Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Wizards, Workings and Walk-Ins Addenda: Ghosts and Rockets

I wanted to keep the latest installment of Wizards, Workings and Walk-Ins above the fold because the feedback it inspired was so fantastic I didn't want to stem the flow, but I needed to write an addenda while the information was still fresh.

One of my greatest pleasures in doing this blog is the feedback I get here, all the more remarkable given all of the crap you see out there on the Internet. The 'Net is such a wonderful tool in so many ways but the fact that so many people use it to dump their mental garbage may well destroy it.

Dreaming is a very powerful thing. Andre Breton said that in our dreams each and every one of us is the perfect artist. To the Surrealists-- and indeed to the ancients-- dreams were as important as waking reality. Scientists still don't understand them- and I'm sure a lot of your fundamentalist materialist types would love to eliminate them from the human experience forever, which is one of the reasons they push all kinds of horrific pharmaceuticals down our throats.

My marsh dreams struck a chord out there and there were some fascinating examples and suggestions offered by Secret Sun readers. But I caught myself about to say that I never dream about UFOs when working on a follow-up and realized that was totally untrue. I've had some insane UFO dreams, one recently of a shape-shifting UFO that split in two and partook in this strange machine dance while I stood on the athletic fields of my old high school. And then of course there was this dream, which I blogged about four and a half years ago.
Last night I dreamed that an enormous, mile-wide UFO was trying to phase into this physical plane over the Tappan Zee bridge. The force of this action was destroying the bridge, very much like the Point Pleasant event. I was primarily concerned with how traffic would get across the river, which is 3 miles at that point. The water was littered with construction debris and floating cars.

Then there's another recurring dream of what I can only describe as ghost rockets. The first example of this I remember was in high school and I was standing on the edge of Cohasset Harbor (right near where the exteriors for Cher's house in Witches of Eastwick were shot) and what I can only describe as a hole in the sky opened (remarkably similar to the image up top, actually) and the rockets came out of it.

Of course during the waning years of the Cold War I interpreted them as Soviet missiles. But I'd have a similar dream several times after that. And then of course there was this dream, which was about actual missiles.
While working on the Silver Star series, I had an astonishingly vivid nightmare of being trapped in Manhattan during a 9/11-like scenario. Only this one was a 'dirty' bomb that arrived by way of a cruise missile. My friends and I watched it zoom overhead as we lunched in Bryant Park. People were bursting into radioactive flames all around me.

SWAT teams were on the streets preventing people from leaving the city, because we were all contaminated. I couldn't get a signal on my cell phone so I couldn't call my wife and tell her I was all right. And at one point I was chased by an armored cop down a staircase. It was real as life - I woke up with my heart pounding, drenched in sweat.
I have more dreams of an apocalyptic nature than I'd like to admit. But last night another kind of ghost visited my dreams. Here's what I wrote on the FB page:
Rik Clay came to me in a dream last night. It was a very strange dream- it took place in Grand Central Station. Rik was very small and dressed like an elf- he wanted to work with me on The Secret Sun (we were talking about collaborating on a project before he died). I told him I would like that but first I had to find a way out of the station so I could drop off some artwork with a client but I kept going in circles finding rooms filled with strange people in strange clothes.

There was a dining room filled with old ladies in traditional Lithuanian dress. They were eating paprika rice. They told me I was the Antichrist but I told them it was just a mask. I looked in a mirror- it was indeed a very scary mask.
Did I mention I re-watched Fire Walk With Me last night?

That was very strange indeed but there's another ghost dream, not my own, that I wanted to share with you. Here's what I wrote back in October for a Re-Enchantment Dialogue:
I apologize for not posting the past few days. One of my cats- Ootschka aka Orange Cat- is terminally ill and it's been very stressful and upsetting for me, as are the usual freelancer tax-time follies. Ootschka was a real trouper for a while and her illness allowed us some very deep bonding experience. But now she's suddenly stopped eating, and seems to be looking all of the time at something the rest of us cannot see.

I've been through this a lot-- Mrs. Wibble and I have always had lots of animals (we had 8 cats and 4 dogs at one point). But this seems to be particularly hard. It may be because Ootschka has bonded to me so strongly-- last week she slept with her arms wrapped around my hand like a kitten-- but also because I've been exploring the deeper realms of my unconscious through visualization and meditation (as well as beginning some creative projects which we can discuss later), which has tied into our discussions recently.

So I've been wide open in a way.
I followed that with this:
I'll tell you what- since I've already been crossed off Richard Dawkins' Darwinmas card list, I'll do you one further. I wrote about this here a few years ago, but I'm beginning to suspect that animals at least definitely reincarnate.
Of course, I blogged about this phenomenon way back in the day as well.

Now last week my wife volunteered at a local animal shelter and met an orange kitten- a boy- who she said acted just liked Ootschka. We'd been talking seriously about the Big Noonce coming back to us and both of us has the same thought: could it be true?

What made our minds up for us was something our daughter told my wife over the weekend.
She said recently she's been having a recurring dream of Ootschka appearing to her in a younger form. She said she had the same dream five nights in a row. She doesn't know about the kitten: I'm not even sure she knew about my wife volunteering at the animal shelter.

But reincarnation or no, the synchronicity of it is just hard to ignore. When things like that hit, I pay attention. And I have to say that doing so has produced some pretty impressive results over the years.

And in the end, all that matters to me are results.


  1. Chris,
    I met the author of a book called "Cleo" about a year ago at the Byron Bay Writer's Festival and I think you and your wife would find it an interesting read indeed.
    I wrote about our 'chance' meeting here;

    and all the weird cat experiences.
    She also has another book out,which I haven't read yet,but am eagerly waiting to read;

    there is a link to a radio interview with Helen
    in that last post,that you might find interesting,as well.

  2. I completely agree with you on the agenda to stop our dreaming. It cannot be a coincidence that the same fluoride pumped into our drinking/bathing/recreational water and pimped out by dentists (despite the mounting evidence showcasing its detrimental effects on our teeth in the overdose quantities given to us) ends up calcifying our pineal glands. The ancients knew that the pineal gland was sacred and associated with dreams and powerful spiritual experiences. If the pineal gland is the "seat of the soul," we should be asking who or what is trying to imprison our souls in these temporary vessels that age terribly and eventually crap out. Equally horrifying to the concept of Hell or the Underworld, is an eternity spent buried 6ft under, lying in a material prison, fully conscious, where you cannot move. That would be worse than being buried alive. Imagine how insane you would go...especially considering how inmates in solitary confinement (who can move) go mad after a few weeks of no human contact.

  3. I grew up in and around northern New Jersey; the only child of a coupling that had no chance of enduring. Make no mistake, I love my family and I truly loved our post-immigration, suburban American landscape.

    Other than a few serious bouts with bullies, emotional conflicts brought on by a sense of generally not belonging (I blame our culture for that – not my parents) and a dangerous love for rebellion, I had a fairly standard apocalyptic adolescence; one that’s honestly normal by most accounts (especially for creative types).

    I’m not sure exactly when the dreams started, but since we’re trying to map as much of this ethereal landscape as possible, I’ll guess. It was around the time my father announced he was leaving for Boston. He had accepted a job that he simply couldn’t pass up. I remember understanding that this needed to happen, but I also remember being overwhelmed with the sudden knowledge that nothing was forever. That was one of the first moments where I felt my mind forcefully bend under the weight of a new and undeniable truth. I was about eight.


    (Possibly Real: spring/summer) My father and I are driving in his canary yellow Carmengia to my maternal grandparents’ house. It is the early Nineteen Eighties and one hell of a tropical storm is ripping apart the tri-state. Hundred year old trees sway like tall grass as the occasional emergency vehicle shoots past flashing us in red and white. It is frightening. The car is small and its engine was only slightly bigger than a gas lawnmower’s. Even as a kid it doesn’t inspire confidence (I mean it’s a cool car, but in that storm I want to be in a tank). The wind pushing the car around is bad enough, but when those thunderclaps hit I believe the laser spikes of adrenaline will kill me.

    We emerge from under the canopy (my hometown is known for its century old, tree lined streets) and onto one of the main roads that leads into the neighboring city. Dad and I are only a few blocks away from my grandparents’ house. My kid logic says everything will be safe and warm at Grandma’s. The car zips through the downpour until we reach the bottom of the hill. The road is completely flooded. Brown water boils up from every sewer drain and manhole cover.

    Ok, now here’s where I can only assume this possibly real event gets transcribed by dream logic.

    I’ve asked my Dad and he remembers driving through this storm but that’s about it.

    I remember there being a guy dressed in olive colored poncho paddling his kayak down Main Avenue past a CVS. My kid brain seizes up in disbelief just as lighting hits the water only a hundred yards down the flooded avenue. My Dad looks at me and says “We’re going for it!”

    In some dream versions of this “memory” I wake up right at my Dad’s only spoken line. In others I firmly remember the little Carmengia miraculously making it the few blocks to our destination.

    First Things First:

    This might not immediately seem to have much to do with anything Secret Sun related. However, it’s the origin point for a series of dreams set in an alternative NJ complete with a great expanse of swampland (not too surprising considering the Meadowlands are just over the hill from where I grew up

    I’ll revisit these tomorrow. The dreams get way more interesting as I get older.

  4. So you adopted the cat. GFY! It will be interesting to see if you notice any idiosyncrasies in it's behavior that remind you of your previous cat. Cat's are so much more mentioned in the realm of the esoteric, as witches familiars and much more. Witch Mountain, Constantine, and on and on. As I have noted before on SSFB if human were "tampered with" then it seems that dogs have been as well since they are so bound into human relationships and are so attuned to us. Cats are different. Cats may be an element of the other infiltrating our reality as possible agents of the "watchers" in some capacity and a way to surreptitiously intervene. Cats are mostly seen as aloof and disdainful but there are moments when they break that mold and the kind of connection you get is profound.

  5. Re: The book "Cleo" I probably should have just told you what it was about,as re-reading my post you probably would still have no idea what it was about,so here is a review from Amazon;

    " "Cleo" is a frank and honest tale by Helen Brown. She lost her young son, but somehow managed to claw through her grief with the help of a small black cat's connection to his loving spirit. The story is told straightforward and details how "Cleo" was selected by Sam, her young son. Cleo was the runt of the litter and was to be given to Sam when she was old enough to be on her own. No one knew a tragic event was coming, and when Cleo arrived Helen realized that Sam would have wanted her to stay. Little Cleo is comforting, a clown and companion through heartaches, happy times and moments of achievement. She is a bright cat with oodles of energy for her small build.

    Although the story focuses on Helen (who lives in Australia), Cleo is always around as a comforting and funny soul. She is small and has shiny black fur and gives her opinions on Helen's friends and potential suitors after divorce. The story is a bittersweet tale of a woman's life and her decision to keep a cat connected to her son, Sam. Cleo has a long life (24 years) and the book reveals Helen and Cleo's connection. "

    It's soon going to be made into a movie,according to Helen.
    Trust me,your wife will love it,even if you don't.
    But I think you'll like it too.

  6. "Dreaming is a very powerful thing. Andre Breton said that in our dreams each and every one of us is the perfect artist. To the Surrealists-- and indeed to the ancients-- dreams were as important as waking reality. Scientists still don't understand them- and I'm sure a lot of your fundamentalist materialist types would love to eliminate them from the human experience forever, which is one of the reasons they push all kinds of horrific pharmaceuticals down our throats."

    Yes, this is something I am extremely interested in exploring about! Apparently the Surrealists knew that WW1 was 'rationailty' gone insane so believed that their exploration of irrationality might heal things. And some think that some form of this may be the modus operandi of 'High Strange' phenomena. One thing we know for sure that this oppressive civilization both fears serious psychedelic exploration, and so-called 'mental illness' and prohibits and suppresses these forms of bodymind exploration with violence, imprisonment, and toxic drugss. BOTH their chrinks and cops use electrocution devices to 'make us con-form' and 'normal'.

    There is a book I found out about two weeks ago I am interested in reading The Third Reich of dreams: The nightmares of a nation, 1933-1939; apparently this book had to be originally written in code and smuggled out of the country!! it was about the dreams people were having which revealed the evils that were taking place. Compare with the artists who had their 'dreams'--their artworks--confiscated by Hitler and his Nazis and paraded around as 'degenerate art' thought to be pathological! This civilization and its science does NOT know what consciousness is (never mind the so-called 'unconscious') nor what matter is, yet is destroying the very fabric of life in its 'all-knowing' blind insanity.

  7. Chris,

    First off, congrats on your furry friend coming back to you! I do hope you plan to have home soon!

    As for the other stuff, UFOs and portals, have you read Hunt For The Skinwalker, about the very Bizarro goings-on in Utah? I'd be interested in your opinion on the case (and the methods employed in its investigation).

  8. It's so crazy, I read this post and immediately started thinking about our dog Cleo. After we grieved we decided to get a new dog. When I brought Chewie to his first vet appointment our vet suggested that Cleo had "sent us the right dog". I have to say it's so true. I would most miss Cleo when I was in the kitchen chopping vegetables, as she would always come hang out with me with hopes of getting some scraps (which I always gave her). Chewie now does the exact same thing.

    When I finished reading the post and saw the first comment that mentioned "Cleo", I burst into tears. Heavy stuff.

  9. Bless you and your animal-loving family.
    On this summer solstice, so much is going on, and so many have left for the 'Outer space' adventure. Good to see some are revisiting so soon.

    Cats are profound beings, and it's an honour to be 'mentored' by them.
    Douglas Adams had mice running the place, but I agree with tenebroust that cats are something different. They rule the 'esoteric realms', or can see stuff we can't. Wasn't that understood by the Egyptians? Didn't the Pharaohs have lions by their side to suss out who was telling the truth and who wasn't?

    Ginger cats are grrrrreat! All hail the Ginges.

    Flossum for the Possums. x

  10. A creative and festive solstice for all. The cat was an honored God in Egypt, they have not forgotten. My cat, Bobcat baby is indeed royal and rules as such. Dreams are so very important/synch curious. No thing is more human. The synchs of Saturn are turning my synchromystic minds eye a-fire, any one else? Shineforth brave and kind souls.Dennis

  11. Chris have you ever considered Saturn as being your secret sun? Im new here and you inspired me to start my own blog. Thanks man!

  12. Have been having very vivid dreams over the past several weeks. Recurring dreams (primarily centered along Lake Michigan) and a shape-shifting UFO dream. The discs hovered over Lake Michigan and morphed into aircraft carriers. Apparently I was the only one in the dream who witnessed the morphing. And then there were the "three tsunamis" ...

  13. Here's one more odd synchronicity. In a comment on the previous post, I mentioned having dreams as a child in which I would go outside at night and see other planets looking as large as they did in the pictures in my children's encyclopedia. Well, I went to Science Daily just now, and there was precisely that situation -- not a planet-moon system, but two planets orbiting so closely together that each one looms huge in the other one's sky -- with an image to match. Sure blew my mind.

    One is a rocky planet 1.5 times the size of Earth. The other is a gaseous world nearly four times Earth's size. Together they form a spectacular system in which two planets orbit closer to each other than any yet discovered.

    "We've never known of planets like this," said Yale University astronomer Sarbani Basu, a member of the research team that analyzed the system. "If you were on the smaller planet looking up, the larger planet would seem more than twice the size of Earth's full moon. It would be jaw-dropping." . . .

    The planets' proximity to each other is astonishing, according to the researchers. The rocky inner planet orbits its star every 14 days, at an average distance of 11 million miles. The outer gaseous planet orbits every 16 days, at an average distance of 12 million miles.

    Every 97 days they move into perfect alignment, a position known as conjunction. At that point they are separated by a mere 1.2 million miles -- less than five times the distance between Earth and its moon.

  14. I must say Chris of all your stuff I like the blogs where you let the more cerebral side of your 'mask' slip and expose bits of the more vulnerable heart driven 'you'.

    I like the dream about the miniaturised Rik Clay in the elf suit.

    It reminds me of one I had of Carl Sagan shortly after he died.

    I dreamt I was wandering round the Celestial NASA (a protective construct supposedly created by deceased employees of NASA to alleviate the serious dangers from shock to their atheist buddies on finding there is indeed a life after death) when I came upon Sagan wearing a nappy instead of trousers.

    I was about to say something when one of his buddies pulled me back and said not to say anything explaining the nappy was a kind of penance on his part by way of apologising to the Universe for believing he'd understood so much when he'd actually understood as little as a new born baby.

    I also like your cat story which reminds me of a few years back when I told my brother how every house we'd lived in since our cats Bunter and Blacky'd died sooner or later I'd experience getting in bed only to feel the pair of them (identifiable by their completely distinct ways of moving and differences in weight) padding about the mattress in search of a comfy spot before lying down and curling up beside me like they always cheekily did when they were alive.

    He then admitted his astonishment at this information because for years he'd been experiencing exactly the same thing.

    Bunter was a veritable Buddha of a cat and I like to think of him out there somewhere evolved into a sort of sentient catman helping confused people like Carl Sagan.

    It was the saddest day of my life when I had to take his sick little body to be put down. As I waited there for something like an hour with him in my arms I had to keep doing Tai Chi in my head to stop myself disintegrating out of grief and drowning all the other animal lovers in my tears.

  15. "Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form." -Rumi