Dentist Chair Don Juans: Love Radio and the Scaly Father

My reptoid-demonic visitation c. 1991 (recreation/collage - 2011)

In a recent Phantoms and Monsters post, Lon gives us the recounting of a man's struggle under the ether getting his wisdom teeth pulled out"

"...as he pulled on my teeth I saw his face change to an egg shape! Now the pain that I believed I was experiencing and the total lack of being able to communicate this, and the fear and anxiety of my predicament, brought on what I believe to have been an altered state of consciousness. For suddenly I heard a roaring noise in my ears and everything began to spin around and I seemed to come too and of being in a black void but feeling very peaceful. I had no memory of who I was or where I had just been it did not seem to matter. I did not seem to possess a body and yet I remember feeling that I was in an upright position."

Now, I've had similar gas experience getting my wisdom teeth out - when the gas hit it was like being 'sucked under' by a giant wave. Then I felt myself at the bottom of a huge deep hole; I could hear the dentist far above me, complaining about one of my teeth: "man, these are some roots!" Finally I heard a big crunch and he breathed a sigh of relief as the tooth came out. I didn't feel any pain, just heard the crunch echo above me, like a tree being hit by lightning...I was safe down in the hole, and then I dissolved into oceanic space until I awoke... in pain.

What puzzles me isn't the validity of these experiences, or why Lon chooses to mention the particular one above in his blog, but the great problem of separating 'real' experience vs. the 'possible' or completely subjective, especially based on what we are learning about the true nature of the universe as related to perception. For someone who is not a scientist, any scientific explanation of unusual phenomena can sound like a dismissal, yet that may not be the case. A psychologist's idea of a hallucination may be more respectful than we'd think on the layman side of things. But is there ever such a thing as "just" a hallucination, when our perception of matter as solid is itself a hallucination? Who decides which is which?

Science privileges a kind of basic blindness to magnetic energy patterns as being 'the norm', even while admitting that physical matter is really just energy. In other words, if we see things as vibrating energy--as they really are--we are considered to be 'hallucinating.'

Flash back to November 1991 - I was very sick--a huge terrible fever-- and woke up one early evening around 6 PM (it was dark already, being the winter) after 23 solid hours of writhing in fever delirium. Drenched in sweat, shivering, stuck halfway in the grips of sleep paralysis, I sensed a presence in my bedroom. I fought my way out of the SP and sat up in bed in time to see this tall demonic figure looming over me (see composite illus. above). My room was dark but I could see the highlighted outlines of the being via the moonlight and the streetlight outside coming in through the window, reflecting on the spines of books on my tall bookshelf. It was 'invisible' though I saw every edge, tooth and the eyes and body (it seemed to manifest itself via the air around it). It was smiling and laughing noiselessly at me, amused that I could "finally" see it there in my room. All my hairs stood on end; I kept screaming at the top of my ravaged lungs, in a blind panic: leave! go! Go AWAY! It smiled wider--laughing at me (but not making a sound)--and gradually, almost mockingly-- faded back to moonlight reflections on my bookshelf. I remember feeling awed at the perfection with which every detail of the creature fit perfectly back in the scheme of the light on the bookshelf. I ran downstairs, terrified and elevated, feverish, raving. My mom downstairs preparing dinner hadn't even heard my screams.

I've seen demonic hallucinations here and there in waking 'altered states' before and since, but never were they allowed to get "that far" before I'd pull away my attention. I instinctively realized the best way to deal with these beings is to ignore them when they're still at the "shadow" stage not stare and recoil in horror or fascination because they can kind of feed on fear energy to manifest themselves into your consciousness, and from there it's a short jump to actual corporeal presence, at least on some pan-dimensional level.  It's mind-boggling to watch a demonic figure form itself from, say, the patterns of a fire in a fireplace on the side of leather couch, or a painting on a wall, getting closer to you and more sinister the longer you stare. Scientists dismiss this stuff because they have a name for it: "hallucinations." But if you follow real science to the end of the quantum physics rainbow, then you know: if you see it, it exists, because you're seeing it, and just seeing the thing gives it power to manifest, as part of the subjective bioverse.

Maybe science is trying to protect us by saying "Look away!" or to belittle these visions as inconsequential remnants of an archaic anthropomorphic visual cortex (we're hard-wired to find faces in everything) on fire with fever or drug withdrawal. When one thinks of the Catholic exorcist strategy of ignoring telekinetic displays from possessed patients or houses, of refusing to be shocked or scared or acknowledge anything's out of the ordinary, this is perhaps a clue of how science uses skepticism as a way of protecting us from being invaded. If we look at these things too long with too much fear, who knows how corporeal they may become?

When I was a small child I was obsessed with the big question of genetics: Not 'where do babies come from' - I thought I knew where (mom's stomach)--but rather how my father's features magically came into me without him being directly involved in my birth. I remember never getting a straight answer. My mom eventually agreed with my hypothesis that it was a kind of magical transmutation brought on from being in love, and so I imagined my dad's genes coming over to my mom and into my embryo via something like 'love radio'. I struggled to grasp this, but knew it didn't quite fit either. Something was being withheld from me; I wasn't 'ready' for the truth. This was and is the great human mystery that confounds all small children.

 In my opinion, evolution and creationism are both examples of 'love radio' concepts. They too mask the traumatizing real of who our true father is and how his genes got 'in us.'

The issue of mankind's origins via either evolution or the Old Testament seem much the same as my mom's original explanation and my own elaboration which she begrudgingly accepted. Our resemblance to 'the mother' - the original man/neanderthal/ape is clear enough from our cursory resemblance, but the father element--who he is and how we got his genes (the 97% we term junk DNA) has never been adequately explained, with the Darwin line being adhered to by our motherly scientists who have been brainwashed to overlook the most obvious lapses in narrative logic simply because the alternatives sound too much like science fiction or religion. Their reticence is akin to mom's withholding information about sex because I was too young. We, as a species, are similarly considered too young to know where our cosmic 'daddy's' genes come from.We're supposed to buy the idea of natural selection gradually changing primates to man, even without any fossil evidence for the many 'missing links' between. While it's supposedly plausible, this doesn't feel true to me anymore than the love radio theorem I proposed to mom. 

What's funny is that these same Darwinists --ignoring the lack of fossil evidence showing millions of years worth of 'in-between' ape man and modern humans--refuse to believe UFOs due to lack of evidence!! Such hypocrisy is expected in parents, but surely not mainstream science. Our current situation of UFO denial is like if my mom promised to tell me about 'the secret' of inheriting my dad's genes when I was older, then forgot her promise, got used to denying and obfuscating, and now I'm in my 40s and she's still refusing to tell, still insisting my love radio concept as right.

I mention all this as build up to a hallucination/vision I had a long ago, wherein a jet black evil alien source ripped back, like a tide, the delusional surface of our linear temporal reality, like a Mad magazine gatefold opening back out to show the full picture, showing whole chapters missing from our history, completing and changing the content utterly as it went along, the way a child might grow up to suddenly inherit his father's staggering debt, or learn some awful truth that's illuminated in a flash the awful prison of existence. Our history books all instantly-- along the ripple line of this tide--changed to include alien domination since the dawn of time. Books morphed right there on the shelves in accordance with our true situation, and all humanity instantly forgot there ever was a time this was not always so. People who smirk at the idea of the apocalypse don't realize how quickly the veneer of our civilization can be just wiped away in an instant.

A good example of what I mean can be found in the footage of the Japanese tsunami, where modern civilization is seen as banal, routine, and intact at the start of a five minute video, and by the end, completely and forever changed. You can sense the change even in the attitude of the camera man, who first films with a kind of jaded 'ooh look a that!' impunity, but within a few eternal minutes, has begun seeking higher ground and is overcome with fear and compassion for the hundreds of victims around him:



Who knows, maybe we'll wake up one day and even this blog entry will be different. And headlines in the papers wont say "Alien Menace Revealed as Truth" it will skip all that and presume we've always known and suddenly we will have always known and never even remember a time when our evil alien masters weren't in charge. It will be similar perhaps to how learning about sex forces children to restructure their entire belief system to that point; pride prevents them from remembering a time when they didn't already know the truth. When our little bubble of space time amnesia is popped, we won't even remember our last birthday let alone a time before disclosure. 

Of course this all speculation, but if it feels true, maybe it is. But why is Nostradamus' speculation revered and the rest of us get a priori dismissals? Certainly once you admit the reality of alien visitations--even in theory--a whole vast web of unpleasant concerns opens itself up, and that's the only thing that explains the reason, I think, that debunkers and CIA agents feel such a need to prove it's all hoaxes and hallucinations. They're plugging the dam with their finger, because once that dam breaks their positions of power will be as gone as that Japanese town in the video above. We wont just jump one level in consciousness, we'll jump ten, and the first nine will vanish beneath the waves.As always, we make the leap right as the ground we were standing on falls away beneath us.

Mom, Dad, and phallic probe / trident

Believing in UFOS doesn't mean anything, technically. After all, a UFO by definition is unidentified. When we 'believe' in aliens they won't be UFOs anymore -- they will have names, like Hannebu II, or Orybrid ZX, or the Triangle 5.9 Turbo, new from Mistubishi Galactica. Our world will seem a lot less small, and scientists, Darwinists and Sunday school teachers alike, will have to scramble to explain why they're not the latest version of flat earth society, or phrenologists.

Even mystical visions can trick you that way. In September of 2006 I was meditating one afternoon after work, when I felt the sky and wall dilate open behind me an a giant electromagnetic hand touched my shoulder, enlightening me instantly. For two months I was completely egoless and in tune with love for my fellow man. But I got carried away and would up making a pass at this girl I was infatuated with, who rejected me and I felt that inner God voice sneering and laughing at me the whole subway ride home, as if everything from the hand of God on upwards had been a way of conning me into risking my soul for this girl and getting shot down. Now that I was in such heartsick misery, I felt the god feeding off me, like I was a slot machine that he'd been rigging up and now was paying off big time, all that holy soul energy he'd cultivated he now stripped off me like clothes for the poor.

Now maybe I was just 'imagining' all this - it was 'magical thinking' - but at the same time, so what? It's all just perception and we have to go on what feels more real, especially if we're writers and artists. Whole months can go by these days that don't seem as real as that godly hand on my shoulder, or the glowing demon in the bookshelf. .

There's a certain assumption among left-brained scientists that hallucinations are somehow 'less' than reality, but it's the opposite: they're more. They spill through when our perceptions overheat and dilate, letting in more information than is normally good for us. Our senses have 'blinders' on them that filter out up to 90% or so of all the information coming at us. Hallucinations and visions could be said to be moments when the blinders fail and dreams and reality leak into one another-- but isn't this in a way a much more 'real' situation? As we spend 1/3 of our life sleeping aren't we rather too quick to dismiss everything we experience with our eyes closed as just fluffy nothing? Meanwhile memory and reflection change even the most concrete experiences, shrouding and distorting the more we record, write, and relay them.

My point is vague, but that's perhaps intentional... anything more concrete tends to dissolve the glimmering outline of the truth - a truth that is fluid as an ocean of mercury, or 120 channels of satellite television with a remote that's stuck on changing channels every second. Perhaps we should begin concerning ourselves less with evidence and empirical truth--trying to convince those who don't want to be convinced--and instead concentrate on evidence's immateriality, and the passing, holographic nature of all things. The minute we look too long at a single flickering shadow, we're enslaved by draconian obsession, the need to prove what we're looking at is 'real.' When we can worm our way free of needing to prove or believe anything; when we move past true/false, right/wrong, life/death and all the other phony dichotomies, only then will we be ready to learn where babies truly come from, and to gaze unafraid and unstoned into the eyes of our true Medusa Mother.