Random Sketching, and Looked What Showed Up
Didn't mean to, it just came out that way. The ubiquitous aliens-in-the-bedroom drawing. Here's the original:
And then I played around with the color enhancement thingie and this felt right (as if there is anything "right" about this realm.)
We've seen these before; these drawings of faceless, ghost like beings peering down at us while we're asleep and unaware of the presences surrounding our beds.
I've written before that I have memories of little "wolf like" (gray, short, jabbering) beings surrounding my bed when I was a child. Jim, my spouse, has had similar experiences. (The Synchronicity of Puppet Wolves: Binnall of America 2007)
In looking at this sketch, I realize these entities are not all that short -- not the typical gray alien so commercialized and now a non-event in pop culture. The gray has replaced the little green man from mars as cartoon. Prevalent and used to promote all manners of entertainment. Yet there is one little guy (that's how I think of him, without thinking of him…)
What does all this mean? I'm not to say. I don't know. This not knowing annoys some. As if, because I've had these experiences, I should somehow know. I wish to hell I did know. But I'm not a prophet. I have some theories that are in constant stages of movement. A dance, and all performers come together in one beautiful display but abruptly break apart, flowing back into an alleged chaos. I continue to research and speculate and explore with others their experiences, but I don't know. I guess. I dream. I draw. I manipulate the memories, hoping to evoke some truths out of what's hidden inside.
And then I played around with the color enhancement thingie and this felt right (as if there is anything "right" about this realm.)
We've seen these before; these drawings of faceless, ghost like beings peering down at us while we're asleep and unaware of the presences surrounding our beds.
I've written before that I have memories of little "wolf like" (gray, short, jabbering) beings surrounding my bed when I was a child. Jim, my spouse, has had similar experiences. (The Synchronicity of Puppet Wolves: Binnall of America 2007)
In looking at this sketch, I realize these entities are not all that short -- not the typical gray alien so commercialized and now a non-event in pop culture. The gray has replaced the little green man from mars as cartoon. Prevalent and used to promote all manners of entertainment. Yet there is one little guy (that's how I think of him, without thinking of him…)
What does all this mean? I'm not to say. I don't know. This not knowing annoys some. As if, because I've had these experiences, I should somehow know. I wish to hell I did know. But I'm not a prophet. I have some theories that are in constant stages of movement. A dance, and all performers come together in one beautiful display but abruptly break apart, flowing back into an alleged chaos. I continue to research and speculate and explore with others their experiences, but I don't know. I guess. I dream. I draw. I manipulate the memories, hoping to evoke some truths out of what's hidden inside.
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