STRANGE MANIFESTATIONS. |
PARALLEL DIMENSION OR AFTERLIFE ?
The night porter at Dolphin Square, was prime for a chat. Hot nights in centre city London and just by the river made sleep impossible. The pool and restaurant had just closed and there was little to do except go out for the night and I chose an early night. We were joined by two of the security guards who were as interested in the tenants as we were in them in view of the insecurity being caused by a recent wave of vandalism and robbery in the area. The presenceof Royal tenants had caused the whole security system to be re structured and powerful infra red cameras had been trained on every angle of the massive estate. The conversation drifted into interesting aspects of their work and it was late enough to be a bit lax about the choice of subjects. One of the guards was a young ex Gulf War soldier who had been injured and despite a few surgical operations had been left visibly lame. I suspect he was no older than 25 and sporting the innocence of one taken away from the day to day realities of monotonous life to emerge sensitive and confused from his violent, unimagined experiences. I had reason to ask them about whether they had in fact ever seen anything during their night security history which bordered on the unexplained and perhaps mysterious. The whole estate was a labyrinth of corridors, underground passages, internal gardens and surrounding alleyways. It did not take the older one long to react as his eyes narrowed and proceeded to tell us about the mysterious figue with a long dark cloak which they had constantly followed on camera and which they had subsequently pursued physically each time, to no avail. It had seemed highly unlikely to me that they should refer to what I had in mind bearing in mind the whol spectrum of experiences which many night watchmen find themselves involved in. He appeared to have met me head on – right on the spot and I felt I knew what he was talking about and for which possibility I had asked the question. I had walked down to the lobby of my particular House (of which there were over a score on eight levels, making the famous condominium the largest block of apartments in Europea in the 30´s when it was built).
The silent figure
I was due to catch a flight at Gatwick at 09.00am and I was taking the Victoria train at around 06.00 am. It must have been around half an hour before that time when I walked down the stairs and entered the lobby. It was also then, that I saw the dark, silent cloaked figure with head pensively down glide past the corner of my eye. I could not detect features, but it was real enough. I turned to my right where the figure had disappeared to and which led to the short corridor, lifts and a swing door for the inner gardens of the estate. I wondered who it was since we knew most our neighbours and there had not been any acknowledgement which was a little unusual. I saw that the swing doors with slow return hinges appeared not to have moved nor had the lift sound betrayed a passenger or a characteristic opening or closing . My split second turn towards where the figure glided to would not have given it time to do any of these two essential thing and the matter left its mark in my mind for years to come. I told them what I had seen and the younger one was more than taken aback. I took them both to the lobby of the particular block which they examined in great detail and there appeared to be no doubt in relation to the particular cameras, that it was here that the figure had gone to from the outside. I refrain from mentioning the block in case contemporary tenants should find it diquieting. They had always seen the back of the figure move into this lobby and I had obviously seen the front but I realize now that it was quite faceless or had swept past too quickly for me to catch a glimpse of it. It was solid enough in an ethereal sort of way and it had slid past me only two metres away, leaving a distinct impression of a gliding movement. Only a year before, a horrendous murder perpetrated by two young delinquents had taken place on the fourth floor. Many tenants heard it, including myself, but it was attributed to a family quarrel and nobody went to the rescue. I had met the victim and I had remember having seen him once with a a very long dark trench coat. Although I will never be sure, I can say with some conviction that the figure measured up to his overall presence. The nature of this and other manifestations always left grounds for potential explanations, but none ever proved conclusive enough. This is why I thought about it as elusive parapsychology. My comments had stunned the security guards who had at my instigation provided me with information which had been corroborated with a careful examination of the site. There were factors on both sides to show that the incidents had something in common and that the events actually took place and both recorded by camera and eyesight. However, short of dismissing it all as tricks of the imagination, it does not explain the camera frequent camera sighting, which had always led to the same block entrance and total loss of contact beyond the doors to the lobby. I had been the first to explain the sighting from within the lobby that I chanced to walk into at the precise moment of time that the spectre walked in.
Strange things in store
Not all of these strange occurences that shook my senses during the course of a long and eventful life, were of the ghostly variety, but strange they all were. I was walking down an eerie tree lined avenue late at night in Buffolo New York. I had just attended a lecture at the local university given by a professor friend with whose family I was staying. It was the 4th. July and the year for the moment evades me. I had done a British Royal Tour of Toronto and taken the opportunity to cross Niagara Falls and pop into Buffalo for a long awaited encounter. I really do not even know what happened during that long walk to the house. I remember the incandescent globe. It looked like a searchlight and it appeared to glide over the treetops, silently as if searching for something. My immediate reaction was that it was a helicopter as seen in films, looking for fugitives at night, but there was no sound. The next thought was – glider, but it was a very dark night and the light seemed to hover at some point. It could have been, but what it was doing at night so close to treetops, is another question. I did not have much time for futher thought. “Run!” shouted Steven. I needed little persuasion because of the inexplicable aspects of this sight. We had to pass underneath where this thing had floated over and beamed downwards so it was not a comforting prospect. Steven was miles more mature than I was and of an establishment breed that had earned him his position within the university and at least one major appointment in Belgrade where I had met him and his excellent wife. We met in London subsequently and the Buffalo trip was a sequel to the endless fun we had in the vicinity of the Capital. I have never had a chance to go over the incident with him since that peculiar night and neither of us had a clear idea of what it could have been apart from the fact that it looked ominous and out of context with the setting. For one reason or another, it did not add up. It was one of those things that had to be be ignored or spend hours on in circular argument, to arrive at the same starting point and further doubts. Years later, one curious fact came to light in the UFO sighting journals. The time and date coincided with the so called massive UFO sightings in Washington often called the “attack on the Capitol”. We may have been close to one of those mysterious lights that appeared to surround the citadel throughout the course of that night. Or perhaps a straggler or malfunctioning one – whichever, it is too coincidental to be dismissed. Whilst moving forward, across the treetops, it was not doing it hurriedly and like a soap bubble, seemed to hover at some point. Steven sensed danger from this strange movement which in hindsight appeared to be allied to a search and something that only a helicopter would do – except that if it had been one of these, we would have most certainly felt and heard it. Nothing had broken the splendid silence of that blissful night.
A sighting and cosmic grafitti.
It was not to be the last time I had come across a mysterious airborne artefacts except that the second one occurred just off an unlikely town called Estepona, in the Costa del Sol, Spain, where the only unexpected thing that every happened was that you got robbed. My friend, an executive of a notoriously filthy, petrol refinery in the bay of Gibraltar, was glad to retire and breath the relatively fresher air of this beachside villa complex. We had been family friends for years and we looked forward to a good stretch on the beach the following day. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled with the intensity of a moonless night when suddenly, it flew overhead - silently like one of those shots in the star trek television saga. We both shouted “What´s that ?” and we had reason to do so for it was massive and salmon coloured with what appeared to be a wide variety of attachments underneath or even as it seemed to me, an inverted landscape. It was silent, swift and shapeless and it disappeared within seconds into the void and just over the sea. If it had been a meteorite, I suspect it would have been glowing with much greater intensity and would have hit whatever it did with a massive force and explosion, for it was too near the earth to be far from its point of impact. It could also have been an optical effect produced by something so massive that seen from ground level would have been translated as immediately overhead. The orangey glow could have been a reflection of the street lights if the surface had been shiny or highly reflective. Could it have been a brief outer space entry and exit into the earths´s atmosphere of a spacecraft ? It covered most of the retinal area leaving, just enough space to see the diffusion from light to dark of what was an irregular object and nothing like a fireball. Again – no sound. The colour sticks in my mind - salmon, soft and full of lighter and darker shapes within the surface – nothing like a spacecraft but more like a massive piece of illuminated earth with clumps of rocks stuck to it. But then it was so sudden and so unexpected that it was difficult to retain it mentally. This was not the case however with something else that happened only some 60 kilometres away and just within the Malaga airport complex.
I owned a carpark at the airport and I must say that it all started when we built stadium-like sun screens of corrugated iron which spanned some fifty feet. I cannot for the life of me explain it away and heaven knows I tried to get all and everyone interested in taking it seriously but neither relevant societies nor press were in the slightest bit inclined to come over and see for themselves. Our day manager and I spent hours trying to figure out the patterns in the dust that covered most of the cars in that very heavily contaminated part of the world with at least one of many illegal quarry only a few miles away. The designs were perfectly symmetrical and broadly speaking could be taken for photographic copies of the rings of Saturn. All were made up of dustless rings carved out on dusty surfaces. Some had wide intervals between them. Others closely packed and some huge ones covering both bonnets and windscreens. What gave us the creeps was that they followed from the large open surfaces to the other adjoining ones at different angles but when viewed from a few yards away, the complete pattern seemed to follow the line of vision as if it had been beamed from above with no visible distortion. Some were only dartboard affairs only a few centimetres across – others as large as a metre. Many appeared on the windscreens as if rubber suckers had been stamped carefully on the dust or perhaps even rubber stamps of concentric circles. Sometimes light brush marks on the window ones appeared to be bird wings showing outer feathers clearly stamped and in many cases associated with these images. These could have proved coincidental since we had seen them on other occasions when they images were not there except that there were many more than normal. The beauty of these images were sometimes so startling that we were loathe to wash them off , as the car owners came for them. As they disappeared we realised with distress that they were not being replaced. The experience would remain ours and of those people we showed them to. Whatever made them did so on one specific day and all we could possibly associate with the making was some sort of electromagnetic wave which somehow implanted magnetic properties in a set design depending on frequency. What I mean is that whatever dust lay on the magnetised areas was of a different polarity and joined the dust rights next to it like neighbouring bands. This made me think that perhaps the smaller tighter ones were of a higher frequency and the large, of a lower scale. Whatever sent out such mysterious electromagnetic wave blasts, may have perhaps been of a morse effect and thus creating a smaller or larger circle with wider or narrower rings depending on the what I can only call an electromagnetic intonation. Each pattern had to be a single burst if they were individual clearly marked patterns. Whatever, the possibility as someone suggested that they were caused by glass fibre strands from afar driven by air currents in a circular motion could not account for the perfection and the definition. The idea however appeared to offer some sort of explanation but the very large patterns were definitely outside the capability of such a mechanical possibility. Both Jack Holmes, the general manager and I together with the dozens of others who saw it were not only bewildered and awed by the apparitions, but a little concerned that perhaps something had come to the airport that was not in the order of ordinary things. I spoke to a German scientist during a conference in Paris I had attended and who shared the same hotel. He merely said -”I would be careful if I were you”. He seemed serious enough but then under the circumstances, short of being his speciality, I suppose it could have been a brush off or a gentle ticking off.
Sounds from nowhere
The patterns were not the only weird happenings in that unnatural enclosure. We had all spent time looking for non existant radios seemingly within the 14,000 square metre parking area. In carparks anything on – lights or radio could lead to battery rundowns and that was hard work best avoided, so chasing such things was a matter of duty. At times the crystal clear sounds of music (I cannot remember voices) filled the whole undercover areas, so I attributed this to the corrugated iron awnings which were somehow acting like antennaes and loudspeakers. On one occasion whilst standing at a window overlooking the whole compound in the dead of night, I heard breathing with the realistic whistling end of the start of a snore. I cannot explanit it better. I listened for a fair length of time and ventured to walk in the darkness of the complete compound surrounded by the sound. The whole roofing complex appeared to be breathing as I walked from section to section and the sound continued. If I was not terrified, it was because my logical sense of things, told me that if something breathed that loud it had to be a giant and I could not see one so it had to be some sort of auditory illusion. The sound of music made more sense but then perhaps someone had fallen asleep near a transmitter at the airport and my talented roofs did the rest. Even radar perhaps, so utilized at airports could have translated into an audible sound under those conditions, but then once again it could have been anything. The following however, was much more disturbing Paraspycological manifestions when not imbued with malice or threat, set my heart pounding, but I was more awed than afraid, fearing the worst but also proof which I could put to good use. Those experiences which were of potentially dark augur however, like the one I experienced just two years ago, in the same place, left me stressed and fearfully aprehensive.
Frightening encounter with destiny
There were at least three of us involved. Martin, Lynne his wife and I. As a animal rescuer of some ingenuity, I had a collection of some fifteen dogs on board at the best of times. These were kept in fenced compounds whilst I found and negotiated my new home. As loves of my life with a very close contact with each and every one of them, the Lynne the hired help, was an absolute necessity., Her husband Martin, our office manager on site who took over from Jack Holmes, made up the main basic trio with a variety of drivers which changed every now and then. My experience with dogs and the hundreds of things that can and often go wrong, made me very sensitive to any changes that heralded problems of health ahead. That fateful morning, I stood in front of the compound of four of what I called my wild pack. I heard rather than saw to start with, the rustle that reminded me of the sound that peacocks and turkeys make when they fan and stretch their tail feathers in display – a plastic scratching sound which I would find difficulty in putting across verbally. From the corner of my eye I then saw what appeared to be a massive black wing draped down over the side of the wall leading into the enclosure. I knew instinctively that it was not a real object. I dared not move and watched it briefly before raising my eyes to see if there was something above me terrifyingly big and wounded. The eye movement saw it dissolve instantly. For obvious reasons I associated it with a sign of death and perhaps an angel of death although I had never seen an image of that nature and the man with the scythe was my concept of such things. The crow black image burnt is way into the subconscious. I informed lynne and she told Martin. I asked them to put it into the day book in case something followed on. That same night I went to the cinema and saw what appeared to be a good film but which was probably the worst thing I had ever seen in that category. It featured Meryl Streep, my favourite star and she acted out her role as a country and western singer within a group on the final closing night of a particularly old theatre. What I saw then left me cold and gave me an insight into psychic warnings. It appeared, from a film that I had read absolutely nothing about beforehand and which was incomprehensible from the start, that the whole situation was being monitored by an angel of death in the form of a woman who kept walking among them invisibly and who in one instance is shown with massive black wings to endorse her identity. I was shaken and alerted and took time to understand the peculiar plot. It looked initially as if the object of the removal by death was a younger member of the troupe, but who was eventually bypassed in favour of the oldest – a veteran octagenerian who had been silently in love with a slightly younger woman within the circle. As it turns out, the angel of death had allowed him to see and even converse with her and he had asked for an opportunity to declare and consummate his love for the other woman before bidding farewell. There follows a rejuvenation process which leads him to state his love and provoke the desired response. He waits in his private quarters blissfully at the height of his happiness and satisfaction awaiting his love and who turns up just as inspired, only to find him dead. Lynne and Martin were astounded and used to such things from me and they prepared for unplesant things to come. Again, diary entries were made and to my astonishment, whilst listening to the car radio that same day, a whole programme dedicated to wings, their symbolical meanings and evolution filled my ears. I knew that something terrible was about to happen associated with the dogs and Lynn was quite upset watching every dog and noting every change.
The signs consolidate
It poured the following day and left deepish puddles everywhere. I released the dogs in the mentioned compound and they run around like mad splashing water around. I watched them with great pleasure, beautiful as they were and having the time of their lives. The youngest, Mungi, suddenly flapped around on her back and what I took for devilry, turned into horror and alarm as she tried to get up but threshed around inexplicably with her mouth open as if in agony. I saw Martin rush towards me as I shouted for help whosaw what was happening and I picked up the stricken dog whose heart could almost be heard - such was the violence of its pounding. I knew I had seconds in which to steady the heart and I massaged Mungie with intensity hoping to get her out of the fit. I felt the heart stop and start and and then gallop again but fell short of stopping again, I sensed we were over the hill. I held her head to enable her to breathe better and massaged her back and chest in an effort to calm her down. She appeared to be coming out of the coma and the heart beat started to slow down. Mungi could not get up for a while and eventually when she tried, her back legs gave way. Two minutes later, dazed and subdued, she started to walk and then appeared to recover fully with that characteristic confused look looking around for someone to blame. She had just gone through the horizon but short of further developments had survived. Mungie was the youngest and strongest of all the dogs with a vitality that even today, four years later, she demonstrates to our sheer delight. She is a close to a red setter as a mix can be but essentially she is of jackal origin called a Podenco in Spain. They are very hardy wild dogs fairly recently domesticated.
Lynne, Martin and I discussed the event and begged the question. Was there something to follow in this psychic saga ? I refused to think, because anything, just anything that affected my dogs struck me with a knife as long and as sharp as the fear that came over me. I had another dog in another field with an ex nightwatch man who had been taken ill and would be away in hospital for some time and would never return. Canela, for that was her name, had been poorly for some time, reflecting the bad life she had had before I took her in. She was one of the family having saved her from scoundrels whose lead/rope had practically grown into her neck such was the abuse. Canela started to show signs of illness and I put her on a double dose of antibiotics as prescribed the vet. Miraculously, after a stint on the antibiotics and freshly cooked food, she suddenly appeared to have returned to her younger days, running around friskly as she had not done for many years. We could not believe it and stood before her awed at the sight. We had felt a sense of forebading at her rejuvenation in view of the film, but there had been no cause for alarm with respect to her health. Suddenly without warning when we took it fro granted that she was well on her way to perfect health, she started to stumble and I knew instinctively that death was near. My hackles rose as the scenes in the film raced in my mind. The second chance – the return to younger days and spirited behaviour was over. I had just weaned her off the choice food to get her back to more nutritious though less palatable dog food and as her head sunk lower into the ground I knew she was minutes away from her destiny. I felt her last breath with little comfort, but perhaps in some way, I knew that the last ten days of foreboding and fear were over. I knew with great sadness, that for the moment at least, fate had had its day and perhaps hopefully we had a long and contented space of time before us in unsolicited compensation.
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