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luckylittlelady
 Rep: 20 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

Wow! Some really interesting tales.

James, I will never tire of hearing that midget and Frankenstein story no matter how many times it's told!

BurningHills
 Rep: 15 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

BurningHills wrote:

Very cool/weird experiences - I can't say that I've ever had anything like that happen to me - and it's probably for the better!

Horrific
 Rep: 7 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

Horrific wrote:
luckylittlelady wrote:

I am open minded as to the existence of ghosts/whatever.

I sure do believe in other beings.I dont remember much from my childhood but my mom says I used to talk in strange languages and that I use too see things/ghosts/entities.I almost onetime according to her jumped through a window.I do remember being scared at that house and then I would stand and sleep next to my mom's bed as she wouldnt allow me to sleep in her bed.Crazy stuff.

polluxlm
 Rep: 221 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

polluxlm wrote:

I don't know if I should call this a supernatural experience, but it sure was weird.

2 nights ago I had a horrific nightmare. I immediately recognized certain things to be a reflection of recent thoughts, experiences and fears. I've always had this instinct when I'm dreaming that it's just a dream, not this time though. It felt shockingly real.

I was someplace alone. Nothing specific, just an apartment or something. The look was reminiscent of some ideas in my head of what a living room looks like. I was going to smoke some pot, but felt a slight sensation of pain in my left eye. As I had finished my reefer I started getting paranoid, thinking I was gonna go blind. Not too surprising considering that I at that point had lost all the muscles in my eyelid. The eyeball had swollen to the size of a tennisball. It was on the edge of bursting out of my head. This went on for awhile until a friend of mine appeared which eventually led to us seeking medical help.

The 'hospital' we went to was just another apartment where apparently 2 doctors lived 10 I have no memory of them being gay, the whole situation just felt natural. Anyway, they refused to treat for whatever reason, and it came to some discussion. When it finally seemed to go somewhere I woke up, and that's when the freaky part happened.

I was in that strange phase where you know you've had a nightmare and is waking up to the real world, but still not quite conscious. Suddenly I saw this sharp red painting reminiscent of these ancient battles on the wall right in front of me. It was little detail, just clear cut red shapes of warriors and symbols facing each other in a symmetric fashion. Hard to explain, so I found these pictures:

flower-of-life-symbol-big.gifmain.jpg

Imagine those 2 merging with red characters on a black background.

Naturally I was shocked to see this when I thought I was just gonna see my room. I then blinked my eyes and in the next instant the image faded to the degree of only being like a whisper on the edge sight. Shortly after that I saw the wall and was back in my room. In my position the left eye was the farthest from the bed, still I felt that same sensation of pain I had in the beginning of the dream. An hour or so afterwards I was back to normal, at least physically.

the_real_jessica
 Rep: 22 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

I'll think about it, i'll re read it and think it over..

Did it leave you with a feeling of you wanting to go to a certain place ? to visit ? somewhere you've never been ? or did it leave you with a sense of duty, something that has to be done ?

polluxlm
 Rep: 221 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

polluxlm wrote:
the_real_jessica wrote:

I'll think about it, i'll re read it and think it over..

Did it leave you with a feeling of you wanting to go to a certain place ? to visit ? somewhere you've never been ? or did it leave you with a sense of duty, something that has to be done ?

It left me with a feeling of having been someplace. Kinda like being plugged into a higher plane of reality.

Imagine looking at something you've known all your life but with different eyes.

Actually, you just made me remember something. One of the first thoughts that popped into my head was that dreams are visitations to parallel universes.

James
 Rep: 664 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

James wrote:
polluxlm wrote:

One of the first thoughts that popped into my head was that dreams are visitations to parallel universes.

Thats actually not a bad theory.

the_real_jessica
 Rep: 22 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

Parrallel ?

Hmm, seeing something you've always known with different eyes reminds me more of a past life if anything.

Aussie
 Rep: 286 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

Aussie wrote:

Ok well here's one experience I had when I was about 8 or 9.

My grandfather had a heartattack at our house and died there.  For years he had smoked a pipe with the same brand of tobacco - Erinmore flake (I think it was called).  Anyhow, a number of times after his death we could smell the tobacco scent coming from around the chair he used to sit in.  You could smell if for a minute or two then it would stop.  My sister and my mom could smell it too.

On another occassion I was sitting in our family room watching TV.  To my right hand side there was a big long window that looked out onto our front yard and it had a little path right in front of it.  Anyhow, while I was watching TV something moving caught my eye through the window, I looked over to see a figure (that in the fleeting moment I saw it, it looked like my grandad) walk past the window down the path.   

Bascially the front of the house had a big long window, followed by a wall then a second window.  So after I had seen the figure walk past the front window and dissappear from view because of the front wall of our house, I looked over to the second window since if they kept walking I would see them then go past that window too.  Our cat also used to sit on the window sill of the second window.  When I looked over to there to try and confirm who was out the front - nobody went past the window.  However, the cat was standing up arching it's back with it's hackles right up staring at something in front of the wall of the house.

So I basically get up and run out the front door which was straight off the living room anyhow and go to have a look out the front of the house.  I get there in about 2 or 3 seconds and there is nobody there.  We have a big front yard that is bascially all lawn so you could see prettty far so nobody would have had time to run off without me seeing them.  It was weird.

Later that night we could smell the tobacco again too.

sic.
 Rep: 150 

Re: Supernatural Experiences

sic. wrote:

This is a letter I once wrote to a friend, who'd had similar experiences.

---


Dear ---,


I find myself reluctant to get into the following matter over the telephone. I fear the overall quality of my spoken English and the lack of at-hand notes would make my entire testimony garbled and easily misunderstood. Yet I feel it should be acknowledged in some form. Our recent conversations have strengthened my trust over you and knowing you're not the first person to shy off from the unconventional (not to mention your interest and knowledge regarding the Celtic culture), I figure you might be a reasonable choice to discuss the matter with. Ironically, it superficially has nothing to do with our mutual relationship, yet we may have incidentally studied the same ground. This is my story and I'm sticking to it.

I started paying attention to my dreams a few years ago. While your dreamscape was ruled over by the walking man, my dreams were haunted by a lady. Since the dawn of the new millennium, she'd appear steadily every few years, initially emerging as a fair lady in the gallows and morphing into a hag during the same dream. She'd stab me in the chest with a dagger if only to disappear for an undetermined time. A few years later she returns; first the lady, now well into a state of decay, followed by the hag, emerging behind my back and taunting me, saying aloud whatever would cross my mind and daring me to return to the woods of my native Middle-Finland home. I never saw her then, never looked back.

The third dream took place some months after first meeting you in 2004. At that time I was in a folk high school, living in the middle of the city in an old, maze-like building, with the remnants of a damn-near Suspiria-like witch's cradle still visible after the renovations. There were five floors, in the dream I see my father in the second one. The ground floor (which was now below ground level) is overran by malicious spirits. My father is visibly sorry towards me, telling how he'd always wanted to spare me from whatever it was that by now had invaded the premises below.

Situated in the third floor, I see the stairs leading up to the fourth. There is a woman, who at that time was posing in the dreams as my muse; call it artistic aspiration, if you may. It's dark up there. The darkness has worn out her eyes, driven her insane. She's running up and down the stairs frantically, yet never does she descend fully into the light to appear in plain sight. At that moment, I know what was waiting for me up in the fifth floor, yet I do not understand what it means. It is what I fear the most. In my dream, I call the apparition '˜the three-fold woman'.

Little under a year later, I started maintaining a dream diary out of a whim. Nothing really came out of at first, the most interesting bit crawled out of the woodwork in the form of a waking life vision. I was in front of a mirror when all of a sudden, I saw a red-headed woman sitting on an old tree trunk, the sun setting into the impenetrable woods behind her. Her voice was inhumanly fast, whispering something about a rope she'd been weaving out of her own hair, which she'd then used to climb up and reach me.

In December, the night after I'd confided to an old friend about the vision, I see the two of us back in the folk high school. Behind him, at the corner of my eye, I spot movement. I tell him someone's about to hang himself. I repeat the words as the rope tightens. In a flash we scurry, preventing a re-enactment of her death over six years prior. Her, a naked lady with raven-black hair. The very same who'd previously decayed nearly beyond regocnition. I carry her in my arms, trying find something to revitalize her. A plainclothes doctor is chasing me, yelling I'm heading in the wrong direction. I keep on going despite of it. She's already cold and pale as I find someone. She's being hosed with water. Her body regains color. There's a bleeding in her upper lip; once the stream hits it, it's as if the colored liquid throws a crimson veil over her features. I feel ill.

After this I briefly find myself walking on the street and calling the other half of a past acrimonious split, now feeling the appropriate guilt yet being unable to change the course of events. It all happens again, pretty much as I had remembered it. After this, I am back in front of the mirror. I look into it, see the spiral beyond matter, beyond life. I now realize the road taken will lead me to die alone; into this cold abyss. Then I see it. It looks like me, although I know it's a shell, possessed so that something might be able to speak to me. 'Cul-de-Sac', it says. I shudder, lower my gaze. As I look back up, I see my own reflection again, now magnified, out of focus. The last fright.

The first half of the following year was spent with my vigorous attempts in turning the lady of my dreams into a workable student film screenplay. I was quite pleased with the results, even if I failed to translate any of the above sequences into a cinematically doable form as such. But those are the films, I'd imagine, interpretations of the symbols found in our most profound nocturnal journeys.

The dreams eased on down somewhat during the writing, with the lady taking various shapes and guises while visiting me, as if to peek above my shoulder without startling me by appearing in her innermost form. The film is yet to be made, and this story remains unfinished. While biding my time between projects, another friend (oblivious of everything I've written above) suggested I'd read Ambrose Bierce's The Death of Halpin Frayser. Until then, I had remained a stranger to the Bierce novella. Saying I had shivers after reading it would be an understatement.

Feeling that through the Bierce novella, I had the chance to dig deeper into the three-fold lady, I immediately acquired Robert Graves' The White Goddess, a book with which I assume you're familiar with. This was last October, almost exactly a full year after the lady's first day-time appearance. Through the year, I had continued to keep a diary on my dreams, which now lends credence to some interesting events. While starting The White Goddess, I wrote my initial notes for future reference. They are dated for Oct. 21st, marking also the first time I ever sat down with the book. The night before, however, something else happened. 

In my dream, I'm in a prison, stirring a huge cauldron. We're boiling dead babies in their mothers' bodily fluids. The remains of the bodies can be sold out in the black market, the contents of the cauldron as moonshine. I'm jaded about my surroundings. Suddenly, there's a splash, and the brew sprays all over me. I inhale deeply, clearly smelling urine on my clothes. This is the first olfactory sensation I have in the entire dream, a moment of realization, if you may.

The following day I began reading about Graves' description of the Theme, God of the waxing year losing the fight to God of the waning year out of love for the Muse, the three-fold goddess, recurring in racial memory throughout the ages, along with examples of different female deities. One that struck a chord was the Sumerian Belili, goddess of the moon, love and the underworld, who, according to Graves, was demonized by the Christians as the masculine Belial. The Semitic Beliy y'al translates as 'from which one comes not up again'. Even though I was possibly looking for certain references I wanted to find, it all nevertheless sounded quite interesting.

From Graves' notes on The Book of Taliesin, I learned about the Cauldron of Cerridwen, also known as the cauldron of inspiration. Her little helper, Gwion, had three drops land on his finger while stirring the brew at the end of his year-long work. Consuming them made him aware of all things, past, present and future, also realizing Cerridwen would kill him, as the brew was reserved for her hideously ugly son, Afagddu. 'He fled away, and she pursued him like a screaming black hag.'

Alas, it wasn't until I got to reading about Cad Arianrhod when I truly began to worry whether my faculties had failed me. Graves makes Arianrhod (Silver Wheel) an aspect of Cerridwen, meaning the cauldron is also situated in her castle. The gist of it is that Cad Arianrhod was a prison, as it was referred to as such in the poem Hans Taliesin. Situated in the cold North, where the sun never shines, it was a royal purgatory for 'kings, chieftains, poets or magicians waiting to be reborn'.

Damn me for not tasting the brew. But the story goes on. In December 2006, a day short of a year of seeing the rather unpleasant dream about the spiral of death, I'm again with my aforementioned companion, this time enjoying some strange brews of our own. After overestimating my stamina, I throw up and fall down into blackened haze. After regaining conciousness, I try to piece together whatever it is I now had the strange memory of seeing.

An image that keeps popping up reminds me of the Scottish Highlands. I've never been there, but apparently it feels right. The moors are divided by a waist-high stone wall, reaching into both sides as far as the eye can see. Following the wall, I come across a gateway to the other side, with the lady I've seen before expecting me. I'm quite relieved by her presence. She offers to let me in, even if I had arrived before my time. For whatever reason, I decide to part ways with her, heading back to my side of the moors, knowing she'll wait for me to arrive another day.

While I can never be sure whether this recollection was a strange figment of retrospective imagination or not, I hate to say I seem to find it all more plausible than I might prefer. What I would gladly refuse to speak out loud is that I occasionally feel that somewhere deep down, something wanted to reassure my concious mind about the existence of a level two, and that it can one day be reached without cheating. Regardless, for more than a month afterwards I felt like gliding through the days in a never-before experienced serenity.

As if there was a greater goal worth pursuing within.

Yours,

x

ps. In the midst of my writing, I took a pause to have a cigarette. As I came back, The X-Files was on in the background, with Fox Mulder giving a voice-over monologue on the war between Heaven and Earth, while visitors make first contact with anonymous government officials. Somehow his choice of words is what stays with me.

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