January 26, 2008
In the 19th century, Edgar Allan Poe wrote a book called “The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym.” It was about four survivors of a shipwreck who were in an open boat for many days before they decided to kill and eat the cabin boy whose name was Richard Parker. Some years later, in 1884, the yawl, Mignonette, foundered, with only four survivors, who were in an open boat for many days. Eventually the three senior members of the crew killed and ate the cabin boy. The name of the cabin boy was Richard Parker.
The rest of them are equally creepy.
September 17, 2007
Last night I had a strange experience. In bed for the evening, I read until I was half-asleep. Then, after lights-out, I fell into what I can only describe as a waking sleep. My body was heavy and limp. My breathing was deep. My eyes were closed, yet I could still see around the room (it wasn’t in total darkness). I was asleep, but still conscious. I began to dream even as I could see around the room, like two movies superimposed upon one another. It was, without a doubt, one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. I felt like I was on the path to something higher, more intense, like an airplane at takeoff speed on the verge of leaving the Earth.
Just then, my daughter arrived to wake me and request a changing. After I tended to her, I returned to bed, unable to fall asleep, tossing and turning for a couple of hours.
Not sure what I did (or didn’t do) to bring this about, but I’d like to do it again. Has anyone out there ever experienced anything like this? I wonder if this isn’t some form of mild astral projection.
The day of my little trip, I remember having a very strong sense of spiritual optimism, as if answers to questions I’d long had were going to be answered soon, that I would soon experience some sort of illumination. I remember the intuition being so strong I got a little emotional.
Open the pod bay doors, Hal.
May 23, 2006
I came across this quote from Leonardo DaVinci’s “How to Make an Imaginary Animal Appear Real”:
If therefore you wish to make one of your imagined animals appear natural—let us suppose it to be a dragon—take for its head that of a mastiff or setter, for its eyes those of a cat, for its ears those of a porcupine, for its nose that of a greyhound, with the eyebrows of a lion, the temples of an old cock, and the neck of a water tortoise.
Something about that passage had a familiar ring to it, and I finally figured out why:
And the shapes of the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto battle; and on their heads were crowns like gold, and their faces were as the faces of men. And they had hair as the hair of women, and their teeth were as the teeth of lions. And they had breastplates, as it were breastplates of iron; and the sound of their wings was as the sound of chariots of many horses running to battle. And they had tails like unto scorpions, and there were stings in their tails: and their power was to hurt men five months. And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek tongue hath his name Apollyon (Revelation. 9: 7-11).
Does one illuminate the other? I shall have to ponder this . . .
May 1, 2006
That unique musical interval, tritones, that gives heavy metal music its creepy sound, was actually banned in the Middle Ages. It was called Diabolus in Musica, or the Devil’s Interval.
It’s a fascinating article, but Tree may have to give us a layman’s explanation of the musical theory involved.
February 13, 2006
In 2000, an Alabama man, Rod Spraggins, began having dreams about a murdered woman. In his dreams, the woman told Spraggins that she had been murdered by her husband. The alleged murderer was at the time a candidate for city council, and Spraggins entered the race for the express purpose of accusing the husband of the crime.
In a public forum attended by 100 people, Spraggins not only accused the husband of murdering his wife, but dared him to sue if Spraggins was wrong.
The husband never sued and for good reason . . . he did it.
January 10, 2006
Finally got to see “The Exorcism of Emily Rose.” I was anxious to see this film when I first heard of it, as I knew it was a dramatization of the attempted exorcism of Anneliese Michel, who died when medical attention was withheld during the ritual.
When I was a kid, one book I constantly borrowed from the library was “Mysteries of the Unexplained,” a Reader’s Digest book. It covers everything paranormal (up until about 1980, that is). I found a copy in a used bookstore a few years ago, and I still enjoy thumbing through it once in a while. One of the stories in the book that always haunted me was a short article about Anneliese, and I remember how tragic it seemed that this girl died in the grip of Satan.
Anyway, I told you all of that to tell you this: there was a scene in the movie—very well done and very scary, by the way—that brought back a chilling memory for me. Go lock your door and read on:
One night, about 6 or 7 years ago, I was in bed with my wife, and I woke up, unable to move. I could move my feet and hands and head, but it was as if metal cuffs restrained my legs, arms and neck. I felt a heaviness on my chest, as if someone were sitting on it. Indeed, at first I suspected that one of our cats might have been curled up there, but the cats—perceptive creatures that they are—were nowhere to be found. I struggled against my invisible bonds, but I was pinned to the bed. Oh, and no, I was not asleep. I have 34 years experience in sleeping and being awake—I know the difference. I began to panic, a state of mind I rarely experience. My hands and feet fluttered around helplessly. I tried to lift my head, and I felt something pushing against my mouth. I attempted a scream, but all I could manage was a muffled “mrrrrgh!” against the invisible hand muzzling me. It was enough noise to wake up my wife, and when she shot up awake, the spell was broken. I caught my breath, and didn’t sleep so well for the next few nights.
I can’t tell you what caused it, whether it was some odd brain activity or dark forces. All I know for sure is that it happened and scared me silly. One thing I did realize afterward is that what I experienced was a drop in the bucket compared to what poor Anneliese had to endure. I would guess that people under such a strange influence don’t much give a shit what’s causing it, they would just like it to be over.
If you have a similar story, I would love for you to share it.
January 4, 2006
An unusually high number of engaged couples in the Netherlands are setting their wedding date for June 6 of this year, which would give them a wedding date of 6-6-06. Aren’t they clever? However, they may want to bump the date up to June 1, since new photographic evidence suggests the actual number of the beast may be 616, which would be too bad, since 616 isn’t nearly as sinister as 666.
“With this mark, I thee wed . . . “