Alien abduction. Palyne Janku

Last night I fell into an OBE. I had just laid down a few moments before when I “fell out of my body.” The following seemed to come first before the rest, but later I wasn’t sure. Somehow I “learned” this. Don’t laugh… OK, go ahead…

In the midst of (Egypt?) lies a vast underground section almost a city. I know we recently discovered a room under the Sphinx’s paws; but this is much deeper, and extremely large. People here [on Earth] may know, someday, though they’ll likely never find their way down; but they will eventually find wells, in the upper underground, that go much deeper, almost impossibly deep. There is a way to open the whole area up; it requires a simultaneous movement of three or four objects in different places, though, that surround the opening area, and we don’t have the technology, even if we knew the method, and the “things” used to open it from the outside are either buried or unknown to us anyway. It will open of its own accord when it is time, but that is quite some time away.

They assume. The beings who think of themselves as “The Guardians” live there. [Predictable sci fi music here…but no kidding, that’s really the translation of the feeling I got.] Not necessarily, mind you, “protectors of humans” that wasn’t the feeling; Guardians of … Earth. Maybe the planet as a property is a better description.

In OBE-astral, I’m looking for them. I’m looking with my mind and feel calmly certain I can find them. I find myself flying through what I note is a “government warehouse.” (How would I know?) It is big beyond the wildest imagination of such a building, ridiculously large, possibly underground as well [or below something; but not the same place as in Egypt]. It is secret. In it is contained many things for investigation or deliberate hiding. Most things are in boxes, some the size of freight cars or larger but some are simply strange shapes that stand alone. Near the very back of the building, a huge shape that looks somewhat like a gigantic mutant beetle made of an unknown dark dull metal substance stands.

I realized that despite the odd looks, this was an actual “ship” by my definition; anyway, it traveled, carried people. I realized it was the same kind as could be found underground in Egypt as well; they were the same people. [It “match-ed” what I now “knew” from the education.] It seemed inert, dead, a weird hunk of something from the outside, but I knew there were beings in it, quite alive. I understood I was in an OBE, but that didn’t make any of it seem less valid; I understood I had to be, to find them, that was the whole point. I noted that since I was astral I was pretty much free to do as I pleased, unlimited by space. So I projected myself inside the thing. I don’t remember what I saw, but I do know that it was vastly bigger inside than outside. (This is all so predictable it’s embarrassing, I know…)

Next thing I knew, I was in a chair, watching a screen. The screen was detailing the history of the people, or some such thing. It then showed them visually. Their skin was light sand tan colored, rough like an iguana, in individual patterns; their eyes had vertical, cat pupils; they were humanoid. I recognized then that this was like the memory I’d had long ago; the one where I had never been sure where the memory came from. But the memory was clearly of one of these people, and I understood then why I’d been looking for the people: I’d just “unlocked” some portion of the memory, with my meditations that touched on well-blocked childhood memories.

I became aware that while I had been watching, life as normal was going on. I wanted to see and meet someone. I found myself at an open doorway, and I stood in the doorway and looked in. A number of them were seated at what would translate as visual consoles. It was almost dark; the “screens” had some light , but not bright light. I suddenly realized that this thing, this ship, was quite active.

I had assumed it was in storage, put there by the government or something; I realized at that moment that whether or not the foregoing was true, they were there by their choice. Perhaps the government had or had not stashed it here, it seeming inert, or maybe the vastness and secretiveness just made them able to use the building as some kind of safe base; in any case, it was clear conceptually that the ship didn’t require a landing strip, it traveled in some sense where all that was unnecessary, and so they were as happy to remain here just as safely ensconced as the others are under Egypt (but this was in the USA, was my impression) for now. They left whenever, and went wherever, they wanted anyway.

My eyes were either adjusting to the light, or astrally darkness doesn’t matter, I don’t know which. But after a short time I could see a little better. The folks sitting looked up at me, and regarded me silently and calmly as I stood there. They didn’t seem threatening. I looked at one of them, at the nearest console, closely. I noted that he was younger than the guy I had encountered before, or some difference I couldn’t place; maybe feminine, his face just seemed sweeter.

The face had a few less spiny ridges, the skin was smoother and a bit lighter in shade, and the eyes (and those of the others who were looking at me, close enough for me to sort of see) were not nearly the shade of the fellow I met. (His were shocking orange as I recall; theirs were … I’m unclear on the shade. I can see it, I just don’t have a word for that color. “Neutral but a color” is the best explanation.) Perhaps it was just lack of light, because this new fellow’s pupils were nocturnally widened; it was very dim in the room, and the pupils had widened toward round, though their vertical-ness was still apparent.

Remembering that they were telepathic (my only clear memory, besides the face, of the earlier meeting), I wondered if I could talk to them. Granted, I told myself, you are in astral here, but I figured, all the more reason why I should be able to. So I closed my eyes to focus better, and imagined myself “in” the fellow, merging as part of him, to communicate with him; I put it like a question; he didn’t seem threatening, and I was genuinely curious.

I opened my eyes and looked at him; he looked at me; he agreed, I agreed, and we sort of fell into the eyes [typical of most TP experiences]. I got this massive rush of feeling that hit my physical body back home. I could feel my body literally shaking with the rush, trembling as I lay on the floor, so intense I could feel my body gasping in its unconscious state … but that part of me felt far away.

But that’s where it ends; I don’t know where I was or what I experienced during our time together, sorry, no memory (nada zip zero it is GONE). Makes me SO mad! Gods, I hope he didn’t reblock anything in my head, took me decades and hard core meditation to get rid of the first block! And then, what felt like “later,” I found myself outside the big shape again; they had “put me down” and “put me back.”

I felt they’d been nice to me, showed me what I asked, and were done now, they felt I should go home. Again I flashed on the Egypt setting and wondered if I had actually been shown that in the “education” or if it really had come before seeing the craft; I wondered if it were possible that the whole experience had been designed for my education, as opposed to my “by chance” coming upon it or finding them. Then I “knew that there was no difference: we were connected and had always been.”

There is no indication of gender in any entity, I say “his” for ease. I only noted their faces; bodies were peripheral. Humanoid, except the cat eyes and lizardish skin and no hair. It seemed they’d been tolerant of me in the craft because they were quietly resting and doing work in this cavernous warehouse; I had the strong feeling I was a momentary novelty for the crew. I almost had the “sweet kid” feeling, like a stray kitten invokes. Though novelty, curiosity, even positive-ness and such feelings don’t necessarily imply emotion as we know it.

I recognized that I have no bad feelings toward those people. I had thought, after uncovering the original memory some years ago, that they were “bad guys,” since I felt incredible fear; and then later I heard of something perhaps similar to them, and they apparently have a lousy reputation in the UFO field. The brief flash of memory I have was accompanied by sheer terror, granted, but it was also accompanied by a warm, deep, telepathic bonded knowing. This “dream” made me realize, however, that they are not my enemy (or if they are, have convinced me otherwise very well thanks), and that I don’t have feelings of fear of them. That’s kind of nice.

But what a totally stupid set of imagery! Stupid! Gads, I’m so embarrassed, good grief, I’m afraid to even tell anybody this one. I could be wrong, but I bet they’ve searched the ground under every part of that section of the planet for lost pyramids and such, and I’m sure they’d have found such a place under the ground by now, wouldn’t you think? Could it be in astral? But “the Guardians?” Oh please. They could at least be original, a little more creative. Why on earth would they tell me all that junk?

[…]

I have plenty of psychological debates with myself about the entities: are they really separate, are they aspects of me under the archetypal “other guy” image, are they aliens or ascended masters or … but really, I guess it doesn’t matter. I still think it would be helpful to me intellectually if I had a better grip on the tablet (Enochian) entities as compared with the other schools of entities (our schools of category, probably not theirs).

Any help you could provide me in understanding this would be appreciated.

(Quoting B.H. response)

“On Enochian beings and modern aliens, you have hit one of my blind spots. I get a rash every time UFO’s and aliens come up. My basic reaction is ‘Yuck!’ Actually, this is the historical drift of ‘what does it all mean?’ Long ago, people took unexplained things to be similar to ordinary people and critters. There’s a nymph in that stream and a dryad in that oak — no problem, same as Fred and Georgette down the road at the old Gridely place, just folks. Then Government got into the act with state control of religion — some of these beings became categorized as Gods/Goddesses, Demons, Ancestral spirits, Elementals and the whole pantheon, by the book, government seal of approval and the like.

In John Dee’s time, Angels and Devils with neutral spirits in between, that was the fashion. Last century, it was spirits of the dead lost on their way to the other world — rather tacky approach, if you ask me. Now it’s egg heads with little green bodies from Sirius, with a dash of hobo wandering Atlanteans thrown in for leavening. I think Aliens and UFO’s amount to nothing but a Cargo Cult like that of the South Pacific after WWII — they are all going to land here some day and either take us home or give us good stuff.


“All of this labeling of the entities amounts to trying to fit a current cultural understanding on an underlying phenomenon that seems to be a constant throughout human existence. There are invisible, mental or spiritual things going on. Call it by whatever name makes sense at the time. It won’t change because the name changes. Names are for feeling comfortable in the present culture. As cultures change, names change. Same stuff, different pretty label. It’s the same, although more subtle, on the issue of whether these matters are a part of you or apart from you. Different cultures need to see it one way or the other.

“What it is, nobody knows.”


From Chapter 6
March, 1994

So I was thinking it was just some subconscious thing. This competes for the title of totally odd. Some time ago I woke up with this image in my head, so terrifically strong, of three letters: OTO. One of many impressions is that it was a group I had joined, or was supposed to, or something, but I couldn’t tell if it was “here” or just in a dream, if it was literal or symbolic. I didn’t know what it was, but I had the feeling it had something to do with consciousness or whatnot. I assumed if I’d dreamed it then I must have heard of it somewhere, like how Rosicrucians advertise in magazines, I might have seen the name.

But when I awoke, the letters were somehow a number of things at once: they were three dimensional and more, and it was like, on one level of thought they were the letters, and then there was a huge branching off into paths, where those letters stood for many different things. On other levels the letters were a number of things, like on one limb the O’s were eyes and it branched off, where the T was a number of different things; on another limb the whole thing was genitals; on others arrow and rings; on another a plus sign and zeros, and then there was concepts attached in general, like fire surrounded by water and stuff, and then a whole different group of ways of thinking where it somehow represented a process instead of a thing, I mean there were so many different meanings and objects and concepts all attached just to those three letters, I couldn’t begin to track them all.

Anyway, it wasn’t like I’d been told to find the group. It was like I’d realized that I’d already done it. Like now I just had to carry it out on the physical, or in this place, or time. And it wasn’t really like I’d been told right then — as that I’d sort of forgotten my own understanding and had merely been reminded about it.

Uncertain that it was anywhere but on the “dream level,” I chanced it and asked around the New Age Forum on the computer, though if it were real it had to be obscure I figured, and that forum’s into simple commercial things for the most part, so I didn’t have much hope. But amazingly enough, a couple of people not only had heard of it, but belong to it! It really exists!! They came out of the woodwork, quietly and privately, saying they don’t normally talk about it much in public. (Even if they did, they would be doing so in sections I don’t read, which explains why I didn’t know them.)

Anyway, get this! — it’s a secret society, basically. I was astonished. Apparently it’s a group that considers itself one of the descendants of the Knights Templars, Masonic types or some such. I don’t know what that means really; I thought the Masons were a social group. They say they’re ceremonial magicians, but I’m not sure exactly what that entails.

This guy L. and I have been talking at great length. Talk about funny: he’s involved with the topic of aliens. He thinks this thing called Enochian magick is really aliens or some such thing, at least some of them. He seems pretty nice, and intelligent, especially to be part of such a dark religion (which can only be described as a cult, though technically I guess, so is every religion), but he’s finally got it through my head that the organization, and magick (with a “K” they insist!), have nothing whatsoever to do with that sort of thing. Just my Christian upbringing hanging labels on everything else, as usual. And I thought I’d gotten over all that.

The story I get so far seems to be that (a) everything just “is;” there is no good or evil, just energy; and (b) everything to a degree is a reflection of Self. So magick is sort of …well, rituals, sort of another form of yoga is my take on it, that have been established, when the components are presented in a certain order and manner, to have a certain effect on the … mind. So you get to know yourself, and get to know the aspects which are yourself. To me it’s hypnosis and archetype work with a little grandiose drama.

I understand that I am inherently, like innately, part of it. Not even “one part” as that I am all of it, as if it were (the whole group, all the people, all the concepts) “composed of me.” Almost physically. How weird. Where did my subconscious hear of it, anyway? I’m not interested in magick, I’ve long avoided all such fields in fact, along with divination and the like. The result was such a “given” with me that although I know I’m supposed to find it and join, I’ve been looking into it, nervous about just jumping in, trying to learn more first. It would be pretty damned ironic if someone with as much experience studying theology and psychology as me ended up in some wacked out religious cult, now wouldn’t it…

But odd as it sounds, it doesn’t matter. I feel I belong to it, already, absolutely, period. The issues of what they believe, what they do, and all that stuff, seem almost completely irrelevant to me, and completely irrelevant to the point and the end goal (whatever that is, I have no idea).

I’m making a short story long, as usual. So I’ve been talking and writing up a storm with L. and others who are part of the group. They’re nice enough. Most of the people I’ve talked to seem intelligent, logical; more like the academic, intellectual and skeptical types, which seems odd (certainly nothing like the proto-Wiccan personality!). I mean many of these folks majored in physics, sciences or business, in general in fields where you just wouldn’t expect that personality to study magick, but I guess I don’t know anything about it is why I have those assumptions.

Some others, I find, hate the subject of aliens, and disagree with those who think they’re related to their … um, religion. There are many different people and belief systems working within the framework, it appears.

They study Qabala, which is Hebrew mysticism I’m told, which at first glance seems interesting enough.

From Chapter 10
June, 1994


Meanwhile, I had read a few of Aleister Crowley’s books and decided to petition for membership in the OTO. (As a humorous side note, this is connected to the Gnostic Catholic Church. So who says all the Catholic symbolism was for nothing, haha!) I met and spoke with leaders of a group an hour or two away from me (the nearest), and was accepted for initiation into the zero degree, known as “Minerval.” After that, I was given the option of taking the first degree as well, which I did. I’m not allowed, by fraternal oath, to say anything about initiations, or about private Order issues, so that’s the end of that subject. But my dreams, my experiences, my realizations and my thoughts belong to me, so that part of things I’ll include.

July, 1994

So after my initiation last night I was sleeping on a mattress in someone’s living room, and I woke up like when you have an out of body experience, and there were a bunch of other people/entities in the room with me. I realized they’d been there talking to me (and about me) for some time but I’d just gotten aware. I realized some of them had put this gold band around my head, a thin gold circlet, and I knew it had some “great significance” (at least to them).

I asked them where it came from but it seemed to have just “appeared” on me. (By the way, this may sound stupid, but I “feel” as if it’s still there.) So I realized it had something to do with my initiation. But it felt like … well I don’t think it had the snake thing, but it struck me as Egyptian. And I said, gently to be polite of course because they were obviously confused and I didn’t want to hurt their feelings, Well it doesn’t seem like this circlet is OTO stuff you know, the only Egyptian thing I’ve seen with them is that tablet. But they seemed to feel that there had been an “inner” initiation for me, regardless of the outer organization doing it, and this was their symbol/token of my … progress?

Talk about hilarious: as it turns out, a great deal of my personal symbolism turned out to be Egyptian-related, which was baffling to me, since I was not at all interested in that subject. Moreover, the entities must have thought I was an idiot, because it turns out the Order is quite connected to the Egyptian subject, intensely in fact, I just was so new to the subject at the time that I didn’t know it. And I was being so kind, too, haha!

[…]

Now and then I would have an experience where I would see somebody that I knew. There was L., a friend involved with both magick and the “alien” subject, and once in awhile I would encounter him “there.” The only time I remember clearly enough to spell out is the time when:

…from a distance I saw him calmly get into this box, like a coffin, sort of a horizontal version of the closets that fill with the blue gel-stuff, and it filled with the liquid. I ran to him but the box vanished into thin air before I got there. At the time I didn’t understand what was going on (I wasn’t lucid), and although the box disappeared, I was searching for him, thinking he had to be somewhere near, although he (and the box) was gone.

Next scene (non-linear) I found this family of women, sisters. There were half a dozen or so, don’t remember the exact number, and they were all different ages. The youngest was perhaps 7 years old, blonde, sweet looking and yet far too intelligent and confident for a child. I asked her where L. had gone and she didn’t answer me. I was afraid for him; I grabbed her and shook her until her teeth all but rattled, demanding that she tell me immediately. It didn’t seem to hurt or even bother her; she just extricated herself from my grip, looked at me calmly and walked away, leaving me baffled.

When I told L. this story, he and his wife burst out laughing. They said they regularly worked with someone in this “place” fitting this exact description, whom they call Madimi. Whether it’s actually the entity known by that name (in Enochian magick) or not, I don’t know; I hadn’t read enough on that subject yet to know of her, but she fits the description. (Coincidentally, I read about her within days.) Considering she’s supposed to be an angel, I guess my behavior was a bit out of line, eh.

It was interesting to me that not only was there a specific entity already documented matching one I’d met, but that L. and his wife recognized my description of a number of elements, including her. The concept of meeting people I actually knew there seemed amazing.

From Chapter 16
January, 1995


One night I flipped through a book called The Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, one of the books the Order folks had mentioned. I ignored the warnings — I had a hard time taking magick at all seriously — and drew one of the talisman-like squares from it, related to “invisibility.” (Seemed harmless enough, compared to the other stuff.) Getting bored, I tossed the book aside and watched TV until bedtime.

[…]

“…but really,” I found myself explaining to [him], “We do understand about things being more dimensional than ourselves.” I told him the story of the Flatlanders, and how many people have used this as an example, guessing that “entities” such as himself were extra dimensional or some such thing; that perhaps we just weren’t capable of seeing them. He listened patiently, I thought, but then said (in words? I’m not sure, but it translates to that), “You misunderstand. Extra dimensionality has nothing to do with why you don’t usually see me. Here…” and he carefully “held me by the edges” and focussed me directly upon him.

“Come on,” I said, laughing, understanding that he was “teaching me about invisibility” but not feeling I’d be up to performing it. “I bet I could balance a whole stack of Abramelin squares on my head and STILL not be invisible!” He seemed humored. “Look,” he said, suddenly serious, “Look at me.” And suddenly he was nowhere in sight. I looked around — where did he go?! But I could feel him there, somewhere, as if he were right in front of me. Again I felt him “holding me by the edges and focussing me,” and my vision got smaller and smaller until it was just a molecular dot, a searing focus of dagger point, and then it extended vertically, as if I were seeing through this tiny crack in a barely opened door.

And finally I could see completely through it, and was “there” with him, with a feeling of new focus that reminded me of those 3-D pictures so popular of late. It wasn’t as if I had to focus to get there … it was more like I had to unfocus and then allow my Will to work out refocusing my eyes where I wanted to see. It was as if any attempt to control my focus, to be in control, to insist on my own way of seeing it, doomed me to failure. Then when my brain sorted it out and the focus began coming into view, then I could take control again.

The key to seeing the invisible was not great effort, which in fact distracted me and made me attempt to focus on what I knew. And it wasn’t focusing larger than my world; it was actually focusing smaller, specifically, like looking through a keyhole, and then when you finally got the vision through the keyhole you got closer to it until the vision filled your whole sight.

As for being invisible, he indicated that it had to do with changing your own perception, as if somehow your own perception affected “where you were” and affected other people’s perception of you as a result. I wasn’t completely clear on this; I was confused about how, for instance, you could pay attention to “here” and yet “not” at the same time, so that you could operate in the same place you were being invisible in. He took me through it, demonstrating how there were many levels of consciousness quite available to me even in normal waking life, and showing me how I already had it worked out; the “level of thinking” I’ve always called “my anchor” proved I’d been doing the multiple thinking all my life anyway, “anchoring” one level of thought while using the “surface layers” for activity.

It seemed clear when I was there, but when I awoke a short time later I didn’t think I’d be able to do either — view, or hide — on my own.

 

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