Fear vs. Hope

I realized the day after I wrote about aliens that it was a post generated by and promoting fear.  At least that's how I feel about it, and that's not really what I intended to do.


Do the alien dreams I have genuinely worry at me?  Yes.  Do videos like the one I posted freak me out?  Yes.  Do I think there is a rational reason to be afraid, and that the phone call in that video is genuine?  At the risk of sounding like a lunatic, yes.


After all that, do I think our future is bleak and hopeless?  No.  A thousand times no.


I'm not always entirely sure where the hope lies.  Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how big and out of my hands it all seems, how little there appears to be that I can do.  This is true of life in general, and at times I've allowed myself to sit and stagnate.


That, I've learned, doesn't help.


I'm not always sure what action I can take to make myself feel better, and the idea of being in control of something I know precious little about other than how deeply troubled I feel about it is ludicrous, really.  I think the best I can do is try my hardest to make day to day decisions about life that I can live with, and be prepared to put up a fight against Darkness and Evil wherever I see them.  Hopefully then, if the shit hits the fan in a way that I've dreamt about, I'll be ready to do something about it instead of being frozen in fear.


And if it never happens, well, then I'll have lived a life that I hope I can look back on and say, yes, I did the best I could with what I had, and I strove to improve on that every day, and promote Light instead of Darkness, and Hope instead of Fear.

Alien Encounter

As far back as I can remember I have had strange dreams.  I say strange but what I really mean is other people find them strange, disturbing even, while I find them perfectly normal.  To wake up after having been run through with a spear held by Mel Gibson's William Wallace intrigues me.  I find it simple to go about my day after running from former friends by escaping through a secret door into a snow maze in a town suddenly filled with enemies at every bend...as long as it happened in a dream.

Every so often I'll have a dream that for no rational reason disturbs me.  Sometimes it'll be a dream about demons, but those don't always bother me upon waking.  A dream about Oliver Twist, or being an orphan, or being chased by a clown who wanted to drug me with cough syrup.  It's usually because of whatever the dream was telling me, and I know to pay attention to those ones, the ones that last with me all day.


There are only two categories of dreams that I always awaken from in a cold sweat.  Dreams about Ecthroi - and dreams about aliens.  I've only had Ecthroi dreams in the past few years.  I've had alien dreams almost as long as I can remember.  They've always left me deeply terrified, the kind of fear you'd get if someone really truly was out to harm you and there was nothing you could do about it.


The dreams all have similar points in common.  They always start innocuously, with me looking up at the night sky and enjoying, or at the least indifferent to, the stars.  Every time I notice that some of the stars are different colours than normal - faintly green or red.  And every time, once I notice that, I see that these stars are moving, and creating formations, and coming down out of the sky.  They are not stars at all.  They're ships, filled with aliens.


This is where the variations come in.  The aliens either kidnap me and send me to another world to work as a slave, a world that I have no chance of ever escaping, so that I will never get to come back home to my family where I belong.  Or they pretend to be friends of mankind but the moment that anyone expresses doubt (or even thinks doubtful thoughts) they begin their hostile takeover.  Or they don't bother with the facade and just begin killing and enslaving mankind.


I always have the urge to hide, every time.  You know that urge you got when you were a kid (and maybe still get now although you'll never admit it), that crazy sudden need to hide as fast as possible from what, you never really knew?  And there was a hint of exhilaration, like how a kitten must feel when they're going through their midnight crazies?  Well, it's like that but instead of excitement it's terror, sheer terror, and I know to my bones that if I don't hide, if I can't get away, that my life is going to be complete hell.  It'll probably be a really short life, but what's left of it will be hell on earth.


So when I see videos like this...well, it gets to me.  Because this is what I see - and I've seen it since before I knew about the internet.  When I didn't have a TV.  When there was no way that I know of that I could have gotten this information from anywhere but my own subconscious mind.  And I don't know how to reconcile that without freaking myself the hell out.


http://youtu.be/RjGYSGbAEUM

Yeah.  That phone call at the end?  FREAKS ME OUT.  Genuinely.  Because it sounds absolutely real and if it is, what does that mean?

What does that mean for all of us?

I've recently heard an idea that what we perceive as UFOs are not extraterrestrial in origin, but supernatural.  That resonates with me, and not in a good way.  If you think about it, almost all UFOs and aliens behave in ways that defy the laws of physics...but they follow all of our understood rules for the supernatural.  Plus, they've been lying to us on a regular basis about where they come from.  Anything that shows up and lies to us can't be trusted - I'd go further and say that they're probably our enemies.

What if aliens aren't from another world at all?  What if they're just another, modern disguise for demons?

I know some people who read this will write me off as a kook.  And some of you will think it's endearing, how I believe this is all true.  But I don't really care.

Because I'm the one having the dreams.

Keeping The Faith

When I was a kid, I used to have recurring themes in my dreams. Usually the theme was pretty broad - violence was a common one, with either me killing other people or them killing me. Violent dreams never bothered me, not then and not now. Apparently I'm a bit of a freak that way.

For a while it was shapeshifting, only nobody could see me becoming the other, and my sheer belief wasn't enough to keep it real even for me most of the time. I can't begin to describe how frustrating those ones were...and still are.

And there was the phase of the chasing dreams, where I was being hunted down and only my belief in my invisibility would save me. These ones almost always worked, but that's because by the time these ones came along I had learned to lucid dream (by accident and desperation, mostly, so don't ask me how to do it because I really have no idea) and could control certain aspects of the dream to keep myself safe.

Recently - and by recently I mean the last year or two - I've had a lot of dreams where Darkness is out to get me. Now, I have a confession to make. I am afraid of the dark. Not terrified, but afraid, like a spooked and skittish lamb who's too curious to leave well enough alone in spite of the fear. I always have been afraid of the dark, and I've always refused to cater to that fear by using night-lights or leaving a hall light on or by doing anything to alleviate the fear except by ignoring it and telling myself that the dark is not there to hurt me. I used to go check on my full-to-bursting pregnant ewes at night and not use my flashlight until I had to actually see if their bodies were still round or not, as a sheer test of my nerve. Of course, I had my dog with me. That always helped.

But this Darkness, the Darkness in my dream, it is there to hurt me. It wants me and I don't know why. It is not just darkness - it's Darkness. Ecthroi, nothingness, all-consuming Darkness and it's evil and it wants me and I don't know why and it does more than scare me. It fucking terrifies me.

Most of the time I have a guardian in my dreams. A giant butterfly, a bird, a candle. An angel. Faith. Hope and a source of light within myself. Usually all I have to do is face the darkness and it recoils from the light it sees within me.

But last night - none of that was there.

I was alone, alone in the dark, with lost spirits grasping for me, sad and confused girls reaching from the walls, the dark a deep greeny-blue-grey dusk and there was no way out and there were no doors or windows. I couldn't see and no matter how hard I prayed or squeezed my eyes shut I had no light inside, no light outside, no guardian beside me to protect me or inspire me to find my own protection. Nothing.

It was the most frustrating, terrifying experience I can recall ever having. And I've seen an actual evil spirit.

And then light burst through but within seconds - not even seconds - I knew it was fake, it was a facade put up by the Darkness to fool me into letting down my guard and do you know how exhausting it was to keep that up? Fuck.

I felt myself fighting my way through the layers of dreams I was trapped in and finally was able to reach over and feel S. there beside me and in that I knew I was safe, he was real, he wasn't evil and he wouldn't let them get me, and with that the true light burst through the facade, the Darkness recoiled and I was left in my sleep in peace.

And then instead of falling into peaceful dreams, I turned back and prayed to God and apologized for finding safety in S. instead of in Him, and couldn't focus enough on the true light to finish my prayer before I was sucked away into another dream and gone entirely into the land of sleep once more.

At least it wasn't another terrifying dream. It was something mundane and normal enough I don't remember it at all and it didn't stick with me in any way.

Upon true waking, I find it interesting that I felt guilt for finally finding peace somewhere.

And I find it absolutely terrifying that I couldn't find the light inside myself this time.

What if it's gone? What if I can never find the light again?

What if the light is love and I can't find it in God anymore?

Then at least thank God I can find it in S. I can find the light somewhere. Maybe I shouldn't try to analyze this so hard. If I couldn't find the light at all I'd be screwed. I'd never sleep again.

And I should probably blame at least a little bit of this terror on the fact that I've been sick for 4 and a half days now and my mind is probably exhausted and fuelling my dreams with fever and confusion; but that's precious little comfort when the feeling of the dream is still stuck on my skin and in my mind like a mist from a fog that won't quite brush off me. Like spider webs I can't find but I can feel.

So I look up and see the face of the man who I can touch who I know loves me; and I take what I can from that and try to remember that God loves me so much more that I can't even comprehend it (which is the problem, isn't it? If I could comprehend it maybe I'd remember it better...) and try to keep the faith.

Whatever that means.