UFO Dreams
by Charles Forsher

Around 1969 I had a UFO dream.

This was not due to indigestion because I was TOLD that I would be having this U.F.O. Contact(*1) by the local psychic, who did readings for a living at the Blue Grotto, a coffee house I worked in full time.

The dream started with me finding myself standing near the sub station for the power grid in West Los Angeles, located on the border of the Sawtelle Veterans Administration. In broad daylight, positioned nearby in the air, was the UFO.

The vehicle looked something like a rocket from the end of World War II, only it was constructed of diamonds(*2).

Shortly, a clean shaven man a little older than myself in a one piece jump suit appeared, greeted me formally, and then took my hand, telling me not to be afraid, as we levitated into the air effortlessly, and the next thing I knew, some seamless surface on one of the diamonds had opened up to receive us with a comfortable hole.

The inside of the vehicle was quite conventional looking, and I started to suspect it was a secret government project that had what we’d now call cloaking ability.

I had seen a National Geographic magazine from the 1920s in which there were photographs of the great Houdini making an elephant vanish in the middle of a Circus Ring. It was exciting then, several decades later, to see Gene Rodenberry dramatize 'cloaked’ ships on his Star Trek television show.


I was not allowed to explore the interior of this vehicle by myself, and in fact I was told not to go anywhere. I had no desire to, everything looking so average and explainable.

Some time went by, maybe twenty minutes. Nothing happened. This does not normally happen in a dream, any more than dreaming about things of which one has no prior knowledge.

Then I was assigned to follow a girl about my age. No problem with that, and this time, when we went through a seemingly solid surface, I focused on what was happening. The wall area became fluid, and divided up into a series of sheaths, much like the iris of a camera lens.

It seemed at first that we had just stepped into a very dark little cupola, like the projections in roofs of typical American homes, only windowless. I walked through a narrow passage and the Iris closed up after me, as if this part of the vehicle was a living organism. (*3)

Now my charming and perfectly human looking hostess slid over to one of two wrap-around seats in this organic cupola, and made a hand gesture that I should follow her closely to sit next to her in the other seat.

I complied, sensing I had to for the next thing to happen. I had read that in some encounters, guests such as myself are shown things on a television-like screen. This is what I anticipated, and if this had been a normal dream, I would have seen a television screen with something on it reflecting my unconscious mind.

No such thing occurred. My hostess did something with one of her hands, Ninja style, and instead of a television screen, a curved windshield suddenly formed in front of us, with an appearance similar to that of a then-popular American sports model car.

With daylight flooding into the cupola, I could now see that there was a control panel under the windshield. I wanted to know what was going on, and instantly got a clear, graphic mental image of the scout craft we were in. (*4)

This was the start of the commonly reported mental telepathic messaging in many UFO Contacts. Not only was I shown the scout craft in this way, as it detached from the side of the diamond-rocket-mother ship, but my hostess went to some length to explain to me mentally, how we were moving through the air.

What was conveyed was that behind us, the area that had temporarily been a passageway and in the majority of this living scout ship, was a reservoir of a primal energy.

My Hostess, after struggling for a metaphor, suggested an animated cartoon. She then suggested that the ink used to make the animated cartoon characters come to life on a two dimensional world, was a model for a similar ‘ink’ that was the foundation of the molecular structure for all living beings in this, the third dimension, and that this is why the vehicle we were in was a living being after its own kind.

One of it’s attributes was to create a field that repelled gravity, and that a few very simple controls were needed for direction, and elevation, speed being limited, this vehicle NOT ‘grown’ for streaking through the atmosphere.

I was looking for a building down below that I would have seen in a book or magazine. Many cities have landmark buildings, but I was not having any luck locating one.

I asked if this ‘break off’ as I called it, was also invisible.

Yes, came the mental reply, but that this along with control of the vehicle depended on the operator. And now I detected just a hint of pride in the young lady’s abilities.

That it was not a government project became very clear when we approached a multilevel concrete parking structure.

‘What is that?’ the hostess asked me mentally. Linked mentally, the young lady had access to my every thought and emotion, and I should have been privy to her every thought and emotion (*5) but found that I was somehow controlled. (*6)

I could not for my life remember the words that defined the parking structure. I could not formulate the words: ‘par-king Stru-c-ture’. I started to fight mentally against the control. This in turn put a strain on my Hostess, who had guided the vehicle INTO the parking structure. The strain allowed me to sense that for my hostess, it was a weirdly unfinished building, with cars parked in it.

With my struggling to regain full control over my mental faculties, the hostess lost the energy in our link up, to stay cloaked, so when we passed a car in which a man was reading a newspaper, he slowly put it down, and looked at us, my hostess said something like ‘Oh-oh’ mentally, and with more Ninja moves over the control panel steered the craft away, and for once picking up a little speed, perhaps due to the sensed danger.

Behind us, the sound of the car being turned on, and backed up, tires squealing as the driver then headed towards us as fast as possible down the ramp. We reached the bottom first. This must have been taking place on a Sunday, and early in the morning, because the street was deserted.

“ Get out!” my hostess insisted, pointing to an iris opening up in the side of the craft next to me. Shrugging my shoulders, I did as I was told. The craft was hovering just above the sidewalk as I jumped out, my friend jumping out after me. With seconds to spare, the craft suddenly both shrunk as well as flattened out, until it resembled a giant Frisby.

The driver of that car came roaring down the ramp in the parking structure, and slammed on the brakes as he passed by us. He drove slowly for the longest time, watching us, but since the craft now looked like a terrestrial novelty item, there was nothing he could say to anybody, and so he roared way, angrier than shaken.

I expected that once the danger was passed, the hostess could reanimate the thing, but reading her mind, I found that there was a law; when these things were ordered to ‘go to sleep’ they could not be re constituted for a minimal amount of time.
Further, in reading the thoughts and feelings of my deflated Hostess, I saw she was not a fully authorized ‘Tikunaut’ like the adults on the mother ship.

Now I was starting to regain control over my autonomy, and the Hostess knew it.

We walked and walked and walked, stranded in an unknown city somewhere in the United States, with the giant Frisby under the right arm of my Hostess. I could now explain to her, still mentally, what a parking structure was.

We came to a cluster of buildings that I recognized as a museum complex. I explained verbally; which felt strange, that in those buildings, I could show her everything she ever wanted to know about life on Earth. And to hide the craft in some bushes, which she did, and I’d take HER for an unforgettable ride in turn.

Considering that up to now and decades ago I had gone out on two ill-fated dates, this was the third and wildest date I had been on.

Linked mentally to my hostess, the joy of sharing the history and culture of the Earth was ‘out of this world’ as I could feel the awe and delight that she experienced with every new discovery I presented.

This could have gone down in the history of intergalactic contacts as a first. Had I been more mature for my age, this could have led to more dates, being taken home to meet her parents, flying to an extra-terrestrial version of a drive in movie, and finally a climatic night of passion inside her Frisby-like friend, hovering over the Pacific Ocean off of Malibu.

I was twenty-five years old, going on nine emotionally, having inherited Aspergers from my father, and made half-crazy by my war-traumatized mother. It seemed I was fated to remain nine years ols emotionally for the rest of my life, and when we came to the transportation displays, the model train layout triggered an Aspergers obsession also inherited from my father, who loved trains instead of me.

It was such a strong obsession that it broke the psychic link. Perhaps my hostess decided it was hopeless and failed to reestablish the link, because the next thing I knew, she was gone.
I retraced my steps, through the many ponderous museum buildings (one isn’t supposed to do that in a dream) to the bushes she hid the Frisby thing in, but the Frisby thing was gone as well.

I suddenly found myself a few miles from where I had been abducted, Westwood Village, and it was both at night, as well as in the middle of a Hollywood movie downpour. I felt cold all over.

My E.T. friend giving me the ‘cold shoulder?’

There had been rains like this, years before, about the time my parents separated, about 1956. The scene also reminded me of mom, who was cold emotionally, so more than likely my hostess was giving me something to access and work my way through, so the next time we met I could have warm intimate feelings for her.
II.
I woke up still feeling like it was in December 1956 (*7) but after getting out of bed, it was abundantly clear that Los Angeles was in the middle of a heat wave, in 1969.

I got dressed, amazed at the strange dream, remembering the lines in Lewis Carroll’s Alice In Wonderland at the end of the story, Alice saying: “ It was only a dream, after all.”

I left my studio, locked the door to it and walked down the hall to the stairs. Casually I went down the echoic stairwell and onto the sidewalk, and walked towards the corner drug store, which still had a lunch counter from the 1940s. I had no hot plate in my studio. And as I got to the store, I looked at the morning headlines in the Herald Examiner- this was mid day- and the headlines were about freakish cloudbursts in Florida.

Some day I’d like to know if Florida has museums like the kind I visited in my UFO contact.

===================================
End Notes

*1.More recent events, such as with Whitley Streiber, point towards the Aliens creating Twilight Zones for such meetings, or doing other, metaphysical tricks, and this is what seems to have happened.

*2. Years after this 'dream', I’d see an illustration of the same vehicle in flight, in a UFO Calendar!

*3 Confirmations came years latter reading that certain life forms encountered such as the Grays, are supposed to be artificial life forms

*4 A few years after this I’d see a photograph of the craft
taken by a Contactee.

*5 The idea of a psychic link up was dramatized in the Star Wars series decades later, Darth Vader senses his son Luke Skywalker.

*6 A friend of mine who has had dozens of these experiences, told me years latter that this is done to insure one is not overwhelmed.

*7 My parents had succeeded in rendering me slightly delusional.
For some unexplainable reason I have greatly improved since 1969

Screaming Bull Frogs and Leprechauns

1984, Southern California
by Charles Forsher

One day, while I was working for Mrs. Haydon on her end of Rustic Canyon Road, Pacific Palisades ranch in Southern California, I was asked to give a boy and girl, children of some visiting guests, a tour of the ranch. By this time I had become quite familiar with the ranch and was happy to oblige.

The first stop in my tour was the small square cement pond behind the Haydon's house. It was a few feet high, about five feet in width by four feet. A small amount of water from a garden waterfall above it frequently cascaded down into the pool keeping it filled with just the right amount of water for the frogs that assembled here at night who would spend the night singing praises to the Creator, exactly what the stucco covered box was designed for.

The small pool was usually empty this time of day, but when I arrived this day, there was a marvelous bullfrog resting on one of the loose bricks placed in the pool for such a purpose.

"This, " I thought "would make explaining the pool much easier". I bent over, reached down, and gently picked up the bullfrog. The children, who were seven and eight years old, were delighted as I started the narration.

Then the bullfrog screamed - it let out a short, shrill, piercing scream.

The children’s mouths dropped open, and their eyes became as big as organ stops.
I was speechless as well. A scream implied vocal cords. Frogs are not supposed to have vocal cords. I half expected the bullfrog to raise up on his legs, producing a
small top hat and cane and break into a chorus of:

‘Hello my honey, hello my sweetheart, hello my rag time gal.’
‘Send me a letter by wire, honey set my heart on fire-‘

Like the singing bullfrog seen in an animated cartoon series aired on television about this time in Los Angeles. However the bullfrog just sat there complacently, just as in the other parts of the cartoon where it does that, foiling its victim.

“It must be a fairy in disguise.” I said as I gently put the bullfrog back on his loose brick perch, and led the children away to continue my tour.

Why this happened can be traced to a prayer a month prior.

I had become interested in the idea of Fairies. If there can be angels, I thought, then there must also be Fairies, just like there are levels of life in the sea.

Maybe my thoughts were coming from another source. The Haydons had bought land nobody else wanted. Actor and commentator, Will Rogers, had lived up the hill, what was now Will Rogers State Park, and the Haydon's Ranch was where Will Rogers kept hundreds of horses, for several decades. Nobody wanted the property.

The Haydons used the tons of horse manure to create an Eden like garden.
This in turn attracted the Fairies.

I guess after I had been working for the Haydons for over a year my inclination towards being a Medium alerted me to the Fairies' presence.

One night I had a vivid dream. I was walking between a cabin, which was one of Mr. Haydon's studies (and where I lived) and the main house. As I passed under a big tree, looking up where the white rooster liked to sleep at night, I saw a Leprechaun sitting on a thick overhanging branch. His black clothes were wrinkled, and his stovepipe hat was a little bent. He was smoking a tiny clay pipe. My own experience with a Wonderland Caterpillar?

I was dreaming, but still, this was an unusual dream. The Leprechaun's face was clearly Irish, even with the thin beard. I kept walking, and as I got near to the main house I woke up.

Later that morning, while working in the garden, I looked up and over at the big tree I had walked under in my vivid dream, and then it all came back.

I stopped, closed my eyes, and audibly as well as reverently offered a prayer; not as prayers are commonly thought of. To pray, I had found out by research, meant to speak sincerely.

The Gospel teacher hinted that every word his students spoke was to be a prayer, that normal dialogue was an invitation to evil, and for centuries afterwards, the sincerity associated with prayer was voiced in the statement, ‘speak, I pray thee.’ In this spirit I audibly and reverently thanked the Fairies for the vision, but explained that I needed to see some proof of their existence in the physical world---the one I lived in, and what better place than in the great garden the Haydons had created.

Then, as the late Carl Jung might have said about such things, I forgot entirely about the matter to let nature take its course.

A few weeks later, Mrs. Haydon came to me with a project. The big cement pond in front of her house, the one that really looked like a pond, had been attacked by the trees surrounding it and needed to be drained so that the cracks created by all of those trees could be repaired.

My job was two-fold. I had to corral the goldfish, transport them back to the square pool in back of the house, and then drain the pond.

The first part of this was fairly easy. Fruit from a nectar tree growing near the pond kept dropping in, fermenting the pond water and making the goldfish, well, drunk. I made sure I included ample amounts of fermented water with the transport so that the goldfish would not be traumatized.

Then, the hard part of the project was tackled. I was told by Mrs. Haydon not to spill one drop; not to splash. The fermented water after all.

The artificial pond had a place where anybody could sit, a special depressed place designed for family members and guests to sit in on hot California Augusts, where water would be up to one’s shoulders and the goldfish would lazily swim by.

I got permission to use a garden hose to create a siphon, and once I had suction, placed it at the bottom of the sitting place, the other end of the garden hose yards away and down hill near a horse coral. All that I had to do for the next few hours was monitor the draining process. It went smoothly enough, including the removal of the barrier I had set up when corralling the drunk goldfish.

Finally, in the late afternoon, there was nothing more I could with a siphon, and the rest had to be scooped out by hand, using a bucket to put this in, and finally I got hold of some large rags. Each filled bucket was carefully carried away from the cement pond and down to the same place the water had drained out of the long garden hose.

Near sunset that day, I thought I saw a jewel lodged in a unusual kind of palm tree the Haydons had planted in the small island, in the middle of their pond, protected by the same concrete surface that had been cracking due to tree roots.

“Oh-oh!”

The prayer request I had made weeks ago came rushing back. I had asked to see physical proof of the existence of garden fairies, and they had met my request with what looked like a very expensive gift.

I waited until the large rags and the process of evaporation had the entire pond area dry as a bone. Now it was myself who was wet. Mostly from working up a good body sweat while walking up and down the long steep driveway in warm weather. I climbed back into the empty pond and literally crawled over to the island, and then, using the strange palm tree the jewel was lodged in lifted myself up to the level that the jewel was resting in.

There was a mixture of relief and disappointment. No, it was not really a large jewel. The relief was the near-paranoia that would have come over me next, worrying about what to do with it; the Fairies essentially saving me from myself.

Then bemusement. Despite the fact I had not spilled one drop of pond water as Mrs. Haydon had instructed me, here was a tiny drop of pond water nearly six feet off the ground, AND sitting in a leaf with a serrated edge, just as a real jewel might be held in place on a ring by a silver construct with a serrated edge, AND resting at just the right angle to catch the setting sun, causing the jewel like effect.
“A JEWEL FOR YOUR MEMORY” came a very loud thought.

But then, perhaps it was not a thought at all, but one of the Fairies using Clairaudience.

I turned around and sat down, weary but happy. My prayer had been answered. I would always have this moment; this jewel in my memory, and this also confirmed my earlier notions about Fairies as part of a Divine Order.

At the top of this, as expressed in the book of Genesis, God (as a plural - Elohim) creates heaven and earth, and later man and women in their image, after their likeness. How easy it would have been for the wee ones to ‘copy and paste’ a drop of pond water up on to that leaf.

Even now, years later, I am still moved by the fact that I was answered at all, surely a manifestation of Divine Love.