested I try playing it for someone else to see if they could hear what he was hearing.
One day later, my 18-year-old son wandered through my room and I said, "Hey William. Could you do me a favor and tell me if you hear anything unusual on this tape?"
I had barely pressed the play button and was trying to listen for the start when suddenly I heard the announcer's voice boom out my full name "Nancy du Tertre." What the hell! I was completely shocked. While Nancy is a relatively common first name, my last name is French and notoriously difficult for Americans to remember or pronounce. I always joke with radio show hosts that they can call me "Nancy Two Turtles" since no one ever gets my name right. It was beyond bizarre that this Hulu ad contained my last name with its correct pronunciation!
"Did you hear that?" I asked in amazement.
"Yeah, the guy said your name," said William un-phased.
After informing Patrick that he was not crazy after all (he canceled his doctor's appointment), I played the tape for several other people who also heard varying degrees of "now presenting Nancy du Tertre."
So what did this mean? It had the bizarre quality of alien or paranormal electronic interference - and I have heard many such recordings. Sometimes they are clear and sometimes fuzzy and difficult to decipher. When I finally heard my name on this Hulu ad embedded in other words, it was unbelievably clear as a bell. Often, people hear their own name being called out. It's a kind of auditory pareidolia - like a Rorschach inkblot test onto which one projects one's own thoughts or expectations. But clearly, I wasn't the person hearing my name in the Hulu ad. So that didn't make sense. Should I presume there is some cosmic connection or futuristic clue? Is this some omen? I am at a total loss to comprehend this weird glitch.
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
|The famous Bulgarian blind prophet Baba Vanga|
Roughly a decade ago, I had a dream that saved me from early blindness. I was in the middle of a very ordinary (rather boring) dream in which I had to car pool to pick up my daughter after an away game for soccer at another high school. I drove there in the car, entered the school building, found my daughter and was all set to leave, when something unexpected happened - my long deceased Swedish maternal grandfather opened the door and walked in the room. His name was Maurice we used to call him "Puff." Since I generally have control over my dreams and never "allow" unexpected events to occur with the dreams, I was quite surprised by his appearance.
I said, "Puff! What are you doing here?" He shuffled over to me and opened a number of enormous medical books.
He said, "You need to read this" and pointed to a page on ophthalmology with a large medical drawing of an eye and its component parts.
I responded, "Puff, I'm in a dream so I can't read this."
He then proceeded to explain to me that I needed to see my eye doctor immediately and get my eyes checked. He and I then said good-bye, hugged each other tightly, and I awoke in my bed sobbing (this had never happened to me in my life) with tears of joy.
Despite the fact that I had seen my eye doctor about a year earlier for my annual eye exam, everything was normal, I was not experiencing any eye problems at all, and my nearsightedness had stabilized over the last decade or so, I decided to see my ophthalmologist. It was at that doctor appointment that I learned that I had glaucoma for the first time in my life. Glaucoma is, in the preliminary stages, a totally symptom-less disease and thus there would have been absolutely no way that my subconscious mind could have delivered this message to me in my dream. Puff was the only person in my family, on both sides, who wore glasses. Furthermore, he was a brilliant lawyer and was obsessed with reading (what I considered pedantic and boring) encyclopedias and dictionaries. He was the perfect person from the spirit world to deliver this news and to this day I believe he saved my eyesight!
Which brings me to my last eye issue. I also have severe cataracts in both eyes. Driving a car has become problematic and frightening for me (e.g. headlight beams of oncoming cars create blinding rays of light up to a mile long; traffic lights and street lights are surrounded by enormous five foot halos of soft, shimmering light; can't read signs; etc.). I can no longer see my large screen TV from my bed. Colors are increasingly dim and lack contrast. My eye doctor finally said, "So, when do you want me to sign you up for cataract surgery?" I am scheduled for two eye surgeries this coming January.
Here's the strange thing: more than the fear of losing my eyesight as a result of surgery, I am afraid of losing my identity. My whole life my sense of "self" has been limited to a zone of about 10 inches off the surface of my body. Everything "out there" has always been a blur. My world has always been very close to me so my identity within space is close to my body. I have always seen the world in the same way Impressionist painter Claude Monet painted his landscapes and waterlilies - a canvas filled with undefinable blobs and swatches of increasingly dull and dim color. People and objects are not distinct entities in my world. And so I strangely fear being given the "gift" of sight like a deaf person who will hear sounds for the first time in their life...
|Fragment from the painting of pointillism painter Georges Seurat entitled "Seascape at Port-en-Bessin, Normandy," 1888.|
Furthermore, my vision is "pixilated" and appears very much like the above pointillism style of painting by impressionist painter Georges Seurat. I always thought this was normal until I began asking around to see if anyone else experienced this. No one knows what I'm talking about... including my eye doctor! All physical objects within my vision are made of dots of light. During day and night, I see individual photons of light. My mental screen of "reality" is constantly shimmering with tiny dots of colored lights. This shimmering quality makes every solid object seem like it is not made of light, not matter. I am sure this type of vision has affected the way I perceive the world and reality.
The irony is that I am actually worried that if my eyesight is corrected through surgery, enabling me to clearly see objects with all their fine detail, I might lose my sense of inner-vision (call it clairvoyance). In other words,I will see too much!! Perhaps there is a reason why the world's best clairvoyants have been blind. Maybe blindness aids in "seeing" those things that are otherwise "invisible" to the naked eye. Maybe blindness, acting as a form of sensory deprivation, creates the necessary blank canvas for visions of the future. I know that physical vision is a "distraction" from clairvoyant vision. I know this because I prefer to do my psychic readings over the phone (as opposed to Facetime or Skype video). I find the visual input from my physical eyes to be a huge distraction and causes me to think too much. My post surgery my challenge will be to learn how to "see" beyond this physical world that will be displayed in new, amazing technicolor for the first time ever!
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
One month ago, I attended the Applied Precognitive Project 2017 Fest in Las Vegas. APP is a remote viewing group led by Marty Rosenblatt, a computational physicist, specialized in Associative Remote Viewing techniques used to predict financial outcomes. A couple of days into the conference, Marty announced a "spoon bending party" and dumped a bag of assorted cutlery on the coffee table and told everyone to take a spoon or fork and try to make it bend. He had decided to "up the ante" a bit, and had purchased a couple of 3/8" diameter foot long steel rods at Home Depot, to see if it might be possible to bend something as seemingly impossible as this.
Since I had just been able to bend a silver-plated spoon a couple of days earlier, making it curl around its stem several times, I was ready for a greater challenge. I grabbed one of the steel rods. I realized as soon as I picked it up there was little likelihood this was ever going to bend - it could not be dented with any amount of physical force with my hands. After about ten minutes, suddenly the amazing moment happened and the rod began to "melt" in the center. With a minimal amount of gentle pressure, I was able to immediately bend the rod in half. It was an incredible and exhilarating moment for me. I was astonished. Actually, Marty was astonished. It was patently unbelievable. He videotaped by response seconds after doing this and has posted it on the APP website: http://www.appliedprecog.com/
How did I do this? I can only say there is a moment when the metal begins to "melt" and in a brief window of time becomes malleable like soft clay. Then the moment ends, and the metal reverts to its previous rigid consistency. You have to immediately apply some gentle pressure before the window of opportunity closes. To do this, it is important to set your intention to bend the item and then basically forget about it and let it operate by itself. This is not easy since it involves getting rid of any expectations you may have for success.
A lot of folks have never heard of spoon bending. When I was in college, I had two friends, a brother and sister, whose mother, Greta Woodrew, was one of the most famous "alien channelers" in the world. She claimed to be in communication with aliens. I heard all kinds of bizarre and unbelievable stories about her from her kids, both very serious, intelligent, straight-laced people, and also other mutual friends who were credible. I never knew whether to believe the stories or not. They involved various paranormal events - which I did not believe in at the time. I got involved in the effort to bring their mother to speak at Princeton University at an unsanctioned student organization event. The event was very successful.
We brought her to have lunch at my eating club. As we sat there, she asked me if I would like to see her bend a spoon. I had never heard of spoon bending before and said, "Sure." She held up one of the spoons from our table and I watched it bend in her hand. To this day, I don't understand my reaction. It was such a ridiculously impossible event that I dismissed it from my mind. It made so sense, and therefore it could not exist for me.
That was the end of that until I went to interview Uri Geller, the Israeli spoon bender who rose to worldwide fame in the 1970's, at his home in London. I purposely did not bring a spoon or other item with me for him to bend. I did not want him to feel like a one-trick pony. However, he volunteered to show me, up close, how he bent a spoon while barely touching it. I had already secretly asked a magician friend of mine to show me all the ways that magicians can appear to bend a spoon using magic tricks. So I was fully prepared and knew what to look for. He said it worked better when he was near something metal and so he walked over to the stove, then the refrigerator, until the spoon finally began to bend. He merely stroked it. I watched him like a hawk. There was a millisecond in which he seemed to remove the spoon from my sight, and so I felt he had broken the proverbial chain of custody (a legal concept of evidentiary possession), and so I wasn't sure if he had taken the split second as an opportunity to cheat by bending the spoon with physical, not mental, force. He also bent a spoon for my children that day and I saw his famous car covered with bent cutlery. Uri's spoon bending appeared to be legitimate but I didn't understand how this could possibly work.
I only recently decided to attend a "spoon bending class" and was literally the last person in the entire class to achieve this feat. I felt ashamed and depressed. I reluctantly pulled out the last of 8 forks and it suddenly began to bend by itself. Then, as I picked up each of the other 7 forks, they all bent effortlessly. It was clearly a condensation of energy within that moment. And it was life changing. I learned, in very physical, psychokinetic terms, that the physical world is not what it appears to be!
Aeronautical engineer Jack Houck became somewhat famous in the 1980's for throwing what he called "spoon bending parties." He claimed that by 1988, roughly 8,500 people had attended his parties and 85 percent had achieved at least what he called a "kindergarten level" ability to bend spoons. I had never read his comments until researching for this blog. I see that he actually talks about graduating to "high school level" of mental bending when you can bend the exact type and thickness of steel rod that Marty brought with him to the conference, and that I bent! Jack wrote about his theory of why metal can bend on his website, http://www.jackhouck.com/pk.shtml:
"During my PK Party lecture I always show examples of high school bending. These are metal rods, typically 3/8" extruded aluminum rods, that have been formed into odd shapes, and steel rods, up to a half inch, that have been bent. Small ladies can bend the 1/2" rods. I even have some old fashioned hacksaw blades that have been formed into spirals. Usually, if too much physical force is applied to the old fashioned hacksaw blades, they break in multiple pieces because they are so brittle. At the PK Parties the hacksaw blades become pliable, annealed, in a similar process to when the silverware gets soft. I think that the dislocations in the grain boundaries of the metal act as transducers to some unknown form of energy. The mind establishes a link between this energy source and energy is dumped into the grain boundaries. The energy has nowhere to go so it turns into heat. This is the same process that happens with known energy that gets dumped inside of another material as with neutrons, x-rays, and microwaves. This heat melts the grain boundaries, and the metal feels like it has lost its structure because the grains inside the metal slip with respect to each other. The heat is transferred away from the grain boundaries by normal conduction, and eventually the "freezing" point of the metal is reached and the metal becomes hard again. "
Spoon bending is frequently taught in conjunction with remote viewing classes because it involves the relationship of the human mind to the environment, and the power of mind over matter. It is an astonishingly powerful way to convince even devout materialists and skeptics that something novel is going on that displaces our traditional notions of physics and consciousness...
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
About ten days ago, I sent an email to a friend of mine who is a British psychic detective, and told him I was about to leave for Paris for a week. He (and everyone else I spoke with) told me to be careful. Paris isn't what it used to be, he noted, what with all the terrorist activity these days. Yes, I am always careful, I said. Besides, I have noticed a sort of weird pattern in my life. I seem to frequently miss being in the exact spot where mass murders occur by a few minutes, hours or days. This has happened to me on many occasions, to the point where it seems to have developed its own delicate - yes, possibly coincidental - pattern.
Back in 1987, I went to visit my father who was on sabbatical (he is a medical scientist) in a tiny "one-horse" town about an hour or two outside London called "Hungerford." It was a sweet town, with one Tudor-style pub on the only main street, and lots of thatched roof cottages dotting the surrounding bucolic countryside. My ex-husband and I stayed the day, and then drove to the airport to catch a plane to up to Scotland. The next morning we got a call from a lawyer friend of ours in the U.S. He asked if we were okay. We laughed and said, "Of course we are!" He said, "Thank God!" "Why do you ask?" We were confused by his anxiety. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "No!" "Well, I heard on the news that Hungerford was the site of Britain's first mass murder by a gunman. Fourteen people were killed!" Long story short, we realized in retrospect, when we saw how the gunman had carefully gone through the entire town killing a total of 14 people at random (e.g. the gas station attendant, people on the street, etc.), that we had missed being in the exact spot where he had killed several pedestrians only minutes after we left the vicinity. The story was worldwide news. At that time, gun crime in Britain were unheard of and the British bobbies (policemen) only carried sticks, not guns. It was a shocking crime that changed the course of history in Britain.
Fast forward to 2007, I decided to take a rare extended 2-week vacation with my (current) husband and two children around England and Wales. We stayed in London for a day, then drove up toward north toward Cambridge so I could show the kids where I grew up as a teenager. As soon as we left town, we heard that three devastating synchronized Islamic terrorist bombs had been detonated in the London Underground train stations. Fifty-two people were killed and 700 injured in Britain's deadliest incident since the 1988 bombing of the Pan Am flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. The attacks became known as "7/7." Of course, I breathed a secret sigh of relief that we had had the luck to exit London on that day.
We traveled around for the next two weeks, visiting castles, universities and crop circles, and finally returned to London in order to catch our flight back the next day to the United States. As we drove through the city, I noticed something strange about the "Tube" stations. They had been cordoned off with police barriers and there were people milling around everywhere. I learned later that the London had just been subjected to the July 21, 2005 terrorist attacks - four new synchronized bomb explosions in the Underground and one on a bus at around noon. Fortunately, the bombs were not as powerful, no one was hurt, and the suspected terrorists were arrested soon thereafter. But, to my point, we seemed to graze lightly past this double brush with mass murders in England.
Again, fast forward to July, 2016. Our next family trip was in France, this time. We flew to Paris, took a leisurely drive to a family wedding in the western part of France, drove to the southern coast, took a boat trip around Corsica, returned to southern France, and drove to Nice, where we had originally been scheduled to fly back to the United States on July 15. However, before we left, I had a bad feeling about the flight. We changed it to July 12. Again, we seem to have brushed against a weird synchronicity. On July 14, 2016, a 19-ton cargo truck driven by a terrorist plowed road barricades and into the crowds of more than 30,000 people celebrating Bastille Day along the famous Promenade des Anglais along the famous waterfront of Nice. Eighty-six people were killed and 458 were wounded in this truck attack. It was one of the worst terror attacks ever in France. Thank God we did not stay in Nice for those couple of extra days where, in all likelihood, we too would have been celebrating Bastille Day with the others on that boulevard. Again, it felt uncomfortably like another close shave with death and mass murder.
Fast forward to the present, I told my British psychic detective friend these stories in my email before leaving for Paris. I planned to return home for one week before flying out again to Las Vegas, Nevada, for the next three weeks. Thankfully, Paris was uneventful in terms of terrorism during my stay. However, during my flight back to the United States, on October 2, 2017, I learned that Las Vegas had just become - on that day - the site of the worst mass shooting in modern United States history! As of today, October 4, 2017, there are 59 dead and 527 wounded. The shootings were committed by a man from his room at the Mandalay Bay Hotel from the 32nd floor as he shot unsuspected concert-goers at an outdoor country western music festival below. This time, it seems the unprecedented historic mass murder occurred just before my visit. Although I did not have plans to stay at the Mandalay Bay Hotel, which I know well, I too have planned to stay on the famous Las Vegas Strip.
As a psychic detective, I tend to look at life differently from most people. I look for patterns in things that appear inconsequential or merely random to others. It is in these delicate, partially-formed patterns that new information about ourselves and our world emerges. My continuous brush with these historic events may be mere coincidence, but its recurrence over time begins to feel like something else is happening...
Sunday, September 3, 2017
|Equilateral triangle mark on hand 2015 (Photo A)|
|Equilateral triangle mark on ankle 2017 (Photo B)|
|Equilateral triangle mark on thigh 2017 (Photo C)|
|Eye-shaped mark on forearm 2017 (Photo D)|
In UFO lore, I have been aware of discussions about certain body marking associated with alien contact and abductions. Among these are triangle and diamond shapes, strange bruise marks (often in the shape of three fingers which are assumed to be the result of holding a person down by force), puncture wounds (I have even see these inside the mouth as well as all over the body), the famous "scoop" marks which result in a slight half-moon type of indentation as if a tissue sample had been taken, and so on. One of the more common markings is an equilateral triangle shape made of three points or possible puncture points. I have seen many of these online, and ufologist Richard Dolan has been quoted as saying these types of triangular marks are commonly reported by abductees and contactees. I have seen many posted online and they look extremely similar to mine.
I recently began to notice some strange marks on my body over the last few years and have been searching for answers. As far as I know, I have never been abducted, nor do I have any strange implants anywhere in my body.
In 2011, my daughter and I walked out of a local movie theatre at about midnight and witnessed a football field-sized "mothership" shaped like a giant boomerang. Thereafter, for about a year, we experienced frequent interruptions of our phone calls by strange electronic voices and noises.
In October, 2015, I published my first book on ufology entitled "How to Talk to an Alien" and have lectured frequently on the topic since then.
In November, 2015, I woke up with a tiny equilateral triangle made of three reddish dots on my left hand in between my index and middle fingers (see Photo A). I thought it was odd and had never had a mark like that before. The length of the sides was about 1/8 of an inch.
In 2017, around late April or early May, I found a strange equilateral triangle above my left knee made of three round dots (Photo B). I didn't think much about it. I took a photo of what was left of the markings in August. The length of the sides was about 3/8 of an inch.
In August, 2017, I found another slightly smaller equilateral triangle on left ankle. (Photo C).
Naturally I started looking for some - hopefully ordinary - explanations. I thought perhaps they might be spider bites. Yes, here in New Jersey, we get some fairly ordinary spiders in the house in the summertime. That would not explain the marks in November or April/May. I do have two cats, one of which goes outside. I thought it might be possible he carried in some spiders or insects with weird biting habits on his fur. However, he is medicated against fleas, ticks and other insects. Besides, I thought spiders only had two parallel fangs. A triangle (of all different sizes) just didn't make sense.
Then I read online that bedbugs can cause bites in the shape of triangles. I studied them online and they mostly didn't look like my bites. Bedbug bites seems to be more profuse, like red, bumpy rashes, and the bites were sloppy-looking, surrounded by rings or redness, pus or swelling, or little punctures in the centers of the bumps and not in separate perfect equilateral triangles - unlike my dots. I do not have any of the classic signs of bedbug infestation in my bed. Generally speaking, when bitten by any type of bug, I tend to have severe allergic reactions. They tend to be itchy, swollen, white at the centers, with red rings. Obviously my triangular markings have none of these symptoms. They do not itch and look rather "clean" - rather like three-prong points of a needle. It also seems unlikely that my dots are due to bedbug infestation because I've experienced these triangles for over two years and bedbug populations multiply at a rate of 400 per day, so after two years of unchecked population growth, I would likely be covered in bites all over my body by now!
|(Photos from a Canadian bedbug exterminator company called Green Heat)|
|Photo of markings left on a man who claimed to have experienced many alien abductions. See https://community.babycenter.com/post/a36461743/3_dot_triangle_markbite|
My next thought was to revert to alien markings. I began to wonder if perhaps the "eye" mark on my arm was created by some alien force using me as some kind of human canvas like a human crop circle to create an image with a message. Perhaps that message, coming on the heels of my decision to write this blog, was "We're watching you. We're watching what you write about this phenomenon."
Here's the kicker - I had to rewrite this entire blog again because the first one mysteriously erased itself.... Never happened before in my 9 years of blog writing.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
|My left palm|
|My right palm|
Recently, a client posed a question about the meaning of the lines in the palms of their hand. Since this seemed to be a question of palmistry, I consulted (for the first real time) a number of palmistry texts to find an appropriate answer. While researching this, I decided to try and find an answer to a question I have had my entire life about the lines in my own hands. On my left hand, I have what appear to be the very common and traditional three major lines. They are identified in palmistry as the "Life Line" (wrapping around the base of the thumb), the "Head Line" running horizontally across the center of the palm, and the "Heart Line" running horizontally closest to the base of most of the fingers. However, on my right hand, I only have two lines - the Life Line and a very strong Head Line. The Heart Line is absent. Ever since I was a child, I always thought it was a bit odd. None of my other friends had this discrepancy of three lines in one hand and only two in the other. What did it mean?
I finally found my answer - in palmistry of all places! No, it doesn't mean that I am heartless! It means my Head and Heart Lines are merged in a rare condition called a "Simian Crease" (a term now considered a it perjorative because it references the simple hand crease found in monkeys and apes) otherwise known by its more technical name "Single Transverse Palmar Crease." It can be found on one or both hands and is often genetic. In palmistry language, the Simian Crease means the Heart and Head lines have merged and become indistinguishable. People with this crease have merged their emotions and their intellectual aspects as one. For me, this is especially true. I would take it a step further and suggest that my right and left brain functions are also heavily merged and operate in synch. It is the basis of my moniker "The Skeptical Psychic."
Even more interestingly, this two-line Simian Crease in the palm of my right hand has very definite medical and genetic connotations. First of all, it is quite rare. Depending upon what sources you read, it only occurs in 1.5 to 4 percent of the population. Men are more than twice as likely than women to have the Simian Crease. It occurs mostly among Asian and Native American peoples. Roughly half of all people with Down Syndrome have this crease. Furthermore, the crease often associated with any number of abnormal medical conditions affecting the normal growth or function of the chromosomes. These include: 1) fetal alcohol syndrome, Down Syndrome (chromosome 21), Cri du Chat Syndrome (chromosome 5), Klinefelter Syndrome, Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, Noonan Syndrome (chromosome 12), Patau Syndrome (chromosome 13), Edwards syndrome (chromosome 18), Aarskog-Scott Syndrome (X-lined recessive), Leukocyte Adhesion Deficiency-2 (autosomal recessive disorder), Nevoid Basal Cell Carcinoma Syndrome and Robinow Syndrome (chromosome 9 mutation). I looked up these medical conditions and most result in severe learning disabilities and heart deformities among other things.
Speaking as a female, without a drop of Asian or Native American blood, without any history of chromosomal disease, learning disability or heart deformities, this makes me fairly unusual.
Then I read the Simian crease is also linked to a number of psychological conditions. These include: delinquent behavior (a higher than average number of criminals in prison populations have this crease at a rate of nearly 3 times greater!), hyperactivity, neuroticism and schizophrenia. No, I have never spent any time in prison or been accused of criminal wrongdoing! The closest I ever got was when, as an attorney, I represented criminals briefly while doing criminal defense work early on in my career! The only thing I might ever be accused of might be a bit of neuroticism... nothing unusual!
I returned to the books of palmistry and discovered my only identifiable reality. I read the Simian crease is considered a "gift marker" - of a special gift - that of "intensity of focus" (with its "shadow side" of feeling misunderstood). Since I cannot seem to find any other common or logical reason why I have this Simian Crease, this rationale seems to be the most accurate of all. I am intensely focused as a human being. And, yes, I often feel misunderstood. I guess palmistry works!
Monday, July 3, 2017
In recent days I seem to be transforming into one of those people who suffers from strange electronic events. Inexplicable electronic interruptions of my various technology have reached new heights of strangeness. I have watched these electronic malfunctions occur with increasing frequency over the last few years - I was never one of those people who claimed to not be able to touch a light bulb or a telephone without breaking it - and I am beginning to see correlations I cannot totally explain.
Two days ago, the day got off to an unusual start when I received a text directed to me and nine other individuals (including my husband, son, daughter, my husband's brother in France, and several other friends in the U.S. and California who don't know each other, plus one unidentified person). My husband had texted "Liked an image" but there was no image to be found. Furthermore, he denied ever seeing or reading this text mail. Everyone was uniformly confused.
Then, a bit later in the morning, my cell phone decided to start making calls all by itself! My cell phone called a friend of mine in New Jersey and then my daughter in New York. I was not near the phone at the time it decided to dial them. They were as confused as I was.
A bit later, I did a reading for a client via my landline. As we were discussing an issue involving my client's attorney, a woman's voice suddenly broke in to our line. I was surprised but figured perhaps there was a woman somewhere else in his house who had accidentally picked up the phone. She seemed to be talking to someone else. It was like the old days when a third party could occasionally be heard talking when the phone lines got crossed. That hasn't happened to me in about 40 years. Anyway, my client suddenly recognized her voice and identified her as the paralegal from his attorney's office. She asked why he had called her. He said he had not called her because he was, in fact, on another phone call (with me)! All three of us were very confused. My client later explained to me that it would have been impossible for him to have called her since he hadn't touched his phone and didn't have a clue how to make a conference call.
My cell phone which is programmed to ring with the volume (on high) receives calls from people without ringing at all. Occasionally my calls to other people does not result in their phones ringing either. Why?
My computer, iphone and ipad then seemed to go on strike. All three refused to let me get onto my regular websites or look at my emails for no obvious reason. The service seemed not just sluggish, like bad internet connection, but sporadic and irrational. I could get online only after repeated attempts. I was very frustrated because I couldn't do my work. Even as I write this now, my computer strangely reverts to previous fonts without any rhyme or reason and error messages continue to pop up.
That afternoon, my son was about to go out after having washed his shoulder-length hair without drying it. I offered, for the first time, to blow dry his hair. We went to my bathroom and I started drying his hair with my blow dryer. Within minutes, the hair dryer blew out the entire breaker circuit in the bathroom and upstairs hallways. This was strange because I have much longer, thicker hair and have blown my hair dry with this hair dryer in this bathroom for many years with absolutely no problem. We reset the breaker, tried it again, and the dryer blew the circuit again. It seemed like everything electrical I touched - physically - was refusing to cooperate. It has worked just fine since then - so it doesn't seem to have been a problem with the dryer or the circuit!
Later, when I turned on a ceiling light in a hallway in a different part of the house (on a different breaker), the light bulb blew out. Coincidence?
For several years I have noticed a very loud "cracking" noise in my bedroom at night. At first it came from my desktop computer. I thought it must be heat related - perhaps too much sunlight on the monitor or trapped heat in the computer components. However, a couple of years ago, my husband installed a flat screen TV in the room. Almost immediately the cracking noise ceased to come from the computer and started coming from the new TV. Again, I tried to rationalize the noise. However, the strange thing is that the noise has gotten louder and louder to the point that it actually wakes me up several times every night. It is unrelated to the temperature in the room or the length of time the TV has been on or off. I have begun to believe this "cracking" noise is the sound of either spirits or other entities breaking the "veil" to communicate with me. There are many times when I telepathically ask questions and ask for answers in the form of "one crack means yes" and "two cracks means no" and seem to receive "answers." Not definitive yet - just a lurking possibility.
Yes, I have also noticed a tendency of street lights to go on or off just as I drive underneath them. I know this is a common experience for many UFO experiencers. While this seems to happen with relative frequency to me (as opposed to others I have asked), I am not yet convinced this is a real phenomenon.
While these all seem to be strange and unrelated events, I am no longer so sure... I believe my bioenergy has begun to synch to some degree with other electrical "events" and may be causing some of these weird malfunctions. Perhaps it is an indication of a "gathering" of energy within our increasingly intrusive and ubiquitous electromagnetic fields in our everyday environment. Perhaps my psychic or UFO work has initiated this electrical increase. But the bottom line is that I am concerned that soon I won't be able to handle any electrical items without blowing them out!
Anyone else have a similar issue?
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...